Chapter 91

They didn’t hear much more at first, just some muted conversation. From his position on the futon, however, opposite the archway to the back of the apartment—since Bill had left the bedroom door ajar—Tom Alan could see something. Not the couple, but definitely movement, precise shadows at times, on the white hallway wall directly in his line of vision. Two became one. “You’re trembling,” the hockey brute said, like some character out of a romance novel, loud and clear enough to be heard. “Relax. I love you.”

“Aww,” Milo gushed.

“Ssh,” Tom Alan said. Partway down the futon, his legs sticking off the end, his head lay at Milo’s wide-open thighs. He started to explore, during a brief respite of silence. But then Bill kissed his totty with enough noise Tom Alan could hear that, too. The smack, the “Mmm” sounds from both, and some soft female moaning—it was unmistakably the start of something, and not good-bye as Tom Alan had hoped. “Shoot!”

“Never mind,” Milo said. “Keep going.”