Chapter Five
Bobby
“And you’re mine,” Bobby whispered, loving it. Loving it so much that it filled him up inside, made the world look like a better place, made the future look bright and kind and happy, as if he could see it all, laid out at their feet. “Should’ve kissed me like that up there,” he said, unable to stop the grin.
Tom didn’t pull back much, didn’t tug him away from the door to their bedroom. Instead, he pressed harder against him, trailed his free hand down Bobby’s body. “Thought about it,” he said, voice raw and hushed, amusement mingling with emotion. “Wasn’t sure how much we wanted to show all those coworkers of yours, though.”
Not to mention the kids, but Bobby didn’t say. “My brothers could get over it,” he muttered instead, one hand still laced with Tom’s, picking at Tom’s jacket buttons with the other. “This was a terrible idea. We’re either gonna wrinkle everything or get come all over my uniform.”
“Not the first time,” Tom said with a wicked grin before leaning in and nipping Bobby’s neck with his teeth.
“True.” Bobby could think of a few instances because for a long time—and sometimes even now—all they had were stolen moments for a quick and dirty handjob or one of them down on their knees. “Sure you want our first time together as husbands to be all rushed and quiet?”
Tom stopped rubbing his palm against Bobby’s cock through his trousers. “You’d rather wait?” he asked, taking a deep breath, probably steadying himself.
“Nope.”
“Thank Christ.”
But some things never change, and before they could get any further, the patter of several pairs of feet sounded on the other side of the door, just before a few fists beat against it. “You guys comin’ out?” Collin said over Max and Zoe calling their names.
“One second,” Bobby said with a laugh.
Tom pulled away, let out a frustrated breath. “No way has it been twenty minutes.”
“No, but this is pretty on brand for us.” Bobby wanted to reach out, straighten Tom’s tie, smooth his jacket down for him, but he knew better than to touch Tom just then, or they’d never leave the apartment.
“We live with seven cockblocks. Eight, if we count your mother.”
“She’s your mom now too,” Bobby teased, and something in Tom’s expression pinched. Some emotion Bobby couldn’t read flitted across his features, then softened everything about him.
“Not the worst thing that could happen to a guy,” Tom said.
But before Bobby could respond, Collin shouted, “Come on, you guys.” And that was the end of it.
Tommy
Later that evening, with the sun setting and turning everything a golden pink, Tommy and Bobby had their dance—which Tommy hadn’t wanted and Bobby had, so naturally, Tommy spent three weeks learning how to fucking waltz. But whatever. Tommy had gotten his chocolate cake and Bobby had gotten his dance and Judy had gotten to do all the shit she’d wanted to do and the kids had gotten to invite their friends (because Tommy’s three guests against Bobby’s thirty was a little embarrassing, even if he’d never admit it), and even the damn dog had a good time.
At one point, one of Bobby’s friends, a cop because of course, who came into the pub a couple of nights a week and was trying to turn Smarty’s into a cop bar, stepped up to them and passed Bobby an envelope. He had his wife with him, a woman who was pretty and rough around the edges and who Tommy had always liked, the few times he’d met her. Even though he couldn’t remember her name.
“You two should’ve registered. I didn’t know what to get two gay guys,” he said.
Tommy snorted a laugh, and Bobby grinned, but the wife punched his arm so hard Tommy almost winced in sympathy.
“What? He knows he’s gay.”
“Lube and butt plugs always go over nicely,” Tommy said, getting a look from Bobby, a snort from the wife, and a cackle from the cop—Mark, if Tommy recalled correctly.
“I’ve always liked you, Tom.”
“Then call me Tommy.” Mostly because he hated the sound of Tom in anyone else’s voice. Bobby was the only one who got away with it without annoying the shit out of him.
“Will do,” he said and shook Tommy’s hand before his wife leaned in and kissed Tommy and Bobby on their cheeks.
