Faith, Love & Devotion 4:
CHERISH
Tere Michaels
www.loose-id.com
Faith, Love & Devotion 4: Cherish
Copyright © November 2012 by Tere Michaels
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eISBN 9781623001346
Editor: Antonia Pearce
Cover Artist: Croco Designs
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Dedication
To all the Matt and Evan fans out there who asked—
this one is for you.
Chapter One
Evan finished loading the dishwasher, one ear tuned to
the Yankee game on the television and the other on the
hushed conversation between his youngest daughter and his
boyfriend.
Yanks were leading, top of the eighth. Matt was
nodding a lot, covertly checking over his shoulder to look at
Evan.
Elizabeth—his baby, his preteen, oh God—did her own
recon of Evan’s activities, so he drew out the fiddling of the
controls, took his time as he wiped off the countertop. Matt
had cooked, and this was Evan’s way of showing he was
still a contributing member of the household, particularly
when he was home before midnight.
“Hey, done in here,” he called. “Anyone need
anything?”
“Yes,” Matt answered, his voice flat and faintly
exasperated. That clearly meant beer. Evan grabbed two out
of the fridge, then shut off the small television over the
dishwasher. He ambled into the adjoining dining room where
Matt and Elizabeth were holding their top-secret conference.
“Okay, time to let Dad in on things,” Matt said sternly,
reaching for the bottle in Evan’s hand.
“Maaaatt.” Elizabeth’s sweet face twisted into a put-
upon pout, one Evan was very well acquainted with, having
been through the joy of puberty twice before, with Miranda,
which was hell, and Kathleen, which was slightly easier.
Hoping that Elizabeth did her transitioning without drama
was obviously a pipe dream.
Evan settled into the chair beside Matt, pressing their
knees together once he got settled.
“I never took a sacred oath.” He opened the beer,
nudging back against Evan’s leg. “Talk to your father.”
It no longer bothered Evan that the kids went to Matt—
he was their friend and caretaker first and foremost, and
while his allegiance was to his relationship with Evan, he
always treated the kids with the utmost fairness. And love.
Elizabeth squirmed a bit in her chair, biting her lip. She
tugged on her hair, the sheet of brown falling down nearly to
her waist. Sometimes Evan suspected she wore it long so she
could hide behind it when things got a little overwhelming.
Like now.
“Is it a problem at school?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Here at home?”
She paused, then nodded.
“One of your siblings?” He suspected it was her twin
brother, Danny, because they were really the only two still
home full-time. Katie had shipped off to Boston University in
late July, and Miranda still lived in the city, working on her
Master’s at NYU. Neither of her older siblings seemed
inclined to hassle a twelve-year-old.
“Spill.” Matt gave her the stink eye.
“It’s Miranda.”
That was a surprise. Evan tried not to choke
midswallow as he sipped his beer.
“Miranda?”
“Yeah. Um.” Elizabeth’s face was rapidly disappearing
behind her fawn brown hair. “She…okay, so last weekend
when I was at her apartment with Aunt Ellie? They were
arguing about something after I went to bed.”
Evan gave Matt a sidelong glance, rapidly becoming
alarmed with the conversation and particularly the grimace
his boyfriend was sporting.
“Okay—that’s technically a conversation between two
adults, and I’m not sure you should be telling me what they
said,” Evan said diplomatically, ignoring Matt’s eye-roll and
his own gut-churning need to know. “Unless of course you’re
concerned about someone’s safety.”
Matt snorted.
“Shut up,” he whispered, without moving his lips.
“Well, then.” Elizabeth sighed dramatically. “Then I
don’t know. If I should say.”
“But I know, and I have absolutely no problem
repeating it.” Matt broke into the conversation, indignation
flaring. “Ellie told Miranda she was too young to get
married.”
The chair tilted beneath Evan, but he managed to stay
upright.
“What?”
“Aunt Ellie told Miranda she was too young to get
married, especially because they had just met, and she was
being hasty.” Now freed from her indecision, Elizabeth
rattled off what she had heard with enthusiasm. “Miranda
said maybe she would just get pregnant, and then they’d have
to get married, and Aunt Ellie said this isn’t 1950, don’t be
stupid.”
“Oh my God.” Evan was already out of his seat,
heading for the kitchen and the phone and his late wife’s
sister who was going to get a thorough review of every curse
word Evan had learned in the marines and on the force.
“Dismissed, don’t tell anyone else about this, and I’ll
bring you up dessert later.” Evan could hear Matt comforting
Elizabeth, as he walked away, which made him feel crappy
on top of being so fucking furious his temples were
pounding.
“Why didn’t Ellie call me and tell me this? Better yet—
what boy?”
Matt followed Evan into the kitchen, snapping on lights
as he went along.
“Ellie probably doesn’t think there’s anything to it,”
Matt started, but Evan waved him off, phone already in hand.
“No, sorry. She doesn’t get to make that call.” Evan
stabbed the numbers, pacing in circles. “That’s my
decision.”
“Miranda’s over twenty-one.” Matt didn’t even flinch at
the eye-daggers Evan threw his way.
“True. She’s also living in an apartment I pay for, going
to school on my dime.” The line was ringing, and Evan
honestly thought he would explode if it went to voice mail.
“Oh right, and she’s my kid. End of story.”
“Okay then.” Matt pulled out a stool from the breakfast
nook, his beer still in hand.
“What? You think… Ellie?” His sister-in-law’s voice
came on the line, and by her timid tone, he knew she knew
exactly why he was calling.
MATT FINISHED HIS beer and then another one, all
while watching Evan turn an interesting shade of magenta as
he wore a hole in the floor. The fight between Evan and Ellie
included a great deal of cursing, a segue into the amount of
hours he worked—which was only going to get worse when
his promotion went through—and Miranda’s lingering grief
over her mother’s death. All through it, Matt saw Evan
grappling with each of the issues with his own guilt. They’d
come a long way over the past few years, but every once in a
while Evan backslid.
He’d failed Sherri. Her memory. The kids. He’d nearly
failed Matt a few years ago, when their relationship was
stalled amid the confusion of his nearly redefined sexuality.
But they were fine. Solid. The kids were amazing—
when they weren’t being angst-ridden preteens or sassy
teenagers or impossible-to-decipher young adults.
Matt, as captain of this crazy ship, kept the rudder
straight, the laundry done, and his boyfriend well fucked
enough to carry on another day.
Or something.
“Fine, fine. But I’m serious—you have to tell her to talk
to me immediately, Ellie. Immediately.” Evan was winding
down, his voice rough around the edges, sweat curling along
the razor-sharp line of his cropped military haircut. The T-
shirt he’d changed into after work was soaked through as if
he’d been running a marathon. Matt made a mental note to put
on the air-conditioning in the bedroom before they went to
bed.
Evan hung up, still enthusiastically cursing under his
breath. Matt held out a cold opened bottle of beer without
commentary.
He could wait. It wouldn’t take long.
“His name is Kent and he’s in her business class and
they met in July. July! How can you make that sort of
decision in that short amount of time? Not to mention, not to
mention—they’re twenty-two!”
Matt wisely chose not to point out how young Evan and
Sherri had been when they met and fell in love and married,
and hell, they had two kids by twenty-two. He imagined it
was going to be brought to Evan’s attention later, when he
and Miranda entered the steel cage match of their
conversation.
Evan didn’t wait for a response and clearly didn’t need
one. He drank half the beer, still walking circles around the
kitchen as he wound down.
“She’s crazy—crazy—if she thinks I’m going to support
this. She hasn’t even introduced him to me! To us—what
kind of person is he? Is she hiding something? Is he? Do you
know why she hasn’t introduced us?”
“Because she knows the second you have his name
you’re going to make me run a background check on him?”
Matt asked drily.
Evan leaned against the counter next to Matt’s seat with
a dramatic sigh.
“Yes.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Matt soothed, rubbing his hand up
and down Evan’s back. “I was going to do it anyway. She
knows that too.”
With a snort, Evan rested his head on his folded arms.
His voice was muffled, but the rage had clearly died down.
“I blame myself.”
“Of course you do.” Matt pushed Evan’s shirt up with
one hand, pressing his palm against his overly warm flesh.
“Because you love her and you’re scared you won’t be able
to protect her.”
“She’s afraid to talk to me.”
“Only because she clearly doesn’t have a good
argument to go up against you yet.”
They both laughed. Miranda looked like Sherri, but she
was Evan’s temper and personality to a tee. She wasn’t
going to fight Evan until she thought she might be able to win.
“I’m scared.” Evan lifted his head to look at Matt.
“Understandable. I was hoping for the nunnery, for all
three girls. But the fact is, she’s smart and beautiful and an
adult. It’s going to happen.”
With that, Matt wrapped his arm around Evan’s trim
waist and hauled him onto his lap. His lover squirmed for a
second. He knew stuff like this made Evan uncomfortable,
but there was no one around, and damn it, he was going to
get cuddled.
“So you think the nunnery is entirely off the table?”
Evan sighed, leaning back against Matt’s broad chest.
“Pretty sure. And just think—you just have to get
through this time and then Katie and then Elizabeth. Plus you
know, Danny and his future parade of pink-haired girls who
ride motorcycles.”
“Not helping.”
“Wanna go to bed and fuck your problems away?”
Evan gave him an elbow—but he didn’t get up.
“Yeah, but first I need to talk to Elizabeth. I don’t want
her to feel bad about this.”
Matt kissed the side of Evan’s neck. “Bring her a
brownie—I promised.”
“You’re a nice man.”
“The nicest.”
Evan turned. The chair beneath them creaked a bit, but
Evan wasn’t deterred apparently. He twisted until their
mouths were pressed together.
A flood of warmth flowed through Matt’s body, and it
wasn’t entirely composed of lust.
Just another day of family drama and taking the
recycling out and loving Evan with every fiber of his being.
Chapter Two
Evan collected his bag from the floor of the front seat
and exited the car. His mind was careening from one thing to
another—the day ahead, Miranda ignoring his phone calls,
meetings about his promotion… He dodged cops entering
and exiting the station house, throwing a smile or nod to ones
he knew.
In January he would be officially promoted to captain;
it was an amazing honor, a huge boost to his career and a PR
nightmare, at least to him.
To the powers-that-be? It was a PR bonanza.
He still wasn’t comfortable with being “out” at work.
He certainly wasn’t entirely on board with the quiet
direction of the news about his promotion. The gay captain.
The captain who lived with another cop.
There was the inevitable moment last year, when his
supporters discovered Matt’s past—the esteemed career, the
whistle-blowing, the disgrace. There was subtle talk about
“how to handle it” that resulted in Evan storming out of a
meeting and threatening to quit, which then became Matt
suggesting they move to San Francisco and open up a sex-toy
shop.
That had been a long, long week.
But now it was happening, and Evan had only a few
months left before his career changed forever.
“Morning.” He walked through the squad room, more
nods and businesslike smiles as he approached his desk.
Helena—his partner and friend—was already at her desk,
directly across from his.
She was trying out yet another new hairstyle, and he
was actively trying to notice that sort of thing. She’d called it
a pixie cut, which he thought meant fairy, but honestly, who
the hell knew.
“Good morning. I bought you coffee since Swindall was
making it this morning,” Helena said, flipping through some
files in front of her.
“Wow.” Evan sat down, eyeing his partner. “What do
you want?”
Helena gave him a cool violet-eyed stare of annoyance.
“Excuse me?”
“You never bring me coffee.”
“Yes, I do! All the time.”
“No, only when you want something.” Evan began to
unpack his bag with his usual efficiency; he could argue with
Helena while doing just about anything.
“Ugh, hateful.” She pouted for a few minutes, then
cracked.
“Okay.”
“Ha!” He looked up from where he was putting a box of
energy bars in his bottom drawer.
“Shane and I need a place to go for Thanksgiving that
isn’t my mother’s in Florida.”
Helena and her boyfriend Shane had been together for
almost a year, a fairly serious length of time for both of them.
And as he and Matt technically were the reason they had
even met, there was a level of involvement that included
Evan having to listen to the goods, the bads, and the
speculation about the future.
And also apparently helping her out on holidays.
“Why don’t you want to go to Florida? The weather’s
nicer.”
“Because it’s too early in the relationship for Shane and
I to be grilled by my mother about when she’s getting
grandchildren.” Helena sighed dramatically. “We’re not
even engaged. Or talking about being engaged.” Her voice
quavered slightly. “It’s just too soon.”
“Uh-huh.” He gave her a glance, noted the lip bite, then
busied himself with his coffee. “So Thanksgiving…”
“I’ll bring stuff, swear.”
“It’s just me and Matt and the kids,” Evan warned, his
brain shifting back to the problem at hand—confronting
Miranda about her new boyfriend. And the M word.
“Sounds perfect.” A smile bloomed on her face.
“Really.”
They shifted into gear pretty quickly after that, getting
into the rhythm that had served them well over the years.
There were calls to make, paperwork to process, and new
cases finding their way across their desks. It was a constant
stream of activity, and in spare moments of mental space,
Evan knew he would miss this.
Six o’clock rolled around, and Evan had an encouraging
moment when he thought he might be home before seven.
Then his cell rang.
Each of his children had a different ringtone, and the
techno beat playing meant Miranda. His stomach tightened
with stress as he pressed the screen.
“Miranda.”
There was a dramatic pause, and then his eldest said
coolly, “Hi, Dad. You left a message?”
Evan scowled. He’d left several.
“We need to talk.”
She sighed. “I’m really busy…”
Evan cut in. “Not too busy for this. Either I come to you
now or you meet me at home. Choice is yours.”
Miranda let the moment drag out until Evan was
convinced his brains were actually going to explode out of
his ear, but finally a “You can come here,” was sighed over
the phone.
“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
“Fine.”
Evan hung up, desperately missing the days when a
phone weighed five pounds and slamming it into the cradle
felt satisfying.
“Do I want to know? No, wait, of course I want to
know.” Helena parked herself on the corner of his desk.
“Miranda.”
“Yeah, Miranda.” Evan sighed as he leaned back in his
chair, hearing the reassuring creak. “She’s got a secret
boyfriend, and apparently it’s serious.”
“Oh ouch.”
“Yeah.”
Helena patted his shoulder. “You going over there
without reinforcements?”
“She won’t talk if Matt’s around.” His eldest daughter
and his boyfriend still did not have the level of closeness
Matt had with the other kids. It bothered him, but he didn’t
know how to change it. “And I figure I’m the one she wants
to scream at so…”
“You think this is a revenge boyfriend?”
“Well, Ellie thinks so, and I’m inclined to believe her.”
He frowned a little. His former sister-in-law didn’t have
children, but he was mentally deferring to her because of her
gender. He wasn’t sure if that was logical or a skewed sense
of gender politics, and either way, it made his head hurt.
“She’s acting out because of Matt and I.”
“Could be. Or maybe she likes him.” Helena laughed
and rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you ask her?”
Evan gave her an eye roll in return as he leaned
forward. He shut down his computer, then began to gather
things together on his desk.
“And maybe don’t start off with that stern accusatory
thing you do,” she continued breezily. “Ease into the
screaming match.”
“Thank you for your advice. I’ll take it under
consideration,” he said. He was being sarcastic, but Helena
knew him well. She knew his tendency to blow up first and
ask questions later. She also knew when to kick him in the
shins.
“Good luck.” She gave him a sarcastic head pat.
And then she was gone, in a wave of expensive perfume
and heels a good three inches higher than the ones she was
wearing when she came in. Helena’s nights had gotten
progressively more exciting and glamorous since she had
began dating popular playwright Shane; suddenly pizza and
late-night television had become theater and parties and
gallery openings, as his notoriety on the Broadway scene
increased.
Evan hadn’t even realized gallery openings were a real
thing. He thought that was something that only happened in
movies.
But Shane was hot right now, and Helena loved
shedding her cop’s mantle and shaking off the horrible things
they saw every day in Vice—and walking into a beautiful
world where a person drank champagne and admired pretty
things.
He envied her ability to step out of her skin. He’d never
learned how.
* * * *
Miranda lived in a tiny walk-up on the lower West
Side, sandwiched in between a pet store and an Indian
restaurant. Five floors up the twisting, cramped stairway,
Evan huffed with annoyance. Her share of the rent was an
occasional drain on his finances, but it was a decent
neighborhood, and her roommates were all reassuringly as
afraid of their parents as he hoped his daughter was.
Evan had a bag of Chinese food in one hand and
knocked with the other, hearing the strains of distant
conversation and televisions.
“Coming!” someone called, and Evan shifted his
weight, subconsciously moving his body to one side. The
shooting was a few years in the past, but one never entirely
got past a shotgun blast through a closed door.
He assumed, however, that Miranda didn’t have quite
that strong a temper.
