“He bought it?”
“Well, he put in an offer. Said it was a birthday present. A fucking building.”
“And you got pissed off?” Marc asked.
“Yeah. What would you expect me to do?”
“Say thank you?”
Riley drained his glass and refilled it. “He didn’t even ask me, and then he had the nerve to tell me he wanted to make a business plan for me. Why does he have to control everything?”
“He is one of the most sought after consultants in the country.”
Riley set the glass down and dropped his head in his hands. “Fuck.”
Marc laid a hand on his shoulder. “Think about it this way. What if Thorne decided to make cupcakes himself and refused to let you help him? What if he followed a recipe someone else recommended and refused to even read yours?”
“It’s not—” It was exactly like that. “Fuck.”
Riley gave up on the glass. He tipped the tequila bottle up and took a huge swallow. When he’d recovered from the coughing fit, he tried to remember why he was arguing.
Thorne running his life? Was that it? “I can’t just let him support me. If I do, then I’m nothing but his escort like I used to be.”
“Do you honestly think he made an offer on a building because he wants to make sure you keep fucking him?”
That sure sounded stupid when Marc said it. “No, not really.”
“This has nothing to do with the fact that you used to be his client and everything to do with him being richer and older than you. You told him it didn’t make any difference, but it does.”
“I don’t care how fucking old he is. I love him.” And now I might lose him.
Riley grabbed his glass and threw it. It shattered against the wall, and the pieces tinkled as they hit the floor.
Marc sighed and headed toward the kitchen.
“Let the fucking maids clean it up. Isn’t that what rich people are supposed to do?”
“Is that what Thorne would do?”
“No, goddamn it. He’s fucking perfect. Is that what you want me to say? He’s fucking perfect, and he does everything right. He’s respected and top in his field and rich and so fucking much better than me.”
Marc’s mouth dropped open. “Riley Dashwood, you do not believe that.”
“Sometimes, yeah, I do.”
Marc took Riley by the shoulders. “Look at me.”
Riley reluctantly did.
“Sometimes we all feel down on ourselves, but I know you don’t actually think—”
“Thorne’s always bossing me around and telling me—”
“Seriously? How damn often are you telling him what to do? Yes, he can be an arrogant shit, but he’s just hiding his own insecurities.”
“How the hell do you know? Did you pick all this up when you were fucking him?”
“God, Riley. You’re not usually so fucking vicious.” He grabbed the tequila. “I’m cutting you off.”
Riley tipped his head back against the couch. The room spun as tears spilled over and poured down his cheeks.
Marc returned and sat beside him.
“You should go,” Riley said, his voice breaking.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“Do you really think I should just let him pay for everything and make a plan and…”
“No, but I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt, accept gifts when he gives them, and fucking tell him how you feel about all of it instead of just yelling at him.”
“How do you know I haven’t?”
“Have you?” Marc asked.
“Not really.”
“Who are you mad at, Thorne or yourself?”
“Me. I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t get it together. I don’t know how to handle Thorne loving me this much.”
Riley sighed as Marc laid a cool cloth on his forehead. He held Marc’s hand, and they sat in silence for a long time before fear, anger, and tequila got the best of him, and Riley ended up on his knees in the bathroom, puking his guts out.
Marc put him to bed afterward. The last thing he remembered was Marc saying, “When Thorne comes home, give him a chance.”
***
Thorne’s phone buzzed. He couldn’t decide if he hoped it was Riley or not. If it was, would he answer or make him wait?
It was Marc.
“Hello?”
“I just put Riley to bed. He had over half a bottle of tequila, so he’ll feel like shit in the morning.”
“And now you’ve called to yell at me?”
“No, I called to let you know Riley’s more angry with himself than with you. He’s also scared, and he needs you.”
Thorne ran a hand through his hair. “He’s got a strange way of showing it.”
“Does he really?”
Thorne thought about that. Riley always reacted with anger when he was afraid. And no, that wasn’t strange at all. Plenty of people got defensive when they were scared.
“I’m trying to help him, but he won’t let me,” Thorne said.
“Would you if things were the other way around?”
“Of course I… Fuck, no.”
“Exactly. Now come home and take care of him.”