Guy answered the door in his sweats. Hair askew from sleep, eyes still cloudy, he exchanged only a brief hello with Amadeo before he closed the door and followed me into the living room.
“I guess that didn’t go well,” Guy said, setting down beside me.
I related what I could without revealing the personal details Amadeo had given me, unsure whether I should keep my big mouth shut. Throughout, Guy said nothing, but did offer a hand when I found myself shaking from rage.
When it came down to the final part of the story, I paused before finishing and looked him in the eyes.
“What’d you tell him?” Guy asked, his grip reassuring, but false in its strength against mine.
“I told him I had feelings for you,” I said. “Because I do.”
Guy didn’t immediately respond. “I… don’t know what to say.”
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed my body against his, cradling my head within the curve of his neck and listening to the sound of his breathing. His hands instinctively found their place on my back and held me in turn.
“You mean a lot to me,” I said, drawing away so that I could look at him. “You know that, right?”
“You mean a lot to me too,” Guy said.
I pressed my lips to his and sighed as my hands fell to his ribcage.
The contact was brief—short seconds, probably no more than a minute, but the whole time I felt an enormous weight lifting from my shoulders.
“Come on,” Guy said, lifting me into his arms and starting toward the bedroom. “It’s been a long day.”
He didn’t need to say any more.