CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Elliot wakes up late the next morning, he’s alone. It takes him a moment to realize that he shouldn’t be, but the tingling aches all over his body soon let him know.
Mark should be here.
He gave no indication he wanted to leave—seemed more than content to curl up around Elliot and go to sleep, happy and sated. But he’s not here now. He’s gone, his clothes have gone, even the warm imprint on his side of the bed has gone. It’s like he was never here at all.
For a long minute, Elliot stares at nothing, his mind entirely blank. Then, with a weird sort of unhealthy numbness spreading through his bones, he gets up. He gets on with his morning routine. He doesn’t look back.
He doesn’t process anything about it, not even a little.
Mark’s gone, his subconscious whispers.
Mark got what he wanted and left.
You’re not good enough, a bitter voice hisses in his mind. You’re never good enough.
Elliot shuts it down. With no more than twenty minutes passing since waking up to a cold bed, Elliot’s washed and dressed and coffee’d up, and he leaves the house. He can hardly stand the oppressive silence of it.
He goes to Lucas’. He doesn’t really have to pick up Sammy for a long while yet, but he’s pretty sure Lucas won’t turn him away. He’s not wrong.
Unfortunately, Lucas’ company comes with a hefty dose of leering.
“How’d it go?” Lucas asks, eyebrows wagging. He’s made coffee at least, and at some point he’s put in some effort to clean his overly metallic kitchen. Maybe it’s that Callum‘s influence. Elliot doesn’t much care.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters.
Lucas whispers. “Ouch. Wine?” Off Elliot’s flat stare, he says, “More coffee then,” and sets about refilling their mugs. He lets a minute of silence lapse; all Elliot can hear is the soft thumps of Sammy moving about upstairs, getting himself up and dressed.
You need to get yourself out there more, darling,” Lucas says, eyeing him steadily. “This whole celibacy thing isn’t healthy.”
“I wasn’t celibate.” He was fucked up, is what he was. Insecure. Vulnerable. Damaged.
You’re hurt, Mark had said, back when it seemed like he gave a shit. You’re not damaged.
Elliot puts down his cup and takes a breath. “Lucas,” he says, looking his husband clear in the eye. “You really broke my heart, you know?”
Whatever Lucas was expecting to hear, it’s not that. His eyes widen with surprise, then cloud over, something tentatively sad creeping into them. “Yeah.” He lowers his cup onto the counter and sighs.
“I’ve never really told you that,” Elliot continues. “I shouted, I threw you out, I cut contact with you for all those weeks…but I never really told you how much you destroyed me.”
Lucas, for the first time in years, looks as if he’s feeling some weight on his shoulders. “I know what I did to you. It’s…my biggest regret in life.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” There’s a thickness in Elliot’s throat, but he won’t cry. He’s done letting it control him. “You having all those affairs. I’m not the one to blame.”
“Of course you’re not,” Lucas says, tone full of intense honesty. “If I’ve ever made you feel that way…” He trails off, and Elliot has to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“I’ve spent all these years thinking I’m not good enough.”
Lucas’ face crumbles. “Oh, darling…” he says, tone barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say. I was—so fucking stupid.” He reaches across the counter then, takes Elliot’s hands in his own. Elliot lets him. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Any man worth his salt will think the same.”
Like Mark, who Elliot thought was worth more than most things in the world, and who then tiptoed out of his life after he got what he wanted. Like Lucas, who married him, then ruined him.
It’s a pretty lie.
Elliot pulls his hands free. “I think I need some space from you for a while,” he says. “Nothing dramatic—you can still see Sammy as much as you want. But I—we can’t be friends right now. I need to figure myself out. Separate from you.”
With a solemn nod and a thick swallow, Lucas steps back from the counter, almost as if he’s giving Elliot the physical space he needs. “Of course,” he says quietly, before meeting Elliot’s eye again and looking for all the world like a man lost. “I truly am sorry, you know. For what it’s worth”—he sighs, rubs a hand over the back of his neck—“I’ve never been happy. Doing what I do. All the guys. The…the meaningless of it. It’s never once made me glad I’m no longer married.”
“We’re still married,” Elliot points out. He hesitates. “I think that needs to change, too.”
“Tell me when.”
Because it’s just a formality by now, isn’t it, for Lucas. This marriage stopped holding weight the moment he climbed into bed with another man. Not like Elliot—clinging on, not hoping, but not wanting to let go.
“Do you want to keep Sammy for the rest of the day?” Elliot asks.
“Okay.”
“Tell him I’ll call his phone when I’m outside the house tonight.”
He leaves Lucas’ feeling both heavier and lighter. It’s a strange combination, and it’s not until he’s climbing out of his car and heading to his front door that his mind clears enough to let him think about what he’s just done.
Divorce. Control of his own life. Making a stand against his insecurities.
It’s enough to put a shake in his hand as he turns the key in the lock.
His phone rings, Mark’s name on the screen. For a moment, Elliot stares at it, poised halfway into his house. Then he steps inside, closes the door, and answers.
Doesn’t even get chance to say hello.
“I was getting breakfast,” says Mark.
Elliot blinks. “What?”
“This morning. I’m guessing you woke up and found me gone? I planned on getting back before you noticed. I was gonna make you pancakes in bed, but I had to get my car from the theatre first, and there was traffic and I—”
A big, wide, hopeless smile blooms on Elliot’s face, a thousand butterflies springing to life in his chest.
Mark didn’t walk out. Didn’t take what he wanted and leave. Mark worked for him. Effort. Consideration. Fucking romance, for god’s sake.
“That’s sweet,” Elliot says, trying not to let the overwhelming relief show in his voice.
“I gave up at your door ten minutes ago. Are you home now?” Elliot doesn’t answer, and Mark says tentatively, “I’ve still got all the stuff if you want me to come over—”
“No.” It comes out more abrupt than he means it, and he winces when he senses Mark’s silent unease on the other end of the line. He takes a breath. “I’m divorcing my husband.”
Mark pauses a beat. “Right now?”
“No, not right now,” Elliot says, laughing a little despite himself. He heads to his desk. “I’ve got a lot of work to do today. Someone’s been distracting me lately.”
“Who is he? I’ll beat him up.”
He doesn’t need to see Mark to know they’re sharing the same grin.
“I don’t know how we’re gonna do this and keep it off the kids’ radar.”
Mark hums. “Well they’re at school a lot, so.”
“A lot of lunchtime sex then.”
“I mean, if you’re offering…”
It’s banter. Flirting. It’s easy. Elliot can hardly believe this is real.
Then Mark goes a little serious, bringing a small amount of difficult reality into the situation. “We could tell them.”
Sammy already knows, but for some reason Elliot doesn’t want to tell Mark that yet. “Let’s see if you still like my face in a month,” he says instead, only half joking.
“A month?” says Mark. “I’ll be madly in love with your face by then.”
And okay, okay, one day Elliot might get used to how easily Mark displays his emotions, the honesty of his thoughts, but that’s not today.
Today, he’s not going to act like Mark’s just openly admitted to pretty much expecting to fall for him.
Today, he can’t handle the enormity of that, and how very much he wants it to be true.
He powers up his laptop and smiles.
“What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”
“You, apparently,” says Mark.
Elliot caves and invites him over today. Work can wait a while longer.