“You could come with me,” Aubrey said. “You hate your job anyway.”
“Is there even ice in Las Vegas?” Nate snarked. “Other than the kind that comes in a highball glass.”
Aubrey set his coffee can down with enough force to send the orange juice sloshing up the sides of the glasses. “Wow. I guess your memory must be going in your old age, if you’ve forgotten that I’m a figure skater and Vegas has an NHL teamyou played against.”
Nate winced because he knew that had been too mean. A low blow, childish, needlessly hurtful. But damn it, Aubrey hurt him first. “I meant, what am I going to do? I don’t have a job lined up in Vegas.”
Aubrey spread his arms. “So what? It’s not like you need the money. You could come and live with me. See where it goes.”
He couldn’t just pick up and leave. He’d helped Jess build this show. He owed it to her to see it through. “And what?” he said before he could help himself. He hadn’t been truly unemployed since he was a kid. “Be your kept man?”
This was a disaster. This was exactly what had happened with Marty. He didn’t want to tag along in someone else’s dream. He had aspirations and plans of his own. He wanted a partner, not a sugar daddy.
He could see the moment Aubrey realized it too. His face went from cajoling and hopeful to resigned and hurt.
Fuck.
“No-go, isn’t it,” he said heavily.
Nate poked at his frittata, suddenly not very hungry. “I mean, it’s too soon to move across the country together anyway.” As if the real problem wasn’t that he didn’t want to.
Aubrey put down his fork. “If you say it is, probably. I wouldn’t really know.”
Nate exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment, scrubbing his hands over his face. “So where do we go from here?”
“I don’thaveto go anywhere. I told you, I haven’t decided if I’m going.”
“Haven’t you?” Nate challenged. For the first time, he really took in the breakfast table. There was a tablecloth and linen napkins, and Aubrey had poured the orange juice in champagne glasses. Or maybe those were actually mimosas. He’d dressed nicely.
He’d obviously been buttering Nate up for something. Nate felt a little twist of guilt in his stomach for not noticing sooner. He might’ve missed out on Aubrey actually coming clean about Cirque and a much more productive discussion.
Aubrey dropped his gaze to his plate. That was answer enough.
Fuck.
“Look. Opportunities like this probably don’t come around that often, am I right?”
Aubrey gave him a weak smile. “There are only so many shows and a lot of retired athletes who can still skate.”
That was what Nate thought. Still, his heart sank. “And this is what you want to do? As opposed to, I don’t know. More broadcasting work. Maybe a stint onDancing with the Stars.”
“I would be incredible, thank you for recognizing that.” The smile didn’t get much stronger, though. “Yes, this is what I want, at least right now. I’m only going to be this recently retired once. In a year or two my window will have closed. So, if I want to do it….”
“Now’s the time.” Nate understood. Hockey had felt like that too, in the later years. He’d had to choose between trying to find a spot on a team with a strong shot at the Cup or staying and playing with the team he loved, knowing they were in the middle of rebuilding and wouldn’t have a chance.
Marty’s business was in Houston. Nate stayed.
“Yeah.” Aubrey bit his lip. “But if it came down to you or Cirque… I’d stay.”
Nate couldn’t stand being the reason Aubrey missed out. Nothing was worth that. “Don’t.”
Now Aubrey closed his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned down, and crow’s feet appeared in the corners of his eyelids as he squeezed them shut. His brows drew together. “Nate—” His voice cracked.
Fuck.“Not, I’m not….” Nate forced himself to take a sip of coffee to wash away the lump in his own throat, took a deep breath, and tried again. “I love you,” he said roughly. “So I can’t be the thing that holds you back from following your dream. You should go.”
Aubrey swallowed visibly and opened his eyes. He looked sad… and scared. “I don’t want to break up.”
Oh, thank God.“Me neither.” Nate had to clear his throat. “It won’t be easy. But it’s not like I’ve never had a long-distance relationship before.” Being gone half the time was just his default state of being. “It’s not that bad. We can figure it out.” He could fly to Vegas on a Saturday redeye or an early morning Sunday flight and be back in Chicago by four on Tuesday. It wasn’t much, but it was more than nothing.
