Melting - Sean Ashcroft Page 0,66

have, it had no right to, but I’d read once that the atmosphere here was transportive, and I suddenly believed it.

It was like stepping back in time. I wasn’t necessarily clear on what time I was stepping back to, but it felt like walking into another world.

Hayden’s world, I realized. This was Hayden.

Well. His dad was an architect. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised.

“It… I… holy shit. Holy shit,” I said, staring around in awe. “This should be the tackiest place on Earth and yet, somehow, it’s incredible.”

Hayden’s smile was so sweet—and so relieved—that I couldn’t help swooping in and kissing him on the cheek.

“Is this him?” a woman’s voice asked, and I looked over just in time to see legitimately stunning black woman in an emerald green suit that made her eyes sparkle striding over to us.

“This is him,” Hayden confirmed. “Marissa, Wes, Wes, Marissa,” he introduced.

“You’re Marissa,” I said, offering my hand. “Well, now I know you’re gay.” I grinned at Hayden. “Or you would’ve married her.”

“Who says I want him?” Marissa teased, looking me up and down, humming, and then turning to Hayden. “You’re right, he is cute. Totally understand the big wistful sighs you’ve had going on for the last three weeks.”

“Big wistful sighs?” I asked.

Hayden was already blushing to the tips of his ears.

“Missed you,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets again.

“He’s so cute when he’s thinking about you,” Marissa said, obviously thrilled to have a chance to tease Hayden. “You should see the little smile on his face when you text him. None of the kitchen staff are afraid of him anymore.”

“I can’t believe they were ever afraid of him,” I defended. “Look at him! He’s essentially a big teddy bear.”

Marissa bit her lip, eyes glittering. “Teddy bear, huh?” she asked, too innocent.

“I shouldn’t have let you two meet,” Hayden said, but he was enjoying every second of this. I could practically feel him glowing with happiness.

“Why not?” Marissa batted long, innocent eyelashes at him. “I like him. We’re gonna get on great, aren’t we, Wes?”

“I think so,” I said, beaming at her. She was a source of stories about Hayden, and so was I.

Between the two of us, we had a lot to talk about.

“I promised you ice cream,” Hayden said, changing the subject. “You should grab a table before we miss out.”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me so you can talk about me behind my back,” I said, kissing his cheek again and then heading for a booth—there was more than one empty, but maybe Hayden knew more about when rush hour hit here than I did.

I wasn’t sure how many people in New York went for ice cream after eight o’clock, but then I didn’t know anything about this place. So far it’d been noisy and crowded, even on a Monday night.

I didn’t know how Hayden could stand it. I was so used to quiet streets.

I could just imagine what the nightlife was like here, and the thought of that many people in one space made me shudder involuntarily.

I texted Seth and Andre photos of the interior while Hayden and Marissa were talking, thankful for the relative peace of this place compared to the loud, overcrowded restaurant Hayden had taken me to.

It was good, and therefore it was popular, and I got that. But I’d been a small town boy my whole life, and the big city was wearing my patience.

I could never have lived here.

“Sorry about that,” Hayden said as he slid into the booth opposite me. “We’re still a little short-handed, even when it’s quiet.”

Guilt hit me instantly, and it must’ve shown on my face, because Hayden reached across the table to take my hand.

“Hey, not your fault, not your problem,” he said. “I could’ve closed the place if it was that bad. I would have closed the place to spend every second I can with you.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Hayden said. “You’re more important.”

I swallowed. That was the biggest, clearest I love you yet.

He smiled at me while I was stunned into silence, warm and kind and suddenly so my Hayden that it was hard to breathe.

“You want the menu, or do you trust the chef?” Hayden asked, squeezing my hand.

“I trust the chef,” I said.

30

Hayden

Two days of Wes wasn’t enough, and not even throwing myself back into work after he left helped with feeling like there was a huge hole in my life all over again.

A week of late-night phone calls, another long-distance