glared at Matthew. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He scowled. “No matter; you won’t be staying.”
He made to close the door and Matthew threw caution to the wind and put his size-eleven foot in the doorway. “Shane, we need to talk.”
Shane snarled. “Get your bloody clodhopper out of the way before I break it. You made your point very eloquently last night. We have nothing else to say to each other.”
Matthew heard the words, but he also saw the flicker of vulnerability in Shane’s eyes. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “I need to apologise to you for being such a bastard last night. Please, Shane. Please let me in.”
He watched the play of emotions across Shane’s face: anger, hurt, and frustration, then finally a grudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to get rid of Matthew so easily. He made a curt gesture with his hand and motioned to Matthew to come in. Once inside he shut the door and turned to him, his face grim.
“Say what you have to say. I have work to do. Real work, not man-fucking.” His voice was harsh.
Matthew flinched. Time for the speech he’d been rehearsing since he’d been kicked out last night. “You were right about me. I don’t do emotions easily; I never have. And it’s been worse since Sam died.” He swallowed as Shane watched him intently. “Sam was my husband. He died two years ago in a road traffic accident.”
Shane’s eyes flickered as he folded his arms in front of his chest. He looked impenetrable, but Matthew had to try and explain to him why he’d been such an arsehole last night. “We were together for six years before he died.” Matthew took a deep breath. “He was my world. We met at a lawyer’s conference in Atlanta in the U.S. in 2004. Sam lived there for a long time although he was British by birth. One thing led to another and we started a long distance relationship. It was hard for the first six months. Then he decided he couldn’t bear being away from me and to move back to the U.K. so we could be together permanently.” Matthew smiled as he remembered Sam’s insistence that he was going “crazy being away from his honey” and needed to be with him. His warm American drawl had been one of the first things that had attracted Matthew to Sam in the first place.
Shane shifted in the entrance, uncrossing his arms, his body watchful. He still said nothing, just focused on Matthew’s face with that blue gaze that seemed to spear his soul.
“We moved in together in the house in Chelsea I still own, and we got married in 2007.” He swallowed, remembering the ceremony in his birth town of Dresden, a ceremony filled with family and relatives, joyous and warm, his parents so accepting of their new son-in-law. They’d adored Sam just as he had.
His voice caught at his next words. “Then on the eighteenth of May two years ago, Sam was driving home late from work.” The date was seared on his memory like a cancer. “We were supposed to be at a family dinner. My folks had come over to visit and we had some really good news for them we wanted to announce. He’d been called in by his boss and asked to work late on an important case. Sam was a criminal attorney. He was used to having to do things at a drop of a hat. So we all stayed at our place to wait for him. On his way home a truck jackknifed and—” Matthew swallowed, feeling the grief well up in him, “It hit his car head on. He was killed instantly.” His throat closed up and Shane shifted. He moved towards Matthew and placed a hand on his arm.
“Matthew, come and sit down.” He pulled the other man towards the lounge, indicating for him to sit down on the soft brown couch that seemed to fill the room.
Matthew sat down, his body numb. Shane sat at the opposite end, his body language not as aggressive as it had been but still wary.
Matthew looked down at his shaking hands. “I had to identify his body. He was pretty messed up.” Matthew’s voice tightened. “My dad took
He made to close the door and Matthew threw caution to the wind and put his size-eleven foot in the doorway. “Shane, we need to talk.”
Shane snarled. “Get your bloody clodhopper out of the way before I break it. You made your point very eloquently last night. We have nothing else to say to each other.”
Matthew heard the words, but he also saw the flicker of vulnerability in Shane’s eyes. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “I need to apologise to you for being such a bastard last night. Please, Shane. Please let me in.”
He watched the play of emotions across Shane’s face: anger, hurt, and frustration, then finally a grudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to get rid of Matthew so easily. He made a curt gesture with his hand and motioned to Matthew to come in. Once inside he shut the door and turned to him, his face grim.
“Say what you have to say. I have work to do. Real work, not man-fucking.” His voice was harsh.
Matthew flinched. Time for the speech he’d been rehearsing since he’d been kicked out last night. “You were right about me. I don’t do emotions easily; I never have. And it’s been worse since Sam died.” He swallowed as Shane watched him intently. “Sam was my husband. He died two years ago in a road traffic accident.”
Shane’s eyes flickered as he folded his arms in front of his chest. He looked impenetrable, but Matthew had to try and explain to him why he’d been such an arsehole last night. “We were together for six years before he died.” Matthew took a deep breath. “He was my world. We met at a lawyer’s conference in Atlanta in the U.S. in 2004. Sam lived there for a long time although he was British by birth. One thing led to another and we started a long distance relationship. It was hard for the first six months. Then he decided he couldn’t bear being away from me and to move back to the U.K. so we could be together permanently.” Matthew smiled as he remembered Sam’s insistence that he was going “crazy being away from his honey” and needed to be with him. His warm American drawl had been one of the first things that had attracted Matthew to Sam in the first place.
Shane shifted in the entrance, uncrossing his arms, his body watchful. He still said nothing, just focused on Matthew’s face with that blue gaze that seemed to spear his soul.
“We moved in together in the house in Chelsea I still own, and we got married in 2007.” He swallowed, remembering the ceremony in his birth town of Dresden, a ceremony filled with family and relatives, joyous and warm, his parents so accepting of their new son-in-law. They’d adored Sam just as he had.
His voice caught at his next words. “Then on the eighteenth of May two years ago, Sam was driving home late from work.” The date was seared on his memory like a cancer. “We were supposed to be at a family dinner. My folks had come over to visit and we had some really good news for them we wanted to announce. He’d been called in by his boss and asked to work late on an important case. Sam was a criminal attorney. He was used to having to do things at a drop of a hat. So we all stayed at our place to wait for him. On his way home a truck jackknifed and—” Matthew swallowed, feeling the grief well up in him, “It hit his car head on. He was killed instantly.” His throat closed up and Shane shifted. He moved towards Matthew and placed a hand on his arm.
“Matthew, come and sit down.” He pulled the other man towards the lounge, indicating for him to sit down on the soft brown couch that seemed to fill the room.
Matthew sat down, his body numb. Shane sat at the opposite end, his body language not as aggressive as it had been but still wary.
Matthew looked down at his shaking hands. “I had to identify his body. He was pretty messed up.” Matthew’s voice tightened. “My dad took
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