“You do not miss what you never had, I think you said it best.”

“You had your brother for a little while.”

He stiffens. “Yes.” I don’t think he’s going to say anything then he sighs. “David was the only port of sane in my fucked-up life. I lived for the weekends he picked me up, and we did normal things, spoke English ate hamburgers and hot dogs instead of the Greek food Agatha shoved down my throat.

“A dozen times I asked if I could come live with him. He said I had to stay with Agatha. I hated him for that. Then when he died, I hated him for dying. It was not until a year, or so after he died, I understood he was gay. He had spoken to his lawyer about getting custody when I was around five, the first time he realized Agatha was abusive. She swore she would never let me go and would bring up the gay thing. At the time there was no guarantee he would get custody. Although he was out, he was just starting his business and was not sure his company would not suffer from the negative publicity.”

“I’m sorry. Why wouldn’t Agatha give you up if she didn’t want you or care about you?”

“Money, it was always about the money. She received thirty-two thousand dollars a month in support for me. Then there was the house she lived in, it was owned by me, purchased by the trust for me. As far as she was concerned, she earned the money, as payment for the life of her daughter.”

“That’s awful.”

Shrugging, he squeezes me. “It was a long time ago.”

He doesn’t say anything. Shit. I search desperately for a way to keep him talking. “Are you coming tomorrow?” Damn it, he stiffens again. I hadn’t meant to ask him. “You don’t have to come. I was just wondering.”

His hand goes into my hair and tugs it back to look down at me. “Do you truly doubt I would be there?” He’s back to English as if he needs to know there is no misunderstanding. He sees the answer. His eyes close, when they open regret is there, and something else I can’t define. “I will be there. I will pick you up here at five.”

“Okay.”

With a sigh, he lets me go as he sets me in the middle of the couch. “I better get going.”

“You can stay,” I whisper, not wanting him to leave. Leo shakes his head. I hate the way I grab his hand. “Please.”