Locks were unhooked, and finally the door opened, his
eldest daughter standing expectantly in the doorway.
“Dad,” she said loftily, chin lifted with a regal tilt,
looking as imperious as someone could, wearing pajamas
with kittens on them.
“Miranda.” Evan leaned down to kiss her cheek,
brushing aside her dark blonde hair.
She sighed, then pulled him into the apartment.
* * * *
They managed to put off the arguing and instead
indulged in heavy silence while setting the teeny-tiny table
Miranda and her roommates ate on. Two bedrooms, four
girls—two chairs at the table, one love seat—he assumed
they existed in shifts.
“Where’s everyone else?” Evan asked as he dug into
his Kung Pow chicken. With a fork.
Miranda twirled sesame noodles on her chopsticks.
“Sonya has a night class, Naib is at the movies with her
boyfriend, and Rae’s at the gym.” She gave her father a
serious stare down. “We have about an hour for our
discussion.”
In his head, discussion had air quotes around it.
“I just want some information, Miranda. I don’t like
being the last person to know something so…important. And
personal.” That was the rub—under all the anger, there was
the sad fact that his daughter hadn’t come to him about
something so big.
She poked at her white box and noodles, scowling.
“Fine. His name is Kent. He’s going for his master’s in
international business. He’s an only child. He’s from
Connecticut, and he’s…wonderful.” She peeked up at him
with Sherri’s eyes, and he found himself missing his wife
with a profound ache. She would be so much better at this
than he was.
“How long have you known him?”
“Four months. Well—longer, but just in a group.”
Miranda’s face began to reshape into a slight smile. “But
four months ago, we started dating.”
“And that’s great. I’m glad you’re happy and he treats
you right,” Evan said diplomatically. More stabbing of
chicken chunks. “But what really concerns me, honey, is you
talking about marriage so soon.”
The smile fled, and Miranda went back to a frown.
“Aunt Ellie had no right…”
“Elizabeth overheard and was upset,” he cut in, firm in
cutting off any annoyance at her baby sister. “I went to your
aunt out of concern.”
“You should have called me directly.” Miranda sat up
straight, dropping her dinner on the table. “Okay? That’s part
of the problem.”
“Or part of the problem is you hiding…”
“I’m not hiding him. I just don’t want to deal with your
overprotective…crap.”
Evan put his fork down, keeping his cool. “It’s not
overprotective to want to know what’s going on with your
life.”
“Then ask.” Miranda’s voice got a hint louder. “Or are
you too busy with your job and your boyfriend to care about
your children?”
“Please.” Evan sat back hard in his chair, even as his
stomach tightened. “That’s a cheap shot.”
“At least when Mom was alive I had her to talk to. I
could ignore your workaholic tendencies.” Miranda sniffed
as she lifted her chin defiantly. “But now, you’re the only
parent I have, and you’re doing a crappy job.”
Chapter Three
Matt relaxed against the headboard, flipping through the
channels with the remote. One of the things he insisted on
when they moved into the new house was an adequate
number of televisions—that meant expanding past the normal
living room/family room dynamics.
It was a big house with lots of rooms and sports needed
to be accessible in all of them.
Except the bathroom. He lost that argument.
He checked the time on the clock radio, noting it was
nearly eleven, and went back to his aimless scrolling. They
paid almost two hundred dollars a month for satellite—why
the hell wasn’t there sports on right now? He’d already
watched all the recap shows, and Jesus, was he really going
to settle for soccer?
The top step creaked, so Matt knew when Evan got
home. He muted the television and waited expectantly,
musing the two possibilities of his boyfriend’s mood at this
moment.
The doorknob rattled, and Matt prepared himself
mentally.
There was either going to be a door slam or a weak…
It was a slam.
“Hey,” Matt said, mild as he could manage. Evan had
shed his overcoat and suit jacket downstairs, tie askew and
his handsome face carved into a block of “what the fuck.”
“I swear to God,” Evan started, and Matt was out of
bed to meet his lover halfway around the foot of the bed.
He stopped, eyeing Evan’s red cheeks and perspiring
forehead.
“How’d dinner go?” It was so very rhetorical.
Evan slumped, shoulders sloping, even as he growled
in response. “She was impossible.”
“See? So everything is fine.” Matt had his hands on
Evan before he could say another word, smoothing his palms
over Evan’s damp shirt.
“She was just…accusatory and defensive, and I
literally could not hold my temper.” Evan’s anger simmered
and then faded as the tension became resignation.
“You yelled, she yelled, and now that that’s over with,
you can schedule an actual conversation.”
Evan dropped his head against Matt’s shoulder. “We
yelled all right. She’s using this guy like a shield—like…”
“Like she’s trying to get back at you?”
Evan sighed. “Yeah.”
Matt pulled him closer, until their bodies were aligned.
They slotted together with ease, and Matt felt a bit more
tension bleed out as Evan relaxed.
“She needs to get it out of her system. You know her.”
“Yeah.” Miranda was full of anger, and she didn’t
always know how to express it…which was Evan’s MO and
reason number one the two of them clashed like titans. As far
as Matt was concerned, they could schedule this shit in ink
on the calendar for every six months. “I was hoping to get a
bit more time to rant and rave.”
“It’s late. I’m tired.” Matt shrugged, rubbing at the back
of Evan’s neck. “I’m sure you raged enough in the car ride
home.”
“I’m pretty sure someone called 911 to report a
homicidal maniac driving a minivan over the Cross-Bronx.”
“Not the first time. Remember when she wanted to
change majors senior year? That was a fun week.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Evan
straightened up, then bumped his body into Matt’s—eliciting
a little growl. A challenge.
“I thought we were reminiscing.”
“Shut up.”
It was easy to fall into this, Matt rubbing Evan’s back
as they pressed closer together. Evan’s hands gripped Matt’s
faded T-shirt, sliding his knee between his lover’s legs,
feeling his erection through those superproper wool slacks. It
made Matt horny as hell.
“It’s a ridiculous mess.”
Matt shrugged, licking the curve of Evan’s jaw.
“Usually is,” he muttered, using his teeth to retrace his
favorite route. He could taste Evan’s five-o’clock shadow
and the tang of sweat. His hips moved in a slow circle
against his boyfriend’s pelvis.
“Is this your solution to everything?”
“Yes.” Matt paused briefly, his voice soft against
Evan’s ear. “Do you want to keep talking about this?”
Evan’s entire body heaved in Matt’s arms. “No.”
“There you go.” Matt took his time pulling off the rest
of Evan’s clothing, everything ending up in a pile on the
floor. He would clean up later, when Evan wasn’t heavy
with stress against his body.
Everything moved slowly because they’d been doing
this for years, and it was all muscle memory and intimate
knowledge. What had started with shock and surprise and
unsure hands had evolved into the most erotic sex in Matt’s
storied history.
Evan pushed Matt’s hands away when he reached for
the waistband of his briefs. He moved just enough to focus
on Matt, head bowed as he lifted his sleep shirt over his
head.
“I could do that,” Matt whispered, but Evan shook his
head.
“Shhh.”
He liked the quiet, and Matt never pushed except when
he did, except when he couldn’t help but keep up a running
commentary of how much he liked to fuck Evan or touch him
or make him scream. He let Evan pull down his shorts and
kick them aside, all the while wearing a serious expression.
It didn’t surprise Matt when Evan stayed low, then
dropped to his knees. It didn’t surprise him that that was
exactly what Evan needed right now.
Matt let his fingers drift over the bristle-soft precision
of Evan’s hair, coaxing him into relaxing, into letting go. The
warm breath against his dick made his selflessness all the
more profound as Evan waited, paused. Breathed.
Then Matt realized that Evan was waiting for a reason,
and a hot surge of lust pulsed up his spine.
“Okay, baby,” he murmured and grasped the base of his
cock with a tiny gasp at the back of his throat. He stroked
once, twice, then reached with his free hand to tip Evan’s
head back.
He rubbed his fingers against Evan’s mouth, luxuriating
over the warm line before pressing inside. Evan moaned, a
sound seemingly coming all the way up from the soles of his
feet, and Matt pushed deeper. Everything paused for a long
moment: Evan sucking ravenously on Matt’s fingers, Matt
jerking himself off in perfectly matched time. Then Evan was
pulling back, mouth still open, and Matt realized he didn’t
want to make either of them wait another second.
No words, just Matt feeding his dick into Evan’s mouth,
hands moving in tandem—pushing and pulling, his hand
curved around the shape of his lover’s skull.
The switch flipped somewhere deep in Matt’s brain,
and the gentle touch became a demand. Evan slid his hands
up Matt’s legs, pinching and rubbing until Evan grabbed his
hips with a fierce grip.
The desperate hands said “more” and “harder,” and
Matt didn’t waste a second to give Evan both those things.
He widened his stance as Evan swallowed around him,
balancing to keep from being knocked to the ground by the
force of Evan’s need. The tight clasp of his mouth, the hard
rub of his tongue—he felt the head of his cock brush against
the back of Evan’s throat, and the rhythm stuttered for a
second.
He wanted to say, “slow down for a second” but Evan
knew him too well and knew his body, and so when his lover
sucked harder, Matt couldn’t do anything but twitch.
“Ahhh,” Matt managed on an exhale, fingers tightening
around Evan’s neck.
Evan swallowed.
“Fuck,” he moaned.
Evan swallowed and sucked and moved root to tip and
back again in such quick succession, Matt could do nothing
but whimper and spill down his throat.
The aftermath left Matt with one hand on Evan and one
on the footboard of the bed, clinging for dear life. The freight
train of his orgasm was sending little leftover flares down
his legs as Evan pulled off with a wet, messy sound.
“Fuck,” Matt said, licking his lips as he looked down
on his lover. Evan’s eyes were wide and needy, his mouth
glistening with just enough shine to make Matt’s body burn.
“Get on the bed.”
Evan didn’t say anything, didn’t have to, but Matt
appreciated the faint bite he sank into his right thigh before
he stood up.
There was a wobble, and Matt pressed his hand to the
center of his chest.
Their gazes met and held.
The little smile on Evan’s perfect mouth was like porn
as far as Matt’s libido was concerned. And maybe his dick
wasn’t going to join in anytime soon, but that didn’t mean he
was without a whole arsenal of tools.
He pushed Evan, getting just enough resistance to make
it fun. “I said…”
Evan stepped back, his muscular form beautiful but
slightly punch-drunk. Matt’s gaze dropped to Evan’s cock,
and he licked his lips again.
“On your stomach.”
Evan’s entire body rippled with desire, and Matt’s dick
actually struggled for a second, stirring for a comeback.
And God help him, if Evan didn’t take the last few steps
to the bed and then crawl—fucking crawl—onto the bed and
lie down on his stomach.
“I’m going to the doctor first thing tomorrow and getting
some Viagra,” Matt swore, walking closer to Evan, laid out
like a gift.
Evan folded his arms, then looked back to catch Matt’s
gaze. The smile he shared was 40 percent lust and 60 percent
love. “You keep saying that,” he said, his voice soft, even as
his hips starting rubbing against the bed.
This Evan—the “reserves down, sexy as hell” Evan—
was one of Matt’s favorites. He savored the appearance by
taking his time, starting at the back of one muscled calf and
working his way up with biting kisses and wandering hands.
When he pushed Evan up on his knees, the sound his lover
made filled every corner of the room.
“Wish I could fuck you,” Matt whispered against the
back of Evan’s thigh, moving to bite where the crease of his
leg tempted.
Evan pushed back, and Matt pushed forward with his
mouth.
It was how they worked.
Chapter Four
It was almost one by the time Evan showered. Matt
was…relentless, and Evan leaned against the tiles, water
splashing over him as he tried to pull himself back together.
The sex still surprised him sometimes. The fierce way
Matt would hold him down, and the roughness of his touch
even as his words were loving and gentle. When it was fast
and breathless, Evan could feel his tightly maintained control
slipping away, replaced by a white-hot lust that still brought
a flush to his skin.
Embarrassment. Shock. They were faint and distant but
there, the idea that after so many years happily married to
Sherri, and never regretting a second of their lives in or out
of bed, he could be reduced to a begging mess under his
boyfriend’s mouth.
Also without regrets.
He shut off the water, wincing a little as he bent over.
There was a bite mark throbbing on his left butt cheek, and
his dick hurt from where it had rubbed against the bedspread
—because Matt was busy with his ass and didn’t bother with
a reach-around and…
Evan blushed as he stepped out of the tub. He reached
for the towel hanging on the hook, biting his lip. There was
still a faint hum of want under his skin, and he tried to
imagine a time this weekend when they could lock the door
and have an extended amount of privacy.
A knock on the door, and before he could answer, it
opened with Matt popping his head in a second later.
“Just making sure you didn’t drown,” he said, pushing
the door open all the way.
“Sorry. Long day, and my boyfriend is apparently a
vampire.”
Matt looked only a tiny bit ashamed. “Sorry. I blame all
the running you’ve been doing lately. Your glutes are
amazing.”
Evan threw the wet towel at his head. “Shut up.”
The running thing was a “couple activity,” which Matt
found hilarious, and Evan didn’t even address seriously.
Matt’s best friend and occasional therapist Liz thought a
shared activity outside the children or household was
important, and since bowling made Evan want to break
things against a wall, running won.
He grabbed his shorts as Matt shook the towel out, then
shoved it into the hamper.
“Mildew?” Evan asked, sliding the boxers over his
hips.
“Laundry day is tomorrow.” Matt rolled his eyes.
“Seriously?”
“Sorry.” He stepped into Matt’s personal space to press
a kiss to his mouth. “Your housekeeping skills are perfect.”
“And don’t forget it.” Matt slapped Evan’s ass—
making sure to pick the side with the bite—then returned the
kiss. “Now come to bed.”
They settled in, the common routine of turning on the
ceiling fan and shutting off the lights, checking alarms, and a
few good old-fashioned pillow punches for good measure.
The wearing of the day—of Miranda, of her harsh words and
their tentative peace—weighed on Evan as he rolled over to
lean against Matt’s strong, warm body.
“Miranda wants to have Kent and his parents over here
for Thanksgiving.” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against
Matt’s sleeve. “I said yes.”
“Huh.”
“Huh?”
“That’s all I got. Plus I’m making a list in my head of
all the shit I need to buy.”
“And Helena and Shane are coming.”
Matt groaned dramatically.
“What? You like Shane.”
“Shane is fine. Helena is fine. I’m sure even—what’s
his name? Kent? I’m sure he’s fine. That’s just a lot of
people.”
“We’ll have it catered.”
Matt huffed. “We’ll have some of it catered. The kids
would get upset if they couldn’t make that disgusting green
bean thing.”
“Right.” Evan closed his eyes. If he had his way, they
would go out to dinner and skip the yearly recreation of
family traditions. But the kids…the kids needed it, and he
would do anything for them in the end.
“Don’t start freaking out, okay? We have two whole
weeks for nervous breakdowns but I have to work tomorrow,
and so do you.”
“Long Island?”
“The Hamptons. Bennett bought a new house.”
Matt’s part-time job was as security consultant to a
theater bigwig named Bennett Ames. He and his movie-star
wife Daisy took a shine to Matt a few years back, and since
then, he’d done a fair amount of work for the two.
Supervising the security on their homes, movie sets, and a
pretty fabulous trip to the Cayman Islands last year to
oversee a vacation home’s preparedness. Things had only
amplified since Daisy got pregnant—clearly the reason their
ten-bedroom weekend home wasn’t enough space.
“He buys a lot of houses.”
Matt shrugged. “It’s his thing. It also pays our mortgage
and most of the bills.”
Which was a godsend with two kids in college and two
more doing a rapid approach on the runway. Evan’s salary
went toward education, while Matt supported them, and
somehow they managed to stay on a decent keel.
“Bless his deep pockets.”
“Amen.” Matt shifted, winding his arms around Evan in
a stealth-cuddle move that fooled no one. “I’ll be home by
four; you’ll be home several hours after that, and we’ll start
making lists, okay?”
“Okay.”
They lay in the quiet, Evan listening to the overhead
snick snick snick of the fan.
He wanted to dump out all the words that Miranda had
thrown at him during dinner. Her anger, her…betrayal, but he
couldn’t hurt Matt’s feelings. They both knew Miranda
hadn’t taken to their relationship like the other three kids.
They knew she resented Matt, but in the past few years
they’d settled into a polite, semifriendly vibe that seemed to
indicate peace.
Evan was wrong. And he wasn’t ready to tell Matt.
* * * *
The next morning Matt’s alarm went off at six. He
bitched and moaned as he rolled off the bed, then stumbled
off to the bathroom. Evan blinked a few times. He had an
hour, but he could get up, start the day, get some extra
running in…but mid-thought he drifted back to sleep.
