Love Is Always Write Volume 4

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Book: Read Love Is Always Write Volume 4 for Free Online
Authors: Various Authors
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    Greg spoke over Emily's crying. "You can't take it personally. They just need to cry. It's exercise for them. Although she's old enough I'm surprised she still does the cranky thing."
    "Wow, you really did learn a lot as a brother. "
    "I cheated. I read books. Having the siblings made me into a reader. Once I figured out I could read about the little buggers, I figured out books could make my life easier. I moved onto reading other things. Manuals and that sort of thing. I'm crap at lectures, but if I read it, I can remember it. That made doing college almost all online easier."
    "Online? Seriously? You managed to get the high powered career with one of those degrees?" He realized how insulting that sounded and wished he could shove the words back in his mouth, but Greg only chuckled.
    "Naw. That was just luck. I sat next to a guy on a train. He had some papers spread over his lap."
    Of course Stefan's mind went there, imagining Greg looking down at the man's lap and both of them enjoying really good luck.
    Greg apparently didn't have that kind of a brain, because he only went on, "I noticed that the thing he was reading had a mistake. I pointed it out. Turned out he was writing it. An article on highly conductive paper for energy storage."
    "And he hired you?"
    "Eventually. Now I act as an interpreter between the buying client and the selling nerds. I have a foot in both worlds. I work on commission, but I also get a lot of input on the product. Alternative energy systems—it's a growing field." For the first time, Greg gave off an earnest geeky vibe as he'd talked. Stefan was charmed.
    Greg rearranged Emily so she squirmed and snuggled against his chest, and methodically patted her back. Now why couldn't Stefan trade places with her? It didn't seem like such a bad idea to let the guy hold him, pat his back.
    Emily heaved a shaky sigh and fell asleep at last. Stefan led Greg to her room, where he expertly slid her into the crib. They stood near each other in the dark, gazing down at the humped form of the sleeping baby. Stefan wanted to pull Greg into his arms, but hadn't he just said he didn't do short-term with strangers? He backed away, turned on the baby monitor, and they left the room.
    They went into the living room, and Stefan sat on a chair rather than the couch. If he sat next to Greg, he'd end up flinging himself at the man. What had they been talking about? School. Work. Life. He cleared his throat. "So you probably don't regret you missed the whole experience of the college student."
    "I wished I could have gone to a regular school, but there wasn't the money. And I couldn't with the kids." He clamped his full lips tight, as if he regretted giving away that information.
    Stefan drank the rest of his beer and concentrated on not thinking about Greg's mouth. He thought about the differences between their early lives--his own childhood as a cherished only child in a well-to-do family. Even coming out had been relatively easy for him. His father hadn't loved the fact that his only son was gay, but it only took a couple of months before he let go of his disappointment.
    Stefan had been twenty-five when his parents died in a car accident, and he'd been devastated, the first real sorrow and pain in his life. Compared to that, Phillip's betrayal last month was a blip on the screen.
    He leaned back in the chair, releasing the pressure of the day, the way he always did after Emily fell asleep—and the way he hadn't been able to when Phillip had been waiting, usually impatiently, for "real life" to start up.
    And wasn't it interesting that he could relax with this man he didn't know well. Maybe it was the beer that let his muscles relax and his mind grow quiet.
    Greg didn't look particularly comfortable, though. He glanced at his watch again.
    "Something wrong?" Stefan asked.
    Greg shrugged. "I'm not used to quiet evenings. I feel as if I'm supposed to be somewhere."
    "Are you?"
    "Not really. That's the

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