Chapter Eighteen

TREY EYED CONNOR. He couldn’t miss the guilt on his face, the sheepish way he grinned, the placating way he rose to his feet and planted a kiss on his cheek, even though Trey was drenched in sweat. He’d run well beyond Gas Works Park, all the way into the University District—a good eight miles.

The last thing he’d expected to see was Connor with another man, a hot one at that, looking ready to get busy, right there on the living room floor. Ah well, it was a nice backdrop. How could he blame Connor for doing something Trey would have no hesitancy about doing himself?

But he wasn’t about to tell Connor that.

It was time to play the suspicious spouse to ascertain if there was anything to worry about. Trey left his marks when he was ready, not the other way around.

He looked at the closed door and then back at Connor, who’d moved back to the couch, where he was cowering. You should take pity on him, poor guy. He answered himself. No fucking way.

“So, I’ll ask one more time. What was going on here? Because it looked to me like if I hadn’t come along when I did, I might have seen a lot racier scene.” He snorted. “Maybe something worthy of Pornhub.”

Connor closed his open mouth and tore his red face away from Trey to stare out the window. Trey watched as he gulped a few deep breaths. At last, Connor rose and smiled. “Come on. Nothing was going on here. I’m flattered you were jealous, but I was just comforting an old friend.”

“As one does—on your knees.” Trey snorted. “Yes, I find a guy on his knees in front of me super-comforting.”

“Stop it. Let’s not make too much of this. He was in tears, and I was merely hoping to make him feel better. I do that by showing compassion and concern and not through sex.” Connor shook his head, frowning.

Trey sensed something off. He told himself to dial back his paranoia. “Sorry. I just care about you so much, I can’t bear the idea of you with another guy.”

“Oh, come on, Trey. It was nothing like that.” Connor scratched the back of his neck, then his nose. He shifted weight from one foot to the other. He smiled again, but it was sickly.

What the fuck’s going on?

“Why don’t you go take a shower? You’re ripe!” Connor giggled again. “I’ll fix us some lunch. A nice healthy salad? There’s arugula and those heirloom tomatoes from the farmer’s market.”

Trey stood his ground. “Quit it.”

“What?”

“Trying to change the subject. Who was that guy?”

And at this last question, Connor faltered, looking down, then up, over Trey’s shoulder as if there was an answer written on the hardwood floors or the plaster walls.

“Who? If nothing was going on, you can tell me.”

He could see Connor debating, perhaps grasping for a lie. He knew the signs well enough from his own experience. His dad always used to say, “Don’t shit a shitter.” Maybe Trey had something to worry about now? He hadn’t really thought so when he’d walked in. He’d simply wanted Connor to squirm a bit. But now, his reluctance was telling him he did having something to worry about. Maybe.

“Go take a shower, hon. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

Trey gave him the side-eye. “Tell me.”

Connor sighed when it was obvious he couldn’t win this one. Trey wasn’t about to be evaded. “It was my ex. Steve.”

Trey kept his silence for a good while, hoping Connor’s discomfort would rise. Finally, he moved into the living room and sat on the couch, a couple feet away from his new husband. He stared straight ahead, not giving Connor the benefit of eye contact, even though he knew Connor was staring at him, desperate for Trey’s understanding. Without looking at him, he said, “Really? What was he doing here?”

Connor started to answer with an unintelligible word or two, then stopped.

“Trying to think of a lie?”

Connor’s cheeks, reddening, tattled on him. But he said, “No, no. Not at all.” He went quiet again and then said, “He had a dog, a little Pomeranian named Macy. She passed away.”

Trey cocked his head. “You never told me you had a dog.”

“Well, er, I didn’t. It was Steve’s. He got it when he moved out.”

“But that was only a few months ago. He couldn’t have been that broken up about it.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how attached a person can get in a short time. Plus, he always wanted a dog when we were together. So did Miranda. Alas, I’m allergic.”

Trey eyed him. “Didn’t know that either.”

Trey didn’t say anything for a time. “Okay, buddy. If you say so.” Trey made sure the look he gave Connor said two things—one, he didn’t believe him, and two, he’d let it slide this time. He figured by not pressing, he’d cause Connor to be even more uncomfortable, maybe make him think twice about lying to him again.

Because, if there was one thing Trey was good at, it was detecting lies. He’d had so much experience telling his own, it was easy to see when others tried to pull the wool over his eyes. “I’m gonna go take that shower.”

“Okay. I’ll get lunch started.”

Trey paused at the hallway leading back to the bedroom and bath. “Don’t bother. I’ll go out and grab something.”

“Uh, okay. Let me throw something on, and I’ll join you.” Connor wore only a pair of flannel boxers and a worn Rat City Rollergirls T-shirt. That also bugged him. He’d been practically naked with his ex.

“That’s okay. You have work to do, right?”

Connor didn’t say anything. Trey could see he was stunned and a little hurt. “Right,” he said softly, edging by him to go to his office.

Trey let him stew. As he showered, he smiled. If anything at all was going on with this Steve person, Trey thought it wise to nip it in the bud. He wasn’t too concerned. After all, Connor had cried in his arms over how betrayed he’d felt when Steve left him, broken-hearted, for another man. He’d thought they were forever.

Trey finished showering, after taking his time lathering, rinsing, and shaving his balls. He danced to the Bluetooth speaker on the bathroom counter, which was now playing an ’80s Spotify dance mix playlist as he toweled himself off.

In the bedroom, he dressed quickly in jeans, T-shirt, hoodie, and the same running shoes. Maybe he’d head over to Capitol Hill for lunch, and see what pretty boys might be out and about in Seattle’s gayborhood.

He was married. He wasn’t dead.

As he headed back through the hallway, he heard Connor on the phone, his voice low.

“Yeah, yeah. I understand. I don’t know if I can do that.” Silence as Connor presumably listened to the person on the other end. His next words revealed who that person was.

“Steve, Steve, listen to me. I know you’re upset, but—” Again, the silence as Steve cut him off.

Trey crept closer, listening. If he were a dog, his ears would be pointing straight up.

Connor sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll see if I can get away for an hour or so tonight. Sure, meet you at the bar at five-ish.”

Trey moved back quickly as Connor disconnected. He then walked out into the living room and dining room combination, zipping his hoodie up, his face an uninformed mask. “Be back in a bit!” he called out. He headed out the door before Connor had a chance to say anything. The last glimpse he had of Connor was of him sitting on the couch, phone in his hand, looking unsure and maybe lost.

On the sidewalk, Trey breathed in the air. There was a promise of summer in its warm—for Seattle—undercurrent. He pulled out a phone to summon an Uber. While he waited, his mind, insecure, raced. There’ll be consequences if this Steve asshole is now coming around, sniffing around his husband for a second chance. As Carole King once sang, it’s too late, baby. And as she didn’t sing: he’s mine now.

Back off.