“As you said, Owen’s a grown man,” Mark said. “But if it makes you feel any better, I promise not to break him.”
Mark could do that. Should take steps to be sure he did, now that he was thinking about it. Yes, he enjoyed the way things had been going between Owen and himself, but they’d spent more time together than he’d expected. Mark hadn’t cruised anyone in the two weeks since he’d met Owen, and he’d even canceled a couple of dates with Alistair. And why?
Well...because Mark enjoyed spending time with Owen. He was different from the men Mark typically met. Younger and quirky, and always ten minutes late. Owen’s lighthearted manner and way of looking at the world appealed to Mark in ways he didn’t understand, and he made Mark feel good. Not that Mark was going to admit that to Lauren. Admitting it to himself was weird enough.
Mark shook his head at himself. Clearly, a night out with Alistair was long overdue.
~ooOoo~
“Where on earth have you been hiding yourself?” Alistair’s green eyes held a note of recrimination. “I haven’t seen you in donkey’s years.”
“It’s been a while,” Mark allowed.
He’d reached out to Alistair several days after the conversation with Lauren and they’d arranged to meet at this steakhouse where they were currently eating rib eyes that cost as much as the shirt on Mark’s back. They had tickets for the symphony and Mark was very focused on admiring Alistair, who looked better than ever. Mark had never met anyone who wore tweed with such style, or made a head of salt-and-pepper hair look so sexy. Alistair was wearing antique horn-rimmed glasses, and his beard stubble gave his chiseled features a rugged cast that pinged Mark’s buttons just right.
“I was beginning to think maybe you’d moved and just forgotten to tell me.” Alistair gave Mark a smile. “You haven’t answered my question, by the way. Where have you been?”
“I haven’t been anywhere out of the ordinary,” Mark said. “My life gets busy, like anyone else’s. Work has been a little crazier than usual, actually, and that always messes up my social schedule.”
“Mmm, I can see that. I have no idea how you keep it together with all those hours you work. I would be an utter wreck.” Alistair’s deep voice highlighted his posh London accent. “Still, you’re usually much better about replying to my calls and texts. It’s not like you to be rude.”
“I’m sorry if that’s how I seemed. I didn’t mean to be.”
Guilt wormed its way around Mark’s head. While not a total lie, his words weren’t entirely truthful, either. Mark’d been having fun with Owen. He’d put a lot of other people on hold and forgotten to take them off, and that made him feel like a shitty friend.
But while Mark hadn’t gone into detail about what he’d been up to or with whom, a knowing smile crossed Alistair’s face.
“Met someone new, have we?” he asked.
Well, that figures.
Alistair had been Mark’s friend a long time and, in some ways, knew him better than anyone else.
Mark grinned and picked up his glass. “You could say that. I met him at Lauren and Keith’s on New Year’s Eve, if you can believe it. After you ditched me for glaciers and whatever the hell the people of Iceland like to drink.”
“You’re thinking of Brennivín,” Alistair said. “It’s a clear, unsweetened schnapps and really quite good. Besides, I didn’t ditch you for Iceland—you were the first person I invited along! But forget about that and tell me more about this man. Like how you met him three weeks ago and are still seeing him.”
“I don’t need to tell you that because clearly you’ve done the math already.”
He raised his eyebrows at Mark. “That’s a very long time for you to spend with any man, love. You’re not going soft on me, are you?”
“Would I be here tonight if I were?” Mark grinned at his friend’s easy laughter.
“Point taken. You’ll have to tell me all about him.”
“Mmm, there’s nothing to tell.”
Alistair’s eyes sparkled. “And you are a terrible liar.”
Mark and Alistair flirted and teased as they ate, and Mark soaked up Alistair’s musical voice and droll manner with real pleasure. It had been too long since they’d been out together. Mark resolved again to go out more, regardless of whether he continued to hook up with Owen or not.
