Page 50 of For You, Sir

Ourbacks.

“I mean, you’re not my butler, either. You’re more than that to me.”

He squeezed my hand. “I am, Sir.”

“Could you…?” I cleared my throat. “Could you use my name instead of calling me ‘Sir’?”

“Of course,” he said in a hushed voice, “…Einar.”

Chapter 18 (Jun)

I clenched my jaw as I drove Einar home.Damn, damn, DAMN that photographer!

The day had started out perfectly—Einar in the garden, the sunlight glinting off his gold hair. Relaxing and flirting with him on the patio. He even opened up about writing.

Now, he leaned against the window, eyes hidden by his sunglasses, his mouth turned downward. Dwelling on bad memories, I guessed. I knew how easy it was to spiral into doubt.

“You handled yourself admirably back there,” I said.

Einar scoffed. “Are you kidding?”

“Of course not,” I insisted. “That took courage.” I knew how avoidantIwas of confrontation and admired him for leaving the house in the first place.

He shook his head like he didn’t believe me, and fell silent for the rest of the trip, inscrutable behind his shades.

As soon as we got home, Einar said, “I’m gonna lie down.” He dragged himself to the couch and curled up with his back to me. My heart sank at the familiar sight. We were back at the beginning, and I had accomplished nothing. Perhaps his agoraphobia would beworsenow. For all our time together, I couldn’t help Einar any more than I could save Madam.

I went to the kitchen and set the tea on the counter, my heart aching.I should have suggested a drive around the block instead. If we’d started smaller, everything would be fine…

I was suddenly desperate for a cigarette. Smooth, white paper between my fingers, the ashy, bitter taste of failure…

Movement in the backyard caught my eye. A pair of robins hopped through the garden bed where Einar had been working. They peered at the soil, and pulled up fat worms from the freshly churned earth—a feast for wildlife, where a tangle of weeds once stood.

I clenched my fists and squelched the nicotine craving and my pessimism along with it. Thingsweredifferent now. The healing backyard was proof, as was Einar’s courage to leave the house. He had stumbled, that was all, and I would help him regain his footing.

I prepared Einar a mug of the raspberry tea we’d just bought, began placing it on a serving tray, then stopped myself. He needed a friend more than a butler. I carried the mug into the living room and set it on a coaster on the coffee table.

Einar’s arm trailed limply over the top of his blanket. I knelt beside the couch and took hold of his hand. He didn't react, so I brought his knuckles to my mouth and kissed them. "Einar."

He rolled over to face me, his brow furrowed.

"I brought you tea," I said.

He slid his legs over and slowly sat up. "Thanks." He didn't reach for the cup, just stared at it. His voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry I messed things up.”

“What are you talking about?”

"The photographer got pics of us together."

"So?” I asked gently. “I don't mind."

His eyes sharpened. "But what if your family sees?"

Wasthatwhy he was so upset?

"I thought..." He frowned and trailed off.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, considering my words. As a butler, I would normally err on the side of politeness and keep my thoughts to myself. But we were closer than that now. He deserved to know the truth. "May I speak plainly?"

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