Question Mark (21 page)

“They kept the lights on set all spooky and Sophia kept freaking out when I wasn’t even in character yet. I bet a lot of the outtakes are going to be her shrieking and then laughing about it. Maybe a couple of me nearly barfing over that fake blood—plus the couple of times that I slipped and fell chasing her through that house.”

Mark shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes. “I can’t really believe I’m having this conversation right now. Never thought I’d go to a movie some random Friday night and talk to the lead actor about it the next morning.”

“Never thought I’d be stuck in England when one of the only people I care about seeing is a world away in New Mexico.” Zane coughed a little and cleared his throat. “I…I’ve been really nervous the past two weeks, Mark. Afraid, I guess…”

Mark sucked in a breath and blinked in disbelief. Zane was so willing to put himself out there. It continuously caught him off guard. “Why? What’s going on?”

Zane chuckled humorlessly. “You’re alone dealing with all of this publicity, while for once, I’m completely removed from it out here in the country. I’m constantly thinking about how I might not be worth all this trouble to you. I thought I’d call and find you ignoring me. It’s like the worst possible time to test a relationship because we only met a short time ago. I know we shared a lot over the phone before my training, but it’s hard not to worry about you calling it quits. It’d be one thing if we’d known each other a long time, been boyfriends forever or something. But we—I mean…I don’t know…”

Mark couldn’t ignore the thrill that tracked through him at the word “boyfriends” so he tried to focus on being up front about what he was going through. If his job was to avoid panic and the drama that would inevitably follow, like Sean and his dad said, he had to be straightforward before he lost it.

“I’m not going to lie and tell you this has been easy for me, Zane. It’s…crazy…having so many people suddenly interested in who I’m with and what I do with that person. I’ve even seen myself on TV. Things are going to come to a head at work soon…” Mark bit down on his lip, thinking. “If nothing else, this situation is teaching me to figure out what I really want so I can try to go for it,” Mark answered, his heart pounding in a way that didn’t match his calm words.

“What does that mean?” said Zane.

“For us?”

“Yeah. For us.”

“It means I’m a mess but I’m not giving up yet.”

“Yet, huh? I suppose I’ll take that…” Zane was quiet and Mark couldn’t tell if the other man was hurt or something else. Dammit. He was being a bitch again, wasn’t he?

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, no. I’ll take it.” Zane answered. “I don’t want you to feel like a mess, though I understand why you do. I want you to feel happy. Excited about us.”

Those feelings were definitely mixed in with the doubt and the worry, but Mark didn’t know which would win out.

“Zane,” he whispered, feeling defeated.

“You know if something happens with work or you need a place to go… I’m here. I would be so ready to help however you needed me to. Don’t forget that, please. I know how easy it is to feel alone right now, but you’re not.”

Mark swallowed and balled his free hand into a fist. “I’m sure things will be fine.” Another heavy pause filled the line between them and he wished he could rewind and take back what he said if only to remove that tension. This was a perfect example of why “no games” could also make things uncomfortable.

He really had missed Zane. He was still blown away that they were currently a part of each other’s lives. The lengthy conversations they shared before Zane left for training had in part nursed Mark along during the weeks of silence and they
had
learned a lot about one another, but Mark had to be open. It was so awkward to be
this
guy in the relationship—he felt like he was risking so much, whether that feeling was fair or not—and with possibly easier paths popping up in front of him, like Christian, he was nervous he was going to make the wrong decision. He had a history… Yet, who knew if Mark wouldn’t feel this unsure dating anyone right now? What happened between him and Rafe still skipped around in his head, poking holes in his confidence.

“When do you start filming? Is your schedule going to be packed?”

Zane seemed ambivalent about a response and Mark wondered if he was going to ignore the question altogether. When he finally spoke, his words were a little too bright and the guilt slicing through Mark grew worse.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A quick rap on the door had Christian bracing himself for what was certain to be an awful afternoon. He pushed away from his desk and stood up to meet his smiling girlfriend, and no matter that he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to return her cheery expression. His mood was more in the land of dreary and pitiful.

Her initial gush of enthusiasm faltered the same way he’d seen the past few weeks since he returned from Bora Bora. He’d left that island with a lot of decisions to make that he once intended to ignore for the duration of his life. And Mark was at the root of it all. Mark and the too goddamned vivid memory of Kevin.

“Hey, Kat.”

She accepted his peck on the cheek and pushed past him into one of two chairs in front of his desk. She dropped her purse on the floor and clasped her hands, clearly waiting for a clue as to why he wanted to see her in the middle of the day. They never met like this—mostly because he’d made it a habit of keeping her at arm’s length. He had no idea why she stayed with him. She didn’t have much reason to.

“So… I’m here as requested,” she almost smiled, her expression flickering back and forth between annoyed and concerned.

Christian closed his office door with a click and moved to lean against the desk in front of her. No touching.
No sir.
He didn’t know how to carry himself. Delivering bad news wasn’t his strong suit. He was the carefree guy. Not the
take-your-medicine-and-deal-with-it
guy. Everything about him, clear down to his job as a Primary Event Manager with Sports Unlimited was about spontaneity and fun. He traveled a lot, managing things like the X-Games, cheer and fitness competitions, road races, triathlons…and on and on. When they needed a guy to get the crowds going, talk to sponsors—whatever—they sent Christian in.

But this…he was completely out of his element. This was major. Significant. He was about to really hurt someone he cared about.