The next time he opened his eyes it was to the gentle
beeping of his alarm and the sounds of someone going
through his dresser.
“Shouldn’t you be gone?” he asked sleepily.
“No, I have time.” It wasn’t Matt, but Danny, whose
voice was getting perilously close to puberty. Evan tried not
to freak out.
“Oh. Hey.” Evan sat up. Danny was in his top drawer,
taking a balled-up pair of sweat socks out. His regular
school uniform—skinny jeans and a massive black hoodie
with a graffiti’d skateboarder on the back—was in place, a
shock of dark brown hair falling into his eyes. Katie had
informed him this was “skater punk emo casual,” which just
made Evan want to check out private Catholic high schools
with uniforms.
“Out of socks.”
“Matt’s doing laundry today.”
“Yeah, but he’s working, isn’t he? He might not have
time.” Danny shut the drawer and pocketed the socks. “You
want me to start it when I get home?”
Evan blinked in surprise. Quiet, surly—teenage
behavior. Helpfulness? That was new. “Wow, that would be
great Danny—thanks. I’m sure Matt’ll appreciate it.”
Danny grunted a response. “I’ll do mine. Not touching
Elizabeth’s.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “She’s getting
all weird about her clothes.” Like the others was unspoken.
He smothered a chuckle. “Well, we’ll let her handle
that then. And I’ll bring home dinner so Matt doesn’t have to
worry about that either.”
“Can you go to that Peruvian place?”
“Done.”
“Awesome. Later.” Danny gave him a little wave, then
jetted out of the bedroom. It was one of the longest
conversations they’d had in forever, and Evan couldn’t help
the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He worried so
much about his only boy, assuming he would have had the
biggest issue with Matt and their relationship. And while it
had taken a while—he was still the quietest Cerelli by far—
Danny and Matt got along fine.
Three out of four would be good if they were polling
dentists about what brand of sugar-free gum they preferred,
but when it came to his kids, Evan needed more. He needed
to smooth things over with Miranda.
Evan waited until he was in his car and parked in front
of the station before he dialed Miranda’s cell. He had twenty
minutes before he needed to be at his desk, and this was her
free morning—which meant enough time to start the dance of
forgiveness and apology they seemed to be doing all too
often.
It rang twice, three times, and a shuffling sound came
through the line as she picked up.
“Hello? Miranda’s phone,” a male voice said, and
Evan’s blood pressure did a painful spike.
“This is Miranda’s father. Please put her on the phone,”
he managed, using his best interrogation voice.
There was a flurry of whispering and the sound of the
phone being passed over. Evan counted to fifty, one hand on
the phone and the other gripping the steering wheel.
It was eight twenty. This was Miranda’s free morning.
He doubted Kent stopped by for breakfast.
“Yes?” Miranda asked. “Sorry about that. We were still
sleeping, and Kent was closer to the phone.”
The baiting comment actually lessened Evan’s anger. It
reminded him in how many ways Miranda was still immature
and how much of her behavior was designed to push his
buttons.
And this so did—he just wasn’t going to tell her that.
“I’m sorry to call so early in that case,” Evan said,
brisk and efficient. “I was really just calling to let you know
that we’re definitely on for Thanksgiving. You can go ahead
and give Kent’s parents my cell number if they need
directions or anything.”
The silence on the other made him feel immature. And
successful.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Great. Please let me know if there are any food
allergies.”
“Su-sure.”
Evan needed a moustache. To twirl.
“We have the extra rooms if they want to stay over…
hmmm. I think that’s it.”
More silence, but Evan could hear Miranda’s breathing
through the line.
“Anything you can think of?”
“No.” Her voice became cool again. “That should be
fine. We’ll be there around three.”
“Hope so. Dinner’s on the table by four.”
That was a lie.
“Fine.”
“Great then. Talk to you soon. Love you.” Evan hung up
the phone, then tossed it onto the seat next to him. The
steering wheel felt great against his forehead as he smacked
himself repeatedly.
Thanksgiving was going to be a nightmare.
Chapter Five
Matt shook out the heavy linen napkin and laid it across
his lap. The jaunt to the Hamptons to look at real estate had
lasted all morning, ending with lunch at a seaside restaurant
with a million-dollar view.
The staff had clearly been prepared for their arrival. A
long table was set near the floor-to-ceiling windows
overlooking the breakers, with wine and beer already
chilling in buckets. No menus because “the chef took it upon
himself to create something special.”
Matt figured he could always hit a drive-through on the
way home if need be.
“Don’t worry, Matthew—the chef knows you’re a meat-
and-potatoes guy,” Daisy said sweetly, ushered into her seat
like she was made of porcelain and dynamite—either she
was going to break or explode. Her long red hair and fairy-
princess features made her an instant attention getter no
matter where they went…and that was even before people
realized she was THE Daisy Ames, former box-office queen,
now respected Broadway actress.
Her reinvention was something Matt appreciated. He
could relate, having gone through several incarnations of
himself over the years. Now he was nearly fifty, with a cushy
part-time consulting job and a full-time position as
househusband, with kids and a mortgage and the whole nine
yards. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisioned this
during his workaholic everything-for-the-job days on the
NYPD.
Sometimes he missed it. Then he remembered what it
was like to get shot at and decided that picturesque views
and eighty-dollar steak could be just as fulfilling.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ames,” Matt said, serious as a heart
attack. “Does he know I like cheesecake?”
“I will make sure he does.” Daisy laughed as she
adjusted herself in the chair, her basketball-sized stomach
keeping her just far enough from the table to be awkward.
“Oh God, now I want cheesecake.”
“No, no. The baby wants cheesecake. You’re just being
a good mom and giving in.”
“Oh, is that how it works?” She laid the napkin over her
stomach. “You really need to keep those parenting tips
coming.”
“Sorry. All I got is what happens during puberty, and
it’s a little early to scare you like that.” He winked,
appreciating the giggle he got in return. For a long time he
thought Daisy was a snob, but underneath all the expense and
pretension, she struck him as someone who floated along
without an anchor for too long and was just now getting her
footing.
Something else he could relate to.
“Ugh. I just want to make it through labor.” Her pale
skin faded a bit more. “At least Bennett is more freaked-out
than I am. So that’s comforting.”
“Is that sarcasm?” Matt took a sip of his water as the
wait staff swarmed, bringing plates of bread and dishes of
olive oil, as well as water and—most importantly—a beer in
a frosted glass.
“Yes.” Daisy sighed dramatically. “He’s ten times
worse with the birth prep than with security, and you know
how intense he is about that.”
She and Matt moved to allow the staff to do their
business. Bennett was still outside, taking a call in the limo.
“Yeah, I know. Thanks again for helping me send
children to college,” he teased, taking a sip of his beer.
“God knows I appreciate his concern and your hard
work.” She reached over to pat his arm. “But the incident
was three and a half years ago. We haven’t had any other
problems.”
“I’m going to go ahead and take full credit.” Matt gave
her a wink as he leaned his elbows on the table. “But hey,
listen—I get where he’s coming from. You’re the most
important person in his life, and he loves you beyond reason.
Know what? That’s scary as hell. To not be able to protect
you—I guarantee it keeps him up at night.”
Daisy’s face softened. “Is that how you feel?”
“Evan is a cop—I’m scared every day he’s out there, no
matter how much I trust he’s good enough to handle himself.
That’s my thing. I remember him being in a hospital bed, and
I remember how terrifying that was. And no matter how
many years pass, I’m going to be driven crazy by my
inability to protect him from everything.”
Her lower lip quivered, and she nodded, gaze dropping
down to her place setting.
“It’s not that he doesn’t think you can take care of
yourself. It’s more…not trusting the rest of the world.”
“Cynical.” She looked up, a little smile playing on her
lips.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Daisy rubbed a few stray tears from under her
eyes. “I’ll let him be frantic on my behalf.”
“It’s all we overprotective men ask.”
“Does Evan mind it when you fuss?”
Matt looked around as if searching for prying ears.
“Okay, here’s the thing. You can’t tell him but—I’m so good
at it, he doesn’t even know I’m doing it,” he mock
whispered.
“Sneaky!” She giggled.
“Eh, I’m just that good.”
“Good at what?” Bennett’s booming voice interrupted
their quiet chat and sent the servers into a frenzy; a far-off
door opened, and a line of people carrying trays entered the
dining room like it was a banquet for royalty. Small plates of
appetizers and salads began to fill the table.
“Good at my job and deserving of another trip to the
Caymans,” Matt said smoothly, snagging a plate of shrimp.
Bennett snorted as he leaned down to kiss Daisy’s
cheek.
“You’ve really taken to this life of luxury,” Bennett
teased, sitting down on the other side of Daisy.
“I have, I really have. And seeing as it’s your fault…”
Daisy laid her hand over Bennett’s on the table, their
fingers entwining. “I think Matt and Evan might like to use
the house this winter. Maybe January?”
Matt swallowed some beer and shook his head. “I was
teasing, Daisy—that’s sweet, but we have obligations…”
“You could take the kids over break if that works out
better. I can’t really fly anymore, not until after the baby is
born at least.” Daisy reached down to fiddle with her bag.
“Let me just e-mail the caretaker.”
“Teasing, remember?”
“Daisy’s right. You should use the house when we’re
not there.” Bennett’s dark eyes twinkled at Matt. Their joking
about the perks of Matt’s job went back a long way, but he
knew Matt was uncomfortable with taking things too far. “An
empty house is a security risk.”
“Or you know, it’s an empty house.” Matt put his empty
beer glass down and watched as it was whisked away
magically and replaced with a full one.
“Still…”
Matt put his hand up. He knew twin steamrollers when
he saw them.
“So anyway—the house.” He gave Bennett a little glare.
“I love it, I love it, I love it,” Daisy said, sitting up with
her phone in hand. “I love it.”
“I guess that means I’m buying it.” Like there was ever
a question.
“Which I guess means the usual setup?” Matt got out his
phone as well, wanting to take a few notes.
“Maybe something a little more extensive.” Bennett’s
tone was neutral—that meant “we’ll talk about it later.”
Matt shared a sideways look with Daisy, who continued
to tap out a message on her phone. She gave him a tiny smile.
“Okay, I e-mailed the caretaker in the Caymans,” she
said breezily. “And boring security talk can happen later.
Matt, what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?”
He had to hand it to her—she was a pretty good actress.
“We’re having turkey and drama.” A waiter with a
steak the size of New Hampshire appeared at his side.
“Oh no.” Daisy tilted closer as another waiter
deposited four pounds of salad on the table.
“Miranda’s bringing a boy home. And his parents. And
my liver can’t really handle the amount of liquor I’m going to
need to survive the tension.” Matt picked up his knife and
fork. “Wait, so the Cayman house is available now, right? I
still have time to plot my escape.”
“I can have the jet on the tarmac in two hours,” Bennett
said over his steroid-pumped lobster.
Matt’s lips twisted into a smoldering smile. “I can’t
help but find you incredibly attractive when you say things
like that,” he deadpanned.
Daisy’s giggles ended in a snort.
* * * *
Full of food, beer, and a future filled with hefty
paychecks and bonuses, Matt rode in the back of the limo
with the air of a satisfied man. Bennett and Daisy were fun to
be around. They spent money like water—and when was that
not awesome? Plus their relationship—which gave other
people pause—made an odd sort of sense to him. He knew
how many of their friends had abandoned them when their
relationship came to light. Bennett had long identified as gay,
so his friends considered her little more than an expensive
beard. And Daisy’s friends—the ones she had left—saw
Bennett as yet another grab for security at any cost. The gay
guy and the gold-digger.
And it bugged Matt, it really did, because he saw how
honestly crazy about one another they were, but then labels
were a hot button in his life, and he mostly wanted to know
why the fuck it was anyone’s business who you loved in your
lifetime.
They didn’t discuss it, not openly, but there was a tacit
understanding among the three of it just not mattering.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his fast-
moving thoughts—memories of his problems with Evan
about labels and perceptions and how dangerously close they
came to not figuring this out. If Evan’s job kept him up at
night, the prospect of them not being “them” made him reach
for the light to scare away the nightmares.
“Yeah,” he said, not even checking to see who it was.
“Maaaaaaaaaatt!”
Katie, his favorite Cerelli child, a fact he would never
reveal, even under torture.
“Is this a money call?” he teased, unable to keep the
huge smile off his face.
“No!”
“Bail?”
“Technically that’s money, and no, it’s not.” Her
charming laugh filled the line, and seriously—Matt was
reaching for his wallet anyway.
“What’s up, Number Two?”
“Just making plans to come home for Thanksgiving
break, and I think I can hitch a ride with Naomi, but then
Miranda called and she’s bringing a boy! What the hell,
man?”
“Kent. And his parents. And Helena and Shane.”
“Hoo boy. How’s Dad’s blood pressure?” She
whistled.
“Almost as high as mine.”
“This is going to be the best holiday ever. Can I take
video?”
“Sure. We can use it as evidence later at the trial.”
Katie laughed happily. She loved melodrama in the
form of her older sister. If Matt knew her—and he did—at
some point during the weekend she would probably pop
some corn and settle down to watch Miranda like a monster
double feature.
“I’m gonna need you on my side.”
“Aww Matt—always!” Someone screeched her name in
the background, and she responded with a “Shut up! I’m
talking to my dad’s boyfriend. Jesus.”
He wasn’t going to lie—that felt good in a weird way.
“Ugh, dorms are hell. I can’t wait until I can get an
apartment off campus.” Katie came back onto the line.
“We’ll talk about that in two years.”
“I’m just saying—I’m the good child. I deserve a
condo.”
“Duly noted.”
They chatted all the way back into the city; family
gossip, Katie’s first semester classes and roommate antics.
By the time the limo stopped in front of the house, Matt
couldn’t get the smile off his face if he tried.
“You let me know if you need to be picked up, okay?”
Matt gave the driver a wave as he walked up the driveway.
“Yes, Matt.” Katie blew kisses through the phone.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
He switched off the phone, depositing it in his pocket as
he reached for his house key. A warm feeling filled his
veins.
Home sweet home.
* * * *
The pleasant day continued as Matt found not only the
laundry started but a “Dad’s getting dinner” grunt from
Danny before the boy disappeared into his room. Elizabeth
did her homework at the kitchen table, singing along with a
CD in the stereo, her perpetually good-natured self not
needing much from Matt except a second glass of juice
somewhere in the middle of her pre-algebra.
If every day was like this, he would never get another
gray hair.
Matt took a shower and then settled down in the living
room with a notebook and pen, deciding to get a head start
on the Thanksgiving From Hell list.
Liquor. Yes. A bunch of stuff he could get catered from
the grocery down the street. Check. Desserts? Multiple.
Green beans and stuffing ingredients for the kids. Were the
guest rooms up to snuff? Did he care? Would clean towels
suffice?
The couch shook as Danny threw himself against the
armrest.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Matt put the pen down. “I’m making a list for
Thanksgiving. Anything in particular you want?”
“A bus ticket for someplace else?” Danny shot him a
look, and Matt couldn’t contain a snicker.
“Only if you take me with you.” He marked down
coconut cream pie because he knew it was Danny’s favorite.
Danny focused his gaze on the television, seemingly
fascinated by the muted scroll of scores and sports news.
“It’s gonna suck. What if these people are, like…
boring. Or…”
“Or?” Matt caught the hesitation in Danny’s voice.
“Or like the neighbors at our other house.”
The bigots next door. The ones that irritated Danny
enough to make the move desirable.
“Ahh.” He felt stupid for not thinking of this already.
They knew nothing about these people, except that their son
was probably having sex with Miranda, which meant his life
was in serious danger from Evan. “Well, I’m guessing
Miranda’s already told them about your dad and uh…me…
so we should be fine,” he said, his voice chock-full of false
bravado.
Danny’s eye roll would have been visible from space.
“Or they’re coming with, like…pamphlets or
something, and it’ll be all tense.” Danny didn’t see the bright
side of things very often, and Matt could understand why. He
hadn’t had an easy road so far, and he was only twelve.
“People don’t do that,” Matt scoffed, lying again,
because of course people did that. Sweat beads were starting
to pop on his skin. “That’s, like, stuff that happens in movies
and TV.”
“Right.”
Matt sighed. “I’ll talk to Dad, and we’ll…we’ll talk to
Miranda and…” The plan died quickly, and at least the most
recent look Danny shot him included sympathy. “Well, shit.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Chapter Six
“So, any clue on this kid’s parents?”
The question was casual, but something made Evan
look up from his beans and rice to give his boyfriend a
glance. Danny, sitting to his left, had stopped shoveling food
in his mouth for the first time in five minutes, and even
Elizabeth looked up from whatever daydream she was
ensconced in.
