GENRE: Gay / Bisexual Erotic Romance (MMF)
LENGTH: 51,076 words
RATING:

Craig is a man adrift, never quite feeling like he belongs, like he's as successful and settled as those around him, especially his lovers -- Alan, a professor he met while in college, and Sybil, who tutored him throughout his Italian class. When Alan goes to Rome, life becomes even shakier, the only grounding point the corkboard of memories he creates for the three of them.

By the time Alan returns, Craig isn't certain how his relationships will change, especially when Alan starts to fall for Sybil, bringing two pieces of his world completely together and leaving Craig worried it will create a world with no place for him.

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

I miss you, I texted. I’ve been keeping the place warm for you.

I know you have, Craig. I can’t thank you enough.

My breath was shaky. I could hear his voice in the text message: low and quiet, like he was whispering to me with our foreheads pressed together in bed. I decided I would just tell him my plans in that moment, instead of merely hoping. I’m not moving out. After a pause, I added a comical. Mostly because I’ll be broke after this phone bill.

Good. Wouldn’t want you to leave after missing you so much. We have lost time to catch up on. And now -- go to work, Craig. Give Sybil my regards.

I will, I texted back with another sporadic declaration of love. I wanted to hold my phone to my heart and keep it there a little longer, but as if Sybil had heard her name, my phone buzzed again with her ringtone.

Craig, where are you? I can only hold your shift so long ...

Sorry, be right there. I turned the key in the ignition fully and cranked the radio as I drove to work, a smile still on my face.

* * * *

“Craig! Thank God.”

Sybil rushed over and kissed my cheek when she saw me enter the small café, Rotunda Bar. She still wore her black and green apron, her blonde hair pinned over her shoulder in a loose ponytail. She looked good in spite of the apparent stress. Two other workers remained at the barista area, so Sybil could take my hand and pull me behind the counter, into the back room, where I could prepare for my shift.

“Sorry I’m --”

Sybil cut me off, her hand waving my apology away. She looked curt and angry as she moved, but I had known her long enough to understand what was going on. Sybil was taking on too much weight, as always. She talked a mile a minute, like she normally did when things were rough at the café, rehashing instructions and complaining at the same time. I let her talk, getting my own apron out and punching into work. She needed me then, like she did after every shift, to listen to the asinine customer stories, so that she could move on.

Sybil had gotten me my job six months ago, after I had graduated with an eclectic mix of classes and absolutely nothing to do with them. She had another job at the local counselling centre, and she was also in a graduate program, so this café was her smallest priority. She often gave her shifts to me so she could have an afternoon off or get caught up on a research project. I had pretty much been promoted to full time in a matter of months, and didn’t mind taking on any extra work Sybil was willing to throw my way -- especially if it made her feel better. Sometimes our schedules overlapped like they did today. I always liked when they did.

“So of course, even though it’s the middle of April, we still have Easter stuff left over from early March, which just confuses customers since they have no idea when Easter actually is. Useless holiday, but ...” Sybil went on informing me of some of the new changes to our menus as I placed my hand on the small of her back.

“Hey, hey,” she said, pausing. She stopped her fidgety movements, smiling slightly before glancing around the café. No one could see us in the back room with all the sticky syrup, so she let my hand stay against the small of her back. She was always scared about people seeing us in public. Since I was also with Alan, and that was the more dominant relationship that stuck in people’s minds, what she and I had together was often hard to speak about. She preferred to never get into the conversation with other people, especially those she worked with, since to Sybil love is always private. She loved me, I loved her, and Alan was also there. It worked for us -- so why did anyone else care?