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“You remember when we used to have study sessions so long we’d all fall asleep at my place back in Cavendish?” he asks, and looks at us excitedly.

“Uh, yeah.” Of course I remember. We were more nerdy than anyone who meets us can ever imagine.

“Let’s do that but for sex!” he shouts. “I’m going to call down and ask Milton for snacks. This needs to happen today since we’re leaving for Como tomorrow. Adam, you let Sebas know he can leave Dani here with us if he wants?—”

“So she can hear us talk about sex?” I demand, seriously disturbed by the turn this has taken.

“She’s one,” Adam deadpans. “And if she wasn’t asleep already then I bet she could understand some of what we’re saying, but as long as we don’t make too much noise...” He looks pointedly at CJ. “Then it should be fine.”

“See?” CJ asks and sticks his tongue out at me. “I’ll text Wolf so no one interrupts us. Carter, go change and bring up your laptop and a notebook if you have it. There will be diagrams and a test at the end.”

Jesus Christ, what did I get myself into?

Adam passes out before eleven—the Dad life has really changed him, in a good way—but CJ sadly doesn’t run out of juice until he’s described, in painful detail, how to give the best blow job.

He even uses a cucumber as a prop—one he raced down the stairs for—and the sheer girth of it has me wincing, but my friend isn’t deterred even after he assures me no man is that big.

When he lies down on the couch I still don’t feel even slightly ready for bed, so naturally thoughts of Liam are the only thing in my mind.

The issues only surfaced because we don’t know each other well enough, not in a real, how-do-you-communicate way.

There’s no way around that—we’ve barely known each other for five weeks, it’ll take time—but since Liam is clearly experiencing something difficult, I can’t just not try to move everything along a bit faster now, can I?

I understand it’s a very real possibility that he might really need to be alone, that it might be the best course of action for him to feel better, and if that’s the case, then I’ll have to learn to accept it and offer it to him whenever he needs it in the future.

But . . .

He didn’t seem like he wanted to be alone.

And again, I’m well aware I’ve known him for very little time, but I think I know enough.

For fuck’s sake, I know enough about him—like him enough—to completely change what I think about my own sexuality.

I could be lying to myself, that’s a real possibility, but the slight chance that Liam is suffering more tonight because he’s alone pains me enough to do something about it .

So now, alone and with a notebook and a laptop right in front of me, I decide to do some research of my own.

And tomorrow, when my home is finally not full of people again, I’ll do everything I can to find out whether my gut feeling is right or wrong.

Normally, I don’t come to MP on my days off.

The bakery being right between the two galleries means I don’t come anywhere close to this part of the city when I don’t have to, but today is not like any other day.

Today, I buy a dozen cinnamon rolls—only possible since it’s early on a Saturday—and then order a car to take me to Liam’s apartment building.

But when I walk over to the doorman, I don’t say I’m there to see Liam. No, I give Sam and Ed’s name instead.

He calls up and I’m allowed into the elevator promptly. All the way up to the top floor I wonder if this is the right thing to do, and in the end, I believe it is.

This isn’t asking Sam to talk to her son, or even to tell me how to “handle” Liam.

I don’t need to handle Liam, and he’s never needed to be handled. All I want is an opinion on my next move.

Even so, I’m nervous when Sam opens the door with a confused smile on her face.

“Carter, so nice to see you again,” she says gracefully.

“I’m sorry for stopping by without any invitation, but I’ve brought cinnamon rolls.” I hold the box up like an offering .

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. Come on in.” She leads me to the kitchen where I set the box on the big table. “You want some coffee?”

“Actually, I’m here to ask you something about Liam, if that’s okay? And I’m hoping to go down to his place after.”

Her face transforms multiple times—first another frown, this one with clear displeasure, then an uncertain grimace, and lastly a mostly blank look with a hint of annoyance.

I can’t blame her.

“You can ask whatever you want, but that doesn't mean I’ll answer,” she tells me eventually, her southern accent coming through unmistakably.

“That’s fair,” I admit, and get right to it. “I could tell yesterday that Liam was having a tough time with Mrs. Blackwell’s decision not to invest, and I wanted to support him, be there for him and comfort him however I could, but?—”

“She told him no?” Sam asks with a dramatic gasp.

“He hadn’t told you,” I realize as I say it.

“No, he didn’t,” she whispers.

“He got the call from Tristan Thursday evening,” I explain. There’s no mistaking the sadness on Sam’s face, and I sympathize, I do. “Then yesterday he talked to Parker and William, then to Tristan, and then he came by the gallery to tell me he wanted to be alone.”

I leave the article out of it for now because it really isn’t relevant.

“He’s been busy,” Sam remarks in a monotone voice. She looks more worried than sad now .

“He has, but my question is, should I push him to let me in? Is being alone what he really needs?”

Sam stares at me like she’s doing her damndest to look into my soul. The seconds tick by so slowly I could swear an hour has passed, and only when she nods one decisive nod do I dare breathe again.

“Liam does like his alone time, but when he’s having big emotions he does better with someone there to... hold him.”

The way she says it makes many things clear to me. First and foremost that she knows Liam is comfortable with my touch, and second that she trusts me enough to give me an honest answer.

Of course, there’s also a hint of a threat in the vagueness of her answer.

The fact that I’m the right person for Liam is still up for debate, and I don’t begrudge her for that.

“I’ll try again, then.” I nod once and take a tiny step back from the table.

She spins on her heel and takes a deep dish out of a cupboard, then she opens the box from the bakery and takes out four cinnamon rolls, closes the box again, and hands it over to me.

“Liam loves cinnamon rolls. Let me get my keycard so you can go down to his floor, all right?”

“Thank you,” I tell her, something beyond relief filling my veins.

I smile at her one last time when I walk into the elevator, and her answering smile gives me hope that I’ll live up to her standards.

I’ll sure do my best.