Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
MAX
Walking away from Marcello outside the bakery was more difficult than Max imagined it would be, but he needed to clear his head and think things through. As he walked toward the Muni, he pulled his phone out and looked at the text he’d gotten from Cart while Marcello had been getting them another round of coffee.
How’s the date going? Cart had asked.
It’s not a date.
Sure. Sure. Be nice to the kid, old man.
Max knew Cart had been teasing, but that text coupled with the guy who’d thought he was Marcello’s father had put a damper on the connection he’d been feeling while he talked to Marcello.
He hadn’t intended for coffee to feel like a first date. Sure, he’d noticed Marcello during the discussion at the center and been first sad at the young man’s departure then overjoyed at his return. And when Cart said there was someone in his office who wanted to talk to Max? Max had hoped it was Marcello and been thrilled to find it was. Even as he’d thought Marcello only wanted to talk about what Max had suspected and then confirmed in Cart’s office, he’d wondered if he could ask Marcello out.
Max half suspected that Cart’s return with baby Xian had been a way to get the two of them into a more date-like setting, which is why he tapped out a text for Cart as he walked away from Marcello.
Got time to talk to an old man?
Cart texted back almost immediately with an invitation to come over to his house, and Max ordered a Lyft car to take him up the hill.
Ry answered the door with a little girl who could only be Mei standing to his side. Ry and Cart’s daughter was the spitting image of the man standing in the doorway with a wide smile on his face, except for her eyes, which were the same green as Cart’s.
“Come on in,” Ry said as he stood aside to let Max through the doorway. “And welcome to the zoo.”
Max was about to ask what that meant, but then he heard Xian wailing from the back of the house.
“Rough day?” he asked.
“Xian doesn’t like to go to bed,” Mei said and wrinkled her nose. “B?bá’s walking with him.” She said something in Chinese to Ry that made him laugh. Whatever he said to her made Mei smile and head toward the kitchen.
“I told her she could have another custard bun for second dessert,” Ry said. “Come on in. I’ll take Xian upstairs and see if the rocking chair will do the trick.”
“Cart told me he was a bit of a handful,” Max said as he followed Ry down the hallway. The house had a beautiful craftsman interior full of dark wood and had been lovingly and sympathetically modernized. The hallway opened into the open-plan kitchen where Mei sat at a poured concrete island munching away on her bun. On the opposite side, three steps descended into the family room where Cart was slowly rocking back and forth with Xian in his arms. Xian wailed as if his tiny world had crashed and burned around him.
“A bit more than Mei, but my parents said my sister was like this, so we’re blaming her genes. Jen insists Xian’s cutting his first tooth and says her daughter did the same thing, and it’ll get better.” Ry kissed his daughter’s head as he passed the island, said something to her Max couldn’t decipher, and continued down the steps to take Xian from Cart.
Max watched the tender way in which Cart kissed Xian on the top of his head, then kissed Ry, and had to swallow hard against the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He remembered Cart’s first husband, Sam, had been friends with the man he’d met as an AIDS activist in the early 90s. This house in which he stood was familiar to him, had been the location of so many meetings, but, like the couple who now lived here, what Max remembered had changed. Sam was gone, and Cart had been reunited with his first love. It was a testament to the way life moved on, and that happiness could grow out of tragedy.
I want that , Max thought. With Marcello? Max mentally shrugged. The possibility was there, but he was unsure about turning it into reality.
Ry passed Max with Xian nestled against the crook of his neck. The baby still cried and whimpered, but he’d settled a bit.
“Xian always quiets down for b?bí,” Mei said as she slid from her stool at the island.
“That’s because b?bí has more patience, and b?bá’s tired,” Cart said. He scooped the little girl up in his arms and blew a raspberry on her cheek, which made her giggle, then set her back on her feet.
The look on Cart’s face as his daughter followed his husband out of the kitchen was one of pure love and adoration. As soon as the kids and Ry disappeared up the stairs, Cart sagged against the island and rubbed his forehead, but he grinned at Max.
“Somedays…” he said with a shake of his head.
“But you love it,” Max said.
“I do.” Cart straightened and walked around the island to pick up a bottle of wine from the counter. “Red or white?” he asked.
“Either,” Max said. “Whatever you’re having.”
Cart got a couple of wine glasses out and filled them with red wine. “Let’s head outside,” he said as he handed Max a glass.
Cart turned on the lights that were strung across the backyard, and led Max outside. The space was gorgeous with a couple of terraces, a koi pond, and a small gazebo, which is where Cart led him. Max noted the toys scattered on the ground, and felt a pang of sadness that Sam wasn’t there to see how full of love his house was. He knew that Cart and Sam had only had a few years before brain cancer took his friend, and that Cart had turned inward, devoting all his time and energy to his job as a human rights lawyer and serving as executive director of the youth center.
