Grayson laughed but then realized Nolan wasn’t completely joking. “You’re really terrified of this project.”
Nolan sighed. “Not… exactly. It’s just a lot of work with a fairly small budget.”
“We’re getting a different contractor for this project,” Grayson said. “He’s supposed to be really good. Some guy named Mike. He’s an actual contractor in the city, not just a Restoration Channel guy.”
“Okay.”
“Have you never wanted to design a house from scratch?”
Nolan let out a sigh and scratched his chin. “Sure.” He shook his head slightly. “There’s something about this project that’s bothering me. It’s not even the lack of walls. I just need a hook that’ll lead me into the project. I can’t really begin to think about colors or accessories until I better understand what they like.” He paused. “I just don’t know where to start with this one.”
“Did you get the flooring discount, at least?”
“Yes. He’s willing to knock a couple hundred dollars off the total price in exchange for finding a way to advertise his place on the show. I figured we could do a segment where we take the family to the store to look at samples and get a nice shot of the exterior.”
“Sounds good.”
Grayson looked around. They were basically done for the day. The cameras had recorded them making some final decisions about materials for the Roberts house; then the crew had left for the day. They were mostly still milling about because they were waiting for Helena to call up and tell them about house tours for the Cruzes. So no one was around right now. He leaned over and kissed Nolan. Nolan accepted the kiss, but Grayson could feel he was troubled.
“Is this okay?” Grayson asked. “You and me?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. Sorry. I’m just distracted today.”
Grayson worried maybe Nolan wasn’t ready for a relationship, but every time he’d brought it up in the past week, Nolan assured him that wasn’t the problem. Of course, that implied that therewasa problem.
Whatever was happening here probably wouldn’t last past the end of the series—or this season, if Nolan decided to have Grayson put out to pasture after all—but as long as Nolan was willing, Grayson would take it.
Chapter Ten
NOLAN HADbeen at one of those holiday parties ten years ago, where an odd assortment of people Nolan never would have expected to know each other all mingled as if it were normal. Nolan had spotted Ricardo Vega from across the room and just floated right over to him, as if pulled like a magnet. He knew Ricky vaguely, which was to say he’d never watched that show, but he lived in the world, so he knew Ricky was the star of it.
Ricky was just… beautiful. Tall, athletic. Dark hair, dark eyes, a long face and a long thin nose. He had the most beautiful lips, and he smiled easily, revealing perfectly white teeth. He was Hollywood attractive, in other words, but there was a softness to him, a realness that Nolan appreciated.
Nolan introduced himself. Ricky took his hand. Then he just… didn’t let go.
They dated for four years and were married for five. They weren’t exactly a Hollywood power couple but instead preferred to fly just below the radar, especially as Ricky’s star began to fade.
Ricky had been a sweet soul. He was frustrated by his struggle to find work he found rewarding, but he never resented Nolan for his success and had only ever been supportive.
Ricky had been Nolan’s favorite person, his best friend, his partner. Their love had been deep and intense and comforting. They’d built a beautiful home together.
They’d been working on the nursery when Ricky got his diagnosis.
Kids had been Ricky’s dream more than Nolan’s, but the more Ricky talked about being a father, the more Nolan wanted it too. The idea of the two of them as dads, doting on a child, was something Nolan hadn’t been able to get out of his head ever since. They’d wanted to adopt because they could give a child a wonderful home, one filled with love.
And then cancer had taken Ricky.
Nolan knew he would never recover. He’d miss Ricky for the rest of his days. He’d remember their anniversary even if he didn’t celebrate it anymore. Ricky was his great love, and nobody got two of those.
Or did they?
He was forty years old, successful beyond what he’d ever imagined, and he had a good life. The romantic part of his life was over—or at least, he’d assumed it was.
“What if you lived to be a hundred?” Stacey Lewis had asked him once.
Her point was that he still had a lot of life to live. Did he want to spend the rest of his time on earth alone?
He didn’t.
