Carlos returned to the apartment he shared with Amelie in Wallonia.

He opened the door and stepped inside. The apartment felt empty, though all the lights were on. Somewhere deeper in the flat, the faint sound of a running shower reached his ears.

Carlos had met Amélie while he was working in France for one of Street’s branches. Amélie was the Head of Marketing for a massive shoe company. He had bought his safety boots from her company. That was how they met. He had seen her in the company one day when she came in for one of the monthly meetings they held with retailers, and he flirted his way into getting her to help him choose a good pair of safety boots.

They were the best safety boots he had ever worn in his life.

And she had been the best one-night stand he had ever had.

Somehow, one night became many, and a fleeting moment turned into a full life together. Carlos and Amelie had already been together for four years now. And both of them knew they were serious about each other.

As serious as anyone could ever call Carlos.

Amelie appeared in the open kitchen. The kitchen and living room blended into one white, modern space. The blonde, green-eyed Frenchwoman sat on one of the chairs and crossed her legs. The pink satin robe wrapped around her loosened slightly, exposing the smooth line of her legs.

Carlos smiled and walked toward her.

Amelie picked up her phone from the table, glancing at something on the screen.

“Your hands, baby,” she said.

Carlos grinned and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Yes, madame.”

“And take a shower too, love.”

His smile widened. “Why?”

Amelie turned to look at him and raised her delicate left eyebrow. “I was thinking we could open some wine… dance a little…”

“Mmm,” Carlos hummed. “I see.”

“So? What do you think?”

“I think I’m sprinting to the bathroom,” he said, practically jogging toward it.

Amelie smiled to herself. She knew him by now. She was lucky to have him.

Carlos was shorter than she was, and he hated when people commented on his height, but he was handsome and stylish. He had a good body too, even if lately he had let himself go a little and gained a bit of a belly. She didn’t mind. He also had a small but miraculous cock and was an absolute machine in bed.

And beyond all that, Carlos was the kind of man worth having beside her. The kind of man people noticed when he walked next to her. They fit together perfectly as a couple, and even her parents had said so, that Carlos suited her, that he was handsome enough to stand proudly at her side.

Her exes had been good too, maybe even more conventionally attractive, but they hadn’t been as wealthy, nor as good in bed. They had all been workaholics who never had time for her. Some people thought she was crazy for simply expecting healthy standards in a relationship.

With Carlos, everything had fallen perfectly into place. Their schedules matched, two weeks together, two weeks apart while Amelie traveled back to France for work. The timing of their meeting had been ideal. Everything had unfolded effortlessly.

The universe simply wanted them together. Even astrology said so. Her Aunt Alicia had told her that herself.

And Amelie would do anything to keep this life, and this man. She didn’t care what it took.

Still, she knew Carlos would never leave her.

He couldn’t.

Carlos stepped into the shower and turned on the water. It ran almost immediately warm against his skin, since Amelie had showered earlier. The bathroom smelled like the pomegranate body cream she always wore. Carlos could almost taste the scent lingering on her skin.

Ever since he met her, he had loved her.

At first it had only been attraction. But over time, he had fallen deeply in love with her. He hadn’t even realized how many years had passed while they had been together.

God, she smelled incredible.

But mixed with her scent was another one.

Not his.

It must have come from the newly opened bottle of body wash sitting nearby.

Coconut. Oil.

The memories hit him instantly.

His hand over José’s heart. The view outside. The hotel room. His lips. His dark eyes.

“Shit,” Carlos muttered, pressing one palm against the tiled wall while the water kept running over him.

He would be lying if he said things with Amelie had been bad before any of this happened.

They hadn’t.

His relationship with Amelie had always been good. They always found ways to reignite things, to keep their relationship alive. Carlos never got bored beside her. At the same time, she gave him warmth and comfort.

And he admired her deeply.

Because what kind of person is truly in love if they don’t admire the person beside them?

Before meeting her, he had been a flame close to burning itself out, easy prey for anyone willing to take him home. He found comfort in every willing body and left just as easily afterward. One-night stands had been a constant in his life, and he had never minded them. He owed nothing to anyone and no one owed anything to him.

Back then, commitment had disgusted him. He feared being tied down like a tethered animal. He hadn’t wanted to imprison himself so young.

And if he had never met Amelie, if she hadn’t brought him onto a steadier path, he would probably still be living that life now.

Not that he hated that life. It had been free. He had lived it, enjoyed it, and moved past it. Now he was exactly where he wanted to be.

And yet…

The moments with José kept piercing through his mind.

Every time he saw him, every time he felt the warmth of José’s skin beneath his fingers, his breath caught painfully in his throat. He didn’t know what would become of them or where this situation was leading.

Amelie was the love of his life.

And still, he had never experienced anything like what he had experienced with José.

It felt like falling in love all over again: the same dizzy feeling he had once felt when he first met Amelie.

But this was different.

He couldn’t explain it.

He didn’t want to explain it.

José had become a permanent thought in his mind, day and night. Even before the company party, before he had dared to act on impulse and let the consequences be whatever they would be. Since that random winter day when he had caught himself staring at José’s back.

