The following morning, I penned a formal letter of resignation and emailed it to the Human Resources department at McAllister. I apologized for my abrupt departure with a masterfully worded few sentences that boiled down to the ol’ standby, “It’s not you, it’s me.” I mentioned something about taking a different direction and profusely thanked the firm for the opportunity. I read it five times before pressing Send. Then I showered, dressed, and headed out to mail the hard copy for posterity and grab a cup of coffee.

It was a beautiful April morning. The sky was a robin’s egg blue and it was warm enough to get by with a light sweater. I eyed my reflection in the window at Starbucks and sighed. I looked like an NYU teaching assistant in my navy V-neck pullover and khakis. My hair was longer than normal, I mused. I hadn’t had time to get it cut but I kind of liked the shaggier look. I had plenty of time now.

I made my way up LaGuardia Place to Washington Square Park and found an empty bench facing the circular fountain in the middle. The second I sat down, my cell rang. I recognized the number and groaned. Holy crap. Would the torment never end? I was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but I was desperate for a distraction and she’d only call again.

“Hi, Syd.”

“Hey. How are you?”

I focused on a pigeon hopping at my feet. “Good,” I lied. “How about you?”

“I’ve been better,” she replied sadly.

Okay, this was weird. I hiked my right leg over my left knee and shifted sideways on the bench. Talking to an ex who sounded as miserable as I felt was jarring. But we weren’t sad for the same reasons.

“I’m sorry,” I said. When the silence on the line stretched a little too long, I added, “Did you need something?”

Syd huffed humorlessly. “Yeah, I need something.”

“Syd…”

She went quiet for a moment. “I found a buyer for our house.”

“That’s great.” The best news I’d had in eons, actually.

“I can order the appraisal and get the ball rolling. If you approve, of course.”

“Fine by me.”

“The couple is motivated but they have to sell their place for the down payment. It shouldn’t take long. The market is pretty strong and—”

“I’m not in a hurry. Do you need anything from me?” I asked politely.

“That sounds like a loaded question,” she commented. When I didn’t respond, she laughed. “Sorry. I don’t need anything now but eventually, you’ll have to sign the documents.”

“Right. You can give them to my mom to forward to me.”

“Or I can deliver them myself,” she suggested.

The silence gathered and formed a suffocating force field. I had to break it in order to breathe, but I was leery of the outcome. This was why we hadn’t worked. We were like a landmine. We couldn’t communicate without something blowing up. Then we’d patch and paste and try to act as though the best parts of us weren’t seeping through the cracks and evaporating into nothingness. If we were honest, we’d both admit we were never really in sync unless we were working.

“That’s not necessary. Just keep me updated. You can text me or whatever.”

“Yeah, okay. So how’s Manhattan treating you? Do you like your new job?”

“It’s…an adjustment,” I conceded, glancing sideways when a man with a guitar took the bench next to mine and began singing an ancient Bob Dylan song.

“Is that Remy in the background?”

“No, it’s—I’m passing through the park and…well, that’s New York for you.”

Sydney gave a weak chuckle. “I bet. Well, tell Remy I said hi. And take care of yourself, Reeve. I miss you.”

She hung up before I could respond. Probably for the best, because I wouldn’t lie. I didn’t miss her and I didn’t love her anymore. And pretending we’d floated into a platonic state only made things worse. We were over and I’d moved on. I was trying anyway. And failing. I turned my cell off, took a sip of lukewarm coffee, and adjusted my sunglasses like a shield against the fresh wave of defeat that fell over me.

I might never get up from this bench. I might sink into it until I became some pathetic statistic. People years from now would walk by and point and say, “That’s the guy who lost everything.” I closed my eyes when a barrage of unwanted memories played in my mind. Syd and the house and that man and…fuck. I couldn’t go there. I’d rather think about Leo and…no. Bad idea. I couldn’t believe I’d lost my temper and shoved my tongue down his throat. But God, he tasted so good and he felt even better. Just thinking about his hard body against mine and his talented fingers made my dick twitch in my khakis. Last night might rank as the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but fuck me, I wished I could do it again.

Story of my life. I couldn’t even start over without fucking up.

The problem was, I had no idea what to do with myself. I didn’t want to go back to my five hundred square foot studio. It felt like failure. I killed time people-watching in the park then wandered aimlessly. And when I was sure Remy was home from work, I hopped the train to Brooklyn to surprise him.

Tony and Remy lived in a pleasant family-oriented neighborhood with hedge-lined paths and flower boxes in the windows of some of the better-kept houses. According to my brother, everyone knew each other on their street. Tony, however, was quick to point out that a lot of new families with money had moved in. It was almost impossible for the average person who’d grown up in this section of town to afford a home here.