Christian ran a hand through his hair and bit down on his lip, stalling until Kat shifted impatiently. He started yammering. “You ever find yourself in one of those situations like, I don’t know, where you realize that everything
seems
right, maybe even perfect, but there’s just 
something
that refuses to fit, or click, or whatever?”

Kat stared at him for a seriously long minute and sank back in the chair. She didn’t say anything and his jaw felt the only solution was to keep going with the mish-mash talk.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I went away... Actually I spent most of my time in Bora Bora dragging around all this heavy crap weighing on me. I—”

“You’ve been different,” Kat interrupted, her eyes already moist, which seemed to irritate her. He wanted to escape the room and run until he couldn’t move at all. “I knew something was going on, but I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. I’ve
never
known how to talk to you about difficult things. You shut me down. You always have.”

Christian bent his head, his chin against his chest.
Because I’m an asshat
. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”

Kat didn’t try to make up any arguments against that, though he sort of wished she would. “What am I here for you to tell me?”

He shook his head and licked his dry lips before gathering his courage and blurting, “I’m moving out.” Kat didn’t even blink. “You are too good a woman to stay with a guy who’s only ever going to be with you halfway. I have to go back out on the road on Sunday and I can be out of the apartment before then.”

“Is this your way of painting a pretty break up, Christian?” she sniffed, her voice breathy like it got when she was really upset. “Did you meet someone else?” Kat leaned forward to swipe a tissue from the box on his desk.

Yes. About five years ago and then another prick who drives me crazy three weeks ago
. “No. There’s no one I’m with or dating.”
Technically true
. “I’ve never cheated on you.”
Definitely true
.

Kat looked like she actually believed him, the tears spilling from her eyes now. Christian stayed frozen against the desk, his chest hollowed out. Leave it to him to give up the only person who gave a rat’s ass about him.

“Why couldn’t you be honest with me about this a long time ago?” Kat asked softly. “I’ve been with you almost two years and you’ve never given me a chance to be the girlfriend I wanted to be to you.”

Shame hit Christian quickly and silently. He shifted, trying to fight it off.

“I know I didn’t. I made a lot of stupid decisions and all I can say is that I need to figure out what is going on in my head. I’m kind of…lost, Kat.”
And I’m gay. I just won’t ever tell you. Or anybody else. Ever. Because it will ruin everything I’ve built.
“That’s no excuse for wasting your time and hurting you when you deserve so much better than that. It’s all I can say.”

“If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly? Please? I don’t want to leave here today wondering about this long after we never see each other again.”

Christian couldn’t argue with that. But asking
anything
? Something in the back of his brain whistled an alarm. After enduring several interminable seconds of her laser-like stare, he nodded slowly.

With misted eyes, she straightened her shoulders and gave him a new look that pinned him to the floor. “Who’s Kevin?”

***

Mark had no idea that his words to Zane were so prophetic as he strode into work that evening for the late shift. Up to the point when he headed for the break room and the coffee pot, everything was business as usual—park his car, swipe his badge, go to his desk, clear any paperwork left there while he was off shift, login to his workstation—after all that, his day shit the bed. Like an unholy mess of shit. Like when you get food poisoning from a Chinese buffet.

Three steps into the break room and Marty, who was waiting, pushed away from one of the round tables with a half-chewed bite of sandwich in his mouth and pointed a finger toward his office.

“Can I at least grab a cup of coffee first?”

He pointed again and that digit meant business, so Mark turned back the direction he’d come and tried not to stomp to Marty’s office door. Stomping was immature. He swallowed down the torrent of words he wanted to spew on his boss, waiting until Marty caught up with him and preceded him inside the ramshackle space.

“Sit,” Marty ordered brusquely, pausing to slosh down a gulp of soda. There was an orange stain on his left breast pocket. Pizza? Spaghetti sauce? Whatever it was, it was burning Mark’s retinas. He certainly didn’t want Marty thinking he was enamored with that soft, old-guy chest, so he took up staring at a cup of pens.

“What’s this about?” Mark asked, probably less politely than he should have.

“Newland, how many times did we talk about you keeping your personal life out of what goes on in this building since you came back from your little adventure? How many times?”

One hundred thousand times
.

“Several, I suppose, but I also believe that each and every one of those times you brought it up I explained that nothing mentioned about me in the office was a result of me yapping about it. My personal life is private. I don’t bring it to work.”

“I beg to differ, son—” Mark
hated
being called son. Only Brad Newland could call him son. “You come to work, those cameras start snapping pictures across the street. You leave, they wait around to hound coworkers, then I assume, they rush off to follow you. The trash papers—”

“I sure as hell didn’t deliver them, Marty. It’s not my fault that half of your work force buys those things and brings them into work. I don’t leave them in the break room or go from desk to desk interrupting calls to point myself out. When people ask, I shut them down. In fact, the most I’ve even discussed this shit is with you.”

“Watch your mouth in my office.” That vile, dry-skinned digit was pointing at him again.

Mark shrugged off the warning. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you can reasonably expect in this situation. I have no control over what these papers print, what shows people watch on television, or what those photographers do.”

“Your actions are at the root of you being in the paper. Can you deny that?”

“I’m not the only man in the world to go on dates. And I don’t share details.”

Marty huffed in disbelief. “You’re kissing all over another man in public. A famous man. And you think that’s not sharing details? I never even did that with my wife in public!”