“Uh—no. They’re from Connecticut, and that’s pretty
much it.” Evan frowned. He had been so preoccupied
thinking about Kent and creating nightmare scenarios of
pregnancy and elopement for Miranda he’d forgotten to ask.
“Oh. Okay.” Matt went back to his meal after
exchanging a look with Danny.
“I can ask Miranda…”
“No, we’ll let it be a surprise.” The grimace on Matt’s
face sent Evan’s stomach plummeting. “To add to the already
festive cheer of the holiday.”
“We’re afraid they might be homophobic,” Elizabeth
blurted out, resulting in a double take from Matt and Danny
that was filmworthy. She gave them both a pout. “I was
listening, okay?”
Evan groaned inwardly. Fuck. Because, good point.
“They’re probably not,” Matt attempted. “Because
Miranda must’ve told them about us and they’re still coming
right?”
“Right.” Evan leaned back in his chair, surveying his
boyfriend and two kids. These people were walking into a
less-than-typical family, and God only knew what their
attitude was like. Evan might have issues with his own
sexuality and labels, but he was also a bulldog about his
family. And if these people were going to walk in and start
passing judgment…
“See, this is why we weren’t going to be blunt,” Matt
said with a sigh. “Stop thinking. The vein in your forehead is
about to burst.”
Evan wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Right.”
Dinner ground to a halt as everyone looked at everyone
else and tried to smile. It was horrible.
“Right,” he said again. “Let’s go get ice cream.”
Elizabeth looked faintly scandalized. “It’s November!”
“And a school night. I’ve clearly gone mad, so now is a
great time to take advantage of me.” Evan pushed his chair
back, then stood up. “Who’s coming?”
Danny and Elizabeth vacated their chairs with a sonic
boom. Evan glanced across the table at Matt who was
scrutinizing him carefully.
“Ice cream?”
“Well, you can’t fuck this away just yet, so we’ll start
with forbidden desserts,” he muttered, and Matt cackled with
delight.
“If these people are homophobes, I’m grabbing your ass
every chance I get.”
Evan didn’t doubt it.
* * * *
Two weeks flew by quickly, and as Miranda was
conveniently unavailable for the entire time, except for the
occasional sparse text message, Evan had no clue what
Kent’s parents were like. He managed to get their names—
Blake and Cornelia—and the fact they were not vegans but
mostly ate organic and would be bringing the wine.
Matt stocked up on red, white, and beer just in case.
He also found out that they owned a very successful
nursery
in
Danbury,
which
meant…nothing.
Their
professions told him little about the type of people they
would be, and he restrained himself from running a
background check because Ellie told him that was a
violation of trust, and it made him feel guilty enough not to
do it.
Of course Matt ran Kent’s background and assured
Evan he had no priors.
“He’s twenty-two, maybe he just hasn’t decided what
kind of trouble to get into,” Evan muttered, fiddling with his
tie for the fifth time. The mirror reflected a cranky man with
more worry lines than the previous month and gray fuzz
creeping into his tight buzz cut. The dress shirt and tie were
mandatory according to Miranda’s last text, so of course
Matt walked behind him wearing a tight black sweater and
jeans.
“Seriously?”
“What?” Matt paused, in what looked suspiciously like
a model pose.
“You look like you have a hot date.”
“You found me out—I have plans after this with the
delivery boy from Hannover’s.” The aforementioned youth
had sent both Elizabeth and Katie swooning when he
dropped off their Thanksgiving dinner earlier, all muscles
and dimples and charm.
Evan went back to his reflection and flipped the tie,
manipulating the silver-and-blue striped material until it was
a proper Winsor knot. “Classy.”
“You look like you’re going to audit these people’s
books. Was that on purpose?” Matt came up behind him,
pressing their bodies together as he wrapped his arms
around Evan’s middle.
“It seemed more subtle than the shoulder holster.” Evan
sighed as he leaned back in Matt’s comforting embrace.
“Tell me everything is going to be fine, please.”
“Everything is going to be fine. They’re from
Connecticut. They’ll be superpolite, we’ll make insubstantial
small talk and fall into a turkey coma by seven. In the
morning it’s french toast, bacon, and see ya later. Many
people have survived meeting the boyfriend’s parents, I
swear.”
Evan smiled. “Let’s hope the boyfriend survives
meeting the family.”
“Yeah, if we’re going to be honest, I’m legitimately
frightened for this boy. He has no idea what he’s in for.”
Matt kissed Evan’s cheek, tightening his grip on his body. “I
love you. And I’ve got your back today, okay?”
A flare of warmth and love made Evan’s chest ache. He
didn’t know how he was lucky enough to have this man as a
part of his life. “The nicest part of that is it’s mostly not even
meant in a dirty way.”
Matt rubbed against Evan’s ass in a way that was
entirely dirty. “I said your back—your ass is totally mine.”
The knocking on the door set them both laughing as
Elizabeth’s excited voice came through the wood.
“They’re here!”
Chapter Seven
Matt tried not to descend the stairs in a dead-man-
walking fashion. Evan hurried down ahead of him, Elizabeth
at his heels, and everyone in a desperate rush to a) get this
over with and b) satisfy their curiosity. Even Danny was
interested—his headphones were off, and he was leaning
toward the door.
“Hurry up! We need to see the poor sap stuck with
Miranda!” Katie whispered as she grabbed his arm and
pulled him down the last few steps.
“Be nice.”
“Ugh, nice is boring. I already feel sorry for Ken.”
“Kent.”
“Whatever. By next week he’ll be some other guy, and
Miranda will be calling him Ken too.”
Matt wished he had Katie’s optimism.
Evan gave him one last look of mortal terror, then
turned to open the front door. On the step were crowded four
people—the ever-imperious Miranda, a slender blond boy
with wire-rim glasses, and two smiling people weighed
down with bags.
“Daddy,” Miranda said primly, stepping over the
threshold.
Katie fake shivered next to him, and Matt gave her a
glare even as he stifled a smirk.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Evan said, kissing her on the
cheek. The smile he pasted on was one part hospitality and
three parts “I fucking have a gun,” and when he turned it on
Kent, it was Matt’s turn to shiver.
“Kent.” He extended his hand, and the boy shook it, his
smile wavering.
“Sir.”
“Call me Mr. Cerelli.”
Katie full-on giggled. “Come in, please,” Evan said,
already dismissing the boy and turning his attention to the
couple behind him.
“Thank you so much, Happy Thanksgiving.” Blake and
Cornelia in their matching tan coats and big smiles stepped
into the foyer, and for a second everyone just froze in polite
stasis. “I’m Evan Cerelli.” Evan launched them back into
animation. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Blake Moran, my wife Cornelia.” Blake’s voice was
booming, filling the small space.
“My kids—Danny, Elizabeth, and Katie.” He gestured
to each. They responded with a wave, and it got quiet again.
“And that’s Matt.”
“Here, lemme get those,” Matt said finally, unable to
stand there for another second. He walked a few steps
forward, then reached for the myriad white-and-brown
shopping bags and froze again.
Because the expressions on both Blake and Cornelia’s
faces were those of confusion. A quick check to Kent’s face,
and Matt saw the same.
And Miranda? Miranda looked a tiny bit worried. And
smug.
Evan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his daughter.
“Matt’s my partner. Or boyfriend, if that makes things a little
clearer.”
Boom. Like a sonic explosion. The silence was so loud
Matt’s ears were ringing.
Cornelia was the first to move. She handed Matt the
bags in her hands, the smile less confused. “So nice to meet
you. And thanks—these things are so darn heavy!”
Matt took an actual breath, now that he wasn’t being
strangled by assumption.
“Anything have to go in the fridge?” Matt asked
smoothly.
“Oh yes, a bunch of things—can I just follow you?
Blake, give me those.” Cornelia moved in a series of quick
gestures, grabbing the bags from her husband, then making a
little “go on” motion with her shoulder to Matt.
“Let me take your coats,” came Evan’s voice behind
Matt’s back, and he smiled inwardly at the smooth, smug
tones of his boyfriend’s voice.
Point one Evan. No points Miranda.
There was a flurry of sound from the foyer as the kids
descended on Miranda and Kent. Matt said a quick
nondenominational prayer for the skinny kid with the glasses
—because if he wasn’t smart, quick, and witty, Katie was
going to eat him for a snack—and proceeded into the kitchen
with a chatty Cornelia on his heels.
“And the traffic wasn’t bad, but I am always so nervous
about getting places on time. Blake! The bags are in the
trunk!”
Matt put everything on the counter.
“You’re so sweet to host us and allow us to spend the
night. Houseguests can be so tiresome.”
He watched her remove her coat, revealing a rust-
colored sweater dress on a better-than-average figure. The
stylish blonde bob and spangled bracelets reminded him of
something one of the interior designers Bennett employed
would wear and said money, class, and an eye for style to
Matt. But the babbling brook of words said nervous. “We
actually haven’t had houseguests before, so you’re going to
have a fill out a card when you leave, let us know how we
did,” he said, effortlessly charming as he started unpacking
the bags.
Cornelia tittered.
“I’m sure it’ll be divine. Our friends Roger and Adam,
they own a B and B in Ithaca. We’re up there all the time.
I’m sure you’ll rival their efforts.”
Matt was impressed with the way she worked “we like
gay people” into the compliment. His opinion of her was
firmly on solid ground.
“Don’t know about that. Your hosts for this weekend
are a cop, a security consultant, and three teenagers. May
God have mercy on your soul.”
Halfway into a bag of wine and cheese she was laying
out on the counter, Cornelia stopped to flash him a strange
look. “Oh, so that’s what you do.” Her tone was strange.
“Uh, yeah.” Matt paused, hands resting on the counter.
“Did Miranda tell you guys anything about us?”
Cornelia sagged a little. “No, not really. Kent is crazy
about her, and he’s not really been serious about a girl
before, so we were a little startled…”
“And you came to check out her and the family?” Matt
smiled sympathetically.
“Yes. No offense, but he’s our only child, and we’re a
bit protective.”
“Understood, don’t worry about it.” He went back to
unloading the bag, casting a quick glance at the labels. This
was a pricey spread, little jars and bottles of fancy things he
might find at a dinner with Bennett and Daisy. “We feel the
same way.”
A clatter of sound made them both look up. Blake and
Evan were passing through, each carrying a small suitcase.
Kent—officially locked in a deer-in-headlights expression—
followed behind with two bags.
Evan’s expression was tight, so Matt did his best to
shoot him a loving smile. It worked at least a little bit.
“Wine and cheese when you get back down?” he asked,
dry and fancy at the same time. Evan rolled his eyes.
“Sounds delightful.”
Matt laughed.
“We have some other people coming,” Matt said, half
in the fridge and half out, after the party went upstairs.
“Friends of ours.”
“Ohhhh, how nice. Another gay couple?”
It sounded so weird the way she said it—no judgment
just…eagerness.
“Uh, no. Evan’s partner and her boyfriend.” Did they
know other gay couples? There was Griffin and James, but
they were on the West Coast. And a few people from the
GLBT group at the NYPD, but no one they really socialized
with on a regular basis.
“More policemen!” The strange tone was back. It
suddenly occurred to Matt that maybe “cop” bothered her
more than “gay.”
Well, that was going to make things interesting.
They settled down as a group in the living room, with
plates of cheese, meats, and bread, and two bottles of wine.
The kids perched closest to the food, clutching their sodas,
though Katie cast a few longing glances at the wine.
Evan’s expression stopped that pretty quickly.
“So how long have you two been together?” Cornelia
asked just as Matt was attempting to eat a cracker heaped
with salami. He tried not to choke.
“Uh…four years,” Evan provided while Matt chewed.
“So the kids are…”
“Mine. My wife passed away five and a half years
ago.” Evan’s voice was cool as he regarded Cornelia over
the rim of his glass. Matt chewed faster, and Katie got a
grateful nod when she handed him his drink.
Cornelia blinked. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said
carefully. It was clear she wanted to ask more but didn’t
know how to say “Then how did you end up with a dude?”
for which Matt was eternally grateful.
Kent and Miranda were sitting to Matt’s left, and he
watched as the young man moved uncomfortably in his seat.
Miranda had a tight hold on his arm, but the tension between
the two was obvious. Any pleasure at Miranda’s plans
backfiring on her now became sympathy—this kid had no
clue what he was walking into, and it was probably tough to
know his girlfriend had done it on purpose.
“So a nursery—interesting. What sort of stuff do you
sell?” Matt asked, loud and diverting. “Like flowers and
bushes?”
Blake leaped into the discussion of his business with
both feet and embraced the change of topic enthusiastically.
For the next thirty minutes Matt learned everything he ever
wanted to about the flora-and-fauna business and what sort
of trees would thrive in their front yard.
“I would be glad to draw you up a detailed plan,”
Blake said before gulping down half of his wine.
“That would be so nice, thank you.” Evan glanced at his
watch. “Maybe we should start getting things ready for
dinner. Helena and Shane should be here soon.” Matt started
to get up, but Evan raised his hand. “Miranda, why don’t you
come help me?”
No one in the room could mistake that question for an
actual request. Miranda unclenched Kent’s arm and stood up
reluctantly, feet scuffing along the rug as she followed
Evan’s ramrod-straight back out of the room.
Matt exchanged a look with Katie, then turned back to
Blake and Cornelia.
“So lilac bushes for the walkway…”
Chapter Eight
“I swear to God, Miranda, I am so sick of your games.”
Evan’s angry whisper exploded out of him as he turned on
his daughter. They were in the kitchen, but the open floor
plan meant they had to keep their voices down—not an easy
feat since Evan was about to scream his frustration from the
mountaintop.
“I don’t know…” was all she got out before Evan
stepped into her personal space.
“You don’t know what? You didn’t tell Kent or his
parents about Matt; you didn’t explain your family situation
—why? So you could orchestrate an uncomfortable meeting?
So you could embarrass me? All you succeeded in doing is
upsetting your boyfriend—who you supposedly love.”
“I do love him!” Miranda’s face crumpled. “You don’t
understand.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t know why you would try to cause
drama for your family or your boyfriend or his parents. I
don’t understand you at all.”
A flash of anger heated her face. “Yeah, we’ve
established that.”
“Don’t start with the abandonment thing again, because
it’s crap and you know it.” Evan’s voice started to rise. “I’m
not going to continually apologize for my life choices to you.
My God, Miranda if your mother was here…”
Miranda’s expression went stone-cold furious, and
Evan almost took a step back from her anger.
“If Mom were here? If Mom were here, I’d have a
normal family and a normal life, and I’d be introducing Kent
and his parents to my mother and father, not my father and the
guy he fucks.” Her breath caught as she swallowed a sob. “If
Mom were alive, I would be happy, but what do you care.
You replaced her. You’re fine. But some of us aren’t so
lucky.”
The words dropped between them, lead weight and hate
crashing through the floor. Evan’s heart stopped for a
second, the vitriol behind her words causing him actual pain.
Because he had nothing to say to that, nothing at all.
Sherri was gone, and he missed her every day, but he’d
moved on, to something else, something beautiful and real.
But Miranda had never done that, and now the true depth of
that was too naked in her expression to ignore.
“Miranda,” he started, his own voice breathless and
fraught with emotion. “Your mother is gone, and I wish she
wasn’t…”
“No, you don’t.” Miranda shook in her anger. “You’re
lying. You have Matt. You mean to tell me if you could
choose, bring her back or keep him, you’d pick Mom?”
This was the dangerous edge, the impossible question
he never let himself ask. It had no answer because it would
never happen, but still…still.
“I can’t answer that, because I don’t have to,” he
whispered, honest and true. “I can’t bring her back. That has
nothing to do with Matt.”
Clearly frustrated, Miranda put her hands over her eyes.
Evan touched her arm gently, but she flinched away.
“You don’t understand,” was all she managed. She
turned, ducking around the counter and heading for the stairs.
Evan started to go after her, his body registering “protective
father mode” even as he knew he couldn’t ease this pain for
her. He stayed where he was, rooted to the spot, a fist in his
heart.
Chapter Nine
“Excuse me,” Matt said as soon as Miranda ran past
and up the stairs. He gave Katie a glance as he stood up. She
slid into his spot on the chair, her smile bright and animated.
“Did you guys have to go to school for that? To own a
nursery?” she asked politely, and Jesus, Matt was putting so
much extra money in her account next month…
He walked into the kitchen and found exactly what he
was expecting, Evan standing in the middle of the floor,
looking devastated and hopelessly lost.
“Baby?” It was a multitude of questions in one—are
you okay? Can I do anything? What do you need?—and Evan
responded by pulling Matt into a tight embrace as soon as he
was close enough. But even as Matt slid his arms around
him, he felt his lover tense up.
“What?” he asked, mouth against Evan’s ear.