They wandered off and danced to a slow song. Tommy could tell Bobby wanted to join them, but damn, he’d barely learned the one dance, and he really didn’t want to do it again. He also didn’t want to stand around eating finger food and drinking champagne and making small talk with everyone there. He’d much rather drag Bobby out and finish what they’d started. But that’d have to wait.
“You talk to your father yet?” Bobby asked, even as he smiled and nodded to someone across the yard.
His father. Bobby had been surprised when Tommy invited him, had told Tommy as much, and Christ knew they all had mixed feelings about Cal. “Not a word. Think I should?” He’d hoped just inviting him would be enough.
Bobby smiled softly at him, dropped off an empty glass of champagne, and picked up another. “I don’t think there’s any should when it comes to him. Let him try and be your dad after all these years or tell him to fuck off and it’s too late, or something in between… It’s all hard, and it’ll probably always be hard with him.”
“Thanks for the optimism.” Tommy huffed a laugh. “Your mother would probably disagree.”
“Probably. And maybe she’d be right, but…”
But Bobby had to deal with the fallout of Cal O’Shea in a different way than Judy had to. Bobby had to deal with Tommy’s messed-up life and head on a daily basis. Judy did too. But it wasn’t the same. “But let’s not get our hopes up too soon? Never thought I’d see the day.” Tommy grinned and leaned in for a kiss.
“Get a room,” Gene said from behind them.
“You didn’t want a live sex show tonight?” Tommy asked as he turned.
“Hard pass, but thanks for the offer.” He clapped Tommy on the shoulder as he made his way to the table with Ben and Gavin. “Congrats, man. You got a good one,” he told Tommy. Then he looked at Bobby and said, “My condolences to you, though. You’re fucked.” He laughed all the way across the lawn. Asshole.
“He ain’t wrong, though,” Tommy said. “I definitely got the better end of this deal.”
“I thought you were going to say he was right because you were gonna fuck me all night.”
“That too.”
Bobby chuckled and took Tommy’s hand. “I’m lucky too, Tom. And I’m so goddamn happy. Just so ya know.”
He didn’t. Not really. Most of the time, he thought Bobby was a crazy bastard for wanting to be with him, thought he should run off and hide from Tommy, go have a normal life, but fuck it. Bobby was happy—happy with him—and that meant something. “I do now,” he said softly, squeezing Bobby’s fingers in his own. With a sigh, he said, “Let’s go talk to my father and then get the hell outta here.” He’d booked a fancy room in a nice hotel for them for the weekend since the honeymoon trip wasn’t for another few weeks when the kids got out of school and Colleen could take some time off.
“That’s the one we should’ve started with.”
“Never said I was smart.” But they made their way over to Cal, who was sitting next to Gene with Ben and Gavin. All three stood from the table when Tommy and Bobby approached.
“It was good seein’ you, Cal,” Gene said, smiling. “I’m really glad you got your shit together. Glad I haven’t seen you in the bar.”
Cal laughed softly and said, “Not as glad as I am.”
Gene clapped him on the back and grinned. “Call me and we’ll get some fishing in.”
Fishing? Tommy had no idea his father even knew how to fish, let alone enjoyed it. But whatever, none of his business.
“And thanks for the gardening tips,” Gavin said as he and Ben stepped away with a nod to Tommy and Bobby.
“Any time. Gene’s got my number if you ever have any questions.”
Yeah, Tommy knew he worked at a nursery. He handed out plants like most people offered a stick of gum, but Tommy hadn’t realized he knew anything about it. Bobby squeezed his fingers as Cal got up from his chair.
“Congratulations, son.” Cal looked like he was about to go in for a hug, thought better of it, then went for a shake and wasn’t sure about that either, then stepped back, then forward. Tommy couldn’t take it.
“Thanks for comin’, Pop.” He compromised with a one-armed hug and a pat on Cal’s shoulder, grateful when Cal didn’t force it to go on too long.
“Thanks for inviting me,” he said as he pulled back. “I wasn’t sure what to get you two or what you might need, so I just brought a nice little shrub, but if there’s a list or something, let me know because I’d like to do more.”
