Page 67 of The Arrangement

I set aside the dead device to accept the steaming cup and took a sip, then hummed in appreciation. Perfect. “Well enough,” I finally answered before taking another hearty drink of the divine goodness. Man really knew how to make a cup of coffee.

James chuckled. “Am I allowed to say I’m glad you’re letting me make you coffee again?”

I glanced up at him over the rim of my now nearly empty cup. Right, so that had been less than subtle. “Uhh…”

“How about we call it what it was?” I braced myself for the callout of my shitty behavior undoubtedly coming my way. “A really busy week, and you let me keep making you coffee when it makes sense,” he said, gently taking my cup to refill it.

I stared at him in disbelief as he poured the coffee and stirred sugar into the dark liquid. He was giving me a pass—which, okay, great and all—butwhy? I’d been a total asshole about it. My “pretending” to be okay hadn’t really been stellar. Then we’d gone out last night—

“Oh!” I snatched his phone from the counter.

“Yes?” He looked at me with such concern I nearly dropped the damn thing.

“Uh, seems you left this in the room? It’s dead now. Thought you might want to plug it in.” I tilted my head and frowned as I reassessed what he was wearing and factored in the time on themicrowave behind him. It was early, but later than we typically went for a run. Except his hair was kind of damp, like hehadbeen for a run, and he was wearing my favorite skimpy shorts that he didn’t know were my favorite. But he couldn’t have gone for a run because his phone was dead, and if he had, he’d have taken it and he’d have already showered. And while I was on this rollercoaster going nowhere, why was his phone in the bedroom in the first place? I didn’t remember us hooking up or even fooling around. Not that I wouldn’t be one hundred percent down for it. But I’d have definitely remembered… right?

“Marc? You look like you’ve got some serious thinky thoughts happening over there. Care to share?”

I met his worried gaze. “Why don’t I remember going to bed?” He licked his lips and, much as I didn’t want to name it, fear flickered behind his eyes, which had fear instantly licking up my insides. “James… what happened last night?”

“Why don’t we sit down?”

My fear crystallized. “Why don’t you tell me what happened first?”

He blew out a harsh breath. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

I wasn’t a fan of his counter-question, but I’d let him have it… for now. “We closed up the shop and then… then we drove to a restaurant out in the bayou.” I huffed a laugh. “A restaurantcalledBayou’s Basin.”

“That’s good, baby boy. What else?” he prompted, gently running his hands over my arms.

“Umm.” Everything seemed clear up until that point, then things got fuzzy. Let’s see, the restaurant had been totally kick ass—ten-outta-ten would be going again—and the red snapper wasamazing, even the wine was pretty good and I wasn’t a wine guy. “We ordered wine, a whole bottle.” I looked at JD with wideeyes as a possible explanation for my lack of memory came to me. “Holy shit, did I get roofied?”

His abrupt laugh and head shake should have put me at ease—you know, because Ihadn’tbeen lowkey drugged—but the tightness around his eyes hadn’t diminished, nor had the shadow of fear lurking in their blue depths. “Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?”

“You’re really freaking me out, James.” His suggestion to sit down didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

“I know, and I’m sorry about that. I really am.” His hands slid down my arms once more, but this time, instead of travelling back up, he laced his fingers with mine. “Any chance I could convince you to reconsider that seat?”

“Um, sure.”

Relief splashed across his face, and he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to my forehead. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll fix us each a fresh cup and join you in a moment. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered, already moving to comply. As I sank into the sofa, I felt suspended between the verge of a total freakout and oddly okay because James was here and he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Upside, I wasn’t drugged, butsomethinghad clearly happened last night, and whatever had happened was enough to shake JD.

“There you go.” He passed me a fresh cup, though I was positive I’d never finished the second, and this one was in a to-go tumbler for some strange reason. “Were you able to remember anything else?”

I frowned at the tumbler before setting it on the coffee table. “Was there a pier at the restaurant?”

“There was. We walked onto it, chatted a little about you renaming or not renaming the flower shop.” His slight smile helped lift some of the heavy atmosphere that’d settled over the morning.

“We… made out?” My pause almost wasn’t even noticeable, but when his smile brightened significantly, I worried I might have given the wrong impression. “I, uh, don’t actually remember. It just seemed like,” I ducked my head, not that it would help to hide the burning on my face he’d totally already seen, and cleared my throat, “a pretty safe bet.”

To his credit, his smile didn’t fall so much as become a little sadder. “It’s okay, Marc.”

“James, why can’t I remember anything? It’s just a big… bigblank. I remember the restaurant—mostly—then it gets fuzzier and fuzzier until nothing.”

“Easy, baby boy. I need you to breathe.” His calm voice washed over me and I wanted to do what he said so badly, but somewhere between trying to remember and finding a black fucking hole, my brain started screaming.

I gulped for air, but it was as if my lungs had forgotten how to expand, which, of course, only made me panic more. “James,” I pushed out, the sound so pitiful it was a wonder it was audible.