Evan shook his head, clinging tighter, tension vibrating
his entire body.
The doorbell rang in the other room.
”I’ll get it!” Elizabeth yelled, loud enough for everyone
in the house to hear.
“Helena and Shane I’m guessing, unless it’s the men in
the white coats,” Matt whispered, stroking the back of
Evan’s neck. “I’ll go say hey. You get busy with the food,
and I’ll keep everyone out of the way.” He kept adding
words, hoping that one of them would stop the shuddering of
the man in his arms.
Evan nodded, pushing his way out of Matt’s embrace
clumsily. When he looked up at Matt, his face was etched
with grief.
“I love you. You know that, right?” he asked, soft and
sad.
“Of course.” There was no sarcasm there, not in that
moment. Matt could feel Evan’s conflict and his retreat into
bad memories and painful places.
They stood like that for a long second, a tableau of
anxiety, until Evan turned away.
Matt paused but didn’t stop himself from leaving the
kitchen.
As if by telepathy, Helena and Shane filled the quiet of
the living room with happy chatter. Shane loved an audience,
and he didn’t mind pulling out the “well, I’m a Broadway
playwright” card for a new crowd. He told a few animated
stories about opening nights and celebrity gossip, all of
which reduced the tension in the room from code red to
politely strained. Matt had never loved Shane more.
He refilled drinks and tried to be unobtrusive, even as
everyone attempted to catch his eye for some silent
communication.
What’s wrong? They all wanted to know.
He thought that was obvious, but maybe not.
Evan came out a half hour later to request the kids come
set the table. Kent cast a look upstairs to where Miranda had
disappeared, and a small part of Matt was irritated with his
youth and indecision.
“Why don’t you go up and let Miranda know it’s almost
time to eat,” he said finally.
Kent looked grateful as he cast a sideways glance to his
parents, who didn’t seem all that impressed with Miranda’s
disappearing act.
The younger generation scattered as Helena and Shane
continued to try and brook some sort of conversation with
Blake and Cornelia. Matt mostly stayed out of it, his attention
diverted between the kitchen and the dining room.
“So, Matt, what is it you do again? Security?” Cornelia
was staring at him when he brought his attention to her, that
same indecipherable look as in the kitchen.
“Security
consulting.”
He
smiled,
cool
and
businesslike. “I make suggestions for a particular client
regarding his home and business security needs.”
He sounded like a brochure.
“Ah.”
“How are they doing? Bennett said you were out there a
few weeks ago?” Shane leaned against the arm of the chair,
his fingers tight with Helena’s.
When they all first met, Shane and Bennett seemed to
have a…thing. Not too long after, Bennett was with Daisy,
and Shane called Helena for a date. As far as that went, Matt
asked zero questions.
“Yeah. Checked out the new house.” Matt shook his
head. “It’s massive. I still don’t have enough cameras to start
installation. They’re gonna have to wait till after the baby’s
born.”
“Which I assume will be in Fort Knox,” Shane said,
clearly amused. “That baby is going to make Michael
Jackson’s kids look unattended.”
“You know he asked me to check out the hospital.” Matt
glanced over at Blake and Cornelia who were following the
conversation. “Mutual friend. My main client.” They didn’t
need to know his only client, thank you very much. “He’s a
little overprotective of his wife.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Helena offered. She looked down
at Shane with loving eyes and a sharp smile. “And if you
ever went into that level of lockdown with me, there would
be tears. All of them yours.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Shane snickered, lifting her hand to kiss
the inside of her wrist. Helena blushed, and Matt let out a
quiet hoot.
“Shut up, you.”
“Sorry, you two are just so precious and adorable,” he
cooed. “I wish your mom was here to see this…”
“Ugh.” Helena untangled herself from Shane and stood
up. “I’m going to help Evan whether he likes it or not.”
“No problem, I’ll tease you later.”
“I am carrying, just an FYI.” Helena put her hands on
her hips, and Matt didn’t doubt she had her shoulder holster
on.
“So am I. Whoop-de-do.” Matt wasn’t actually
carrying. The gun was upstairs in a lockbox, and it didn’t
occur to him until he glanced over at Blake and Cornelia
how uncomfortable they might be with this conversation.
They looked absolutely horrified.
“Shoo. Go do helpful things in the kitchen. There’s a
first time for everything,” Matt said quickly. Shane laughed,
and Kent’s parents smiled uncomfortably.
He sighed inwardly. “More wine?”
Chapter Ten
Evan had everything in serving dishes and on platters.
He had put Katie in charge of the salad because holding a
knife didn’t seem like a good decision on his part at this
point. He still felt wired and sad over his argument with
Miranda, and still at a complete loss on how to talk to her
about this. And how the hell to entertain these people, these
strangers in the living room.
“Come on, Sherri. A little divine guidance wouldn’t
hurt,” he whispered, feeling a stab of betrayal at invoking her
name.
If someone offered him a time machine right now, what
the hell would he do?
No, he knew exactly what he’d do. He’d go back in
time and switch places with Sherri, so she would live and he
would die, because a coward’s retreat was his only answer
to that King-Solomon-level decision.
“Daddy? Salad’s ready.” Katie was at his elbow, her
eyes wide with concern. He felt a jolt of guilt for favoring
her. It wasn’t Miranda’s fault she didn’t cope as well as her
sister.
“Thanks, honey. Just put it on the table.”
“’Kay.” Katie waited, arms crossed over her bright
blue sweater. It made her eyes shockingly vibrant. “Um, are
you all right? Can I do something?”
Evan didn’t hesitate to take Katie in his arms, hugging
her tightly. She hugged him back, snuggling her face against
his shoulder like she had when she was a little girl.
“There. That was exactly what I needed,” he
whispered, stroking her long blonde curls. Over her shoulder
he could see the wide-eyed stares of Danny and Elizabeth.
Evan smiled as best he could, gesturing with one hand.
“C’mere.”
When even Danny didn’t drag his feet, Evan knew this
was necessary and clearly all his kids were stressing out
over this. Elizabeth wrapped herself around his other side,
with Danny squeezing in between his sisters. Sometimes it
was easy to laugh off Miranda’s antics, and sometimes it
was a punch to the gut.
Group hugs—he was going to have to implement them
more often.
“I wish Miranda was here too,” Elizabeth whispered,
and Evan felt his heart plummet again.
“Me too.” Evan kissed each of them on the forehead in
turn, murmuring “I love you,” three times. The hole in the
circle was too prominent to pretend not to see—Miranda
was difficult, and the family worked better without her. But
that wasn’t the way family worked.
They stepped apart, each hovering for a second before
going back to their tasks. Evan looked up to see Helena near
the far counter, waiting quietly.
“You okay?” she mouthed, and he shook his head.
“Miranda?”
Evan nodded.
Helena clearly struggled not to make a face. She was of
the “tell her to cut the shit out or else” school of thought and
made no bones about it with Evan. He turned away to grab
another set of spoons from the drawer.
“Can you tell everyone dinner is ready?” he asked,
resigned.
“Sure.”
The trek into the dining room was filled with strained
chatter and Matt directing everyone to their chairs. He put
Blake and Cornelia across from Shane and Helena, the kids
at the end where Evan sat, and left two seats at his end of the
table.
Evan tried not to look at the empty chairs.
Cornelia and Blake exchanged murmurs, and she let out
a loud huff. A second later she was standing, her face tight.
“Excuse me for a moment. I’m going to get my son.”
As she stormed away from the table, Blake shot Evan
an apologetic look.
“So hey, everything looks great,” Matt said, clearly
exasperated as he sat down, already reaching for the bottle
of wine closest to him.
“Delicious!” Helena added, her glass all but thrust
under the stream of wine Matt was pouring.
“Smells amazing.” Shane nodded, his handsome face
stuck in a polite but horrified rictus. Evan felt pity for him;
he assumed he was wishing to be in Florida, being grilled
about his intentions toward Serena’s daughter.
From upstairs came the distant sounds of loud
conversation, followed by two slammed doors, and then a
clatter of steps down the staircase. Evan tried to smile at
Elizabeth who was hiding behind her hair.
Cornelia appeared first, red cheeked, her hair no longer
perfectly arranged. She sat down with a thump.
Matt filled her glass without comment.
Kent and Miranda slunk in next, both of them looking
anywhere but at the people at the table—and certainly not at
each other. They sat down, with Kent closest to Matt and
Miranda tucked between her boyfriend and Shane.
No one said a word.
“Someone should really say grace,” Katie said, so
painfully dry that Evan had to stifle a laugh.
Matt didn’t bother.
“Kathleen, that should probably be you,” Evan chided,
winking at his second born to make sure she knew he wasn’t
mad.
“Righto.”
Everyone bowed their heads and clasped hands in the
least religious display Evan had ever seen.
“Um…okay. Thanks to everyone that brought dinner to
this table, and for family and friends, and being grateful for
the people we love,” Katie said sweetly. “Even when they
make us crazy.”
Matt coughed.
“Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone else said to varying degrees of
enthusiasm.
Evan sneaked a look down the table at Miranda, but she
wouldn’t turn her head.
And the platters began to make their way around the
oval.
Polite, murmured conversation and the sounds of
chewing, clinking, and clanging filled the room. Evan got up
twice to refill bowls and platters, and Matt broke out three
more bottles of wine. They shared a dozen or so lingering
looks down the table at each other—each one was
progressively more desperate.
When Evan checked the clock and saw it was only six,
he legitimately wanted to burst into tears.
“That was delicious,” Blake said, clearing his throat in
Evan’s direction. “My compliments.”
“We did a fair amount of catering but…thanks.” Evan
tried to match the other man’s smile; he looked as nervous
and anxious as Evan felt.
“Regardless. It was kind of you to host us.” Blake
seemed to be gearing up for something. At his side, Cornelia
didn’t look all that thrilled, and a quick glance at Kent
relayed the same emotion. Maybe Blake was the only one
who felt the need to be polite at this point.
“My pleasure.” Evan looked down the table at Matt and
smiled. “Our pleasure.”
Miranda made a sound; something between a scoff and
a sigh, and Evan’s blood pressure went through the roof yet
again, but he didn’t react. No. Just took a sip of water and
rearranged his napkin a few times.
A chair scraped, and Evan was surprised to see Kent
standing up, his face pink, and his mouth in a tight line.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, his voice tight. He
left the table, back ramrod straight and shoulders bunched.
Cornelia was frowning, Blake was frowning, and
Miranda’s
face—devoid
of
color—raised
Evan’s
sympathies once again.
“You know what? I could use some air.” Matt pushed
his chair back, smiling genially.
Blake nodded. “Me too.”
“I do too, but something tells me I’m loading the
dishwasher,” Katie mumbled.
Shane leaned forward to shoot her a wink. “In my house
the people who load the dishwasher get first crack at dessert.
Wanna adopt that tradition?”
“Yes!” Danny was gathering plates a second later.
In a flurry of activity, the table was cleared, and Matt
and Blake had disappeared out the front door, most likely in
search of Kent. Miranda hovered near the doorway, clearly
at a loss for what to do next. And Evan watched Katie
glaring a hole in her sister’s head.
“Ease up,” he said quietly as they leaned over the sink.
“No.” Katie sighed as she scraped off a plate into the
disposal. “She’s ruining the holiday. Again. She’s making
that poor skinny boy so upset. And I’m sick of it.”
“She’s…she’s just missing Mom…” Evan couldn’t help
but stand up for Miranda.
“Really? Seriously? Me too.” Katie slammed the plate
on the counter. “All the time. But you know what? I don’t
feel the need to make everyone feel like shit.”
The whispers and plate slamming caught Cornelia’s
attention, which was exactly what Evan didn’t want. He put
his arm around Katie’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Relax. Please?”
Katie let out a frustrated sigh. “Right. I’m the good one.
I’m not supposed to get pissed.”
It was said without heat, without malice, just a heavy
dose of reality.
“You can be pissed all you want. I’m just trying to get
through dessert without Cornelia calling social services on
me,” Evan tried to joke.
“They think we’re awful and crazy, don’t they?”
“Yeah. I was worried about the gay thing. I totally
forgot the emotionally constipated and explosive drama
stuff.”
“We should come with a warning label, Dad.”
Helena supervised the rest of the cleanup, and Shane
kept pulling Cornelia into conversation after conversation.
Evan owed him at least a kidney by the time they got
everything put away and the coffee started.
“If you ever need anything—internal organ. A getaway
car. Seriously—I’m there for you,” Evan murmured to Shane
as they reentered the dining room.
The younger man snorted. “Aw come on—this is fun.
It’s also ending up in my next play so…forewarned.”
“God, at least make me have more hair and more
patience.”
“Deal.”
“Excuse me, Evan?”
He turned to find Cornelia still in the kitchen, arms
folded over her chest.
“Can I get you something?” he asked, still holding on to
his politeness.
“Actually I’d like to speak with you for a moment in the
kitchen.”
It was a summoning, and Shane whistled as he headed
in the opposite direction.
Lucky.
Evan turned on his heel, following Cornelia into the
kitchen. He knew there were any number of things that she
might be pissed about—from the drama to the host of
surprises. Crafting apologies started as soon as they stepped
into the room.
“Evan, I just wanted to say I appreciate you hosting us
for Thanksgiving, but I’m just…I’m not sure I feel supportive
of Kent and Miranda’s relationship.” Her words were a
rush. He could hear the anger and stress fueling each
syllable.
He nodded, the urge to defend his daughter automatic.
“They’re young and…”
“It was nothing to do with age. Blake and I were
married at nineteen.” She frowned. “I just don’t think
Miranda is the sort of person I want my son associating
with.”
Evan’s mood soured from apologetic to excuse me?
and he quickly matched Cornelia’s expression.
“She’s having some issues with her mother’s death—
that’s not really a character defect.” His tone could cut
concrete.
“No, it’s not. But it is being used as a weapon with my
son being a pawn in her little game. I’m not blind, Evan. And
I’m not stupid. She set us up by not saying anything about you
living with another man. She was assuming we were
homophobes, and that is just…insulting.” Her face turned
red, her eyes glassy with tears. “She is using Kent as revenge
and…and…you know, we’ve heard nothing but good things
from him for months. He’s crazy about her.”
Evan sighed. “I’m sorry for Miranda’s behavior, and I
understand your frustration.”
“You do? How nice. Do you also understand that our
values are very different than yours?”
That took him aback.
“What are you talking about?”
“We are very antigun in our household, and to be
staying here without being told in advance…”
That was blindsiding at its most surprising. Evan
couldn’t wrap his mind around what she was saying for a
moment. “Told what? That we have guns in the house? I’m a
policeman. Matt and I are very comfortable with firearms
and storing them safely.” Evan’s hackles were up now.
“I’m supposed to take your word for it? Everything
about this visit has been misrepresented by your daughter.”
Cornelia’s voice hit a higher pitch.
“You came here without knowing anything about us—
how is that my fault? Pick up the damn phone if you’re so
particular about the kind of people you spend time with,”
Evan snapped. “It’s not my responsibility.”
That brought a nasty expression to Cornelia’s face.
“No, your responsibility is raising a child with the right
values and morals—I’m surprised she hasn’t announced
she’s pregnant yet.”
The first thought to flash through Evan’s head was
“Lady, get the fuck out of my house” but self-control
prevailed. Barely.
“You don’t know my daughter, and you don’t know me,
so kindly refrain from making judgments like that,” he
managed to get out. “And please feel free to get your bags
and find a gunless hotel.”
Evan turned on his heel, heading for the back door
because there was no way he could face anyone at this
moment. The sliding door thumped behind him as he walked
onto the deck.
Fury ate through his stomach. He tightened his hands
into fists, pacing in wild circles as fallen leaves crunched
under his feet.
The nerve. The fucking nerve. He needed to find
Miranda and get control back, but for the moment, he wasn’t
going near anybody.
Chapter Eleven
“Soooo,” Matt said as he and Blake walked down the
front steps. “Fun family times. All we need is someone
announcing they’re gay, and a drunken fistfight, and I think
we qualify for a reality show.”
Blake laughed, running both hands through his hair. Matt
figured he was a good approximation of what Kent would
look like in his forties, once he gained about forty pounds
and spent some time in the sun.
“I’m not really prepared for stuff like this. It’s been just
the three of us for years, and this is…”
“Chaos. Sorry. We really should come with a warning
label.” Matt tucked his hands in his pockets, turning left as
they hit the sidewalk. About three houses down, he spotted
Kent, who was walking slowly with the occasional kick to
an imaginary rock.
“No, no. I understand. Well, I think I understand.” Blake
shrugged. “I take it Miranda and Evan don’t always get
along.”
“Polite understatement. I like that.” Matt sighed.
