Chapter 116

Justin these days did not talk about his ex much. That was fine with Kris, though he sometimes wondered whether Justin missed, not David—gods, no; he was sure of thatmuch—but the stability. The lawyer’s job and generally put-together life. A life that didn’t come with an aging disaster of messy rock legend empath who did not know how to share a flat with someone on a permanent basis, who’d just last week tried to make breakfast and burned both eggs and toast, who’d once got high and traded a silver Stratos guitar for a bag of Sparkle and a bottle of champagne…

But Justin loved him.

He did not quite know how, or why; he sometimes still stopped in place, amazed by the sight of fire-hair in their penthouse kitchen or youthful black leather boots kicked off in an entryway or smoky nutmeg-spice eyes above a pile of books. Sometimes he had to take a breath. To think that this was real: this was all real.