Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Just talking about his craptastic day had Asher ready to go home and… huh. For as long as he could remember, that thought had ended with “crawl into bed” or “get drunk and crawl into bed” or maybe “change, go to a club and find a guy to fuck, then go home and do option one or two.” But none of those endings entered his mind at that moment. Instead, all he wanted was to go home and see Daniel, feel that skinny body in his arms, bury his face in the man’s hair and let his scent wash away all the stress of the day.
He quickly glanced at the clock. It was after six. Everything on his desk could wait until morning. He was done for the day. Asher pushed his chair back, stood up, and swiped his jacket off the back of his chair.
“I’m taking off, Ollie.”
“Really?” Oliver sounded surprised. “You never leave before seven.”
“Yeah, well, I….” Asher stopped short. It’d sound pathetic to say he wanted to leave work so he could be with Daniel. “I’ve had a long day,” he explained instead.
Oliver grumbled a little, but he got up and walked out of Asher’s office.
“So I got your e-mail. What’s the deal with the wedding?”
“I don’t know. Shirley said something about bad weather so we’re going to push it back.”
They lived in San Francisco. Aiming for predictably good weather was about as likely as winning the lottery. Not that a delay was a big deal. After all, Oliver and Shirley were just having a few people over to their place, where a judge friend would do the honors. Still, something about it seemed off to Asher. Whathefuckever. He rubbed his hand over his scalp. He had enough on his plate without adding Oliver’s relationship idiosyncrasies.
They got to the stairwell, and Oliver headed up to his office while Asher started walking down the stairs. “See you tomorrow,” he said and waved over his shoulder.
“See ya,” Oliver replied.
The drive home didn’t take long and then Asher was pounding up the stairs and rushing to his door. He wondered whether Daniel had managed to make dinner without setting something on fire or overcooking it. The spaghetti the night before had been the consistency of a casserole, not that he’d said anything about it. After all, his mother had taught him manners.
He remembered how pissed he’d been as a kid when his mother’s boyfriends criticized her cooking or her appearance. She’d put on a good show, giving as good as she got, but when they were gone and she thought nobody was looking, he’d seen how sad she was, how down she’d get after those fights. So Asher knew an overcooked meal was still a meal. Besides, nobody but Daniel had made anything especially for him since he’d left home, and he found that he liked it.
“Daniel?” he called out as soon as he pushed the door open. He pulled his keys out of the lock and hung them on the hook by the door, then let the door close behind him. “Daniel?” he repeated when he didn’t hear an answer.
The apartment was empty. He knew that before he’d taken more than two steps inside. It was quiet, dark, the air was still. Asher couldn’t squash down the feeling of disappointment that washed over him. Half a decade living in that apartment on his own and it had never felt empty. Less than a week sharing his space with Daniel, and the man’s absence was palpable.
He’d had a bad day. Wasn’t the whole point of a relationship to be able to come home to somebody after one of those? Having him take your mind off it or make you feel better or suck your dick or something? He was pretty sure that was what he’d heard from the people who had tried to set him up over the years.
So why was he walking into an empty apartment? It wasn’t like Daniel was working. He had nothing to do all day. Was it too much to expect him to be available when Asher was home?
He tossed his jacket over the back of the couch. He’d hang it up later. Then he paced across the great room to the kitchen and back again, getting more agitated with every step. Where in the fuck was Daniel? He got his phone out of his pocket and dialed.
“Hey, Ash,” Daniel’s bright voice chirped after a few rings. “How’s your day going? Do you know when you’ll be done working?” There was music in the background and some other sounds Asher couldn’t identify. It didn’t sound like street traffic, so he knew Daniel was indoors.
“Why?” Asher snapped. “You have somewhere you need to be or something? ’Cause I can pick up dinner on the way home if you already have plans.” Okay, that didn’t come out right at all. Damn it. Why was he yelling? He tried to calm down.