Kathryn raised her brows, obviously questioning his assessment.

“It hurts so bad. Losing someone.” Not even losing Clint had made him this desperate to crawl under the covers and never come out.

She sighed. “Give him some time. Work on yourself.”

“Me? What’s the point?”

Kathryn narrowed her eyes. “If you can’t answer that, there’s no hope of getting him back.”

“You’re taking all this rather well. Your brother is gay. He hires prostitutes. He’s an idiot.”

“The last I knew. The first I suspected, and the second… Well, there are worse things, and it’s not like you hired Dash off the street. I think a hell of a lot more men and women pay for it than we think.”

Apparently, based on what had happened at the art opening. “Maybe they do. By work on myself, do you mean come out?”

“Possibly, but there are other things you could do, like find something you care about other than work and—” She frowned. “Sex.”

Thorne held up his hand. “We are so not discussing that.”

Kathryn smiled. “I won’t say it again.”

“You do realize I have clients who won’t accept an openly gay consultant.”

“Fuck ’em.”

“Oh my God. Did you really just say that?”

“I did. Also, there’s a difference between hiding and announcing you’re gay to everyone you meet. Tell Lauren and the other senior partners and quit worrying what everyone else knows or thinks.”

“Lauren probably knows. I brought Dash to the art opening. If she didn’t know before that, I’m fairly certain she did afterward.”

Kathryn nodded. “I bet she does, but knowing and being told are not the same. She deserves to be in your confidence, considering what she puts up with from you.”

Thorne couldn’t argue with that.

“Start there. When you’re ready,” Kathryn said.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That will have to do for now. That and getting off the couch, eating instead of drinking your meals, and generally acting like a grown-up with a job.”

Thorne flipped her off.

***

Despite Kathryn’s encouragement, Thorne barely got off the couch for the next two days, continuing the fiction that he was sick, and he was, just not with the flu or whatever people at work imagined. If it hadn’t been for Kathryn bringing food by, he might not have eaten either. But on Thursday night, he realized he couldn’t hide forever. Kathryn was right, damn her; if he was going to take time off—and he was—he had to do it like a grown-up.