Page 80 of Total Creative Control
Four weeks later
“Bloodyhell.”
Aaron swore as he wrangled himself, his coffee, and his recalcitrant umbrella through the doors of RPP in the teeth of a howling gale.
“Lovely weather for ducks,” Dymek observed from behind the reception desk where he was sipping a mug of tea and looking smugly cosy.
Aaron made a face as he shook rain out of his hair and off the sleeves of his coat. “I think the ducks have given up and gone home.”
“Yes, because it is raining cats and dogs.” Dymek held up his phone. “Four hundred useful English Idioms.”
“Four hundred?” Aaron smiled. “Piece of cake.”
“That is number thirty-six.” Dymek nudged a stack of post on the desk, looking hopeful. “You will take this up?”
Aaron’s heart gave a silly stutter at the sight of the envelopes addressed to Mr. Lewis Hunter. “Nope,” he said, lifting a hand to fend them off. “Still not my job.”
“Yes, but he has a new temp today—”
“Anotherone?”
Dymek gave him an old-fashioned look. “Nobody is surprised but you.”
That was probably true.
In the weeks since he’d left Lewis—left hisjob, he corrected—Aaron had found himself looking back on their time together with growing nostalgia. Time and again, memories of the good moments surfaced—those long nights eating pizza and brainstorming ideas in Lewis’s office, the heart-stopping thrill of being swept up in Lewis’s creative process, the shared looks and jokes, and most of all, those quiet moments of connection when they both seemed to understand each other without words.
All of which made Aaron watch the endless procession of temps with a mixture of envy and impatience. So what if Lewis could be demanding? So what if he had a strong personality? Didn’t they get what a privilege it was to work for him, to be around all that fierce creative energy?
Aaron had figured that out five minutes after first meeting him.
And part of him, a not-inconsiderable part of him, missed it. As much as he knew that leaving had been the right decision, as much as he was enjoying the challenge of his new role, and as much as Toni was a supportive and conscientious mentor, Aaron missed Lewis.
He missed him a lot, right down deep in his bones. In his heart.
No point in denying the reason, either; that cat was out of the bag, and there was no shoving it back inside. Aaron was in love with Lewis, was likely to be for some time to come, and being estranged from him like this hurt.
What Lewis might be feeling, Aaron didn’t know because Lewis had been avoiding him like the plague since their agonisingly silent car ride back from Safehaven almost a month ago. No emails, no messages. Nothing. As if he’d simply cut Aaron out of his life entirely.
Aaron knew better, though. The office was full of gossip about Lewis’s short temper and impossible behaviour, and Aaron knew him well enough to understand that he felt hurt by what he must consider to be Aaron’s defection.
It wasn’t the same sort of pain Aaron was going through, but it was pain, and he was sorry for it.
The whole situation was a bloody mess so, no, Aaron was not taking Lewis his post. Slipping back into that role would only churn up the already-stormy waters. That job would fall to the unlucky soul destined to be this week’s temp, or, God forbid, Lewis could fetch his own bloody post.
By the time Aaron reached his desk, daylight was filtering through the heavy autumn clouds. As usual, he was the first one in. Toni was a night owl, and most of her teams mirrored her hours, which meant Aaron got to enjoy a quiet and productive start to his day because he still preferred to come in early. Not that he didn’t stay late, too. But he had a lot to learn and was determined to make the most of this opportunity.
God knew, it had come at a price.
He set his coffee on his desk and booted up his laptop, deliberately not thinking about the hot chocolate he hadn’t bought from Grinder. Having given up his large PA desk, he now sat at one of the much smaller desks in a pod with the rest of the team developingBow Street, a new historical drama about the early days of policing in Georgian London. The pod was in the far corner of the open-plan space around the corner from the kitchen and Toni and Lewis’s offices. TheBow Streetteam hotdesked, hooking up their laptops to whichever screen they wanted. Since Aaron was usually first in, he almost always got the best spot, next to the window with his screen out of view of nosy passers-by—just in case he had time over lunch to work on his fanfic.
Not that he had much time for it these days. Or much inclination.
Ever since the weekend at Safehaven, he’d found his fanfic well dry. Desiccated. Completely arid. And he hated it. When he didn’t have a fic on the go, it felt like some vital part of him was missing.
At first, he’d blamed Lewis and their mortifying meeting with Charlie. But that wasn’t fair, and more importantly it wasn’t true. No, the real problem was that whenever he sat down to write about Skye Jäger, the face he saw in his mind’s eye belonged to Lewis Hunter.
And maybe that was no surprise at all.