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That much was also true. Foster was shitty, and there were times when Renato wondered why he still spoke to the man. And then there were times like this when Renato felt like he was teetering at the edge of a cliff and Foster was the only one with rope to help him.
“Have you had sex with Frey?”
Foster choked so hard on his swallow of beer, some of it came out his nose. He groped for a napkin and wiped himself off, shooting Renato an accusatory glower. “Now is not the time to try to be funny.”
Renato held up one hand in surrender. “I wasn’t joking. You’ve implied it. A lot of people have implied it. I want to know the truth.”
Foster’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to get him fired? Because I know he’s been fucking with you, but that’s a step too far.”
After a long beat, Renato shook his head. A small part of him did want Frey in another department or on the night shift—but the second one would have made Renato feel just as bad as getting him sacked because the man needed to be home with his son in the evenings.
But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep control of himself. Now that he and Frey had crossed the line—repeatedly and with extreme enthusiasm—Renato had to find a way to live with it. He just didn’t know how the hell he was going to manage his next surgery with Frey so close to him he could smell him.
Foster eventually let out a breath. “I’ve never fucked him. I’ve flirted a few times, and let me tell you, I wouldn’t say no if he wanted to hook up. But I have a sneaking suspicion he’s a marriage-and-kids kind of guy, and I’d rather fucking die.”
Renato raised his brows, though he wasn’t exactly surprised to hear that. But stranger things had happened. He was case in point, considering if someone asked him six weeks ago if he’d even think of fooling around with Frey, he would have laughed in their face.
“He’s a good dad,” Renato mused. “His kid is sweet.”
“How can you tell? He can’t talk. Like, how do you even raise a kid like that?”
“You raise them just like any other child. Fuck’s sake.” Renato glared. “He signs, and so do I,” Renato said, his voice going hard. “We had a perfectly lovely conversation.”
Foster’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. Are you asking because you?—”
“No,” Renato said, cutting him off. “Don’t get any foolish ideas.”
Foster most definitely didn’t believe him. It was all over his face, and Renato wanted to bury himself under the table because he wasn’t sure he had any more lies left in him. Foster ran his fingers around his mouth and over his chin before he spoke again.
“I think half of what people say about Frey is bullshit. It’s so high school. I don’t know what it was like in Milan or whatever, but here, there was always some poor soul who was labeled the class slut, and everyone said they fucked them, but most of them were lying.”
Renato winced. It was the same where he’d grown up. “I’m familiar.”
Foster let out a short breath, then took a long drink. “The only thing I could never figure out is why Frey leaned in. He flirts, and he’s a sassy little asshole. He lets people say whatever they want, and I swear sometimes he encourages it.”
Renato didn’t understand that either. Not really. “Have you asked him?”
Foster laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no. I’m not interested in peeling back his layers and getting to know him. I said I’d fuck him. I don’t want to hear about his single-dad journey and how he cries to Taylor Swift on Thursday nights.”
Renato winced. “That seems a little cruel.”
“It’s also honest,” Foster said. “But there are guys out there who aren’t like me. I’m not worried about Frey. He’ll find someone eventually.”
At that, Renato felt a strange, intense, pulsing jealousy flare to life in his gut. He wanted to find that person who thought they were perfect for Frey and rip their throat out. “I don’t?—”
“Wow. So the rumors are true? You’re dating?”
Renato’s veins turned to ice, and his heart kicked up a beat. The one voice he hadn’t expected to hear spoke on his left, and he turned his head to see Frey there, looking a little confused and almost angry. His gaze moved from the flowers to Foster to Renato.
“Fuck’s sake, you can do better than Kroger flowers for your boyfriend,” Frey went on. “You’re a surgeon.”
“I know, right?” Foster said with a laugh. “Can you believe he treats me like this? What’s next? Chili’s for dinner?”
Frey’s eyes sparkled with something dangerous. He leaned his arm on Foster’s chair. “I like Chili’s.”
“Well. Yeah. But you’re…” Foster cut himself off when Renato kicked him under the table, and he cleared his throat. “Right, yes. I’m in dick mode. Sorry, Frey.”
Frey shrugged and eyed the flowers again. “At least you have someone who brings you nice things. Someone who’s kind to you. Who is loyal.” There was venom dripping from his tone, and it all crashed in Renato’s chest. Frey thought Foster was being serious.