Back then, he had never interpreted it this way.

José had a girlfriend.

And still, every day, subconsciously, Carlos found himself waiting to see him. Every time he did, happiness bloomed somewhere inside him. Every time they crossed paths in the hangar or in the corridors, Carlos felt absurdly light, almost childish, catching himself humming songs under his breath. Every conversation left warmth spreading slowly through his chest.

The party had simply been the moment he finally decided to act on it.

It had happened impulsively. He had just done it, deciding on the spot to face whatever came after.

He knew José had panicked then. The revulsion and fear on José’s face when Carlos first tried to kiss him had been obvious. And later, when he finally managed to kiss him sober at Marco’s party, Carlos had assumed José would hate him for it.

So Carlos had projected those fears outward instead.

He didn’t want to admit that he himself had been terrified-terrified José would never speak to him again. If one of them had to walk away, Carlos wanted it to be him first.

Friday night had proved him wrong.

And yet Carlos discovered something dangerous: He had no brakes when it came to José.

Maybe he hid parts of himself from everyone else, but not from José. Around him, Carlos felt comfortable. Entirely himself.

He felt that way with Amelie too, though differently.

Amelie might scold him for letting himself go lately or tell him what clothes suited him best, but José had scolded him today too—for staring.

Still, with José it felt different. It was…

Even after the night they had spent together, Carlos believed José still doubted his own feelings. He thought José was still hesitating. Still afraid.

And Carlos wanted to give him space to think.

As much as he wanted to text him or hear his voice, both José and Carlos himself needed time.

Because Carlos couldn’t deny it anymore: guilt had consumed him too after Friday night.

He knew exactly what he had done.

And it couldn’t happen again.

He had Amelie. José had his girlfriend.

It was forbidden in every possible way.

There were people in this world who lived unfinished. Suspended. Incomplete.

Carlos caught himself feeling that way whenever he imagined never speaking to José again.

No matter how uncertain José still was, Carlos wanted him desperately.

And he feared time. Feared the way people aged, the way nights grew longer and opportunities slipped away. He feared that if too much time passed without something happening between them again, José would eventually leave him behind completely.

Fly away.

And still, one single I want you from José could change everything.

If José wanted it too-only if he wanted it-they could come together again, feel that unbearable closeness again, lose themselves in each other one more time.

But how could Carlos ask for that?

How could he see him outside work again? Be alone with him? Touch him? Hold him? Kiss him?

He just wanted José to give him a sign.

And Carlos would follow it all the way to the end.

“Baby, are you done in there yet? You’ve been in the shower for thirty minutes.”

Amelie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yeah. Uh… yeah. In a minute,” he answered hoarsely.

He hadn’t even soaped himself yet.

Amélie went to shower again after sex.

Carlos stayed in bed staring up at the white ceiling.

That woman was unbelievable. Tonight, after the sex they had just had, he felt exhausted, but happy.

Then the images came again.

What would José look like if—

Carlos rubbed both hands over his face.

What the hell was he thinking?

“Shit,” he muttered again.

Whenever he thought about him-his gaze, his voice, the way-

He felt the mattress shift beside him.

Carlos lowered his hands. Amelie lay down next to him wearing only her underwear and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You were amazing tonight,” she whispered.

Carlos glanced at her sideways. “Are you saying that because you’re my girlfriend, or are you actually being honest?”

Amelie pulled the white duvet over herself. “Do you really think I’d lie to you, baby? Also, you need another shower.”

Carlos sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

Suddenly he shifted toward her.

“Hey, what do you think about going out Friday night with some people?”

Amelie raised her eyebrow again. “With who?” she asked. “Hopefully not those drunks from your job.”

“They’re not drunks and you know it. Most of them barely drink. Why do you call them that?”

Amelie shrugged. “I don’t know. We went out with them once and they were all kind of messy. No elegance whatsoever.”

“Like that guy online who keeps flirting with you and asking if we want a threesome?” Carlos shot back.

Amelie laughed softly. “Last time he asked me if you were trans.”

“Tell him I’m transgender so he’ll finally leave us alone.”

“He’s honestly exhausting. He never stops messaging me.”

“Yeah, but you keep replying. Just stop answering him and delete or block him.”

“Oh please, baby. I’m not going to block him. What am I, insecure? It's just talking and having fun.”

Carlos sighed again and stared back at the ceiling.

“Anyway,” he continued, “a coworker’s girlfriend is visiting town and she doesn’t really know anyone here. Since you’re here these two weeks too, and I’m here… why don’t we go out Friday with them?”

Amelie pushed herself up slightly in bed and looked at him. The lamp behind her cast half her face into shadow.

“A double date?” she asked, excitement creeping into her voice.

“Yeah.”

“Oh yes! That’ll be perfect. I can’t wait.” She smiled brightly, lightly clapping her long French-tip nails together. “Though I told my parents I’d visit them this weekend.”

“Then go during the weekend. Friday we’ll go out with them.”

The blonde woman pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Alright. Let’s do that.”

“I’ll give you the girl’s socials so you two can organize everything. You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”