“They’re a lot alike. Same exact fighting styles. It’s like an
emotional cockfight most of the time. Plus…you know,
Miranda doesn’t exactly love me being around.” It was a
reality he wasn’t particularly fond of, but he also wasn’t a
stupid man. He knew Miranda never warmed to him like the
other three had. He knew about the resentment and the anger.
He knew how much she missed Sherri.
And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about any of
it.
“Ah. The other kids…”
“What can I say—natural charm and bribery worked
really well with them.” He shrugged. “Miranda misses her
mom, and I’m a constant living reminder how she isn’t here
anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” Blake matched his steps as they got closer
to where Kent was. “I was a real jerk to my stepmother for
years. For what it’s worth, I regret it. And we’ve made our
peace.”
“Well, I’ll keep hoping then,” Matt said, though deep
down, the fear never quite left him.
What if Evan were better off without him?
“Hey, son,” Blake called out. Kent turned around, his
face pale under the blotchy red spots on his forehead and
cheeks. He looked about four seconds away from tears, and
Matt found himself suddenly sad.
Young love sucked. Old love wasn’t much easier, but at
least you had some scar tissue built up around your heart to
make it hurt a little less.
“Hey, Dad. Sorry about that.” Kent wrapped his arms
around his chest. They were all cold, Matt realized. And
most likely the other two were no more interested in
returning to Tension House than he was.
“It’s okay, kid. I think we get it.” Matt tried to smile
reassuringly. “Just some rocky stuff. Totally normal.”
Kent’s mouth wobbled as he tried to form words. “She
lied. Or at least she left stuff out.” He looked at Matt
apologetically. “You and Mr. Cerelli being together. It
wouldn’t have mattered to me. It doesn’t.”
“Well—good. I’m glad to hear that,” Matt teased the
kid gently. “Because I’m old and set in my ways.”
“I’m just confused. I thought we were, you know, honest
with each other.” He looked so crestfallen.
Blake gave his son’s arm a squeeze, and Matt took a
moment to appreciate the kind of father this guy was. He
wasn’t smothering, but he did let the kid know he was there
for him.
“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Matt said,
dropping his voice a bit. He made a show of looking left,
then right. “Cerellis are amazing people. Smart,
passionate…stubborn, secretive, and they go from ten to a
hundred in five seconds flat, no matter what the emotion.” He
winked. “They hate to be wrong, even when they really,
really are.”
“So I shouldn’t hold my breath for an apology?”
“No—but that doesn’t mean you won’t get one. You
have to talk to her though, let her know why you’re hurt.
Spell it out a little.”
Kent sighed.
“Yeah, I know. Not all hearts and flowers.”
“It’s just a lot more complicated than I thought,” he
admitted.
Matt and Blake laughed. “Oh wait, it gets worse,” the
boy’s father said.
They took the long way home, a loop around the
neighborhood, making small talk before approaching the
house. Sports, school, Kent’s internship at a nonprofit. No
one had thought to bring their cell phone, so they were
essentially coming in blind—which made finding Miranda
sitting on the stairs and Cornelia in the car all the more fun.
“Ah okay. You each take a significant other. I’m going
to make sure Evan isn’t on the roof…” Matt gave them each
a wink.
He and Miranda exchanged a cool look before he
walked inside. That was a conversation he was scheduling
for half past never fucking ever because frankly, he didn’t
feel like being either the adult or the bigger person. Screw it
—he was immature and vindictive. Kent was a nice kid, and
Miranda deserved to get dumped.
Let her learn a lesson about manipulating people. Let
her feel the sting of betraying someone’s trust. It might curtail
this sort of bullshit before she got older—who knew what
damage she could do to a kid?
He was four steps in the foyer when one of those pesky
realization things hit him in the face.
Oh. Right.
“Thanks, Mom, as always,” he murmured drily.
The television was on—football—with Shane napping
in the easy chair and Danny sacked across the sofa with
inelegant ease. He looked up as Matt passed by. They
exchanged shrugs and eye rolls, which made Matt feel as
warm as a hug.
“Dad?”
“Out back, pacing. You know, I was thinking we need a
woodpile and an ax out there so he can whack stuff when he
gets like this,” Danny deadpanned.
Matt was clearly raising this boy right.
“Your dad and sharp objects are never a good idea.
Plus we don’t have a fireplace.” Matt gestured to the empty
seats in the room.
“Helena, Katie, and Elizabeth are in the back room
checking out the Black Friday sales.” He shook his head.
“Oh, and that lady and Dad had a huge fight, and she got her
bags. So we’ll have extra dessert.”
“Good to know.” Matt clapped his hands together, and
Shane startled in his sleep. “Off to deal with your dad.”
Danny snickered.
Matt walked through the clean kitchen and to the back
deck, pausing at the sliding-glass door to watch his lover
making a wide circuit, dodging stacked chairs and the
covered grill on his way. A shaft of sadness hit his gut, the
never-ending frustration of how he couldn’t quite help Evan
find the peace he so desperately needed. They’d gotten
closer. Better. Days and weeks when things were quiet and
comfortable and happy. Then a bump and more often than
not, the spiral of Evan’s moods.
He spent a lot of time talking to his friend slash
therapist Liz about this, more time in semi-fake therapy than
Evan ever had. It was something he had to deal with—not
just Evan’s moods, but the fact that it wasn’t his job to fix
them.
Except he couldn’t help but keep trying.
Matt pushed the door open and stepped onto the deck.
Another burst of late-November wind blew by, and he
wished he’d remembered a coat this time. He could barely
feel his hands at this point.
“Hey,” he called, deceptively casual. His hands went in
his pockets, trying to get some feeling back in his fingers.
Evan paused. When he turned, Matt could see his
expression was…lost. That somehow hurt worse than the
sadness he was expecting.
“Hey.”
“Did they leave?”
“Noooo. I think Blake was going to talk to Cornelia. PS
—he’s a good guy. So’s his kid. Kent and Miranda—who
knows.” Matt took a few steps toward Evan. “The ladies are
spending your money, Shane is in a turkey coma, and Danny
just wants his fair share of pie.”
“Today has turned out worse than I imagined. And
that’s impressive considering how pessimistic I am.”
Matt closed the distance between them. When their
shoulders touched, he pushed gently against Evan’s side.
“It’s not that bad.”
Evan shook his head. “You don’t know…”
“What? What don’t I know?”
“Miranda’s really…” Evan looked away. Matt—
because he knew, he always knew—reached down to take
his hand.
“Miranda really secretly hates me? Except not so
secretly?” he asked gently.
“It’s not hate.”
“No, it’s misplaced anger. I get it.” Matt squeezed their
fingers together. “Not gonna lie and pretend it doesn’t matter,
because it hurts my feelings like a motherfucker.”
Evan turned back, his face locked into a painful
grimace. “I don’t—I honestly don’t know what to do.”
“I can volunteer to move out for a while, let Miranda
come back here and…”
But Evan was shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
“She’s your kid. And I can go stay at the work site for a
few weeks.” Matt’s voice was sure even as his heart hurt.
But he would do it, without a second thought, if it meant
easing the expression of defeat on Evan’s face. “The kids
come first.”
Evan sagged next to him even as the grip on his hand got
harder. “I don’t want to be manipulated like that. And in the
end, what does it matter? You’ll come back, and she’ll be
angry.”
Matt opened his mouth to say more, to be so graciously
self-sacrificing, but Evan’s eyes narrowed, and the
downturned mouth morphed into something angry.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Fine,” Matt said, halfway between breezy and pained.
“I was just going for my martyr badge.”
“Shut up.”
Evan leaned over for a kiss, taking Matt’s mouth with a
ferocity usually reserved for a few too many beers and no
kids at home. He pulled him closer, manipulating their
bodies until they were flush together, chest to chest.
He was bitten and licked until his lips hurt. Matt didn’t
push back—he just let Evan have his way, pent-up anger and
sadness and frustration and confusion taken out on his mouth.
And when Matt pulled away for some desperately needed
air, the fierce hunger on his lover’s face melted his spine.
“I love you. And I’m not choosing.”
Matt’s chest hurt; he guessed it was his heart trying to
beat right out of his chest. He touched Evan’s face gently,
just his fingers stroking the curve of his jaw. “I love you
too.”
They kissed again, easy and chaste.
Chapter Twelve
Hand in hand, Evan and Matt walked back into the
kitchen. Matt muttered something about coffee. He gave
Evan’s hand one more squeeze, then moved away to get
warm. Evan watched him for a moment with a loving gaze.
The thought of him leaving… Once upon a time he might
have said yes. Might have agreed to the separation to gain
some control over the situation. But unlike that previous
incarnation, Evan didn’t operate on fear anymore. And the
idea of Matt not being there, with him, with the family, made
him sick to his stomach.
He wasn’t choosing. But there had to be a better way to
convey that to Miranda. Because just like he wasn’t choosing
one over the other, he didn’t want his daughter to keep
drifting away.
The dining room was abuzz with conversation as he
walked in. The younger kids were at the table with Shane,
Helena, and Blake. A deck of colorful cards was set up in
the center, with Elizabeth marking scores neatly on a legal
pad.
“Hi, Daddy.” His daughter smiled up at him, tentative
as she tried to gauge his mood. He didn’t hesitate to walk
over.
“Hi, sweetheart. Who’s winning?” Evan put his arm
around Elizabeth, stroking her hair.
“Blake.”
“Congrats—they’re all ruthless card sharks at this
game.” He gave the other man a nod.
“I can see that.” Blake smiled, friendly and open—very
different than the argument Evan had had with Cornelia. Who
wasn’t anywhere to be found. “I’m holding on to a slim lead,
I assure you.”
Helena cracked the deck in her hand, shuffling it like a
Vegas pro. “Undercover at an illegal gambling operation,”
she said to Shane, who was giving her a strange look.
“Wow.” Shane’s gaze went to full adoration.
“Where’s everyone else?” Evan ventured.
“Kent and Miranda are taking a walk,” Elizabeth
reported, ever the family busybody.
“Cornelia is taking a little nap,” Blake added, smooth
and nonplussed.
“Ah.” Evan guessed that meant her storming out had
been aborted in the driveway. Which meant this wasn’t over
yet, not by a long shot. “Well, I’m going to get dessert on the
counter. Matt’s making coffee.”
“I love him. He’s my favorite,” Helena muttered,
dealing the cards counterclockwise.
Katie was looking intently at each card tossed her way.
She looked up at his face with too-wise eyes. “Need any
help?”
“Matt and I have it.” Evan winked at her. “But maybe
later.”
“’Kay.” She went back to her hand, and the round soon
began, leaving Evan a spectator. Once again he was
overwhelmed with his love for his kids. They were growing
up so fast, and yet he could see with such clarity their faces
at each age, each stage of life. Then Matt rumbled in behind
him, and the moment was broken.
“Coffee in ten,” he said, pressing up against Evan’s
back. They were still in that moment of closeness, not quite
ready to stay away from each other.
“Is there tea?” Shane peeked up from behind his fan of
cards.
“No, sorry. We’re out of hot water.”
Evan elbowed Matt.
“Be nice to my boyfriend,” Helena warned, taking a
card from the deck.
“I was just pretending to be Vic for a moment,” Matt
said sweetly. He dropped a kiss on Evan’s cheek. “Next I’m
going to be your mom.”
Shane shivered dramatically, which earned him an
elbow in the side of his own.
The front door slamming caught everyone’s attention.
Evan knew the stomping up the stairs that followed was
clearly Miranda’s—he’d learned that very distinctive sound
over the years.
“Excuse…”
“No, that’s okay. I’m going up,” Katie said, cutting him
off. Her cards hit the table as she stood up, anger barely
restrained in her slender form. “My big sister and I need to
have a little girl talk.”
It was on the tip of Evan’s tongue to stop Katie, to
handle it himself, but he was reminded that Miranda was a
young adult—and so was Katie.
So Evan nodded.
“Go get ’em,” Matt murmured, and Katie shot him a
grateful glance.
“Save me pie,” she said, stalking out of the dining room
with a determined set of her shoulders.
“No promises!” Danny yelled, before dropping his last
card and winning the game.
Evan distracted himself by taking the desserts out and
laid them on the kitchen counter not to disrupt the game going
on in the other room. It had reached a fever pitch, as the top
three players were only separated by five points.
“Lightning round!” Elizabeth squealed, and the faint
sound of G-rated trash talk began. Matt set the coffee on the
table, pouring himself a large mug before surrendering the
pot.
“You think we should find the wayward members of our
party?” Matt asked, leaning against the fridge.
“No.”
Matt laughed at his blunt honesty.
“You going to tell me about what happened between
you and Cornelia?”
“Oh right. You missed that. Well, she hates guns,
doesn’t seem to love cops all that much, and thinks I’m a bad
parent raising a daughter with shitty values.” Evan rattled
around the silverware drawer, trying to remember if they had
a cake-server thingy.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“She’s not getting any pie, that’s for sure.”
A scream of victory went up in the other room.
Elizabeth, clearly. A round of applause followed.
“I won!” Elizabeth skipped into the kitchen, a bright
smile on her face. She stopped next to Evan for a hug. “I won
by twenty points!”
“Impressive comeback.” Matt leaned over to give her a
high five.
“Shane is pretending to cry.” She snickered. “Helena
said he was clearly broken and would need extra whipped
cream on his pumpkin pie.”
Matt snapped his fingers. “That’s what I forgot.”
“No tea, no whipped cream, and he lost. What a terrible
day.” Helena walked into the kitchen, a wry smile on her
face.
“You’ll have to make it up to him,” Matt said drily over
Elizabeth’s head—literally and figuratively.
Helena fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Any sounds from upstairs?” Evan went into the fridge
for the conciliatory cream.
“No. But Kent came in a while ago. He seemed mostly
okay.”
Evan didn’t say anything with Elizabeth in the room, but
he added the boy to his list of people to talk to from now
until whenever he and his family roared away from this
mess.
“Honey, go get everyone okay?”
“Sure.” Elizabeth ducked out of the room.
“I have to tell you, this was so much more exciting than
getting grilled about my marital status in Florida,” Helena
said, taking the two cans of nondairy heaven out of Evan’s
hands. “Sincerely.”
“When I talk to Vic on Monday I’m going to mention
you were looking at baby clothes online.”
Her face crumpled into a scowl. “Lies.”
Matt’s “Ha!” bounced off the walls.
“Shane’s cute and rich. You should bag that sperm
ASAP.”
“Your boyfriend is a terrible human being.” She pointed
the nozzles at Matt in a threatening manner.
The kitchen suddenly filled with humans; the kids
barely restraining themselves not to rush the table, the adults
falling back—and sniffing out the coffee. Matt put himself in
charge of that, filling cups and directing people to milk and
sugar.
They were a well-oiled team, serving guests and
making chitchat. Kent hovered on the edge of the group, not
protesting when Matt handed him a coffee cup and Blake
presented him with a huge plate of apple pie.
Evan let himself relax briefly, to enjoy the lack of
tension in the room for a brief moment. He listened to the
conversation—the teasing between Matt, Helena, and Shane,
the detailed debate on ice cream versus whipped cream
being held by the twins, Blake and Kent murmuring
comforting words to each other in the corner. It was fun and
the way he wanted this day to go for everyone.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to Matt, who had landed by
his side in search of more pecan pie.
“Upstairs?” His boyfriend’s face was a mask of
concern.
“Yeah.”
Matt just nodded, mouthing an I love you before turning
back to his conversation with their friends.
Evan slipped upstairs, walking slowly through the quiet
house. He felt a heaviness descending, but he tried to hold
the lighthearted togetherness of the kitchen in his heart for a
little bit longer.
At Katie’s door he paused, then listened against the
wood. The quiet murmur of voices confirmed they were in
there. He hesitated. Knocked.
“Who is it?” Katie asked.
“Dad.”
A slight scuffle of noises and a second later the door
opened to reveal a tense Katie. Miranda was on the bed
behind her, hands wringing in her lap, and a pile of tissues at
her side. She looked miserable.
“Can I come in?” Evan asked his daughter. She turned
to look at Miranda.
Who shrugged.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely, following Katie inside,
then shutting the door behind him. He lingered, back against
the door, while Katie went back to her bed, sitting beside her
sister.
“You okay?”
Miranda shrugged again, eyes directed to her lap.
“Kent’s probably breaking up with me,” she murmured, her
voice full of tears.
Evan counted to ten, breathing evenly. “I’m sorry. He
seems like a nice guy,” he said, neutral as hell.
She looked up at that.
“A nice guy who didn’t deserve to come into this and
be surprised,” he added. And thank God his parenting
resources were in there somewhere, because Miranda’s head
dropped, clearly ashamed.
“I didn’t lie to him,” she whispered, a last flare of
defensiveness.