Putting his glass down on the table in the gazebo, Cart lit the propane heater and adjusted it so a nice bubble of warmth formed around them.
“Okay,” Cart said as he sat. “What’s going on?”
Max laughed at Cart’s directness and took a sip of wine. It was delicious, and Max made appreciative noises.
Cart swirled the wine in his glass before raising it to his lips. “It’s from a winery Ry and I visited in Paso Robles before Xian was born.”
“It’s delicious.” Max took another sip, then placed his glass on the table and looked at Cart. “I’d ask if you thought there was a time limit on finding love, but it’s obvious you don’t.”
“Nope.” Cart grinned. “If you’d asked me that a few years ago, I’d have said differently, though.” He cocked his head to the side, studying Max. “Are you asking if I think you’re too old for Marcello?”
“Way to be direct,” Max said and reached for his glass to take a larger gulp of wine.
“Not much to be gained from doing otherwise,” Cart said. He nodded toward the house. “Both Sam and Ry have taught me that. But you haven’t answered my question.”
Max nodded. “I think it’s more, wondering if…” Max shrugged and swirled the wine in his glass while he thought. “If it’s worth trying.”
“With Marcello?”
“He’s the first person who piqued my interest in a long time, Cart. I’d begun thinking my time has passed.”
“That’s something I completely understand,” Cart said. He stared into the dark liquid in his glass. “When Ry showed up, I hadn’t seen him in twelve years. Not since our senior year in college. Losing Ry then was a wound that took a long time to heal. And then I found Sam, and lost him as well. I wasn’t sure I could survive if I opened up my heart to Ry again only for him to go away again. Losing people is something we’ve both had to experience, and it’s difficult to open up after living through loss after loss, after your friends have died or moved away. I saw that in Sam. Almost every day, he encountered a reminder of someone who was no longer with us, and each time it brought that grief back to the surface. I see that with Ry as well. Even though his experiences are different from yours and Sam’s, he’s still dealing with his parents not being a part of his life anymore. Their choice, but it still hurt him deeply, and having Mei and Xian brought all that pain back to life for him. As much as they add to our life, and as much as we love them, I know Ry misses being able to share all this with the people who brought him into this world.” Cart smiled. “We do have a wonderful set of lǎo rén, family friends who looked out for Ry and Jen when they were younger and have kind of stepped in as honorary grandparents. They’ve helped fill that space for Ry.”
He took a sip of wine, lost in thought, and Max let him drift in his memories while he contemplated what Cart had said. Losing so many people in such a short period of time had made it difficult for Max to open up when new people came along because he didn’t want to risk opening his heart only to have another name to add to his list of losses. He’d left his messenger bag with the quilt panel inside the house, but he could still feel the weight of it on his shoulder. Talking with Marcello earlier that day had been the first time in years Max hadn’t felt all those losses so acutely.
“You know,” Cart said, and Max was grateful for the interruption of his thoughts. “Sam was your age when I met him, and I wasn’t much older than Marcello.”
“But you’re you,” Max said, meaning that when Cart met Sam he’d already finished law school and was working at a prestigious law firm.
“And Marcello is Marcello. Don’t sell him short just because he’s young or hasn’t finished school. We all have challenges that educate us in ways that aren’t apparent on the surface. Working with the teens has taught me not to judge by what’s on the outside, but to look to what’s in a person’s heart, what they’ve done in response to the challenges life has given them.”
Max inclined his head in acknowledgement. “How did you get so wise in your forty years?” he asked with a smile.
“It’s not the years, my friend, it’s the mileage.” Cart raised his glass and tapped it against Max’s, the sound clear and pure in the quiet backyard. They feel into a comfortable silence again until Cart asked, “Are you asking for my blessing to date Marcello?”
“Maybe,” Max acknowledged. “I just don’t know why he’d want to date me.”
“Who knows why anyone falls in love with anyone. It’s one of the amazing mysteries of this life. It’s a blessing to love and to be loved in return.” Cart pursed his lips and gazed toward the house. “I can’t tell you what to do,” he said. “But I can tell you, if this is what you want, don’t wait. Sam and I danced around each other for two years because he thought I was too young, and I couldn’t imagine someone like him would want to be with me. We lost so much time being idiots. Don’t do that. If you and Marcello have a connection, trust that. And don’t wait.”
Cart shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe you go on a date and it’s a total failure, and you’re no worse off than you are now. But on the other hand, you could go on a date and discover you’ve got something that will endure forever. You’re not going to know unless you try. But you know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Ry exited the house with his own glass of wine and joined them under the gazebo. “Noble Intrigue?” he asked as he sat.
Nodding, Cart reached over and took his husband’s hand. “Last bottle of it, actually. Think Jen and Stephen will take the kiddos so we can get away and replenish our supply?”
“Probably.” He took a sip of his wine. “Xian finally went down. Thank God. Mei’s watching a video.”