The back and forth with Alistair continued through dinner, then through heated glances at the music hall with Haydn and Brahms as their background. Alistair dragged Mark into the restroom during intermission and got him hot and bothered, so his attention wandered during the second half of the performance. Mark wasted no time hustling Alistair outside before the applause had even died down, and they jumped into the first Lyft they could find.
It was late when they finally stretched out in Alistair’s bed, lips kiss-swollen and eyes drowsy. Mark’s body felt deliciously sore from screwing Alistair into the mattress, and Alistair kissed his way across Mark’s torso, then settled back against the headboard.
“Tell me about this man who’s caught your fancy.” He chuckled at Mark’s tiny groan.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because you’re withholding information about him and that piques my interest.”
“I’m not withholding anything.” Mark raised the arm not pinned under Alistair and curled it around the pillow beneath his head. “I haven’t seen you, Al, so there’s no way I could have told you anything about my hookups.”
“Okay, fine. However, you haven’t seen me because you were with him and that piques my interest just as much.” Alistair knocked his feet against Mark’s. “What’s this particular hookup like, then?”
“Sweet, actually,” Mark said. “Earnest and smart. Really funny. He does design work for Lauren’s firm and that’s how he happened to be at her party.”
“Ah, another digital artist. Is he a hipster dudebro?”
“No.” Mark chuckled. “Hipster, maybe, but a dudebro Owen is not. At least as far as I’ve seen.”
“Is he attractive?”
“Obscenely so.”
Alistair barked out a laugh. “Good job.”
“Thank you.” Mark smirked. “I have a good time with him.”
“Doing what?”
“Drinks and dinner and various things.” Mark shrugged. “Earlier this week, we went to a weird little bowling alley in Somerville where we ate our weight in pizza and bowled a few games.”
Alistair furrowed his brow. “Bowling? Really? Forgive me, love, but that all sounds very middle-aged.”
Mark laughed. “I suppose it would to you. But we both have stressful jobs and it’s a nice change of pace to simply be. Owen’s easy.”
“Well, that’s more like it.”
“Meaning low maintenance, you degenerate ass.”
Alistair snickered into his pillow. “I assume there’s a lot of sex involved or you really would be bored by now. How old is this Superman, anyway?”
“Twenty-eight.” Mark heard the split-second hesitation in his own voice and watched Alistair’s expression turn sly. Ugh. Now he’d done it.
“Well, that explains the appeal. No wonder you’ve been MIA. Still, he’s practically a child, Mark.”
“He’ll be twenty-nine later this year!”
“And you’re about to turn forty. Mind you, I’m not judging.” Alistair turned a wry smile on Mark. “Just watch out he doesn’t get attached. Especially with your sister in the mix, because you could very well end up with a boyfriend, whether you want one or not.”
“Owen knows I’m not looking for that in my life.” Mark pondered for a moment. “Lauren asked if I was bringing him to the wedding, though, so I see your point there.”
“Mmhmm.” Alistair gave him a knowing look. “Are you? Bringing him to the wedding, that is?”
“Absolutely not.” Mark frowned. “The only man I’d take would be you if I didn’t fear you’d spontaneously combust the moment the vows were pronounced.”
Alistair laughed ha
rd. “I can picture that exact thing happening—weddings are a nightmare from start to finish.” He fell quiet for a beat before rubbing Mark’s arm with his hand. “You could simply not attend, you know. I’m sure your sister would understand.”
An ache lodged itself under Mark’s heart. “No. She wouldn’t understand at all, Al,” he said. Alistair's expression softened as he and Mark stared at each other. “There’s no way I can skip it, nor would I want to. Lauren’s the only family I have and she already feels guilty getting married with Mom and Dad gone.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense, love,” Alistair said, his voice very gentle. “I know you both loved your parents, but you can’t not live your lives simply because they’re no longer around.”
No longer around. How easily those words tripped off Alistair’s tongue, as if Mark’s parents had moved out of state rather than being gone.
“I don’t do that, and neither does Lauren,” Mark said. “We’ve moved on. That doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to miss them, you know.”
“Of course not.” Alistair smiled at him. “Their anniversary is coming up, isn’t it?”