“Leaving out vital information is still lying,” Katie said,
irritated. “Embarrassing him and his parents with your
behavior was just crappy.”
Miranda looked back up. “You don’t understand…”
“Yeah, I do. And I’m sick of you punishing Dad.”
Miranda’s body tensed. She looked from Katie to Evan
and back again. “I’m not punishing Dad!”
“Yeah, you are. And Matt and me and the kids and those
poor freaking people who drove here from Connecticut. It’s
driving me crazy, Miranda, and you know what? I don’t want
to be around you anymore.” Katie’s voice shook with
emotion. She ducked her head, clearly fighting off tears.
“You’re my big sister, and we know better than anyone how
a person can be here one day and gone the next, and I still…I
still don’t want to be around you. And that sucks.”
The defensiveness roared back to life. Evan watched
her go ramrod straight, hands tightening into fists.
“So I’ll leave, and then everyone will be happy. Right,
Dad?” Miranda snapped. Fresh tears rolled down her face.
“Happy, no. Relieved, maybe.” Honesty slipped out as
Evan walked over to the bed. “Because I don’t know how to
talk to you anymore. No one does. You hate it here, you hate
what our lives are, and I don’t know…I don’t know what to
do about it.” He said down heavily on the other side of the
double bed.
“Fine.” She shook with the force of her emotions.
“No, it’s not fine.” Katie sounded exasperated. “It’s
not. Why would it be fine for you to hate us so much?”
“I don’t hate anyone!”
“Then stop acting like it…”
“Katie.” Evan reached out his hand to touch her arm.
“It’s not fair, and I’m sick of it,” she finished, crying
openly.
Her tears triggered Miranda, and both girls began to
weep.
It took him a second, but Evan maneuvered himself
close to wrap an arm around each of them, leaning in the
middle of the bed.
“We all want better, right? That’s why we’re upset.
Because we want things to be better,” he murmured, kissing
each of their foreheads in turn.
“You used to care about us!” Katie sobbed. “You took
care of us when Mom died.”
Miranda struggled against her father’s shoulder but
didn’t pull away. “Of course I did. I had to. And then you
replaced me with Matt, and everyone was happy again.
Except me.”
And no one cared, Evan supplied in his head. He
tightened his hold on her shoulders.
“Not true, sweetie, but I get you felt that way, and I’m
sorry. I really am. But you were never replaced.” He took a
deep breath. “And neither was your mom.”
And he knew that in a tiny way, that was a lie. He knew
he relied on Matt the same way he had relied on Sherri—to
take care of the house and the kids and to direct him away
from the proverbial ledge on a regular basis. Someone to
manage life when he forgot.
But Matt couldn’t manage Miranda. It was his job. His
failing.
Miranda cried harder at the mention of her mother. He
reminded himself, a bit shamefully, how he’d relied on
Miranda in the early days, interrupting her grieving process
to survive his own.
Tears choked him.
“God, Miranda, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” he
whispered, burying a kiss in her hair.
They sat like that for too long, until Evan’s arms and
back and heart ached and throbbed. Katie was the first to
pull back, uncurling herself from Evan’s embrace to turn and
look for the box of tissues. She found it on the floor as
Miranda pushed closer against her father, all but crawling
into his lap.
“Here, you’re disgusting,” Katie whispered, thrusting a
handful of tissues at her sister.
Miranda snorted.
Evan didn’t relinquish Miranda from his arms while she
wiped her face. He didn’t let go until she pulled away—just
a little, just enough to sit up.
“I love you, okay? And whatever things we have to
work out, we will,” Evan promised, as Katie pushed a tissue
into his hand as well. “But maybe we can do that without
hurting each other.”
“I vote for that.” Katie curled up at her father’s side
again.
Miranda nodded. “I have a lot of people to apologize
to.”
“Yeah.” Evan wiped his eyes. “But I think Kent and his
parents need to hear them first and foremost.”
She winced. “I can’t believe they didn’t leave.”
“Me neither,” Evan muttered. “But the important thing
is, there’s still a chance to explain yourself and say you’re
sorry,” he said, louder this time. “And if Kent’s the right
person for you to be dating”—he emphasized the last word
—“then he’ll understand.”
“We weren’t really going to get married,” she admitted.
“It’s too soon.”
“No duh.” Katie poked her in the side.
“Talk to him. Without getting defensive.” Pot. Kettle.
Evan.
“She should probably have pie first.”
“No, I don’t deserve pie,” Miranda said dramatically.
“I don’t deserve anything.”
Katie moaned. She reached behind her for a throw
pillow, then socked Miranda in the head. “Shut up.”
“No shut ups,” Evan said automatically, and the girls
laughed. It was something Sherri would say all the time
when they were little.
“All right, let’s wash some faces, get downstairs, and
try to show these people we’re capable of being…well,
something close to normal.” He kissed each one in turn,
squeezing them tightly.
“Love you, Dad,” Katie said sweetly.
“Love you too.”
She got up, collecting all the damp tissues with a
grumble. Miranda didn’t move, leaned against Evan’s side.
“I love you too,” she murmured, her head ducked down.
Evan stroked her hair. Katie went into the bathroom that
bridged her and Elizabeth’s rooms, leaving them alone.
“I love you so much, Miranda. So, so much. And I
haven’t been a very good dad in the past few years. That’s
on me.”
“I haven’t been a great daughter.”
“Maybe we’ve both made mistakes.” He took a deep
breath, then tipped her head up so they were looking each
other in the eye. “I won’t choose, Miranda. And I don’t say
that to be mean or hurt your feelings. But Matt going away
wouldn’t change anything. Mom would still be gone, and
we’d still miss her every day.”
The tears welled up again.
“I know. I really do. And I don’t hate Matt.” Miranda’s
lip quivered. “I really don’t, Daddy.”
“I know.”
She sniffled. “You know if you brought a nice lady
home, I’d be a bitch to her too, right?”
A rough laugh escaped Evan’s throat.
Chapter Thirteen
They descended the stairs to find everyone sprawled in
the living room, the turkey coma replaced by a sugar one.
Matt’s eyebrows went up as Evan gave him a hopefully
reassuring smile, ushering the girls into the kitchen.
“Too much to hope there’s still dessert?”
“I restarted the coffee pot and hid a pumpkin pie in the
back of the fridge.” Matt reached out, and Evan took his
hand, a brief touch, and then Evan was moving again.
“Thanks.” He looked around and noticed Cornelia was
still missing from the group. “Hey, Kent, would you like
more coffee?”
The non sequitur couldn’t have been more obvious, but
no one blinked. Kent gave a nervous twitch, but he stood up,
sharing a quick wordless exchange with his father.
“Yes, sir, thanks,” he said, falling in behind Evan as he
walked into the kitchen.
The girls were pouring cups of coffee and slicing pie
when he and Kent walked in. Miranda did a double take as
she saw her boyfriend.
“There are some jackets by the back door. Why don’t
you two take your coffees out onto the deck?” he suggested,
smiling at his daughter.
Miranda just nodded. She turned back to make a second
cup for Kent while Katie walked around the kitchen,
whistling in the most obvious way possible. She did the
theme from Jaws and Psycho before Evan cleared his throat.
Kent and Miranda, shyly looking at each other, left the
kitchen with their coffees and wearing ill-fitting sweat
jackets from the hooks in the corner. Evan flicked on the
back light, looking briefly at the sweethearts standing next to
each other.
“Do me a favor, elope when you’re forty.” Evan sighed
as he walked over to where Katie was standing.
“Deal.”
Evan cleaned the kitchen one more time. He estimated
every single dish, cup and piece of cutlery in the house had
been used and washed at least twice. Their guests drifted in
and out, and he let the peaceful chatter soothe him.
Every few minutes he’d check the back deck, to make
sure Kent and Miranda were still there, that they were
talking and not…throwing chairs at each other. He wasn’t
sure what he wanted the outcome to be: them surviving this,
or him not having to deal with Miranda and a serious
boyfriend.
The squeak of the door caught his attention. Evan
smiled at the pair as they walked in, pink cheeked and
chattering but holding hands and looking far more like two
kids in love than they had since he opened the door that
afternoon.
“So, you two need anything?” he asked, gesturing
around the spotless kitchen. “Please say only a glass of
water.”
Kent laughed nervously. “I’m fine, thank you sir. Mr.
Cerelli.” He looked at Miranda, then back to Evan. “I
wanted to apologize for my behavior today.”
Evan held up his hand to stop the kid, but he wasn’t
having it.
“No, I have no excuse for storming around and leaving
the table like that. It’s not how I usually am. In fact, I’m
pretty sure my parents are going to ground me at some point,
and I’m probably not going to stop them.” He sighed, and
Evan smothered a chuckle.
“I think we can all agree first impressions were crap
today.” Evan looked at his daughter, who looked faintly
mortified.
Good.
“Yes.” Kent nodded enthusiastically. “But hopefully
second ones are better.”
Evan gave this wisp of a kid a good once-over and then
nodded. He had some backbone, and he’d apparently readily
accepted Miranda’s apology. It was a start.
“Absolutely.”
“We’re going to go upstairs, if that’s okay,” Miranda
interjected, tucking herself closer to Kent.
“Sure.”
He watched them leave the kitchen, knit together both in
body and spirit. He tried not to remember being that age with
Sherri, already married and raising a family. Miranda as a
sweet little toddler in his and Sherri’s cramped apartment;
the two of them with no money and rapidly dwindling
patience. It seemed like so long ago.
By the time Evan collapsed on the sofa next to Matt, his
entire body ached. Caught between memories and today’s
exhausting level of emotion, Evan was beat. He slid down in
the cushions, faintly registering the football game playing in
the background, the murmurs of conversation. Matt’s fingers
twined with his. Head tilted back, he let himself drift off,
even as his mind babbled at him.
“Hey, Dad?” A soft voice whispered, a hand on his
knee shaking him gently.
Katie.
He woke fully with a start, surprised to be awake when
he didn’t realize he had fallen asleep. Blinking, Evan looked
around. It was dark, and the room was all but deserted.
Katie smiled down at him. “Come on, time to go to bed.
It’s almost ten.”
For a second he thought he was dreaming—wasn’t it
Thanksgiving? Didn’t they have guests?
“Helena’s taking us to the mall for Black Friday stuff,
but it starts at midnight so we’re leaving now,” Katie
rambled. “Can we take Elizabeth and Danny? Kent and
Miranda are coming and Shane and that’s like mostly adults
—we’ll take care of them.”
Evan sat up fully, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his
hands. “Uh—yeah. Sure. Did you need money?”
“Nope, Matt took care of it.” His daughter grinned. “Go
to bed. We’ll be home in a few hours.”
He frowned. “No, I’ll stay up…”
“Fine, stay up, but do it upstairs. Jeesh.” She checked
her watch and humphed impatiently. “What are they doing?
We’re going to bum-rush a sale—why do people have to
wear lipstick?”
Evan stretched his arms over his head. His back bitched
about the slumped position and the couch—the bed was a
good idea. “Is your phone charged? I want to be able to get
in touch with you guys.”
“Dad, we’re going with a cop,” she said patiently.
“Right.” Evan yawned, shook his head. “Still…”
“Phone is charged, the twins won’t be allowed out of
my sight, and we’ll buy you preeeesents,” Katie wheedled.
“Fine.”
He stood up, giving her the stern-father look until she
threw her hands in the air.
“A cop!”
“Have fun.” Evan kissed her cheek.
At the top of the stairs he encountered the twins, who
got similar lectures about responsible behavior, staying with
Helena and Katie, and not blowing Matt’s money on stuff for
themselves, and then Kent and Miranda, who just got smiles.
The guest bedroom’s door was closed, so he assumed Blake
and Cornelia were spending the night.
He supposed he could speak to Cornelia in the morning.
Or maybe just hide until they left.
He opened the bedroom door and was hit by a blast of
cool air. The ceiling fan and air-conditioning were on. In the
adjoining bathroom, he heard the shower going. Matt had
started his nightly routine without him.
Evan stripped down completely. He threw everything in
the hamper and after a considering glance at his dresser, he
dropped into bed naked.
He knew what his boyfriend was going to assume when
he came out of the shower, and Evan decided he wasn’t
going to dissuade him.
The sheets were cold and refreshing. Sleep didn’t claim
him again as he rolled onto his stomach. He rubbed against
the softness, letting his skin pucker in the breeze.
“Wow, that’s a pretty picture.”
Evan turned his head toward the bathroom door where
Matt stood, toweling off. And naked, of course.
“Same.”
“Aw, you.” Matt winked as he ran the towel over his
hair. “Everyone gone?”
“Yeah. I heard the cars pulling out.”
“The young lovers seem to be on track.” He went back
into the bathroom. Evan heard the water run and the clank of
the mouthwash bottle.
“Hmmm.” Evan pushed his face into the mattress,
breathing in the fabric softener.
He heard the light click off. The bed tilted slightly as
Matt sat next to him. “Let me guess, you’re horny,” Evan said
to the sheets.
Matt snickered. “Always, baby.” Fingers trailed down
his spine, ending with a slap to his ass that echoed loudly in
the room.
Evan’s hips twitched.
He turned his head to look at Matt, naked and hard and
looking at him like he was the first steak dinner he’d seen in
twenty years.
“We have guests.”
“They can’t hear anything—plus you know, noisy fans.”
“You’re a genius.”
“Mmmm.” Matt rubbed the inside of his thigh, pushing
Evan’s legs apart. “Do we have to talk about things?”
Evan considered this. “We’re good.”
“I know we’re good.” Matt leaned back, to get a better
view. A much dirtier view.
“It’s okay.” Evan rolled up onto all fours, then pushed
up to kneel. Now he was looming over Matt, whose smile
morphed into something hazy and wanting. “It’ll be fine. But
right now I just want to put this day behind me.”
Matt smirked. “You can put me behind you.”
Evan shook his head. “Shut up and lie down.”
“Huh, so that’s how it’s going to be.” Matt sat up, then
leaned forward, dropping a kiss on the meaty part of Evan’s
hip. He flicked his tongue over his lover’s rapidly hardening
dick, running a damp trail from root to tip. “Feeling bossy.”
“A little.” Evan reached down to stroke his fingers
through the thick mop of Matt’s hair. It was damp and going
in all directions—and it felt so good to dig his hand into.
“Taking back control.” Matt opened his mouth, teasing
before he closed his lips around just the head, just enough to
pull a needy groan out of Evan’s throat.
Matt was…gorgeous…when he did this. Evan loved to
give; it was his dirty little secret how much, but Matt was
stunning, the way his mouth pursed and his eyes fluttered
with pleasure. Evan let him suck and tease, his grip on his
lover’s hair getting tighter and tighter as the pleasure grew.
He let Matt have his turn, slow and lazy licks until they
were both trembling, until Evan felt the hazy edges of orgasm
teasing at the base of his spine.
When he pushed Matt away, there was no surprise.
They could read each other well enough, know when the
teasing was over.
“How do you want me?” Matt asked, his voice low and
husky as he wrapped his arms around Evan’s hips. His mouth
went to suck and bite at Evan’s hip, distracting him from his
answer.
Because the answer was always “Every way I can get
you.”
“On your back,” Evan whispered, rubbing his hands
across the broad expanse of Matt’s shoulders.
“Ohhh.” Matt kissed his way down Evan’s legs, then
rolled over to his back. Splayed out like a centerfold, teasing
smile on his face. “My favorite.”
“’Cause I do all the work.” Evan no longer blushed
when he opened the bedside drawer to get the lube, but there
was always a weird moment of alienness as his fingers
closed on the small tube.
Then he looked at Matt and forgot what the questions
were.
Chapter Fourteen
Matt walked into the kitchen, flicking on the light before
checking the time on the microwave. Three-twelve. There
were new dishes in the sink and crumbs on the counter—
apparently snacking had been done when the weary shoppers
returned from their trip. For about five seconds he debated
cleaning the table, but sleepiness and thirst set that plan
aside.
He’d make the kids do it in the morning.
A sound caught his attention midway through pouring
iced tea into a tall glass. Footsteps, and definitely not Evan.
Or the kids.
Cornelia stuck her head into the doorway. “Sorry. I uh
—saw the light…”
“No, it’s fine.” He gestured with the pitcher. “Iced
tea?”
She shook her head. “Water and some pain reliever? I
thought I brought some…”
“Not a problem.” Matt saw she had changed into a pair
of black yoga pants and an oversize red pullover. She looked
pale and drained. “Need anything to eat or…”
Cornelia considered this for a second. “Maybe some
bread, if you have something handy.”
Matt gestured toward the table and went to work pulling
together what Cornelia needed—a leftover roll from dinner,
a tall glass of water, two aspirins. He brought everything to
where she was seated, then dropped down in the chair
across from her.