Max watched Cart raise Ry’s hands to his lips and kiss them softly, feeling again that longing to have someone with whom he shared such a powerful connection. Could I have that with Marcello? There was only one way to find out. He pulled out his phone and tapped out a message.
Can’t stop thinking about you. When can I take you on a real date?
When he looked up from his screen, both Cart and Ry were watching him, a knowing smile teasing at the corners of Cart’s mouth. Without saying a word, he raised his glass toward Max and nodded. Max picked up his own glass and touched it to Cart’s.
“Here’s hoping…” Max was cut off by the buzz of an incoming message. He grinned at the string of smiley faces and kissy lips that flashed across his screen.
“What’s going on?” Ry asked.
“I believe Max is going to be going on a date,” Cart replied.
A week later, Max was nervously pacing behind his front door waiting for Marcello to arrive. Their first official date had been a low-key dinner at La Mediterranée on Monday. It had gone well enough that Marcello agreed to a second date. Even better, Marcello had agreed to come to Max’s house so Max could cook for them.
Max mentally ran through a checklist for this date as he opened the door, checked the street, then closed it again. Dinner was prepped. He had steaks seasoned and ready for grilling, a salad in the fridge, and twice-baked potatoes in the oven. A bottle of red wine was open on the counter, ready to be poured into the waiting glasses. The table on the deck was laid with a tablecloth, candles, and place settings for two. He’d turned the heaters on before coming up the short flight of stairs to wait at the door and fret, pulling out his phone to stare at Marcello’s OMW text a dozen times.
Each time he looked at it, the string of texts leading up to that message made him grin. He and Marcello had been texting almost nonstop since their date. Silly texts, memes—Marcello was much better at that than Max—and jokes had gradually morphed into sweet questions and gentle explorations. There’d also been some photos exchanged, but Max wasn’t going to look at those nor think about how many times he’d jerked off to the sight of Marcello’s gorgeous cock in the past two days since the pic had arrived. Points to Marcello for making Max specifically ask to see it before he sent it, and the tease of waiting had resulted in a spectacular orgasm. Max had no expectation that he would see the real thing tonight, but he definitely had hopes.
Two more minutes ticked by, and Max started to feel sick in his stomach. Something had happened. Marcello had changed his mind. The Lyft Max insisted on sending for Marcello had gotten into an accident. Each scenario became more outrageous as Max’s thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of doubts.
He was about to call Marcello, when he heard a car door shut. His internal debate turned to whether he should open the door or wait until Marcello rang the bell.
Fuck it . Max threw open the door just as Marcello arrived on the front stoop and gasped. The Marcello who stood before him wasn’t quite as flamboyant as the Marisol Max remembered from the day they first met, but there were some definite signs that Marisol was rising again.
Marcello was dressed in a gauzy red shirt that billowed around him and set off his dark hair, dark eyes, and rich olive skin. He wore high-waisted black palazzo pants cinched at the waist with a gold belt, and balanced on the glitter-gold heels Max remembered very well. As gorgeous as the young man looked in his clothes, it was his face that truly captured Max’s attention. Marcello’s eyes were outlined in gold with rays of red, yellow, and orange adorning his lids and spreading out from the corners of his eyes. His lips were bright red, and his cheeks dramatically contoured to highlight his already sharp cheekbones.
“You look amazing,” Max said. “Stunning.”
He wanted nothing so much as to pull Marcello into his arms and kiss him senseless, but he was afraid to mess up the look that had clearly taken Marcello some time to do. Settling for a quick peck on the cheek, Max led Marcello into the house. He loved how easily Marcello’s hand rested in his, how their fingers automatically intertwined and fell into a comfortable hold as if they had been doing this for some time instead of a few days.
“Your house is gorgeous,” Marcello said as Max guided him up the stairs and they emerged into the living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. “I’ve always wondered what the view looked like from up here.”
“Now you know,” Max said softly. Ordinarily, he would be sharing his guest’s appreciation of the view. It was one of the reasons why he’d bought the run-down bungalow-style house perched high above the Castro at the top of 24 th and Grand View Terrace. The other reason was the enormous backyard that he’d had landscaped into an urban paradise with plenty of solitary spots to hide away from the city that surrounded the space. But Max’s attention was captured whole-heartedly by Marcello.
Marcello turned to face him. “Now I know, and somehow, it’s not what I want to be looking at.”
Max grinned. “Why’s that?” he asked as Marcello drew him closer.
“Because you didn’t kiss me at the door.”
“I did.” Max leaned in and touched his lips to Marcello’s cheek. “Like this.”
The tease made Marcello’s eyes start to smolder. “Is that really all you want to do?” he asked.
“For now,” Max said and turned away to head for the kitchen leaving Marcello to follow, laughing the whole way.
