Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

says you're the best, and that's what we want. The best." Mr. Anderson dropped a wink. "I'm just glad she didn't sign on one of those candy-asses from the city, know what I mean?"
    "Excuse me?"
    Mr. Anderson must have missed the frost in his voice. "You know. Those homos that get into this design stuff," he said. "Swishing around, talking about fabric weaves and earth tones and whatnot, calling everything fabulous. It's disgusting. Can't abide by 'em. Might as well hire a woman, am I right?"
    Throughout the casually hateful speech, Ethan's fury mounted. At the last word, he stood slowly and closed his laptop without bothering to shut it down. "No," he said. "You're not right."
    The look on the man's face might have been comical, if Ethan didn't feel like putting his fist through it.
    "Design your own goddamn kitchen, you small-minded son of a bitch." He grabbed the computer, turned, and walked out.
    Practically on autopilot, Ethan got into his car and drove across town, to the little one-bedroom bungalow he'd rented after the divorce. He managed to pull into the driveway before the shakes started. Sweat coated his palms, and his heart pounded like thunder.
    But it wasn't fear this time. He felt...free.
    "What the hell am I doing?" he said, and then grimaced. "I'm sitting in my car, talking to myself. That's what I'm doing." But he wouldn't be for long. He was going to go inside, grab a suitcase, toss in some clothes and essentials—and leave this fucking town for good.
    There was nothing to keep him here. He had no interest in maintaining a relationship with his family, and his job was portable. He'd been afraid for so long that he'd never even conceived of this possibility, but now it was the only option he could imagine. "I can live in the city," he said. "Why not? That's where us candy-ass homos belong, anyway."
    He only hoped it wasn't too late to make things right with Jude. Because that was where he truly belonged.
    ****
    Jude slunk back into the office after a late solo lunch and tried to avoid Nikki, which was more or less impossible, since her desk was right out in front. She'd been trying to cheer him up since the disaster—actually, his whole team had been trying—and he was sick of it. He didn't want to be cheered up.
    He wanted the only thing in the world he couldn't have.
    "Hey, boss," Nikki called before he'd gotten halfway across the small lobby. "Want your messages?"
    "No." He continued on course to his office, where he could close the door between him and everything else. The way Ethan had closed the door on him.
    "Want a donut?" Nikki said.
    "No."
    "How about a new admin?"
    He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and his shoulders slumped. "Leave, if you want to," he said. "I wouldn't want to work for me, either."
    Slight pressure on his arm made him look up to find Nikki beside him, with concern knitting her features. "I don't want to leave," she said. "None of us do. All we want is for you to stop kicking yourself over whatever it is you think you did wrong."
    "It's not opinion. It's fact," he said. "And I'll be fine. Is anything wrong with the business?"
    "Well, no. But—"
    "Then leave my personal life alone."
    "Jude." Nikki planted her hands on her hips. "Do you even know what projects we're working on right now?"
    "Of course I do." Even as he said it, though, he realized he had no idea. He'd been sleeping too much. Drinking too much. He'd stopped caring about everything, including whether or not he ever started caring again. "Fine. I don't know. Are you happy?" he said. "Just send me an email. I'll figure it out."
    Nikki sighed. "Maybe you should take the rest of your vacation. You still had three days left."
    "A vacation is the last thing I need." He wrenched his office door open and stomped inside, then slammed it shut. When he was sure Nikki had gone back to her post, he collapsed behind his desk and dropped his head on folded arms, trying to will back the storm.
    It was no use. He couldn't live without Ethan—and he couldn't live with him, either. The secret boyfriend bullshit was just too much to deal with.
    Or was it?
    He had something with Ethan that he'd never find with anyone else. Was he really going to let his pride come before that? Love meant sacrifice—on both sides, not just one. He'd been expecting Ethan to make all the sacrifices, and not willing to give anything in return.
    If he could only have Ethan in sleazy no-name theaters and by-the-hour hotels, he'd take it.