I knocked on the door then looked up and down the street. I couldn’t turn off the realtor part of my brain. The houses here had the look Leo had wanted for his pilot, but the price tags were still outrageous. I wondered why he’d applauded my Brooklyn listings. They were humble but still unaffordable for most people. Tony bought his house from his uncle a few years ago, and he was the first to admit he couldn’t have done it without the family connection. So why did Leo—

“Hey! What are you doing here? I thought you were coming over tomorrow.”

“Uh…yeah. Here. This is for you.” I handed Remy the bottle of Pinot I’d picked up on my way.

He gave me a funny look then pulled me into a one-armed hug. “Thanks. Come on in.”

I followed him into the open style great room, listening as he chattered cheerfully and asked endless questions that didn’t require responses. That was just Remy. He was the good-natured, outgoing brother while I was the quieter one who tended to zone out with a song in my head. We always laughed that he was the one who ended up becoming a music teacher while I went into sales. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so ironic. Remy was a better listener than me.

Before he’d taken a big boy job teaching music at a fancy private school, he’d played guitar in the park to supplement the meager salary he made bartending. No doubt he was a natural. He was friendly and easy to talk to, but he didn’t put up with BS. Maybe I should try bartending, I mused. I could use a break from real estate.

I flopped onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and gestured to the large pot simmering on the stove. “What are you making?”

Remy moved like a dancer in the small but well-appointed space. Like he knew what he was doing. He set the wine and a bottle opener in front of me then turned to grab two glasses from the built-in shelf next to the refrigerator.

“Tony’s mom gave me the recipe for the family marinara sauce. I’m trying it out tonight…with a twist. I can’t wait to see if he notices.”

“I thought his mom basically fed you every night.”

“She does. Our freezer is packed solid. I’ll give you some things to take with you.”

“I can’t reheat lasagna on a hot plate. Thanks anyway.” I shifted in my seat and noticed the small dining table in the next room was set for two with a bouquet of flowers and an unlit candle. I inclined my head with a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry. I should have called. I’ll get out of your way so you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t going anywhere.” Remy slid a glass of wine in front of me then poured another for himself. I did my best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze as he swirled the contents lazily before finally sipping the burgundy liquid. He set his glass down then crossed his arms and leaned against the island. “What happened?”

“Is Tony home?” I asked evasively.

A lock of curly brown hair fell across Remy’s brow when he cocked his head. “Not yet. Out with it. It’s not like you to pop by unannounced. It’s also not like you to turn your phone off. I called you five times today, and it went to voicemail immediately. Aren’t you the one who told me any decent realtor is practically tethered to their cell?”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did. More than once.” Remy put his hand on his hip and waited for my reply. I might have thought his parental pose was humorous any other day but I wasn’t myself, and this guy knew me better than anyone else on the planet.

Remy and I were two years apart but we’d always been close. We were a study of opposites in some ways though it was easy to tell we were brothers. We were both tall and had the same color hair and eyes. Remy’s hair was curly and longish and with his leaner frame, he looked like the artist he was while I had short, wavy hair and a sturdy muscular build. Of course, I was nowhere near as muscular as Leo, but I knew my way around a gym and—fuck. I had to stop thinking about him. This was getting ridiculous.

“Well?” he prodded.

“I had a bad day yesterday.”

Remy froze. “What kind of bad day? Did Syd call you or—”

“Actually, she called this morning. She found a buyer for the house.”

“Congratulations! That’s awesome.” He frowned and nudged my elbow until I looked up at him. “Hey. Isn’t this what you wanted? Don’t tell me she wore you down. Are you seriously considering giving her another chance?”

“No. It’s over and I don’t hate her but…I can’t wait to get rid of the one tie to her I still have. It’ll be a relief to sign those documents and cash that fucking check,” I huffed.

“Then what is it?”

I took in details like the gold band on Remy’s right ring finger and the way his long blue T-shirt bunched at his elbows as I considered how to finesse my reply. Unfortunately I came up blank.

“I had sex with my boss and quit my job,” I blurted.

“You what?”

I made a circular hand motion then clarified. “It was the other way around. I quit first and then…you know.”

Remy opened his mouth and closed it twice. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m kidding,” I repeated dutifully.

“You’re not kidding.” He smacked his hand on the countertop and gave me a dumbfounded glare. “Jesus, Reeve! I thought you didn’t even like the guy.”

“I don’t like him. I lost my temper and things just…happened.”

“Things like fucking your boss don’t happen to normal people. I want details,” he demanded.