At least he was laughing until he stepped into the chef’s kitchen with its gleaming stainless steel appliances and hand-built cabinetry. Max had bought the house with the idea of flipping it. At the time, he still wasn’t sure he trusted the doctor’s prognosis or that his T-cell count wouldn’t plummet again, and the idea of a future was something he couldn’t quite accept. He’d renovated the place with the idea that he was doing it for someone else, designing the kitchen of another person’s dreams, laying out a garden that would delight a future owner. Only when the construction dust settled and the painters finished the interior and the decorator fluffed their final pillow, Max realized he didn’t want to sell the house and had moved in instead still not sure why because he had so few friends left to invite over.
He’d never been more grateful to have gained a future he never expected than in this moment watching Marcello take in the space with awe.
“What do you see in me?” Marcello asked, and Max realized what he’d thought was awe was really fear. He immediately closed the distance between the two of them and took Marcello’s hands in his own.
“I see someone who is strong and beautiful both inside and out,” Max said as he raised those hands to his lips and kissed them lightly. “Someone I can’t resist and want to know better. You’re fun and surprising, and…” Max shrugged, then gave a helpless smile. “And completely unexpected. You’re someone I like. A lot. And am attracted to more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
As Max spoke, Marcello moved closer until his hands were pressed against Max’s chest.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Max said, his voice husky and tight, knowing Marcello could feel every beat of his heart, would soon feel how much Max wanted him if he kept moving closer.
Marcello shook his head. “Who wouldn’t want you? You’re sexy and kind, successful and accomplished. I don’t have much to offer you.”
“Are you kidding?” Max asked. “You have everything to offer. You’re you.”
This time, Max didn’t stop at a quick kiss to Marcello’s cheek. He freed his hands and cupped Marcello’s face as he drew them together, lips touching softly at first, then more insistent as the kiss lingered. Marcello sighed and opened his mouth, and Max got his first taste of this man who had captivated him. It was too fast, Max knew, but he was pretty sure he was losing his heart to Marcello and that this was going to be the first kiss of many, many more.
They were both panting lightly when they broke apart, trading quick kisses until Max needed to either take the potatoes out of the oven or turn the oven off. Reluctantly, he stepped away from Marcello, missing the feel of him as soon as there was space between them. He poured them both a glass of wine, and they chatted while Max cooked and then plated their dinner, carrying the plates out to the deck while Marcello brought their glasses and the bottle.
Although it was a chilly night, the heaters had created a nice bubble of warmth in which Max and Marcello continued to talk, pausing every now and then to take a bite of food. Max barely tasted anything, too caught up in watching Marcello’s animated expressions as he told Max about something that had happened at work. He was pretty sure he laughed in all the right places, but Max was so distracted by how vibrant and alive Marcello seemed to really pay attention.
Is that because of me? he wondered, and when it was his turn to talk, he saw the same expression of desire and devotion on Marcello’s face that he was sure had been on his own.
They had dessert inside, sitting on the couch to eat slices of flourless chocolate torte Max had gotten from Thorough Bread and drinking coffee while staring at the city spread out below them. The huge Pride flag marking Harvey Milk Plaza and the heart of the Castro was illuminated and rippling in the breeze while fog rolled over their heads and sent its tendrils floating between sky and land.
With a sigh, Marcello put his plate on the coffee table and finished off his wine. Max feared the night was coming to an end, but Marcello not only settled back, but leaned against him. Max put his own plate and glass on the side table, unwilling to break contact with Marcello more than necessary. When he found his original position, Marcello had shifted closer, and Max put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. Marcello tipped his chin up. His lips were right there, and Max wanted nothing more than to kiss them again, but he waited.
“Please?” Marcello whispered.
“As you wish,” Max answered.
Kissing Marcello this time was unlike anything Max had ever experienced before. Even their earlier kisses had only been a prelude to this moment when Marcello leaned against him, hands free to touch and explore. It wasn’t long before Marcello had straddled him and slid his clever hands under Max’s shirt to caress and seek out all the places where Max’s skin was most sensitive.
He shivered as Marcello stroked his sides, the contact coming just short of ticklish, but causing Max’s hips to rock against Marcello’s. They were both hard, their cocks touching through their clothes, but neither of them was in any hurry. They had time to get to know each other, time to find out each other’s secrets, and time for everything.
With a start, Max pulled away from Marcello, leaning back so he could stare into Marcello’s eyes. The wonder of the moment, the sheer audacity of what he had been thinking, and the joy that he had found this person, made Max shake his head. He wished he could find the words to express to Marcello how much this evening meant to him, but he knew he didn’t have to. What shone from Marcello’s eyes reflected what Max already knew in his heart. Marcello was his forever person.
Later, they moved to Max’s bedroom, both naked, both eager, and Max thought how lucky he was to have found Marcello, and how much he was looking forward to the future it had taken him three decades to believe could be his.