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CHAPTER SIX

LEVI

“Mr. Weatherly, I’m surprised to see you here this morning. I’m just getting back from court. Did you need something?”

“Yes, I need to speak with you on a private matter. Can we go into your office?” My boss looked aloof and bored. This didn’t bode well.

“Of course. Jack, would you mind getting us some bottles of water?” I asked my legal assistant.

“No problem.” Jack jumped up from behind his desk and hurried off to fetch cold water from the break room down the hall. Mr. Weatherly frowned for no discernible reason and watched him scurry out. I showed him into my office and shut the door behind us.

“What can I help you with today?”

“Levi, as you know, we value our clients’ time and energy and appreciate the trust they put in our firm.”

“Unquestionably. But I’m unclear about what this is about.”

“Did you know Jack leaves several times a week at four-thirty?”

“He’s going to college. Some of his classes are online, but a few are in person at night.”

“If he’s leaving at four-thirty, is he not finishing his work for the day?”

“He is a tremendously hard worker. He’s not accruing overtime either, so saving that expense. His schooling is important to him, making it important to me. He’s an excellent legal secretary. If I may be frank, I don’t see how anyone else’s thoughts on the matter are factors. But, to answer your question, he works through lunch on his early days.”

“Levi, it’s more a pattern of behavior the managing partners and I take issue with. We’re concerned you aren’t as dedicated to the firm and the firm’s targets as we need you to be.”

“I’m not certain why or where those concerns are originating. My billable hours have increased as have my recoveries. I’ve certainly been successful for my clients in court, as demonstrated by the retainer allocations.”

“We noticed you didn’t apply for partner this year.”

“I’ve applied for partner for the last five years and was denied. Last year, at the selection committee, I was specifically informed that they didn’t see the value of adding a family law specialist to the managing team. I was told I shouldn’t bother applying in the future, but the firm was happy to keep me on as a senior associate.”

“We said that to inspire you.”

“Well, I was inspired not to apply again. Jack is an absolutely fantastic legal secretary. I have no complaints about his work ethic, nor have I received any complaints about what he puts out on my behalf. He gets more done in his time before four-thirty than half of the assistants who are here until midnight every night.”

“Levi, do you enjoy working for the firm?”

“I think we’re done here.”

Mr. Weatherly took my words as the dismissal they were and gave me a curt nod before letting himself out of my office and shutting the door behind him.

Fuck a fucking duck . The writing on the wall said I wouldn’t need to worry about this shitastic case for much longer. My ass, and Jack’s, were about to be let go. Motherfucker. Obviously, this wasn’t my dream job, and I fucking hated working here, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think I wouldn’t need a job eventually. I hadn’t won the lottery yet, mostly because I never bought a ticket, and my family’s trust fund didn’t exist. A tentative knock on my door roused me from my brooding.

“Hey, Levi. I saw Mr. Weatherly leaving. I’m sorry I took so long.”

“It’s fine. He can get water on his own floor.”

“Is everything okay?” Jack was a great secretary, but if I told him my suspicions, he would panic. I waved him inside my office.

“Yeah, they’re just concerned that I’m not as dedicated to the cause as I used to be. Come on in and join me. I think I’m done for the day.”

“The cause of rich people divorcing each other?” Jack asked as he settled into the other chair. His absurdly deep baritone was at odds with his sweet demeanor, which was always such a contrast. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone another human being, but it was overlooked with his naturally reserved demeanor. All that was well and good, but snarky Jack was my favorite Jack.

“Those rich people’s divorces bring in money.”

“What are you talking about? Our billable hours have gone up every month since last fall, and they were steady before that. We consistently beat our monthly projections. They think you should be bringing in more hours?”

“Yeah, they’re concerned I’m not putting in the proper amount of time our clients deserve.”

“They’re concerned about you not putting in billable hours, or they’re concerned about me leaving early?” Shit .

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I’m the only assistant who leaves at four-thirty on the days I have school. And my late days are only five-thirty. Everybody else stays until at least eight. Some of them are pretty salty that you let me go early.

“Have they told you that?”

“Yeah.” Jack sighed heavily. “It’s been brought up at the assistant meetings. Multiple times.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jack shrugged instead of answering.

“You couldn’t do anything about it. My college schedule is what it is, but lucky me, I’m in my second to last semester, so it’ll be all right.”

I wasn’t sure that was true, but I’d do what I could to protect him. Being in his last year was helpful. “I should know this, but what are you studying?”

“Human resources with a concentration in compliance.”

“That’s right. Well, fuck it. Let’s leave for the day and really piss them off.”

“No argument from me. I have a paper waiting to be written tonight.”

