Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

see his face. He always waited until the lights were out to bring these topics up.
    “Is everything all right?” I asked him.
    “Of course,” he said, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.

    I GOT up the next morning and went for a jog. When I came home, he was gone. That was it. He didn’t even say goodbye. I tried not to be hurt. I tried not to be angry. I did my best not to imagine him with Raul. I partially succeeded at the first two, but at the last, I failed miserably. I told myself over and over again that I was being an idiot.
    There had never been any pretense that our relationship was exclusive.
    I had known about his other lovers from day one. So why did I care so much now?
    We had been seeing each other for approximately nine months. In the first two or three months of that time, I had still seen other men occasionally. Cole had been out of town a lot, and I never knew when he would return. It hadn’t been a big deal. But at some point over the summer, I had quit wanting to see anybody else. It wasn’t that I ever made the decision to be exclusive with him. It wasn’t out of any false sense of faithfulness. It was only that what I had with him was good. It was comfortable and exciting and so much more fulfilling than the casual flings I had been making do with up until then. I simply didn’t have any desire to look elsewhere. I always knew he would be back eventually, and I chose to wait. It was that simple.
    But now I reminded myself that I had other options as well. I could go to a club. I could go to the bathhouse. There was no reason to think I couldn’t have sex with somebody else if I chose to. It would do me good to get out there and get laid—pick up some anonymous stranger and fuck each other’s brains out. I knew it was exactly what I needed to take my mind off of Cole. Every time I jacked off in the shower, I told myself, “Today I’m going to have sex with somebody who isn’t him.”
    I never did.
    I refused to call him, because I didn’t want to seem desperate. He never called me either. That was fairly normal for him when he was gone. Still, every time the phone rang, I couldn’t help wishing that it was him.
    He had been gone a week when Marcus informed me that I was going to Vegas the following Monday. He estimated I would be there seven to ten days. As ridiculous as it was, it created a bit of a dilemma for me. I felt that it was only polite to let Cole know where I was. On the other hand, it seemed obvious that he was trying to distance himself from me, and giving him updates on my whereabouts seemed pathetic.
    On my second day in Vegas, I broke down and sent him a text message.
    It said only, “In Vegas.” Nothing more.
    The week was long. I was beginning to realize how much I hated Vegas. And how much I hated my clients. And how much I hated my job. I began to anticipate the day my demotion would take effect and I would be able to stay home. We worked late on Friday and agreed to meet again early the next morning. It was after eight by the time I got home.
    I knew the minute I walked into my condo that something was strange. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Only that it felt different. It felt… right . I stopped just inside the door and looked around. And then I saw all the pieces, and everything fell into place. A wine glass on the coffee table, a book with a French title on the couch, shoes by the door. And I tried to tell myself that the happiness I felt at seeing them was only because it would make my last few days in Vegas more fun. There was nothing more to it than that.
    He was just taking off his shirt when I walked into the bedroom.
    His back was to me. And though I may have wanted to, I could not deny the way my pulse skipped a beat when I saw him. “What are you doing here?” I asked, and he jumped.
    “Good lord, love, don’t sneak up on me like that!” He turned away from me, and I knew it was so I couldn’t see that he was blushing. “I was getting ready to take a shower.”
    “I thought you were in New York.”
    “I was,” he said, still not looking at me, “and I know I should have called. It’s terribly inappropriate of me to barge in on you like this.”
    I crossed over to him and wrapped my arms around him from behind. He was stiff in my arms, but he didn’t push me away. I buried my face in his silky hair and breathed in that scent I loved so much.
    “You don’t care if it’s inappropriate or not,” I said, “and you