“Rough night.” It wasn’t a question.
She took the pain reliever and drank most of the water
very quickly. “Yes.” The glass clinked on the table. Cornelia
set to ripping the roll in several big pieces. “I saw Kent
earlier—he seems to be doing better.”
“Yeah.” Matt rubbed lines in the condensation on his
glass. “I’m glad they worked it out.”
Cornelia didn’t say anything to that, sliding small bits of
bread into her mouth.
“Kids, you know? Everything is so dramatic.”
She swallowed. “Not just kids.”
“True. But Miranda’s, she’s just…it’s always been a
big deal. Whatever the issue. That’s how she manages stuff.
Me? I tend to downplay.” He watched her, the nervous hands
and aborted movements, and knew she was struggling with
more than just guns in the house.
“Kent is like his father. Locks everything down until
there’s an explosion. A muted explosion, but still.” She gave
him the briefest of smiles. “I haven’t seen him this upset in a
long time.”
“Well, that sucks.” Matt drummed his fingers on the
table, feeling the slight stickiness of a too-quick cleanup.
“Not what you were expecting this holiday to be like.”
“No, not at all.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“This is his first serious girlfriend. We met her briefly a
few weeks ago, for dinner. Everything was fine. Pleasant.
She told us about coming here for Thanksgiving and Kent
seemed so…excited. Hopeful. We didn’t want to express any
doubts just yet…”
“But you had them?”
“They’re young. Too young, and I don’t mean anything
you can measure in time.” Cornelia gave him a wry look.
“What were you like at twenty-two?”
“Already walking a beat.” Matt thought back to his
young self and imagined his disdain for rich kids like
Miranda and Kent, who had it easy.
“I was starting my master’s degree in botany with a
four-month-old in a sling.” The memory seemed to register
more pleasant than their conversation. Her smile expanded
until it lit up her entire face. “Blake had two jobs.
Landscaping during the day and pizza delivery at night.”
Matt chuckled. “Ate a lot of it, I’m sure.”
“So much! I couldn’t look at it for years afterward. But
we thought—that’s what you did. Other people our age were
working technology, making huge amounts of money, but
neither of us could bear to be inside all the time. We wanted
to work with our hands. We wanted to raise our child into
something other than a spoiled consumer.” She sighed,
pushing the glass between her hands. “Hippies, about twenty
years out of date.”
“Kent seems like a nice kid. I don’t think you should be
beating yourself up.”
“He’s a great person. Really. I’m so proud of him—his
heart, his intelligence. But shields—I forgot about those.”
“Shields.” Matt repeated the word, swirled it on his
tongue like a fine wine. He knew about those, how they
barricaded you from the world, keeping damage and
heartbreak at bay. And of course things like love and true
friendship and contentment and peace. A body at war doesn’t
truly know rest—and a person doesn’t really realize that
until long after the bombs stop going off.
“He just loves with his whole heart, throws himself into
everything believing that it’ll all work out.” Cornelia’s smile
was long gone. “He thinks he can fix things. And he’s
shocked when he can’t.”
“That’s tough. It’s also sort of amazing.”
“You really think so?” she scoffed. “It just ends in
heartbreak.”
“Sure. Or it ends with making something better that no
one else was willing to give a second glance.”
“I raised an idealist.” She didn’t sound happy about it.
“I wish I had been raised an idealist,” Matt laughed.
“Being a pessimist with a mountain of shields hasn’t kept me
from my bouts of disappointment and bitterness.”
And drinking and loneliness and self-destructive
behavior that lasted decades.
“Hmmm.” Cornelia drank the rest of her water,
seemingly contemplating what Matt was trying to say. When
the glass was empty, she gave him a side-eyed look.
“I’m a little overprotective.”
“Me too. So don’t fight with my boyfriend anymore,
please.” He winked.
She covered her eyes with her hand. “I was
horrendously out of line. I have to apologize.”
“That’s what breakfast is for. Redemption with maple
syrup.”
“You’re an awfully nice man.” She lowered her hand to
look at him.
Matt shrugged, then collected her glass and his. “I used
to be an angry, lonely prick. Then I met a guy with four
amazing kids and more issues than the Sports Illustrated
back catalog and boom—happiness.”
“Boom, happiness?”
“Okay, boom. Boom. More booms. A mushroom cloud.
Then happiness.” He got up to bring the empties to the sink.
“I’m still not comfortable with the guns in the house.”
Matt turned around. “Fair enough. In the morning I can
show you the gun safes where we keep everything. Might
reassure you we’re not storing them with the extra toilet
paper in the hall closet.”
She regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “Thank
you.”
Matt looked at the clock and sighed. “I don’t know
about you, but I’m old and need more sleep. The kids will be
down early scavenging—the noise level escalates quickly
around here.”
“Good idea.” Cornelia got up. She walked to the
doorway, pausing and turning back before she walked
through. “Thank you, for the talk.”
He gave her a little salute.
Back in the bedroom, Evan was starfished across the
bed, snoring into the pillow. Matt enjoyed the view for a few
moments before climbing in next to him. It was a herding of
limbs and rearrangement of linens, but finally he found his
comfortable place, tucked around his boyfriend, their heads
sharing a pillow.
He fell asleep with a feeling of contentment.
Chapter Fifteen
A scatter of knocking gave Evan about ten seconds to
pull the covers over him and a still-sleeping Matt before the
knob turned.
“My eyes are closed! Mostly!” Helena called, poking
her head in.
“Hey.” Evan whispered, going up on his elbows to
greet his partner.
“Breakfast is ready is about ten minutes.” She leaned
against the door, casual as he’d seen her in a while, in
NYPD sweats and a big smile.
“Thanks.” Evan looked at her in the dim light of the
room. “What’s up with you?”
Helena couldn’t contain her happiness. It threatened to
explode off her face at this rate. Her eyes shone with a light
that seemed to be coming from the inside.
“Good shopping trip?”
Then she giggled, and Evan almost fell off the bed.
“What?”
More shocking than the giggle was a bounce, followed
by a handclap. “Ten minutes, breakfast. Hurry, hurry!”
And with that she was gone, the door slamming behind
her. Matt twitched hard, then woke up with a start.
“Whu?” he grumbled, rolling over to grab at Evan’s
middle.
“Breakfast. And Helena is being weird.”
“Bad weird?”
“Good weird.”
“Thank God.”
They skipped morning showers and just crowded into
the bathroom to brush their teeth. Evan assumed everyone
would be in sweats, but the thought of it made him itchy—
and Matt would tease him if he wore “real clothes” so he
settled for old jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
Matt opted to go with a pair of shorts he wore to run in
and a hoodie he’d recently worn to paint the garage. Evan
gave him the stink-eye when he came out of the bathroom.
“Really?”
His response was a huge yawn, and then Evan got a
good view of his back, leaving the bedroom.
Downstairs the dining room was bustling, and the smell
was fantastic. Everyone was in one place, no one was
pouting, and Evan felt a tentative peace rumble in his chest.
Or that might be hunger.
“How’d the shopping go?” Evan asked as he sat down
between Miranda and Katie.
“Really well. We picked up some stuff for friends and a
few other people who shall remain nameless,” Miranda said,
passing him the carafe of coffee.
“She got me Uggs!” Elizabeth said from across the
table.
Matt scowled as he dropped into a chair next to Shane.
“What color?”
“Black.”
“Okay then.”
“Wooo! I’m getting two pairs!”
Matt reached behind Helena to pull Elizabeth’s ponytail
playfully. “Or Santa will bring you coal. He hasn’t decided
yet.”
“Santa loooooves me,” she said, batting her eyelashes
at him dramatically.
He sighed, reaching for the plate of bacon. “How many
pairs do you want?”
The twelve-year-old lifted her hands over her head in
victory.
Evan couldn’t help himself. He looked at Miranda
while the little banter between Elizabeth and Matt was going
on. And when he saw the longing behind the slight smile, he
reached under the table to squeeze her hand.
And brushed against…Kent’s.
The boy was seated on the other side of her, clearly
comforting his girlfriend, perhaps for the same reason Evan
was doing it.
It shocked him. Saddened him, a little. His daughter
was growing up. Starting adult relationships and finding her
own way. He could promise to help ease her pain over her
mother’s death, but ultimately—this was the point where she
started figuring it out on her own.
Adulthood.
“Could we get through the weekend before we talk
about Christmas?” Evan mock growled. He took his hand
back and busied it with collecting some pancakes.
“Dad, we’ve been talking about Christmas since
Halloween,” Danny pointed out.
“Maybe you can come up and see us around Christmas,”
Cornelia said, breaking into the conversation with a slight
quaver to her voice. “We decorate the nursery and have
some carolers come in.”
“Uh sure. That would be nice,” Evan said politely. “I
get a few days off.”
He and Cornelia shared a moment. He realized she
wasn’t as angry and that, strangely enough, neither was he.
When she turned to smile at Matt, he realized that his
boyfriend had—once again—smoothed over a drama he’d
started.
He’d be pissed if he wasn’t so fucking grateful.
Breakfast continued, conversations varied and flying
fast, the noise level increasing. In between a story from
Miranda about her upcoming class schedule being screwed
up and a hilarious retelling of the “drunk naked guy in the
fountain” story from Katie, Evan noticed Shane and Helena
across the table. They were staring at each other like no one
else existed, shy smiles and goofy moments where they
couldn’t seem to stem quiet laughter.
His eyes narrowed. He checked both her hands but no
ring. She was pounding back coffee like rationing started
tomorrow, so he assumed no pregnancy. What the heck was
her deal?
As things wound down and everyone else took turns
proclaiming their inability to eat another thing—except
Danny who mentioned more pie—Helena suddenly stood up,
that excited little bounce starting up again. Shane stood up
and moved to stand next to her, taking her hand in his.
Matt twisted in his chair as they took residence behind
him.
“Soooo, we wanted you guys to be the second—
etcetera—to hear the news…”
“We called Vic and Serena earlier,” Shane piped in.
“Last night, after we got back…” Helena took a deep
breath. “I asked Shane to marry me, and he said yes.”
The table erupted into happy noises. Matt got to hug
them both first, a crushing group thing that made Evan smile.
He made his way around the table to the happy couple,
waiting for the line of people to die down a bit.
“So that’s a surprise,” Evan murmured as he wrapped
his arms around Helena.
“Yeah, right? I just… The words came out before I
could overthink them,” she whispered, hugging him back
tightly.
“In the middle of chaos, you come up with this being a
good idea?” he teased.
“Well, yeah.” Helena pulled back to smile up at him. “I
realized that worrying and waiting wasn’t being honest with
him. I told him how I felt, what I wanted, and he…wanted
the same thing.”
“Chaos.” Evan kisses her cheek.
“Yeah. I expect pointers.”
“Drink in moderation, hit your head on padded walls,
and have a Matt.”
Helena giggled.
Not long after, the party started to break up. Helena and
Shane clearly required a quiet spot to celebrate their
engagement—one that didn’t include friends, recent
strangers, and teenagers. They left, immediately followed by
Blake and Cornelia gathering their things and making noises
about doing the same.
Evan asked Kent to step outside with him for a moment,
much to Miranda’s horror.
They stood on the walkway, the air filled with scents of
wood burning and rain or snow at some point in the near
future. Evan let the silence go on just long enough and tried
not to think of it as an interrogation.
“So you and Miranda had a talk about things.” It wasn’t
a question.
“Yes, sir. We had a really good talk actually, like we
talked almost the whole night.” He cleared his throat
nervously. “I think we both understand each other a little
better now. And I want to be there for her, you know—about
her mom and stuff.”
“Good.” Evan rocked back on his heels. “When do you
get back into the city?”
“Uh—Sunday.”
“Okay. So how about we have dinner—you, me, and
Miranda. My treat.”
“Oh. Wow. Thank you. That would be nice.” Kent
paused, scuffing his shoe on the pavers. “What about Matt?”
Evan paused. “Let me check with Miranda, see what
she wants,” he said, honestly.
Kent looked genuinely relieved and something more.
Approval of the response? “I think that’s a really great idea.”
A knock from inside the house caught their attention.
They turned to see Miranda waving nervously through the
screen door.
Evan waved her out.
“Sorry.” Miranda came down the stairs slowly,
wrapped in a throw from the couch. “Your mom and dad are
packed. They’re ready to go.”
“Are you staying then?”
“Yeah, Dad, if that’s okay.” She looked between them,
clearly dying to ask what they’d talked about.
“Don’t even have to ask. I’ll drive you back whenever
you want.”
“Thanks.” She and Kent clinked together like magnets,
shoulder to shoulder, and shared a meaningful look.
“Your dad invited us out to dinner on Sunday.”
“Oh. Sure. The three of us?” Miranda half smiled.
“If you want,” Evan said, and almost immediately
Miranda seemed to realize what she’d said.
“Well, if it’s an interrogation, Matt probably won’t
want to come,” she said, breezy and casual. “But if we’re
just eating…”
“See, I’d call it just the opposite,” Evan teased, and the
nervous laughter that followed was almost natural.
“Let me go help my parents,” Kent excused himself. He
gave Miranda the most basic and least passionate kiss on the
cheek he could manage, as if to remove all question of sexual
contact from the equation, and suddenly Evan added more to
the list of stuff he just didn’t want to know was going on.
Because acting like you weren’t having sex meant you were
absolutely having sex.
Once Kent was in the house, Miranda stayed where she
was, eyes locked on the hibernating bushes that lined the
walkway.
“I’ve apologized to everyone,” she said finally. “Kent’s
parents. The kids. Um…”
“Okay.” Evan was neutral. There was a name missing
from the list, and they both knew it.
“So I’m saying sorry to you. Again. For my behavior. I
am really, really so sorry for making Thanksgiving so
uncomfortable. And I’m sorry for making you feel bad
about…things.”
“I don’t feel bad, Miranda,” he said gently. “It worries
me that you are so upset. That’s what bothers me. Matt and I
are…not the issue, at least for me.”
That froze her words for a few minutes, but she nodded,
tightening the blanket around her.
“I know. And that’s maybe part of my problem.” She
sighed, loud and dramatic. “But I also know it’s my problem.
And I have to deal with it.”
Evan bit his tongue, because yes, she had to. And it
wasn’t his place to fix it. Even though he wanted the magic
formula to make it so.
“Soooo…” Miranda kept talking. “You should ask him
to come to dinner with us. The four of us. It would be rude
for you to intimidate Kent all by yourself.”
A little smile bloomed on her face. It was suddenly
infectious.
Evan agreed. “He would be sad to miss that.”
They saw Kent and his parents off. Evan and Cornelia
shook hands politely, but Matt got a brief hug.
He refused to be jealous.
Matt took him by the hand after they pulled down the
road, and led him into the house. The kids began a debate
about what movie to watch, Danny mentioned food again,
and then an argument broke out over who got to use the
washing machine first, Katie or Miranda.
“So we’ve got Christmas, New Year’s, your promotion,
the final build of Bennett and Daisy’s house…” Matt drifted
over to the couch, claiming the prime real estate before the
kids could descend. He pulled Evan down onto him, a hug
masquerading as a sprawl. “Helena planning a wedding.”
“Sunday we’re having dinner with Kent and Miranda so
we can more thoroughly interrogate him.” Evan grabbed a
pillow. He used Matt’s hip as a bolster, settling down with a
nap in mind.
“Wow. At least that’s a fun thing to add to the list.”
Evan felt a bit of tension in his boyfriend’s body.
“Miranda okay with that?”
“Sort of. She’s trying.”
“Duly noted. I will do the same.”
Cabinets slammed in the next room, and an argument
was growing in volume.
“You break it, it’s coming out of your allowance,” Matt
yelled.
The quiet was instantaneous. And lasted for about thirty
seconds before starting up again.
Evan laughed, content for a moment in the madness.
Loose Id Titles by Tere Michaels
The FAITH, LOVE & DEVOTION Series
Faith and Fidelity
Love and Loyalty
Duty and Devotion
Cherish
Tere Michaels
Tere Michaels began her writing career at the age of
four when her mother explained that people made their living
by making up stories—and they got paid. She got out her
crayons and paper and never looked back. Many pages and
crayons later—she eventually graduated to typewriters and
then computers—Tere has article clips from major
magazines, a thousand ideas still left to write and a family in
the suburbs. She's exceedingly pleased every time someone
reads her stories and cries, laughs or just feels happy.
Check
out
Tere’s
website
at
http://www.teremichaels.com
to see what she’s up to.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Loose Id Titles by Tere Michaels
Tere Michaels
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Loose Id Titles by Tere Michaels
Tere Michaels
Document Outline
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Loose Id Titles by Tere Michaels
- Tere Michaels
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