After Ben (3 page)

Standing perfectly still, Theo watched as Peter’s reflection carefully placed his palms against Theo’s elbows. Even though he saw it happen, he still jumped a little at the contact, then closed his eyes. Peter’s voice sounded very close to his ear. “Anyone watching will think we’re discussing form, but you do need to open your eyes.” Theo shook his head. “Okay. So, is it me touching you that freaks you out, or is it just being touched by men in general?”

Theo shook his head again. He didn’t need his eyes open to know that Peter was smiling when he next spoke.

“I’m going to go with my instincts, Theo. I think it’s me, and that’s cool. But it would be good to have someone to work out with.”

Opening his eyes, Theo shook his head for the third time before replying. “It’s not you, and it’s not ‘men’.” He rolled his eyes and tried to smile, looking vaguely crazy instead. “I like men.” Peter barked out a laugh, and then Theo finally, genuinely smiled. “I mean—” he started.

“I know what you meant to say. I noticed that you don’t spend much time checking out the gym bunnies.” He winked, taking the free weights from Theo. “But it’s cool. We’re cool. Just spot me from time to time, okay?”

“I can do that.” Theo watched the easy bend and flex of Peter’s defined arms. He was in great shape, not too built, but solid. As Peter finished his second set, Theo took a breath, then reached out, pressing down lightly on the other man’s shoulders, reminding Peter to keep his form.

In the mirror, Peter smiled at him. Open, warm, interested—definitely interested—but patient.

Theo tried to smile in return.

Progress, maybe.

Later, at work, Maggie spread out staff files across one of the larger conference room tables. She powered up her laptop and started reading out the number of years of service, severance pay amounts, and associated criteria that the company used to decide layoffs.

Twenty files remained after the first cut.

Next, they worked on their own plan. Maggie recalled who had babies at home, who had a disabled spouse, who had issues with depression.

Theo paged through a file. “This is a fucking nightmare. It’s the opposite of a scientific process. How do we know that Mitch doesn’t have extra financial commitments? How do we know that getting canned won’t be the end of the world to him?” He slammed the file back onto the table, sending sheets of paper flying.

“We don’t. You don’t. You can’t know. But that’s why they pay you the big bucks.” She smiled sadly at her boss. “You just have to make the decision. You’ve already taken as many factors into account as you can, probably more than any other manager here has.”

It didn’t matter that Maggie was right. It was still a burden that Theo found almost too heavy to carry. Much as he found those same staff files almost too heavy as he carried them up to his apartment that night. He was weighed down, awkward and clumsy as he fumbled for his keys.

Theo leaned his nose against the buzzer just a split second before he remembered.

There was no one at home to answer.

Chapter 2

B
Y
T
HURSDAY
night, Theo was done with the layoff selection process, and Maggie had meticulously compiled packets ready for the termination interviews scheduled for the following afternoon. It had been a difficult week. Maggie reported that tension levels were high throughout the whole company. He could only imagine what the staff in his own department were thinking after he had shut himself away for days, where normally he operated an open door policy.

Shutting down his PC at just after six in the evening, Theo realized his hands were shaking as he fumbled his mouse for the second time.

When did he last eat?

He vaguely remembered Maggie bringing him a sandwich much earlier that afternoon. When he walked back to the larger meeting room they’d used as their base, he spied it, along with a bottle of now-tepid water sitting in a puddle of condensation exactly where she had left it. Even his extreme hunger couldn’t make a tuna salad sandwich which had been left sitting out for the afternoon seem appetizing. Its dried-out bread and wilted lettuce were completely unappealing.

Theo felt tired. Bone tired. He leaned back, then surveyed the empty outer office, imagining it with fewer desks. Grabbing his laptop bag from his own office, he got halfway across the room when muffled cursing caught his attention. One of the cleaners was on his knees under an accounts assistant’s—Christina’s—desk. He jumped, banging his head, after Theo asked if he was okay.

“Sorry, I thought you all had finished up for the night.” The cleaner held out a dusting rag, shrugging. “I dropped it behind the desk. Chick keeps her whole life in here.”

For the first time in years, Theo looked really closely at the deeply personal world that Christina brought with her to work. She had so many pictures pinned to her cubicle walls: posed family group shots, candid ones of her children—Madison was getting so big; he remembered when she was born—as well as a slightly out of focus photo of an office Christmas party. Theo carefully unpinned that one with trembling hands as the other man shuffled past him.

Toward the left of the shot, Theo saw himself smiling broadly. Ben leaned into him, kissing his ear, hand pressed against Theo’s chest—a perfect moment, caught by accident. He sank to the floor, swallowing hard, recalling that evening. He remembered all of the work events they had attended. He’d worked for the company since finishing grad school, in this same old building, before the top dogs relocated to a brand-new top-floor empire in the heart of the city.

Being out had never been an issue professionally, as far as Theo was aware, anyhow. Ben had come to every single office party since Theo’s first company picnic, when he had been around twenty-six. Fuck. That was a whole lifetime ago. They had celebrated Ben’s thirty-fifth birthday that morning, so had arrived tipsy and handsy and obviously in love. There hadn’t seemed a whole lot of point in hiding after that.

Besides, Ben was fun and friendly. He always remembered spouses’ names and asked after their kids way before Theo started to see that shit as important, or even interesting. Ben was smooth, while Theo was still learning the social graces, and he made corporate events look easy. Hell, he loved them, circling dates on their kitchen planner months in advance, then planning shopping trips for the perfect suit, or an elegant new tie.

