Twenty-Two: The Pleasure Of Your Company

The past two weeks had seen them grow closer — had seen Josh march into Emery's office with the freshly-delivered lunch order every day, demanding he set down his phone and take at least half an hour to himself; had been witness to shared dinners, Emery recounting what had happened during his visit with Emma, or how some hospital staff all but crossed themselves when entering her room.

Josh found himself doing things on instinct that two weeks ago would have been inconceivable; just that morning he'd straightened Emery's tie without even thinking about it.

Tonight something felt different between them. Josh couldn't really put his finger on it, but it was in the way Emery had looked at him across the table during dinner, or in the way he'd smile softly or fidget with the cuffs of his tailored shirt. In the way Emery had gone out of his way to invite him to have a "sugary aberration" in his office afterwards, supposedly to discuss Emma's return the next day. In the way Emery always seemed on the verge of saying something else, but didn't.

It felt disappointing, then, to have the conversation stall between them, something Josh couldn't remember happening for months. Josh rose from his chair, mostly empty can in his hand, and didn't see how he could say anything other than "good night".

"Josh." Emery's voice made him turn. "There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you."

Why such seemingly innocuous words made his heart rate speed up, Josh couldn't tell. He didn't sit back down; Emery was also standing. "What is it?"

Emery exhaled. "I've... Lately, there's been... You must understand. My sister's well-being is my number one priority. There is nothing I would do to jeopardize that." He took off his glasses only to put them back on.

What was he saying?

"You've been an integral part of that well-being; the last thing I need is for you to feel compelled to walk away now."

Josh furrowed his brow. "Emery, nothing's compelling me to walk away — what's this about?"

"I consider myself an intelligent man, but I'm... Not the best at reading subtext. Lately there have been..." His eyes zeroed in on Josh, his shoulders squared. "Regardless of what my hopes may be, if anything I have said or done is unwelcome, you need only say so, and I will keep whatever distance you require."

Fuck.

His mouth went dry. He could say something ambiguous, pretend he didn't understand Emery's meaning. It'd be safer. It'd be saner.

But Emery had proved his courage by taking what had to be a tremendously difficult step — if Josh had found himself lacking the courage to make a move on a man who was, by all rights, his current boss, then he could only imagine how much harder the reverse would be to someone with Emery's integrity.

The strength of character — the dignity — that permeated every single one of Emery's actions was one of the things that drew Josh in, like a moth to a flame. And if Emma was right — if Emery looked at him like she'd said — then brushing this off would be the bigger madness.

"Believe me," he said, maintaining eye contact, "absolutely nothing you've said and done so far has been unwelcome."

A warm smile overtook Emery's features; Josh felt himself smiling back, heart beating in his throat. He couldn't remember ever having wanted to kiss someone quite this much.

"I can't begin to tell you how relieved I am to hear that," Emery said, still behind his desk. "I'd like for you to take some time — whatever time you need — to think about this. There's no rush. And then I'd like you to come up with a number that would be acceptable to you. That you'd charge. For the pleasure of your company."

The words didn't register at first.

There was something so contradictory in Emery's inviting brown eyes, in his warm and open posture, in light of the words he'd just uttered, that it was as if Josh's brain refused to process them. Josh's smile was still fixed in place, tacked on with cheap glue and threatening to peel off. "I'm sorry?" This was the point where Emery would reveal his sense of humor had taken a sharp turn for the worse. An inappropriate, horribly unfunny joke — that's the only thing this could be.

"Allow me to set your mind at ease," Emery continued, preparing to do the very opposite of that. "I can't imagine there's any number you could come up with that I would consider too high."

It took Josh a moment to identify the sharp pain in his right palm as the can's twisted metal digging in. He'd need stitches if he didn't release his grip. The corners of Emery's eyes were crinkled, as if he hadn't just reached inside Josh's chest cavity and wrenched out what he'd found. Josh wouldn't let him win whatever twisted game he'd set out to play; wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing the devastation he'd caused.

With considerable effort, he rearranged his features into something neutral. His voice never wavered. "I take back what I said. This is unwelcome. I think it's best if you keep your distance. If you still need reports on how Emma's doing, I'll be happy to send them by email."

"I understand." Emery's eyes weren't quick to give up their warmth. "Allow me to say one final thing on the subject: if, at any point, you change your mind, it's very unlikely I'll have changed mine. My door is always open to you."

Josh didn't punch him before leaving the office. It was a very near thing.

He was calm and collected all the way to the kitchen, where he threw the mangled can in the garbage and found a first aid kit for his hand; calm and collected as he changed into his jogging clothes and grabbed his key, needing a run to clear his head. Calm and collected as he put his earphones in but then didn't open his music app, because whatever he listened to now would forever be linked to this moment and he could think of no song he'd want to do that to.

He was calm and collected until he wasn't, running at breakneck speed through familiar paths, knowing he hadn't even warmed up properly and this wasn't how it should be done. He couldn't stop. If he stopped he might fall apart, and he could fall apart at home when all of this was over but not here, not now, not where Emery could see.

All this time... He'd been falling in love all this time, while Emery had been shopping for a convenient whore. How fucking stupid did it make him, that he'd never noticed?

His lungs burned from the effort. He told himself the burning in his eyes had a similar cause. 'A number. That you'd charge.' He sped up despite his protesting limbs, circling the pool, going back to the path, ever faster, deeper into the garden than he usually went. 'A number that you'd charge.'

His vision swam and he wiped angrily at his eyes. He missed the overgrown tree root, tripping and falling down hard, earphones jumping off as his phone skidded away from him, screen cracking. 'That you'd charge. That you'd charge. That you'd charge.' Blood had begun to seep through the bandage on his hand.

Josh lost track of time as he sat on the ground, back against the tree, in the night. 'A number. That you'd charge.' kept repeating in his mind, over and over, like a mantra. He wanted to go back and punch Emery. He wanted to go to bed and wake up to find out this had all been some particularly twisted form of nightmare. He wanted to breathe.

The sky was turning lighter when he pulled up Mark's contact, reasonably sure he was at the point where he could talk without screaming.

"What do you want, mom?"

A hollow laugh escaped him."Mark."It only took the way he said his name for his best friend to realize something was terribly wrong.

"Josh, what happened? Was it your client? Tell me where you are, I'll come and get you."

"No, I... No. I just need to talk. Mark, I've been so stupid..."

#

Feeling calmer after the phone call, he sent Emery an email, requesting to be informed of the precise time Emma was being released. He was the epitome of professionalism; Emery replied with the required details in the same vein.

He wouldn't know that Josh hid in the garden, just out of sight, waiting for him to leave the house so that Josh could walk in without anyone to witness the state he'd allowed himself to be in. He wouldn't know Josh would have given nearly anything to go back to the day before and have that conversation never happen.

He wouldn't know that he'd won.

However many months Emma had left, Josh wouldn't let this get in the way of his work. She deserved nothing less of him, and Emery wasn't worth wasting another thought on.