Regrets Only by M. J. Pullen Page B

balcony. Chad
couldn’t read his tone. Shit. He wanted to follow David outside and
snatch the phone back from him, but he knew from experience that he would
rather have Suzanne mad at him than the love of his life. He could get another
job if need be, but there was only one David.
    After
a minute or two, the latter came back in, put the phone on the table, and sat
to read his paper in silence. Chad stared at him. “Well?”
    David
lowered the paper, looking sheepish. “You’d better get to the office,” he said.
    The
anger Chad had been suppressing transformed into a smile that crept over his
face. He worked to hold it back. “Why, David?” he asked in mock innocence.
“Surely you don’t mean to say there was a reason my boss called me at
nine o’clock on Saturday morning, do you?”
    David
was indignant. “Sometimes she calls for ridiculous reasons; you at least have
to give me that!”
    “I
do give you that,” Chad said mildly. “What about today?”
    A
tremendous sigh. “It seems,” David said with reluctance to the coffee cup in
front of Chad, “that Suzanne fell off a ladder last night and broke her arm. She
needs you to come early because she can’t lift anything.”
    “And?”
Chad said, sensing there was something else. He felt bad for Suzanne, but was enjoying
David’s rare moment of embarrassment.
    David’s
face morphed from indignant to embarrassed as he paused before admitting defeat.
He pressed his lips together. “And…I’m coming by later to help out as well.”
    Chad
laughed. David kicked him under the table. They stared at each other,
half-smiling, half-confrontational, until Chad got up and kissed David on the
forehead. “How about, next time you have a problem with my work, let me handle
it, okay?”
    David
pulled him close and nuzzled Chad’s stomach with the top of his head, nodding. Chad
rubbed David’s close-shaven skull in response, and then pushed him back gently
when he began to feel more emotion than he had time to handle today. “Fine,” David
muttered. “But we’re going to Bacchanalia for dinner next weekend. And you’re
leaving that damn phone at home.”
    “Deal,”
said Chad, and left the room to get dressed.
    #
    The
next few hours at the High Museum were annoying. On top of the additional work,
Suzanne anxiously barked orders at both Chad and Jake, and later on at David as
well. It was nice of Marci’s husband to help out, but not only did he and Chad
have almost nothing in common, Suzanne kept forgetting who she had asked to do
what. Jake spent most of his time trying to figure out what he was supposed to
be doing. Marci was around, too, though she wasn’t doing much in the way of
physical activity.
    Still,
the day moved quickly thanks to all the activity. The rental company had
hoisted three enormous tents and a temporary stage in the museum courtyard the
night before. The minute the High’s admissions door closed for the evening, workers
in matching lime green t-shirts materialized from nowhere and swarmed beneath
the canopies like ants. Soon the tented areas were filled with tables, chairs,
lights, and equipment as if by magic. David showed up in his best suit and Chad
allowed himself a thrill of pride before putting his partner to work.
    Chad
oversaw the decoration of all the tables, including linens, flowers, duct tape centerpieces,
and mason jars full of artificial fireflies they’d special ordered online.
Despite his initial objections when Suzanne pitched the idea, the whole effect
was actually quite charming. He and Jake hung seventy-five alternating strands
of tiny mirrors and white Christmas lights behind the stage. Larger white
lights crisscrossed above the tables, creating the illusion of a summer that in
reality was still a couple of months away.
    Chad
set up the registration tables, supervised the arrangement of auction items and
bid sheets, and helped Suzanne brief each group of volunteers. Before he knew
it, the first cocktail dresses and