Why did that kind of piss Tommy off? Why did the idea of Cal offering to do more nettle him so goddamn much? “We didn’t want a bunch of presents or whatever. It’s cool.”
“Well, it’s not every day one of your kids gets married,” Cal said. “And Bobby, welcome to the family.”
Bobby managed not to grimace at that, but Tommy figured it was a near thing, because damn. Who in their right mind wanted to join his family?
“Thanks, Cal. I appreciate it.”
“It’s good to see you so happy,” Cal said, and the sincerity in his eyes set off a war of emotions in Tommy.
Irritation because why did it take Tommy twentysomething years to find happiness? And maybe even a little pride because, yeah, he did find it, and he found it on his own. Some guilt, too, just around the edges, but he had no idea why. Like, maybe some part of him thought he didn’t deserve to be happy? Maybe. He didn’t wanna think about it just then. And at the same time, under all that, he was also just glad that his old man had been sober for more than a year, longer than he’d been sober in the last ten or fifteen years. “You too, Pop.” Was it? Good to see his father happy? Tommy didn’t even know. For so long, he’d been totally indifferent about how his father was doing, and sometimes he just wanted to see him dead in a gutter. Cal doing good or being happy—in a real way, not because he’d just gotten a bottle or some of whatever the drug of the day was—wasn’t ever an option.
“I know I didn’t give you the best… foundation for… anything, but—”
And, God help them all, it was Bobby who let out a sharp, very short laugh. He tried to cover it with a cough, but Tommy caught it. Cal probably did, too, because his cheeks flushed just a little, and he glanced away with a self-deprecating laugh as he ran his hand through his hair.
“Sorry, I, uh, I better go check in with Mom. Thanks for coming, Cal.” The coward practically sprinted like a goddamn gazelle to go hide behind his mother. Was it too soon to file for divorce?
“Thanks, Bobby.” Cal and Tommy watched him go, and then Cal said, “Well, anyway. I’m glad you found something good. I know I didn’t make it easy. Maybe didn’t even make it seem possible.”
Tommy looked at him, caught the guilt swimming in Cal’s eyes, the regret etched across his face in every wrinkle, and goddamn it, he really didn’t want to have the conversation that would come if they kept on this track. “But I did,” Tommy said. He rested his hand on Cal’s shoulder, not quite a hug, not anything really, but a friendly gesture, maybe? Or maybe just something to ground them both, keep them there in the moment instead of running down what-ifs and whys and fuck-yous. “Maybe we both did.”
Cal smiled, fond and sad. “Yeah, we both did. Long time coming, but we found it.”
With one last squeeze to Cal’s shoulder, Tommy pulled back. “Better late than never, right?” Did he believe that? Tommy wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe he did. When Cal smiled in response, Tommy said, “We’re gonna head out pretty soon, but I’ll see ya around.”
“Yeah, see ya around, son.”
Before Tommy could step away, before he could get the fuck out of there, he heard himself say, “Be sure and say hi to the kids, if you haven’t already.”
“They’re all having fun with their friends, and… Max and Zoe have spent some time with me, though.”
“Yeah, well, they won’t mind if you interrupt.” And why the hell did he push that? Tommy had no idea. Colleen and Mike, Davey, they’d all been a little wary about having him at the wedding. They’d gotten used to visits and gotten used to him being sober for backyard barbecues or a family dinner here and there, but those three were old enough to remember Cal falling down drunk on a daily basis. The wedding had an open bar. They could put two and two together, and none of them had thought it was a good idea. Even if Colleen had been the one to bring it up in the first place. Maybe Tommy just thought they should get to see for themselves that their father had managed it okay. And yeah, maybe he’d grab a bottle on his way home, drink himself to sleep, or shoot up with whatever the fuck. But—for the first time in a long time—Tommy didn’t think he would. Hoped he wouldn’t. But he shoved that aside and saved up all of his hope for himself and the kids and Bobby instead.