Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Thirty-Six: Emery: The Space Between Slumber And Alertness

There was a moment, a single moment just upon waking, that Emery both craved and abhorred every day. The space between slumber and alertness, the all-too-brief glimpse of what was now irrevocably past. Of Emma, alive and happy, prodding him incessantly, taking risks that would turn his hair white before its time; making him read poetry, play Scrabble, have a life outside the confines of his work. Of Josh, lips curved in a warm smile that lit up his striking gray eyes and warmed Emery to his core.

It never lasted.

He'd blink once, twice, three times. Uninvited and jarring, reality would reassert itself. He'd never see Emma again. Josh had left, and he hadn't taken any fond memories of Emery with him.

How ironic, considering all of Emery's fond memories of the last eight months, of either of them, were thanks to Josh. He'd have retreated so far into work he'd have had nothing but regrets where Emma was concerned, without Josh's guidance. He owed Josh more than he could ever hope to repay, and he'd... It was unthinkable.

Where once he would have escaped into it, work was the last thing he could bring himself to do, these days. Perhaps he ought to force himself to do it; to find a new routine, a new normal. Maybe in another week. Roger would keep things on course until Emery could force himself to go through the motions.

He only wished he could see a point in time where normal was anything but soul-crushing.

There was one thing he could do, one thing he should have done already. Even forcing his arm to move to pick up his phone had to be a deliberate effort, his body slow to respond. He felt as though he were moving through treacle.

His accountant answered on the first ring. Emery usually had his assistant make these calls, not wanting to lose time, and the man knew that, whenever it was Emery's own number calling, it was important.

Emma had left Josh a little over a hundred thousand dollars. Emery had been surprised at the low number but, going through her expenses for the last few months, it made sense. She'd spent much of her money on her anthology, on advances and promotion; she'd wanted to ensure her fledgling poets were paid whether it succeeded or failed.

She'd known far better than Emery, how limited her time was, and she'd used both time and money to its full extent.

Josh didn't know any of that. He had no idea how much money had been in her savings account, and was unlikely to know how slow the entire process was, even when no one was contesting the will. It would cost Emery nothing to make sure he got the money at once, and he could add to it; he could at least do one good thing for Josh. Half a million ought to do — any more and he'd be suspicious.

He dropped the phone on the bed, feeling tired and small after his phone call. His mind was a mess of memory and emotion, sleep his only reprieve.

If only he hadn't been a coward. He'd never considered Josh might harbour deeper feelings for him, despite all of Emma's needling — on some level he'd known it wasn't money Josh was after, but there were other possibilities. Curiosity, boredom, a way to pass the time... It hadn't been until he'd seen how the pain in Josh's gray eyes hadn't abated, over the weeks that followed Emery's ill-conceived attempt at securing more time with him, that he'd realized he might have lost more than that.

After Emma had... He still saw her whenever he closed his eyes, lying prone on the inflatable mattress, one last irreverent smile on her lips. How Josh had been there for him even though he'd had no reason to, not after the hurt Emery had caused. He was kind to a fault — just one more on the long list of things that made Emery love him. Emery didn't know if he'd have had the fortitude to organize Emma's funeral according to her wishes without Josh there to lend him strength he didn't deserve.

And then Josh had stood in Emery's office, trying not to accept the money he'd inherited, looking confused at the mere notion that he ought to, and Emery had seem the entire puzzle. In the words of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, "When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Josh couldn't have been interested in money or he wouldn't have had an issue with accepting the inheritance. That was one impossibility eliminated. If boredom had been his only motive, that would explain anger, but not pain. Another impossibility eliminated. Which meant...

Which meant Emma had been right all along. It was something she'd made a habit of, being right. Josh had cared. For him. However he emphasized it in his mind, it was still too outlandish to contemplate. Josh's interest had been real, and Emery had offered to pay him for it.

A better man would try to get in touch with Josh. A better man would apologize, explain, even though there was no rescuing what he'd lost. It might help Josh deal with the pain, to know how Emery felt.

But then, if Emery had been a better man, none of it would have happened.

He held one of his pillows to his chest, buried his face in another, and tried to empty his mind. Sleep would come again. It was getting easier to summon, and he couldn't gather the will to do anything else.