Ben didn’t need much incentive to shop, especially for Theo. He dressed him, and it was such an obvious pleasure that for more years than he liked to remember, Theo hadn’t needed to think at all about clothes. Ben said that he didn’t mind being a stereotype, just as long as he was a hot, well-dressed stereotype on the arm of an even hotter one. Besides, Theo’s workmates had come to expect fashion advice from Ben, while Theo stood by and listened, still clueless.

His colleagues’ familiar acceptance was part of what made this whole termination deal so hard to handle. Theo had let people go before—it was part of the cycle of business—but since the company had been restructured, the atmosphere had changed. It didn’t matter that he had known his team for years. It didn’t matter that some of them were like family—closer than family, even. And it didn’t seem to matter that his department was cost effective.

Fucking management consultants.

Carefully pinning the photo back in its spot, Theo touched Ben’s image lightly, just with the tip of one finger. It was ridiculous how much he still missed him.

When he found himself at home later, empty-handed for once, Theo went on autopilot. While the shower warmed up, he put a meal for one in the microwave, then stripped out of his suit. It was only when he started to wash his hair that the deep ache in his shoulders really made its presence felt. He’d have to tell Peter that he was feeling it tomorrow.

Peter.

Hot water sluiced down his body, warming the ache out of his back and arms. Theo closed his eyes and pictured Peter working through his reps in the weight room. He took each set very seriously, as focused on the last rep as on the first. He had stamina. Theo caught himself idly wondering what his abs looked like, then soaped himself quickly, trying to think about nothing at all.

He burned his tongue on his dinner, hands shaking with hunger as he ate far too quickly standing at the kitchen counter. Suddenly exhausted again, dreading the morning, he went straight to bed with his laptop, a tub of ice cream, and two spoons.

All week he’d lost hours on the forum, finding the company and conversation a welcome distraction in the middle of the night. This week, instead of reading avidly, then contributing a little now and then, he took part in pretty much every discussion. Perhaps that was due to the encouragement of the newbie, who had taken to leaving him private messages while Theo was off-line.

Tonight was no different from the past few evenings.

MORGAN: I cannot read the political forum. They are all fucking idiots.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Theo clicked and read, then clicked and read some more.

THEO: I’m shaking my head on your behalf.

Honestly, he was starting to think there was legitimately something wrong with him. He used to be able to give and take, ignoring discussions that were patently uninformed. All week long he’d found himself unable to resist opening threads started by opinionated forum main players, already knowing exactly what he would find. Morgan had absolutely no fear. He told people they were wrong, and now that he had everyone’s attention, he told them why in painful, excruciating detail.

It wasn’t until Theo opened a thread about something completely unrelated to his work, where top-level decisions in sports were criticized, that he lost his cool. Before he knew it, he typed an essay on the cowardice of corporate hotshots leaving ordinary managers to be the bad guy, while they hid out in their penthouse offices.

He might have ranted.

His private message box pinged.

MORGAN: I think I love you.

Theo didn’t reply. He sat in his too-big bed, in his empty, beautifully furnished apartment, dreading going to sleep and dreading waking up in equal parts, just like he had for a year. He took absolutely no pleasure in any of it—work, the forum, anything. Pushing the laptop to one side, he dug into the tub of softening ice cream, glaring broodingly at the spare spoon.

When Morgan sent another message, asking what exactly he was doing anyway, Theo pulled the laptop closer. Surely there wasn’t anything better than being right when so many idiots were wrong, Morgan insisted. So perhaps Theo should stop doing whatever he was wasting Morgan’s valuable time on, and get back to the cause.

Theo apologized for taking a therapeutic ice-cream break.

MORGAN: You are SUCH a girl.

Snorting, Theo disagreed, then went back to reading for a while. They passed some time amicably sniping at each other until Theo eventually relaxed enough to sleep.

He dreamed of Christmas. Ben sat at the kitchen counter studding small oranges with cloves—a traditional Italian festive favor—then tied them with silky red ribbons before taking them to the office Christmas party. He made one for each member of Theo’s team, advising that they hang them on their Christmas tree, then in their closets for the rest of the year. They wouldn’t decay; the cloves acted as a preservative that would remind them of this Christmas all year long.

Later that night, Theo had kissed his way across Ben’s body as they stripped in the bathroom, licking his nipples, biting the flesh next to his armpit, nuzzling his neck. He trailed his tongue from Ben’s elbow to his wrist, following the scent until he sniffed Ben’s fingers before licking between them and sucking on his palms.

“You smell like Christmas.”

And Ben had. The smell made Theo a little crazy, overwhelming him, until he and Ben had drunk sex right there against the shower, sinking to the floor on a nest of warm towels. Ben had grumbled into Theo’s neck as he’d looped his arms around him, telling him to hurry as he’d been prepared—stretched a little, kissed a lot. Groaning as Theo pushed up, up, up, Ben had slowly relaxed down onto him, fingers clutching onto Theo’s until he adjusted.

They fucked from Christmas Eve to Christmas Day with their hands clasped together, the scent of cloves and come dashed across their chests.

In his sleep, Theo groaned.

T
HE
next morning, Peter refused to work out with him.

Noticing the way that Theo fumbled with the settings on the treadmill, and how his hands shook as he pushed his thick light brown hair back, Peter hit the stop button on both of their machines.

“What’s up? Are you sick?” Peter’s blue eyes were piercing, taking in everything about Theo—pale face, dark-ringed eyes, slumped shoulders—leaving no room for excuses as his fingers felt for Theo’s pulse.

“I haven’t been sleeping too well. I should have eaten. I forget sometimes.” Theo sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. Like a kid, not a man in his forties. Peter regarded him for a moment, then squared his jaw, looking determined.