Piper jerks her head toward the living room, her brows raised. “Why don’t you go sit down in the living room with Oliver while I make some coffee?”
I stare at her for a few seconds. There was a nonverbal cue in there somewhere. She wants me to talk to Carson while she makes herself scarce. Right. I am totally not going to screw this up.
I sigh and take Carson’s arm. “Come on.” I half drag him into the living room. “Let’s sit down.”
In the living room, I drop Carson into the leather loveseat, and I sit on the couch. I told him he could come to me with whatever he needed, but I didn’t think he would actually do it. Carson, like me, is a workaholic who keeps his personal life separate from his professional life, except he does it with a lot more flair and animation.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask in the tone one might use requesting a lobotomy.
“James and I broke up.” He covers his face with his hands. “I had to run home before CrossFit. I forgot my gym clothes—that’s why I left early. I went home, and James was in our room, getting fit with someone else.”
His words are slurred, his tone bitter. I have no idea how to respond.
“I walked in and saw”—one hand leaves his face and makes a circling motion—“what I saw, and then I left. Like a chump. I didn’t say anything. I don’t even know if they noticed I was there.”
Piper walks in and hands Carson a mug. He takes it in shaking hands and then regards it bleakly. She sits on the sofa next to me, close enough that our thighs touch. An electrical zing of energy throbs from the spot.
Now is not the time. I focus on Carson.
Still gazing sightlessly into the coffee, he continues. “We’ve been together for five years. How could he do this? I don’t understand what’s happening.” His voice cracks.
I share a glance with Piper. Now what do we do?
“Lambda Lounge,” Carson says suddenly, his voice overly loud.
We stare at him.
“That’s where we met. That’s where I was, just now, and where I…” His lashes flutter, then he jerks up. His eyes meet mine, flick to Piper, and then back to me. They widen. “I’m drunk.” He stands. The cup in his hands tilts, precariously close to sloshing out all over my carpet. “I’m drunk, and I’m here. And you’re here.” He gestures to Piper, the mug tipping again. “What am I doing here?”
I stand and take the cup from him before he ruins my Isfahan rug. “It’s fine. Sit.”
He drops back into the loveseat.
I hand him the mug once he’s no longer a danger to my belongings. “Drink.”
He sips, his brows lifted.
I take the cup away again, just in case. Then I sit next to Piper.
“Do you have anyone we could call?” Piper asks gently.
“No. My family is in Georgia.” His gaze shifts to me. “I could rent one of the staff apartments…”
“They’re occupied.”
His body droops, sinking farther into the loveseat.
“You can stay here.” The words are out before I can consider them too closely. “I have a spare room and bath on the north side of the building.” My own rooms are on the south. I could comfortably house an entire family or three and not even notice.
Carson stares at me. “I couldn’t.”
“It’s fine.” I almost barking the words.
He flinches.
I sigh and stand up. “Come on. I’ll show you. You may want to get some rest. You’re going to be terribly embarrassed in the morning, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”