Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

measured tones, his voice barely more than a whisper.
    "Please Jaime, please if you love me, please get in the car so we can go home."
    The man Shane loved more than his own life turned and with a cold stare and distant voice said, "Go away Shane. I don't want you here right now. I can't talk to you right now. I want you to leave. We can talk later."
    Shane closed his eyes against the pain that the dismissive tone of Jaime's voice produced inside him. It was as if each word was the thrust of a sharp blade tearing at his heart. His lover was sending him away.
    Shane turned and began to walk out of the office. The last thing he heard before he closed the door was Jaime's voice saying over and over again:
    "It's all right Jim. I sent him away. I'm so sorry."
    Shane felt the first tears fall to his cheek as the door clicked shut.
    ****
    The next morning, the light filtering in through the closed curtains caused Shane to roll over, jostling the empty whiskey bottle out of his hand and making it fall to the floor. He clutched at his head and moaned aloud. His cell began to chirp out a happy little tune that made him grind his teeth as he searched for it among the blankets. By the time he located it, the call had gone to voicemail. Shane threw it across the room where it smashed against the wall, the cover breaking off and sliding under the bed. He lay back down, knowing that he should get up…should go into the office…should try to reach Jaime.
    Jaime.
    A lump rose in his throat and tears began to fall again. Angrily he swiped at them, mentally cursing himself for the weakness they represented. Christ, McAllister, you're nothing but a fucking pansy. Now get a grip on yourself. Get up, get a shower and go find him. Tell him what an ass you are. Tell him you're sorry. Beg him to come back. Beg him…to let you love him again. The tears began again and this time Shane simply let them fall. He closed his eyes and prayed that Jaime would come home.
    ****
    3 days later
    "I don't give a shit what the man said Margaret. You tell Dexham that his fucking presentation will be ready when I say it is!"
    Shane slammed down the phone and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He was coming apart at the seams and it wasn't pretty. Not in the least. He hadn't had contact with Jaime nor had his lover been back to their condo since the night of the incident. Incident! God I can't even call it what it really is! Break-up! Separation! Divorce! Nightmare! Shane shuddered as he thought of going home one more time to the empty condo he and Jaime had once shared. He had been drinking heavily for the last 3 days and had barely been able to drag himself into the office today. Now that he was here, all he wanted to do was go back home and crawl into bed with another bottle of liquid forgetfulness.
    The intercom buzzed again and this time he let it go on and on. He had no doubt that it was Margaret calling to offer her resignation. He had taken most of his grief out on her in the last few hours and he was pretty sure she had reached her limit. He swiveled around to his computer screen and looked at the email he had been composing before Dexham had called to ask when his million-dollar presentation was going to be ready.
    Dear Jaime,
    I am so sorry. I know you would never consider cheating on me with anyone else. When I saw you with Hadrian I lost my mind. I love you so much and seeing his hands on you, him kneeling in front of you, touching you…
    That was as far as Shane could get. Every time he tried to write more the tears would threaten to come and he had to stop and breathe until the tightness in his chest passed. He was so lost without Jaime. So very lost. Each day it got harder and harder to make himself care…about anything. But today had been the worst of all. Today Jim had called to tell him that Jaime would be coming by to pick up his things and drop off his key. Jaime was moving out. Then Jim had dropped the other bomb…the one that had made Shane run to the toilet and heave his guts into the porcelain bowl.
    "So, he wanted me to call and tell you to please not be in the condo between 12 and 4 today. It shouldn't take us much longer than that to gather up his things."
    "Us? You're coming with him?"
    "Well, of course. I mean he is moving into my place, so I want to be there to help him get situated."
    "He…he's moving where?"
    "My place. Do we have a bad connection? You sound far away. Shane? Shane? Hello? Shane? I think he hung up