* * *

My movie blared in the background while I stared at my phone unproductively. I considered sending an invitation to Nico. He’d turn me down, of course. We’d been in this weird, polite space since he’d moved in after he’d been clear that he wasn’t interested in hooking up or even being friendly. When we passed each other coming and going, we politely said hello and goodbye. I’d halfheartedly toyed with the idea of going out, but it felt like too much work and was unfair to whoever would come up lacking.

The insistent ring of the doorbell jarred me from my stupor on the couch. My movie was still playing but couldn’t be heard over the nonstop buzz at the door. It almost sounded like someone had fallen against the buzzer rather than ringing it. The closer I got to the front door, I could see that’s precisely what had happened. Someone was leaning against it, and I’d been watching that shape for so long that I knew exactly who it was.

“Babbo!” Nico slurred the minute I opened the door. “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“Where else would I be?”

“I dunno. At a club? At work?”

“Yeah, no, I think that’s more your thing. Is that where you were tonight?”

“Doesn’t matter. We should hook up.”

“You said that was off the table, remember?”

“Nooooo, I don’t remember that.”

“It happened, Sweet Boy.”

This morning, Nico had left wearing a tailored suit, but all that was left were the remnants of it. His clutched jacket was accumulating more wrinkles by the minute. His half-open shirt was a sweaty mess and his equally wrinkled pants were smudged with dirt. Farther down, his shoes were caked in mud. Goddammit. I just put in those flowers.

“Did you walk through my flower beds?”

“No, because I would never.” Nico gasped while clutching invisible pearls. “Nope. Never ever. Ever. But your sidewalk is very, very dirty. I’m reporting you to the landlord. You shouldn’t leave it so messy.” My lips twitched involuntarily as he reprimanded my yard maintenance.

“I hope I don’t get kicked out of here.”

“The landlord is a very sexy guy though.” Nico’s fingers trailed down my chest and teased the waistband of my joggers. “You kinda remind me of him.”

I grabbed his fingers and pulled them off before he went too far. After our quiet impasse of awkwardness and his confusion about who he was talking to, we weren’t doing a damn thing tonight.

“Whoa. We’re not doing any of that when you’re drunk as fuck.” Nico pouted at my decision. “Sorry, I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to make decisions.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Nico retorted.

The petulance dripped from his voice, and I struggled to maintain my composure. Bratty was fine, but pissy drunk was a lot less fun.

“When it comes to flirting with me, I can. You’re drunk, Nico. I’ll walk you back to your house.” I stepped back to put on my shoes, and Nico followed me inside.

“Babbo, I know who you are. You’re the guy who won’t fuck me tonight.” Nico’s pronouncement was followed by him sidling up against me. My body responded against my better judgment. Good fucking god, it had been too long. My fingers itched to touch him again. “I’m just a little tipsy. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. C’mon, let me take you home.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t wanna go home. Babbo, don’t you want me anymore?” Nico whined.

Again, he trailed his fingers down my chest. Involuntarily, my breath hitched at his touch and my dumb dick twitched too. Nope, nope, nopety, nope. I grabbed his hand and placed it firmly back at his side.

“Nico, knock it off,” I said firmly. In response, his eyes narrowed, and he huffed out a breath. “That ice you’re on is cracking fast.”

“Mr. Goody Two Shoes.”

“Nico, you’re drunk and getting mean. You’ve got two choices here. I’ll either walk you home and tuck you in to sleep it off. Or I’ll drag your ass upstairs, toss you in the shower, and you can get sober that way. Either way, I’m not putting up with your attitude. I haven’t done anything wrong. You haven’t done anything wrong until right now, but I’m not putting up with it. You need to decide.”

“You. Would. Not. Dare,” Nico responded with narrowed eyes, flared nostrils, and a stomped foot. He made no move to leave but stepped forward, nose to nose, with me.

Well, that was a choice.

“Let’s go.” I grasped his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. Was it right? Debatable, but I’d be damned if this drunk boy was going to challenge me and get away with it. Nico was begging for me to take him out of his head, and that’s precisely what I was going to do. He struggled so hard to maintain his independence that he wasn’t considering that I had zero desire to take it away from him.

At the top of the stairs, I turned into the guest bathroom and started the shower. Whatever concerns I had about what I intended to do vanished when I saw the smirk Nico gave me. He figured all the cards were held by him. Sweet summer boy, you are so mistaken .

“You may want to give me your electronics.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, you’re going to be very upset in about five seconds.”

“Whatev,” Nico said with a roll of his eyes. He did hand me his phone though, and I set it on the counter behind him.

“Anything else you don’t want to get wet?”

“I can make you drip, Babbo.”

“You can, Sweet Boy, but not tonight.”

