RUSH AWOKE
the next morning to an empty bed. He sat up, sliding his hand over the place where West should be, but the sheets were cold. He glanced at the clock. It was a little before eight o’clock. Rush’s internal clock was still on West Coast time, and he knew West would have been up for hours already.
He rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, where he found a note tucked beside his toothbrush.
Didn’t want to wake you, but if you’re feeling up for it, come meet me for lunch around one. There are keys to the Beamer on the hook near the garage, or you can give Marshall a call and he’ll pick you up.
Love you.
West
Rush smiled and put the note down, then brushed his teeth and washed his face before slipping back into the bedroom to get dressed. His clothes were stuffed in the suitcase—crumpled and creased from his hasty packing—but he found a clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts and threw them on. With more than a few hours to kill, Rush wandered through the house. He hadn’t seen much of it the night before, his attention solely focused on West once they arrived back at his place.
The house was huge. It was more space than a single person needed. Hell, it was more space than a family of twelve would need. He slid his hand along the smooth granite of the kitchen island, taking in the gleam of the stainless steel appliances. It seemed a waste West should have such a gourmet kitchen, when up until a few months earlier, he couldn’t have cooked a meal to save his life.
Rush moved from room to room, searching for signs of West in this place. It reminded him of show homes he’d seen on TV, where the living areas are staged to look like people live in them but no one really could. Although the appointments were elegant and sophisticated, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t West. It was some pretend version of who he thought he should be.
The idea that West lived there alone broke Rush’s heart a little. He would need to change it, to bring in more things that suited West, to warm up the walls and floors with things that reflected the person West really was.
There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though. He still had a few hours to wait before he went down to meet West. He hadn’t seen much in his snooping that looked like it could occupy his time. He was sure West had an impressive cable package, but it didn’t seem right, being in a place he’d never been before and sitting watching TV rather than exploring.
He returned to West’s bathroom, showered, then dressed and got ready to leave.
HALF AN
hour later, Rush carefully parked West’s BMW in the parking garage across from West’s office tower. He hadn’t wanted to bother Marshall. Even though he knew it was his job to serve as a chauffeur, being driven around wasn’t really Rush’s style. He clicked the key fob and listened for the sound of the locks engaging before he walked out to the street.
The first thing he saw when he stepped onto the sidewalk was the Starbucks across the street. He ducked inside and ordered himself a coffee, which was presented minutes later by a very outgoing barista. She smiled and batted her eyelashes a few times as Rush took the cup from her with one hand and snapped a lid on with the other. He offered a friendly smile and a thank-you in return, but it mustn’t have been what she was after, and her smile faltered for a moment before her attention shifted to the next order.
Rush returned to the sunshine outside and began walking down the block. He had a few hours to kill and no idea where he was going, but what he’d seen so far of Chicago was beautiful. Thoughts of relocating there seemed less objectionable now, although living in a city would take some getting used to after readjusting to life in a small town. And then there was Casper. He supposed West’s home was large enough for the dog, but there was no yard to speak of, and without the space to run around, Rush wasn’t sure how happy Casper would be in his new home. It was something to think about, but not everything needed to be figured out right that moment. For now he would walk and get his bearings in a city that might be his new home.
ONE O’CLOCK
snuck up on Rush quicker than he expected it to, and he had to hurry to make it back to West’s office on time. He was just jogging up when West stepped into the lobby from the elevator. The smile that greeted Rush almost made him a little unsteady on his feet. Even with all his reservations about packing up and moving across the country, if that smile was waiting for him every day, it would be worth it.
“You found your way back here all right,” West noted.
“Yup. Wasn’t difficult. That car of yours has all the bells and whistles, including a GPS,” Rush teased.
West stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss against Rush’s lips. “Hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Good. There’s an amazing pizza place around the corner if you’re up for that.”
“Sounds perfect,” Rush said.
West led the way, sliding his hand into Rush’s as they made their way through the lunchtime crowds to the little restaurant tucked away a few streets over. Rush could smell the fragrant scent of tomatoes and herbs the moment they stepped through the door, and his mouth began to water. The place was busy, but they were able to snag a table right away.
“How was your morning?” Rush asked once they got situated.
West sighed, and his shoulders slumped forward.
“Not good?”
“Just busy. It’s never ending. I feel like no matter how many hours I put in, I can’t seem to stay on top of everything that needs to get done. Scarlet does her best, but between her and me, there’s only so much we can get done in a day.”
“That really sucks. Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t know much about finances and investments, but if there’s anything I can do to lighten your load, please, let me.”
West smiled and reached across the table to take Rush’s hands in his own. “You’re already doing it. I’m so grateful you’re here. When we talked when you were in Palm Springs, it broke my heart to tell you I wasn’t going to be able to see you. And now here you are, and I’m so happy.”
“Me too,” Rush said.
The waiter appeared a moment later, and Rush deferred the choice to West. He chose a pizza that sounded as though it was loaded with at least three pounds of meat. Rush was glad. He was ravenous.
It didn’t take long for their food to arrive, their waiter carrying the tray over to the table above his head to avoid running into other people as he made his way toward them. When he set the dish down on the table, Rush’s jaw almost dropped.
West thanked the waiter, but Rush was still staring at the pizza. He’d forgotten Chicago did pizza differently than the rest of the country.
“Something wrong?” West asked.
“No, just, that’s not a pizza. That’s a friggin’ pie.”
“That’s why they call it pizza pie. It’s Chicago style. I figured you—the guy who can devour two full meals before most people can get through one—would appreciate it.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Rush said, sliding two slices onto his plate.
West chuckled. “Good. Dig in.”