I shot a comedic look at my brother. “Really? Well, we were up against the wall in the—”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole.”

I sighed heavily then launched into a PG version of the previous night. “Long story short, he pissed me off and I lost it. I think I told him to fuck off, but that part is a little blurry ’cause everything after was unbelievably hot.”

“So you do like him.”

I scoffed at his dreamy tone. “This isn’t a high school fantasy where the star quarterback and his backup fight it out then end up on a locker room bench when the rest of the team leaves.”

“You said you were against the wall,” he deadpanned.

“Ha fucking ha. The point is, it shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“You’re right about that,” he snarked before taking another sip of wine. “It’s not like you to snap, Reeve. Maybe this was a late reaction to everything you’ve been through over the last few months. You never lost your cool once during the debacle with Syd.”

“True. Maybe I’m not cut out to work for a big firm. Or an authoritarian asshole. I feel out of control. The one thing I liked about selling real estate back home was being my own boss. I should have known this was too good to be true. This ‘special assignment’ BS isn’t what was advertised. Or maybe I just didn’t pay attention after he stroked my ego and told me I had ‘a way with me.’ What the fuck does that even mean?” I glanced out the kitchen window and stared at the headlights of the truck idling in the driveway outside. “Maybe I never belonged there. I’m not good at office politics and call me crazy, but I think my project was doomed from the start.”

“How so?”

I explained my rationale, citing the uptick of supply and demand in all five boroughs. “Leo Rodriguez is no idiot. There must be something missing or information I’m not privy to.”

“Now what?” Remy asked sympathetically.

I shrugged. “I’ll find something else. Don’t worry.”

“You make it hard not to worry about you lately, Reeve,” he said for the second time in twenty-four hours.

“I know, but—” The front door slammed on cue a moment later. “Hey, do me a favor and let’s not rehash the whole thing again with Tony.”

“He’s going to be my husband, moron. I’m not starting our marriage by keeping secrets from him. He should know his brother-in-law is a dumb shit.” Remy paused then glanced over my head and grinned like a lovesick fool when Tony sailed into the room a moment later.

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Tony boomed like a character in a sitcom.

Tony squeezed my shoulder in greeting before skirting the island to pull my brother into his arms. I studied the burgundy liquid in my glass to give them a modicum of privacy then stole a quick peek at the happy couple. Tony was slightly shorter than Remy with a thick, muscular frame that made him seem bigger than he was. He had short dark hair, olive skin, and a square jaw. He was a good-looking guy but more importantly, he was a good man. And he was head over heels for Remy.

They’d met when Remy was playing guitar across the street from the construction site where Tony was working. He’d take his lunch to the park and stop to listen to my brother play. Two years later, they lived in the house Tony renovated and were a few months away from tying the knot. It was all kind of…perfect. Nauseatingly so.

Nah. I was kidding. I loved my little brother and I was thrilled he’d found someone special to spend his life with who adored him. Who knew? Maybe my string of bad luck in the romance department would eventually end too. I wouldn’t hold my breath, but it was a nice fantasy.

When their greeting went on a few beats too long, I cleared my throat noisily. “You have company,” I singsonged.

“Sorry, man.” Tony offered me a bro fist bump then quirked his eyebrows mischievously. “What’s the big secret?”

I widened my eyes innocently. “No big secret. I just—”

“He had sex with his boss,” Remy intercepted. “He needs a new job and probably a cheaper place to stay. Are you cool with him sleeping on the sofa?”

“Uh…”

“Why can’t I have the guest room?” I asked in a faux serious tone, hoping humor would deflect my embarrassment.

“Where will Mom sleep when she visits?”

“Hmm. Good point.”

The look on Tony’s face was priceless. I sipped my wine to avoid bursting into laughter and silently thanked my lucky stars that my brother was my best friend. Remy had a homespun way of offering perspective without preaching. Yeah, I had problems but I also had options and better still, people who cared about me.

Tony turned to Remy with a wide-eyed gaze. “There’s a punch line coming any second, right?”

“Relax. I’m not moving in.” I chuckled and raised my glass in a mock toast before adding, “Yet.”

Tony grabbed a beer from the refrigerator then moved around the island and pulled out the stool next to me. “If you weren’t a disaster with a screwdriver, I’d offer you some work on the new site.”

I scoffed good-naturedly. “We all know it’s best to keep me away from power tools. I almost lopped off my fingers on that sanding thingy.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Stick to selling houses. I got another lead for you. Mickey DiMario, our neighbor two doors down.…’Member him?”

I had a feeling it was a rhetorical question because I didn’t know any of my own neighbors, let alone Tony and Remy’s, but I shook my head and played along. “No.”