And then I slid my hands under his arms, plucked him off his feet, and deposited him directly under the showerhead. I wasn’t mean enough to have left it on cold. It was warm enough. Just wet. Nico sputtered through his ruined hair.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Watch your language. You want to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one. Stay in this shower until you’re sober. I’ll put some extra clothes on the counter and some coffee on downstairs. Don’t bother getting out until your attitude has vastly improved. Any questions?” Nico shook his head. “Good. I meant what I said. I want you sober before you get out.”

Without waiting for Nico to answer, I turned on my heel and left to get him some clothes. Rummaging around in my dresser drawers, I found some flannel pants and a Rainier College sweatshirt. It was my favorite, and I wanted to see him in it.

When I returned to the bathroom, Nico had shed his clothes and tossed them into the sink. Given that I’d dumped him fully clothed into the shower, I was going to be on the hook for buying him a replacement suit in the near future. No regrets bubbled to the surface. I put the dry clothes I’d brought for him on the counter, then leaned back against it. The steamy interior and small space made it feel quiet and intimate.

“Sweet Boy, you okay in there?”

“Yes,” Nico replied in a small voice. “I just need a little more time.” He wasn’t slurring his words anymore. That was an improvement.

“Did something happen tonight?” I caught an almost imperceptible sigh from behind the curtain.

“Yeah, but it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb if you’re upset enough about it to go get drunk and show up on my doorstep.” I heard some suspicious sniffles and knew Nico wouldn’t appreciate me being witness to any kind of breakdown. I pushed myself off the counter and opened the door. “I’ll let you finish up in here and meet you downstairs. Coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.”

* * *

“Here you go.” I handed Nico his mug of tea when he appeared in the kitchen doorway. His wet hair was pushed back from his face and my clothes hung off his shorter frame. He looked fucking perfect in that sweatshirt.

“Thank you,” he said before clearing his throat and repeating, “Thanks.” Under normal circumstances, he was polished to the point of brittle, but in the kitchen stove light, he looked like the boy he was.

“No problem. I usually drink tea at night anyway.” I nodded toward the empty seat at my kitchen table, and Nico joined me.

“Before I came downstairs, you said something about a rough day?” His hands cupped around the mug trembled a little. Tonight wasn’t the night for deep discussions or thoughts. So I backtracked and offered, “I was watching a movie. I could start it over and you could join me?”

“Okay, Babbo.” A small smile played across Nico’s lips, and it was the first real one I’d seen from him since he got here. His drunk flirting didn’t count. Drunk words might be sober thoughts, but at least tonight, they weren’t real joy. What I did know was that Nico also felt the strain of the strange dance we were doing. And I needed to fix it before it became unfixable.

We arranged ourselves on the couch with our tea and some salty snacks. The movie restarted and we snuggled in under our respective blankets. The late-ish hour and dimmed lights had us both relaxed enough to be sluggish and slow. Next to me, Nico struggled to find a proper position. Without speaking, I lifted the corner of my blanket and Nico dove into the space. He snuggled into me, and my hand found its way to his hair. The mostly damp strands slid easily through my fingers. He melted when I lightly scratched his scalp, and soft moans and sighs mingled with the movie.

“You okay?” I asked before kissing the top of his head.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He stopped to savor the scratches before adding, “Why did you have a rough day?”

“Because my employer and I don’t see productivity the same way. I think there’s value in my assistant going to college because he’ll be better at his job. He’ll also probably leave me when he graduates, but we’ll handle that later.”

“He’s college-age?”

“Uh?” I was distracted by the screen before the meaning of his words his me. “Oh no. He looks younger, but he’s late twenties, maybe. Why?”

“Just curious. Why didn’t he go to school right away?” Nico seemed inordinately interested in Jack’s history. Was I supposed to know this? I liked Jack. He was a good employee who was conscientious about his work, but I didn’t know a tremendous amount about his personal life. He was a single father who was proud of his kid and working hard to do right by him. I wasn’t sure beyond that.

“I’m not sure. Now I wonder if I’m a bad boss since I haven’t asked about it.”

“I can’t imagine you as a bad boss.” Nico snorted.

“But I could be… Maybe I’m unreasonable? I could…I don’t know…ask him to send flowers to my boyfriends.”

“Throuples aren’t bad,” he retorted.

“They are if you don’t know you’re in one.” Nico scoffed at that but then reared his head back to search my face. “I’m not seeing anyone,” I added hastily.

“Really?”

“Well, there’s this one guy, but he’s really skittish, and it’s awkward between us right now, but I’m hoping we can figure our shit out.”

Nico’s smirked at my declaration and his more typical gleam returned. “I hope you figure your shit too, Babbo.”