Rush took the first bite and ended up with most of it down the front of his shirt when he tried to pick it up and eat it like a normal slice of pizza.
“Yeah, that’s right, laugh it up, buddy,” Rush said when West dissolved into fits of laughter. “I’ll get my revenge later.”
“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” West said.
“You should be. You just wait.”
West laughed harder, and Rush was tempted to throw a piece of pepperoni across the table at him. If they’d been at home and not in a crowded restaurant, and West wasn’t wearing a neatly pressed pale blue shirt that likely cost more than Rush made in a year, he might have.
“Just use a knife and fork,” West suggested once the laughter died away.
Rush rolled his eyes but picked up his cutlery and dug in. Despite the fact that real pizza should not require utensils, it was one of the best meals he’d ever had. The crust was crispy and doughy, and there was enough meat and cheese that the menu should probably carry a warning for people with a risk of heart disease, but it was delicious and filling, and Rush barely made it through half the pizza before his pants felt uncomfortably tight, and not in that good I’m-thinking-about-West-naked way.
The hour they had together went quicker than Rush thought possible. He saw West glancing at his watch and knew he had to get back to the office.
“I GUESS
we should head back,” Rush said, beating him to it. “I almost forgot, though. I got you this.” He lifted a small shopping bag and set it on the table in front of West.
“You got me a present?”
“It’s nothing really, and actually, it’s kind of stupid, so if you don’t like it, no big deal.”
West lifted the tissue-covered object from of the bag and unwrapped it on the table. He lifted it and inspected it carefully. It was a glass sphere, clear, with swirls of blue and aqua running through it. It reminded West of wisps of smoke curling off a snuffed candle. Bubbles added depth and texture to the orb. It was gorgeous.
“It’s a paperweight. You probably don’t really need one, but it reminded me of the cove we went to….”
Rush’s voice trailed off. West could tell he hadn’t meant to bring up his grandfather. Although he said good-bye that day, his memories of the time they spent at the beach were happy ones. He was able to give his grandfather the send-off he deserved, and having Rush there with him made the day much less somber.
“It’s beautiful,” West said, his words genuine. “I really love it. Thank you.”
Rush shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“No, it’s everything. Thank you.”
Rush gave him a little smile, and West felt his pulse quicken.
“I guess I should let you get back to work before you’re late for your next meeting or appointment or whatever it is you have to do this afternoon,” Rush said, breaking into West’s daydream.
“Probably. It’s a conference call, but it’s as dull as meetings and appointments. I don’t really want to do any of those things. I’d much rather spend the afternoon with you.”
“Yeah, but duty calls.”
“I guess it does.”
They got up, leaving a couple of twenties on the table to cover their bill plus tip, and walked out onto the street. As they strolled back toward West’s office, their hands found one another, fingers curling together. Their pace was intentionally slow, and West knew he likely would be late, even though Rush was conscious of his schedule, but West couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to draw out their time together.
“Maybe we could grab dinner out somewhere tonight?” Rush asked hopefully, once they came to stop in front of West’s building.
West hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rush. I am probably going to be working late. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home, but I’ll text you and keep you posted.”
“Oh, sure. No problem. I dropped in on you with no notice. I can’t expect you to shirk your responsibilities. If you have to work late, I’ll see you when you get home.”
West leaned forward and kissed him gently before telling him good-bye and walking back into the building. It hurt to leave him standing there on the sidewalk. Visions of the last time he walked away clouded his head. Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same. He was going upstairs, not across the country, and Rush would be waiting for him when he got home. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the tugging at his heart as more distance separated them.
He forced his body to move forward, through the doors of the building, over to the elevator, then up to his office.
Trying to keep a neutral expression, he said hello to Emily and Scarlet on his way in, then plunked himself down in his chair and opened up his laptop. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on the fact that he was still at least eight hours from seeing Rush again. He was a grown man, not a fourteen-year-old boy who lacked the patience to wait to see his boyfriend.
With that quick self-reminder, he set about dealing with the inundation of e-mails and messages from his singular hour away from the office. As he listened to the third voice mail about one of his client’s imagined crises, he pulled the paperweight out from the bag and placed it on his desk. It looked out of place and inharmonious with the rest of the office décor, being the only pop of vibrancy in an otherwise monochromatic color scheme.
He could almost hear the waves as he looked at it, and he felt a sense of homesickness so acute he had difficulty breathing. Closing his eyes, he forced air into his lungs and waited for the sensation to subside. If there was any hope of getting out of the office at a decent hour, he needed to focus and make sure everything was checked off his to-do list as quickly and efficiently as possible. Rush was the best kind of motivator.
BY FOUR
o’clock, West had finished with his conference call, and his fingers were itching to call Rush and find out what he was doing. He missed most of what happened in the conference call, and thank God for Scarlet, because she took minutes while he was zoning out and daydreaming, staring at his paperweight. Fidgety and distracted wasn’t his usual MO, but it seemed since Rush entered his life, he’d been knocked off balance. Trying to grapple his way back to some sort of an equilibrium was becoming less and less desirable as they days wore on, and now, sitting in his leather and chrome office chair, trying to summon a memory of anything that happened during the call, he found he didn’t care.
West restrained himself from dialing Rush’s number and punched in the extension for Scarlet’s desk instead.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Weston?” she asked.
“Could you please see what Helena’s schedule looks like this afternoon? I’d like to meet with her if I could.”
“Certainly. I’ll do that right away,” Scarlet replied.
“Thank you.”
WEST SLID
his key into the lock, careful not to drop the paperweight as he turned the doorknob and pushed it open. Stepping inside, he called out to Rush, who came padding out from the direction of the living room.