Page 28 of The Hang Up

“Brilliant deduction since I’m gay.”

He waved his hand at me. “You’re dressed fairly nice—”

“Rude.”

“So it’s someone with a little money…”

I tried not to tense. He was too close to the truth. My stomach turned faster than the super mixer at work. “Sean, I don’t have time—”

He held up his finger, and for some reason, that stopped me. “Is he married?”

“What? Why would you ask me that?”

He shrugged. “Or worse,” he said, tapping his finger against his chin in thought.

“There’s something worse than dating someone who’s married?”

“Please tell me he’s not conservative.”

“Stop guessing,” I said, realizing I should have bolted.

“Just kidding. I know exactly who it is.”

He looked so sure that my heart stopped. Just gave up working right there. “Sean, I—”

“It’s the cute guy on your phone. The one you work with.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but really? It was the perfect cover. Almost. I’d used a pic of a guy from work for Joshua’s contact. I didn’t really think Sean would notice.

“Here’s the thing, Sean. If I could have told you—was able to tell you—wanted to tell you, you would already know, so I’m not confirming or denying anything. But I am going before I’m late.

“Fine. I’ll just be playing video games here all by myself.”

I opened the door and then turned. “I’ve been doing that for the last few months, so you’re not getting any sympathy from me.”

* * *

“We could have eaten in,”I said once Joshua and I were in his sports car. And even though I’d spent time with him and his family over the years, I’d forgotten what rich felt like. Smelled like. Leather seat. Expensive woodsy cologne. Fancy control panel. Now was the part where I should be enjoying this and not worrying about all that.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

He took my hand and held it. And I didn’t pull away. It felt good. This part—getting to touch him. Accepting his comfort. It felt right. “I just think we could have eaten in.” And I was nervous. But I would have been nervous no matter what we did.

“I wanted this to be special.”

“I could have cooked.”

“No way,” Joshua said, squeezing my hand. “I’m trying to impress you.”

I laughed. “Really?”

His eyes cut to me. “Are you making fun of me?”

“A little,” I said in a teasing voice. He tried to pull his hand away, but I held on tight. “It just seems crazy that you, Joshua Miller, are trying to impress me. I’ve been impressed with you all my life. Not everything you’ve done. I’m not saying that. But you’re pretty damn impressive.” He nodded, but his jaw was tight. I expected more of a response. “What’s going on?”

“It’s stupid.” He stared at the road as his fancy sports car chewed up the miles.

“Joshua?”

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