The Complications of T (7 page)

“Don’t hang up,” I said hurriedly.

“But…”

“I don’t care about roaming charges or international fees or any of that rubbish. Stay on the phone. Talk to me.”

“Okay.”

“You made me wait three months. I’m not waiting anymore.”

“Anything you want, Stuart.” He sounded amused. I heard him take a deep breath and settle himself. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me what you did after I left you.”

Tim chuckled. “What? You want to know if I cried?”

“Did you?”

“Yes. Does that make you feel better?”

“No!” I said, shocked, but when he laughed again, I had to smile. “Okay, I may have cried too.”

“Real tears or actor tears?” His tone was teasing but fond.

I brought up the website for a local florist who did same-day delivery and clicked through their offerings until I found the roses. Orange, for passion.

“Real tears, you git. What did you do after?” I prompted him.

For a moment I wondered whether it was okay to buy him roses. Did men give each other roses? Then I remembered what he had said:

If it works for you, it works for me. The trick is not to overthink it.

How would
I
react if Tim bought me roses? My grin got wider, and I clicked the purchase button. If Tim bought me roses, I would tease him about it, and then I would lay him down in my bed and cover him with kisses softer than any flower petal… before I pricked him with my thorn.

“Hey! You asked me to stay on the phone, and you’re not even listening,” chided Tim. “You’re just sitting there giggling to yourself. What’s so funny?”

“I’ll show you when you get home,” I said.

There was dead air for a few seconds before I realized what I had said.

Home
.

However, Tim resumed talking a moment later, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Does that mean you cleared out a drawer for my stuff? Because, I have to admit, I brought an awful lot with me. I might need two or three…”

Did hearts truly swell? Because it felt like my ribs were about to crack. Thankfully, I was saved from uttering any incoherent nonsense when Tim resumed his story.

“After I threw all the Chinese containers in the trash, I shaved my head, and then I jumped in the shower. Is this really what you want to hear?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Then what?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re amazing.”

After another brief pause, Tim continued telling me about his day—all of his days.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, just listening to the sound of his voice as he told me trivial things, silly things. I smiled, imagining the subtle expressions that animated his kissable face and how his graceful hands always moved as if to illustrate his words, while he sped
along through the cold winter day towards me and the warmth of the fire between us that ninety days could not extinguish.

∞

Other Books by Bey Deckard

Baal’s Heart Trilogy

Caged: Love and Treachery on the High Seas

Sacrificed: Heart Beyond the Spires

Fated: Blood and Redemption

F.I.S.T.S.

Sarge

Murphy

About the Author

Bey Deckard currently lives in the wilds of Montreal with his best buddy, a spotty pit bull named Murphy.

[email protected]

www.beydeckard.com