“I ran into him on the way to the train. Turns out he’s transferring to the West Coast and needs to sell his place. I told him you were the man. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks, but I should probably concentrate on finding work in Manhattan.”

Tony took a gulp of beer and made a face. “Why? You don’t know anyone there and you didn’t like your job. When you stopped singing “We Are the Champions” after week one, Remy started getting worried. How many times do you have to do the same thing before you realize it isn’t working?”

“Well, I—”

Tony furrowed his brow then swatted the side of my head. “That was one of them questions that doesn’t need an answer. I’m not tryin’ to be bossy here, but we’re almost family and I kinda like you, so I’m gonna offer some free advice. Don’t get caught up in proving a point. It doesn’t matter if you work for a fancy operation in a swanky high-rise or if you’re working for yourself in your underwear in the living room of your tiny apartment. If you’re happy, you win.”

Wow. That was…eloquent. I stared at him in shock for a moment then nodded. “Thanks, Tony. You’re right.”

“Yeah, no prob. One other thing. Sex with coworkers is always a bad idea. Don’t shit where you eat,” he said in a thick Brooklyn accent.

Before I could respond, Remy leaned across the island, grabbed Tony’s collar and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

I pulled out my phone, pretending not to notice their lovesick grins and the gooey noises they made. I frowned at the blank screen then turned my cell on. Remy was right. It wasn’t like me to disconnect from the real world for a whole day. I was almost afraid to see what I’d missed. Holy shit. A lot.

There were a dozen text messages from a variety of people. Diego, Nora, Syd, Remy, and fuck…even my mother. The hundred new emails could wait until later. I moved on to my missed calls. Most were repeats from texters, but a number I didn’t recognize stood out. Whoever it was called hourly but hadn’t left a message.

I glanced sideways when Tony rounded the island and followed Remy to the stove to inspect the marinara. Then I studied the number again and pushed Call.

“You’re alive,” a familiar voice said.

“Who is this?”

“You know who this is,” Leo taunted playfully. “Why weren’t you here today?”

I should have put on my big boy pants and come up with a professional response; instead I responded with a borderline flirty, “Did you miss me?”

I immediately winced. What the hell was wrong with me?

Leo’s deep chuckle moved through me dangerously. “I did. But then I got mad when I saw your letter of resignation. We agreed to talk.”

I licked my lips and moved into the adjoining family room. “No. I told you I was done and I am. Yesterday…that wasn’t me. I think I’ve been heading for a meltdown and the grand finale happened in your office. I regret my behavior and apologize for—”

“I don’t want your apologies, Reeve. I want to talk to you. Where are you?”

“Brooklyn. I’m having dinner with my brother and his fiancé.”

“Meet me at Casker’s afterward.”

“What? I can’t. I don’t—I don’t even know where that is,” I sputtered.

“It’s a bar in Tribeca across the street from Sparks. I’ll be waiting,” he said before hanging up.

Huh. Sparks. It sounded familiar but I wasn’t sure why. I shoved my cell into my back pocket and made my way toward the kitchen. Remy handed me the salad tongs and pointed at the large bowl on the counter meaningfully. I kept my head down as I mixed dressing into the lettuce and veggies and pondered the wisdom of meeting with Leo. It was a bad idea but I was intrigued. What did he want from me?

“You’re quiet. Who was on the phone?” Remy asked, bumping my shoulder.

I grunted and started to reply when it suddenly dawned on me. “Did you work at Sparks?”

Remy shot me the “What the fuck?” look I deserved for my odd segue. “No. I almost did. Marcus didn’t have an immediate opening. I’d already taken my teaching job by the time the bartending position was up for grabs. He’s a nice guy.”

“Who is?”

“Marcus, the guy who owns Sparks. I could put in a word for you if you’re thinking about doing some go-go dancing,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. “I hear the tips are fabulous, though it’s probably hell to flatten those sweaty dollar bills after they’ve been wadded in your ass cheeks. You get persnickety about weird things like that.”

“I could always iron them,” I said, setting a finger on my lips as though I were seriously mulling over the idea of dancing in a jockstrap at a gay club.

Remy busted up laughing then did an impromptu sexy dance against his boyfriend. “You would totally do that.”

“After I washed them and soaked them in Purell, of course.”

Tony kissed Remy’s forehead when he snorted merrily. “You two are hilarious,” he grumbled without heat. “Enough about guys in thongs. Let’s eat. I’m starvin’ here.”

And just like that, I knew where I was going. Screw the bar. I was done fretting about mistakes and future uncertainty. I was in the mood for guys in thongs. If Leo wanted to talk, he could meet me at Sparks.