Cameron’s smile faded, and a creased formed between his eyes. Clearly, Asher’s reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Cameron didn’t mention it.
“Do you want some coffee?”
Asher exhaled in a rush. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.” When Cameron stepped back, Asher let him go and dropped his hands to his sides. “Thanks, Cam.”
“No problem.” He went to the cabinet and pulled down two matching mugs. “So, we still need to order books for the signing at the library,” he called over his shoulder. “Do you know who I should talk to about that?”
It was kind of eerie how well Cameron could read him. His almost supernatural ability to know what Asher needed—even when Asher wasn’t sure himself—never failed to amaze him.
“I can ask Becca. She’ll probably know.”
Cameron nodded. “That’s what I figured. If you give me the number, I’ll call her tomorrow.”
He kept up his chatter about the event while he poured coffee and doctored it with cream and sugar. Asher answered questions when asked, but his mind was only partly on the conversation. The majority of his higher thinking was concentrated on trying to figure out what the hell was going on with him. While he was grateful for Cameron’s support, it hadn’t been so unexpected to cause that level of emotional upheaval.
Maybe it was just stress or a lack of sleep. Maybe he should get someone out to check the air filters, because his eyes really shouldn’t water like that. God, he was fucking losing his mind.
“Here you go.” Cameron rounded the island and handed him one of the steaming mugs.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
Cameron smiled.
And Asher’s heart fluttered.
Chapter Eight
There had been atime not so long ago that Cameron had envied people who had careers that allowed them to work from home. After four days of trying it for himself, he didn’t understand how any of them ever got anything done.
He’d tried working in Asher’s office, then in the library. He’d set up his laptop and file folders at the dining room table, the kitchen island, and at one point, he’d ended sprawled out on the sofa in the den. Nothing seemed to be working—which meant he wasn’t, either.
Everything distracted him. When he wanted coffee, instead of simply buzzing for his assistant to bring him a fresh cup, he had to venture into the kitchen to make it himself. That alone wouldn’t be such a big deal, but it inevitably led to a conversation with one of the security guys. Once, he’d found a fork, a bowl, and two glasses in the sink and had spent the next forty minutes scrubbing down every stationary surface in the kitchen.
If Asher stuck his head into the office to ask if Cameron wanted something to eat, instead of a quick answer, they’d end up in an hour-long conversation. Then, it usually took him another twenty minutes to get back ontask once Asher left the room. And that was only if the guy didn’t end up coaxing him back to bed.
The longer it went on, the more stressed he became, until every creak of the rafters or whistle of the wind across the windows drove him insane. The ticking of the clock in the library set his teeth on edge. Birds chirping outside the window made his temples throb. Footsteps in the hallways sounded like a herd of stampeding buffalo, and by the end of day three, he swore he could hear the electricity buzzing from every light in the house.
For years, he’d worked four, ten-hour days at Stone Digital Solutions so that he could enjoy a relaxing three-day weekend. For years, Fridays had been reserved for running errands, straightening his two-bed home on the lake, or catching up on a list of chores that had built up during the week.
Since being with Asher, Fridays were usually spent lounging in bed until mid-morning, trying out some of the fabulous places to eat in Asher’s neighborhood, or cuddled up in the smaller theater room on the second floor with a bowl of popcorn.
This Friday, however, he found himself seated at the desk in his office for the first time in almost five years. Unless he wanted to lose half his client base, he really didn’t have a choice.
“Well, that is unfortunate. I’m sorry you feel that way.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Good day, Mr. Neiman.” He didn’t wait for a response before dropping the receiver into its cradle to end the call. “Asshole.”
Losing an account was never easy. Losing a long-standing account hurt even more. Losing the company’s third-largest account because the client had a problem with Cameron’s sexuality was a level of bullshit he hadn’t anticipated. Fredrick Neiman had even contacted him personally to express how abhorrent he found Cameron’s “lifestyle.”
On the bright side, the old man had a varied and extensive vocabulary, so at least his insults hadn’t been flat or boring. In fact, Cameron had written a reminder during the conversation to look up the meaning ofsnollygoster. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Going by context clues, he probably didn’t want to know.
There was a perfunctory knock on his office door, then Amelia swept in carrying a large, white mug of freshly brewed coffee.
“Thank you,” he said reverently, taking the cup from her and inhaling deeply of the contents. “God, I needed this.”
Amelia’s painted lips twitched at the corners. “I thought you might.”
It was his third cup in two hours, but honestly, there was no such thing as too much caffeine, especially considering the day he was having. His call from FredrickNeiman might have been the worst, but it hadn’t been the only one. While none of the other companies had terminated their accounts, the conversations had all involved a general tone of censure.
A representative from the Valley View Medical Center had subtly expressed her disdain at his choice in partner, but she’d been unconcerned about him being gay in general. Then, she’d ended the call by saying that as long as Stone Digital Solutions continued to do outstanding work, their account would remain active. That had probably been the strangest discussion of the morning, but it had also been the easiest.
