His boyfriend deserved more hell, but it was just a rental. Temporary. Until they figured out what to do with Fantabulous! With themselves. Ian licked his lips. He was thinking of an excuse. He’d done something wrong. “You bought it, didn’t you?”
“You can’t really call it a house. It’s more like a cottage. It’s why I knew you’d love it.”
He felt light-headed. “We haven’t even been back to Palm Springs. Your housekeeper packed up some suitcases. Do you plan to sell it?”
“What do you want?” He blushed all the way to the back of his neck.
“I don’t own that place.” He studied him closely. “I don’t own this place. I don’t own Fantabulous! It’s your place.” He echoed the letter. Reminded him he might be acting like it’s manager, but Ian and Jake were the real owners.
“Both places are our homes. I don’t need to sell either. It’s not like I bought Fantabulous! Tori says it was in the red for a very long time, but it’s been in the green for a couple of years.”
“Black.”
“Green,” he corrected. “That’s the color of money. And if the club continues to be a goldmine, you can pay the mortgage on this house. It looks like something you’d buy.” Ian walked ahead to a black wrought-iron gate the size of their front door in Palm Springs. He pulled out a matching ornate key. “Come, Señor Luna.”
Black. He bit his tongue. Did he know how much a bar manager made? Not an owner-manager. Did he know how much Ricky made? He threw the borrowed towel in the car. The thought of such squandering turned his stomach. Too many times, he got caught up in his lover’s charmed life. Caught up in Ian’s silly grin, believing he made him happy. He wanted to thank him for his generosity. Tell him his love was enough. But was he enough? Compared to Ian. Compared to Jake. Compared to the neighbors in another home beyond his means. Not even after a lifetime at his last job. The first year he’d moved in with Ian, his shame did more than freeze him on a dancefloor. The good boy slept with a colleague from work. A Filipino like him. Someone Mama Nessa would’ve approved of. Ian should’ve kicked him to the curb. Fallen out of love with him. Tried to work it out with Jake. Been truly happy with his first love. At least give it a chance.
“What’s taking you so long?” Ian grumbled. He doubled back and pushed Ricky through the gate. “I hope you don’t expect me to carry you as if we were newlyweds. I slept on the floor all night. Back’s kinda sore.”
He put his hands in his pockets. Looked away. “You? Slept on a floor.” It was a Filipino thing. A Ricky thing. Not an Ian thing. He found a woven mat Ricky’s cousins gave him as a housewarming gift. It was a banig. Not every household had extra beds. Not every family had their own either. It was a way to sleep on the cool floor. No AC needed.
“Please say something. Please say anything.”
“I don’t deserve this life.” He cried. “I don’t deserve you.” Unable to look him in the eyes, he staggered out the gate.
“You’re wrong, Ricardo Luna,” he murmured, “I don’t deserve you.” He caught his shoulder. “You’ve agreed to everything I’ve asked of you since New Year’s. You should’ve left me a long time ago. I’m still waiting.” He pulled him closer. To his trembling body. A body he loved to hold onto as tightly. “Thank you for not giving up.”
A gust of wind shut the gate behind Ricky. He stared at his partner blankly.
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