globally, but he mostly works here—from home. He’s been to see me far more times than my brother has. He’s met my colleagues, he’s met my friends. He even met a woman I was briefly seeing.”
Julian tried to tamp down on a sudden burst of jealousy, and only just managed not to react because that was so far from fair. “Being governor…”
“I know it’s not easy,” Archer said, and for the first time, Julian heard real edge to his voice. “But I was in Paris well before he ever took office. I’m not asking for the world. I’m just asking for a little effort and in spite of loving me, he rarely makes me a priority.”
“I’m sorry.”
Archer sighed loudly, then pushed up and cupped Julian’s cheek. “I know you understand what that’s like. Before I came here to spend this week with you, I thought I had it all figured out. I’d keep Rex company through Christmas and the New Year. We’d do some pointless, lonely family shit. We’d go visit our parents’ graves. We might even take a short trip together and spend time getting to know the men we’ve become after this long. I mean, I was barely eighteen when I left.”
Julian blinked once, slowly, and the torn expression on Archer’s face never wavered. “It sounds…”
“Sad,” Archer said. “Kind of pathetic. We love each other, but it’s superficial. I was already homesick the day after I landed. My brother’s PA was relentless, and there were all these meetings I wanted nothing to do with. I thought—shit, I thought that this week would pass and I’d get to help you fuck over your ex. Then I’d just…go home.”
“To Paris,” Julian said, his heart feeling faintly numb.
Archer shrugged. “To Paris. Only…”
Julian waited, but the silence stretched on. He kept his gaze fixed on Archer’s mouth, because he was terrified to miss a single second of what he had to say. Archer’s tongue darted out, and Julian wanted to kiss him, only to make the worry of losing him before he even started fade into the background. But he didn’t. He curled his hand into a fist and desperately tried to find his patience.
“I didn’t expect you,” Archer finally said. His words were so quiet, Julian didn’t hear them, but his lips formed the words perfectly. “You ruined everything.”
“I’m,” Julian started, because he was sorry. He was selfish and greedy, but he also liked Archer too much to not feel some measure of guilt for making this hard. But he didn’t get the chance to say it, because Archer surged in and kissed him hard, teeth clacking together, just shy of too wet.
“Don’t,” Archer said right up against his mouth. “I know you’re going to say sorry, so don’t.” He nuzzled their noses together, then pulled back and ran a thumb over the top of Julian’s lip, right over his scar. Julian felt it, then he didn’t where it was numb for nearly all of his life—the nerves in his face altered by his surgeries—but then there was pressure and heat again as Archer pressed his thumb into Julian’s chin and made him open wider, taking in a deeper kiss full of tongue—velvet soft and burning hot.
“I never meant to make this more difficult for you,” Julian admitted when Archer finally broke away, and Archer shook his head.
“I resigned myself to being alone—actually alone, because other things were always more important. Escaping Rex’s need to follow his path, my work, my research were the only things in the world I was truly passionate about. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.”
Julian nodded, folding his hands in his lap as he pulled away just a bit. “But can we have it? I’m not going to ask you to stay, Archer. I will never ask you to stay here.”
Archer closed his eyes. “I’m not making plans to rush back, and that’s the most I can give you right now. I don’t know if it’s enough…”
“It is,” Julian said from behind a breath. He wanted to kiss him again, but instead he turned fully to the light show ahead—to the echo of carolers whose lyrics were lost in the rise and fall of their melody. He took Archer’s hand though, twisting their fingers together, sharing what little warmth was seeping out from their bare skin.
Just like Archer couldn’t give him more, Julian couldn’t make promises that he had the power to make it work. But he would try, and he