Mark nodded. He and Lauren made a habit of meeting up on their parents’ wedding anniversary to visit their memorial and then have lunch. Up until this year, it had always been just the two of them. “It’s happening over the weekend. I’m meeting Lo and Keith at their place and we’ll spend the day together.”
“Okay.” Alistair patted his hand. “I won’t bother calling you for a get-together because I know you like to do all that on your own.”
I don’t like doing it on my own. I’ve just never said so. The absolute clarity of Mark’s thought made his chest constrict. However, he didn’t voice it because he knew Alistair wouldn’t understand—he’d always considered Mark’s melancholy moods around this time of year a waste of energy. Alistair had remembered the anniversary and Mark appreciated his thoughtfulness.
“I’m off late next week,” Mark said, and watched Alistair’s eyes brighten.
“We can do something then, if you like,” Alistair said. “Maybe go out of town if you have more than twenty-four hours to yourself, so I can cheer you up.”
Mark nodded again and summoned a smile. “I’d like that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Got time for dinner?
Mark stared at Owen’s message bubble on his phone for a long moment. He’d just walked in the door after spending Saturday with Lauren and Keith and, despite being tired, he certainly had time for dinner. He thought that maybe he’d like to see Owen, too, who had a real knack for lifting Mark’s mood.
However, summoning the energy for socializing seemed a monumental task just then to Mark. This day always left him in an emotional funk. His efforts to stay cheerful for Lauren and Keith had drained his emotional batteries even further, and now Mark was just done. He couldn’t see himself sitting through the niceties of dining, not even with Owen. He just didn’t know how to say all that without sounding like a cranky bastard.
Maybe Alistair had been right. Maybe Mark needed to be alone on this day with his dark mood instead of pushing it onto other people. And damn, if a bone-deep kind of weariness didn’t settle over him at the thought.
Not feeling up to it tonight, he replied to Owen. How about tomorrow? I’m off at 7. He didn’t have to wait long for a response.
Cool. We’ll go to a speakeasy I found on Appleton St.
Mark cracked a small smile at the words. He sat on his couch and stretched out with a sigh. Do I need to learn a secret handshake? he asked.
Of course. Meet at your place and I’ll teach you before we go.
Mark thought that sounded a lot like handshake lessons in the nude, and that was absolutely something he could look forward to. He smiled a little wider and set the phone on his belly before he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was to find most of the light in the room had fled.
“Well, fuck,” he murmured.
He’d slept it seemed—for over two hours, judging by the clock on his phone—and his body and brain were all muzzy. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to decide whether it was worth getting up and going to bed properly, and had almost decided against it when a knock sounded at the door.
Mark stifled a grumble. So much for extending his nap.
He levered himself up and off the couch, and rolled his neck as he made his way across the room, trying hard to shake off the vestiges of sleep. He hit the overhead lights before peering through the peephole, and almost dropped his phone when he spied Owen, skateboard in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, through the tiny lens. Something sparked in Mark at the sight, but he shoved it aside and swung open the door.
“Hey,” he said. “You lost?”
Owen gave him that sweet, crooked smile. “Nah. I was in the area and thought I’d swing by.” He held up the bag, which bore the logo of Mark’s favorite local Thai food place. “I know you said you weren't up for dinner, but I figured I’d drop something off in case you changed your mind.”
Mark’s stomach gave a mighty rumble and saved him the trouble of having to reply. He rolled his eyes at Owen’s laughter and motioned him inside.
“I fell asleep after we messaged,” he said and closed the door. He held out his hands for Owen’s board. “I was just trying to figure out if I was in the mood for anything besides a frozen dinner.”
“Now you sound like me.” Owen carried the bag into the kitchen area and set it on the counter. “Lucky for you I’m part psychic and sensed your need for mango curry and spring rolls. I remembered you liked both when we ate there a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, man, that does sound good.” Mark set the skateboard against the closet door, then moved to Owen’s side. He set a hand on the small of Owen’s back, and inhaled the scent of herbal cigarettes on his coat. “You’ve never talked about being psychic before.”
