before
dropping a kiss at the base of his throat. Dressed in a similar fashion as
Jeff, it was clear to Derrick he'd caught them on their way out to some
function or other.
"Look, I'm sorry to interrupt your day," he began,
"but—"
"Oh, don't be a drama queen," Jeff said. He flicked
a speck off the sleeve of Greg's shirt.
"What's going on?" Greg wanted to know.
"Well, I—"
"He's just announced he's in love with Mia," Jeff
interrupted, waving a dismissive hand at Derrick, "and he's all agog at
himself."
Greg's mouth pulled into a confused pursing of his lips.
Scratching his cheek, he said, "And?"
"For God's sake, does everyone know?"
"Everyone but you, apparently," Jeff said, a
chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. "And Mia."
Greg gave Jeff a shushing look, then reached forward to snag
Derrick's sleeve and pull him into the house. "Don't let's stand on the
stoop discussing the intricacies of your love life, come in, come in."
Feeling stupid beyond words, wishing he'd gone home instead,
Derrick resisted. "You're on your way out, this can wait."
"Don't be silly," Greg said, "we're just
meeting Mark and Brian, we can be a few minutes late."
Taking a deep breath, Derrick allowed himself to be towed
inside. The three of them moved together through the house, the warm, dark
woods and jewel tones barely registering to Derrick, but soothing all the same.
He dropped onto the sapphire blue couch in the family room, throwing his arms
wide along its back and crossing one leg over the other. He wished his brain
would stop spinning.
"Now," Jeff said, settling into a
peacock-patterned chair across from Derrick, with Greg perched on its arm,
"what brought all this on today?"
Trying to rally his thoughts, Derrick shifted forward,
elbows on knees, his head cradled in his hands. Where to begin?
"Barry-the-asshole dumped her," he said, and
waited through Greg's sympathetic noises and Jeff's vehement, "Good!"
And then. . . And then everything had gone to hell, he
thought.
"Something shifted," Derrick continued, watching
the day unfold in his mind's eye. Where had it gone off track? "I decided
it was time to finally tell her—to tell her how I feel, but. . ." He
broke off.
Greg leaned across the coffee table to pat him soothingly on
the shoulder. "It's all right, honey, take your time."
"She just wants to use me for sex." He blurted the
words out, the raw pain unmistakable in his voice despite his attempt to cover
it with a shaky laugh.
Staggered silence dropped over the room like a lead blanket.
Greg and Jeff exchanged a glance that seemed to cover an entire conversation in
the space of one eye blink.
"Well, well, well," said Greg, finally, huffing
out a breath and boosting himself off the arm of the chair. He tapped an index
finger to the slight dent in his chin before making for the kitchen.
"Nibblies?"
Derrick stared after him in confusion, his dominant emotion
for the day. Food, now? "I thought you were going out," he said,
looking back at Jeff.
Jeff held up one hand for silence. In the other, he shot a
rapid-fire text off on his cell phone, then sang, "Canceled," in his
best drag-queen contralto.
Greg danced into the room to drop a tray of snacks on the
table, three imported beers clutched under his arm. Sinking back onto the arm
of the chair, he placed one hand on Jeff's knee, the other on his own, and
leaned forward.
"Now," he said, blue eyes lit with expectation,
"spill."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two hours later, his ears ringing with advice, coupled with
plenty of ribbing, Derrick headed home. Mark and Brian had shown up to find out
what all the fuss was about first hand, after which Derrick had hardly gotten a
word in edgewise.
There were moments when he'd considered whether four gay men
were necessarily the best consultants when mounting a campaign to win the woman
of his dreams. They certainly had a flair for the dramatic, but would that path
lead him inside Mia's heart?
In the end, Jeff had cut through all
dropping a kiss at the base of his throat. Dressed in a similar fashion as
Jeff, it was clear to Derrick he'd caught them on their way out to some
function or other.
"Look, I'm sorry to interrupt your day," he began,
"but—"
"Oh, don't be a drama queen," Jeff said. He flicked
a speck off the sleeve of Greg's shirt.
"What's going on?" Greg wanted to know.
"Well, I—"
"He's just announced he's in love with Mia," Jeff
interrupted, waving a dismissive hand at Derrick, "and he's all agog at
himself."
Greg's mouth pulled into a confused pursing of his lips.
Scratching his cheek, he said, "And?"
"For God's sake, does everyone know?"
"Everyone but you, apparently," Jeff said, a
chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. "And Mia."
Greg gave Jeff a shushing look, then reached forward to snag
Derrick's sleeve and pull him into the house. "Don't let's stand on the
stoop discussing the intricacies of your love life, come in, come in."
Feeling stupid beyond words, wishing he'd gone home instead,
Derrick resisted. "You're on your way out, this can wait."
"Don't be silly," Greg said, "we're just
meeting Mark and Brian, we can be a few minutes late."
Taking a deep breath, Derrick allowed himself to be towed
inside. The three of them moved together through the house, the warm, dark
woods and jewel tones barely registering to Derrick, but soothing all the same.
He dropped onto the sapphire blue couch in the family room, throwing his arms
wide along its back and crossing one leg over the other. He wished his brain
would stop spinning.
"Now," Jeff said, settling into a
peacock-patterned chair across from Derrick, with Greg perched on its arm,
"what brought all this on today?"
Trying to rally his thoughts, Derrick shifted forward,
elbows on knees, his head cradled in his hands. Where to begin?
"Barry-the-asshole dumped her," he said, and
waited through Greg's sympathetic noises and Jeff's vehement, "Good!"
And then. . . And then everything had gone to hell, he
thought.
"Something shifted," Derrick continued, watching
the day unfold in his mind's eye. Where had it gone off track? "I decided
it was time to finally tell her—to tell her how I feel, but. . ." He
broke off.
Greg leaned across the coffee table to pat him soothingly on
the shoulder. "It's all right, honey, take your time."
"She just wants to use me for sex." He blurted the
words out, the raw pain unmistakable in his voice despite his attempt to cover
it with a shaky laugh.
Staggered silence dropped over the room like a lead blanket.
Greg and Jeff exchanged a glance that seemed to cover an entire conversation in
the space of one eye blink.
"Well, well, well," said Greg, finally, huffing
out a breath and boosting himself off the arm of the chair. He tapped an index
finger to the slight dent in his chin before making for the kitchen.
"Nibblies?"
Derrick stared after him in confusion, his dominant emotion
for the day. Food, now? "I thought you were going out," he said,
looking back at Jeff.
Jeff held up one hand for silence. In the other, he shot a
rapid-fire text off on his cell phone, then sang, "Canceled," in his
best drag-queen contralto.
Greg danced into the room to drop a tray of snacks on the
table, three imported beers clutched under his arm. Sinking back onto the arm
of the chair, he placed one hand on Jeff's knee, the other on his own, and
leaned forward.
"Now," he said, blue eyes lit with expectation,
"spill."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two hours later, his ears ringing with advice, coupled with
plenty of ribbing, Derrick headed home. Mark and Brian had shown up to find out
what all the fuss was about first hand, after which Derrick had hardly gotten a
word in edgewise.
There were moments when he'd considered whether four gay men
were necessarily the best consultants when mounting a campaign to win the woman
of his dreams. They certainly had a flair for the dramatic, but would that path
lead him inside Mia's heart?
In the end, Jeff had cut through all
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