The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,76

Bastard thinks he can do it again, and I won’t let that happen. I’ll never let him hurt you again.”

“It’s not going to happen. I haven’t heard from him since that one bizarre phone call earlier this summer. He’s gone and out of my life for good.”

“I hope so. But that doesn’t mean I have to like you dragging bags through the train station. Call me.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “By the time I call you, I could be home. Stop being an idiot.” And before he could answer, Morgan disappeared into the store.

Grumbling all the way home, Leo had to admit it felt good to talk to Peter and begin to release the weight of his past. It brought him a different kind of peace. Not that his resentment had magically disappeared, but he felt he could see his mother now without the heavy burden of anger and long-ago pain destroying him. And maybe therapy would help as well. Not something he wanted to think about on a beautiful summer afternoon, but whatever happened in the future, he knew he finally had the family he’d always needed.

He parked the bike and decided to walk to the front to see the garden. The flowers Morgan and the other tenants had planted and tended to were thriving, and he planned on adding more rosebushes, plus azaleas, and other flowers to the grounds. Morgan would definitely be surprised.

Instead, he was the one who got a surprise.

Diego’s long body unfolded from sitting on the top step. The summer sun had darkened his amber skin to a deeper copper, which set off his light gray-blue eyes. He’d changed his hairstyle from the last time Leo had seen him. The twisted braids were gone, and he now wore his hair clipped closely to the scalp, accentuating his sculpted cheekbones and slash of his jaw.

A wary smile tipped up the corners of Diego’s lips. “Hey, Leo. How’re you doing?”

“I’m good. You?” He had no beef with Diego. He knew he could’ve handled their relationship better, but he’d never led him on. He walked up the path to meet him.

“I’m good. Really good. I was passing by and thought I’d take a chance and stop to say hello. You were out, but I figured I’d wait a while.”

He reached Diego then, and they gave each other a hug. He’d forgotten Diego’s smell and how he felt. It was strange to have someone else close to him after being so intimate with Morgan, almost as if his arms weren’t meant to hold anyone else. Diego must’ve sensed his awkwardness, as he pulled away.

“You okay, Leo?”

“Yeah, yeah. You want to come in? Have a drink?”

“Sure.”

Once inside his apartment, Leo tossed his keys onto the counter and took out beers for them both. “Cheers.” He tipped his bottle toward Diego. “So…what’s been going on since we broke up?”

Diego’s white smile flashed. “We were never a couple, to have broken up. Isn’t that what you told me?” When he opened his mouth, Diego put his hand up. “No, it’s fine. You were right. You were never in love with me, and I thought I was with you, but I was wrong. Now I know the difference.”

“You met someone.” Leo didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

“Yeah. We met on a shoot.”

“A shoot? What’re you talking about?”

“I got a modeling contract. I was hanging out in Union Square Park one Saturday at the Farmer’s Market, and some lady came up to me and asked me if I’d be interested in modeling jeans and gave me her card.” His eyes danced. “She liked my legs.”

“I don’t blame her. They’re very nice.”

“Silly. Anyway, Greg was the production assistant for the campaign, and we hit it off, and it’s been almost six months. We’re going to be moving in together by the end of the year.”

“I’m really glad.” And he meant it. “You deserve a great guy.”

“I always get the great guys. Sometimes they don’t work out, but we learn from it.”

“Yeah, we do,” Leo said, thinking of Morgan. If he hadn’t been with others, he wouldn’t know the difference being with the right person made.

“Which sounds like you might know what I’m talking about.” Always wise to his moods, Diego raised a brow. “Have you met someone?”

“Is it weird to be talking about this with you?” Leo countered Diego’s question, unsure how to respond.

“If it were, I wouldn’t have asked. And that answers it without you needing to say it anyway. Tell me about him.”

“Well…his name