Owen made duck lips at Mark’s teasing tone. “Well, it’s not something I tell just anyone.”
“I told you that Lauren calls me ‘Mac,’” Mark said. “Does that make me just anyone?” Owen’s gentle smile sent another pulse of warmth through him, but this time he didn’t shove it away.
“No, it doesn’t.” Owen stared at Mark for a moment, then cocked his head as if puzzling out a problem. “You okay?”
“Sure.” Mark rubbed Owen’s back. “Just tired is all. The day kind of caught up with me.”
Owen nodded. As a weighted silence lengthened between them, Mark knew Owen wanted to ask what kind of day he’d had. Owen didn’t, though. He brought a hand to clasp Mark’s elbow instead.
“Anything I can do?”
“Have dinner with me,” Mark said without thinking about it. He knew from the way Owen’s eyes went slightly wide that he hadn’t expected the offer either.
“Yeah? I’m not here to butt in on your evening, Mark. We can still hook up tomorrow if you’d rather be on your own tonight.”
I know we could. But I like you here.
Mark inhaled deeply as that realization spread through him. He did like Owen in his place. He wanted to talk about how he, Lauren, and Keith had spent their afternoon remembering Marty and Rosemary Mannix, too. And that was fucking weird as far as Mark was concerned, because he didn’t usually share his thoughts about this day. He decided it wasn’t worth fussing about, not when he had a handsome man here with a big bag of food and some good beer in the fridge. So he gave Owen a combination smile-shrug instead.
“Sure, we can hook up again tomorrow. But no way are you leaving me here alone with all these tasty things tonight.” He caught Owen around the waist and brushed their lips together. “Thanks.”
Owen smiled into another kiss. “You’re welcome. I’ll even give you an extra curried puff, if you play your cards right.”
They sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen and glutted themselves on Thai while Mark told Owen all about his trip to The Riverway, an urban park in Brookline, where he’d sat on the benc
h he and Lauren had donated in their parents’ name.
“It probably sounds a little weird that we do that instead of visiting the memorial,” Mark said. “But there’s something about that bench that feels more like them and not just a stone vault. I’m not sure if that makes sense.”
“It does, in a way,” Owen replied, his voice quiet. He ran his fingers along the collar of his dark track jacket, his expression thoughtful. “You feel closer to your folks there than you would at the cemetery. I’ve never known anyone who donated a bench as a memorial. I mean, sure, I’ve seen the plaques on park benches all over the city, but I’ve never put a lot of thought into what they meant.”
Mark sipped from his beer. “My mom liked walking The Riverway and around Jamaica Pond, too. She tried to make it every day after she’d retired from working. Dragged my dad with her a lot, even though it wasn’t his thing. He never complained, because he knew how much she enjoyed getting outside.” He cast his gaze out of the window. “Late January isn’t the friendliest time of year to sit there, but we go every year unless there’s a storm. We bring a couple of thermoses of Irish coffee and some shortbread cookies and just talk. It’s surprisingly nice, as long the city isn’t buried in snow. Keith came with us this year, and that was good.”
Owen smiled. “Makes me wish it was easier to visit my own parents, actually. But they’re happier where it’s warm.”
“Plus you have a kickass vacation spot anytime you want.” Mark chuckled at Owen’s answering fist pump. “When’s the last time you were there?”
“Thanksgiving week,” Owen said. “My brother and I try to get back around that time every year, even though the holiday isn’t a thing in Barbados. We make do with lots of other kinds of food, of course. My mother’s pudding and souse is the bomb.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I’d gladly try it,” Mark said. “I think I read somewhere that Rihanna was in Barbados for Thanksgiving this year, too.”
Owen bit his lip against what Mark could tell was a wide grin. “I had no idea. She didn’t come to my parents’ house, that much I can tell you.”
“This is very disappointing.”
Healing Hearts (Stealing Hearts Book 2) Page 4