3. Donovan
THREE
DONOVAN
“And if she doesn’t poop in the morning, she usually gets a little fussy around lunchtime, so really try to get her to go on the morning walk.”
I glance at Cleo, curled up and snoozing in her bed in the corner of the kitchen. Seems the dog has a bed in almost every room of the house.
“You guys are going to spoil your kids so bad,” I say, instead of making fun of Pete for the overly detailed instructions. He’s printed everything out on three single-spaced 8 1/2 by 11 sheets of paper and has been going over it word by word. I’m all for doing a good job, but this seems like overkill.
Pete doesn’t rise to my bait. “And the vet’s number is here, but there’s also an animal urgent care on Route 7 if something happens after hours.”
“Pete, I’ve got this. We’ve got this,” I say, remembering I’m not the only one taking care of Cleo, and suddenly grateful for the extra pair of hands to share the load of taking care of Pete’s fur-baby.
“Yeah, I know.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “We’ve just never left her for longer than a weekend before.”
“It’s going to be fine. Beck and I will take good care of Cleo and the house.” There are an additional two pages detailing the security system, the landscaper’s schedule, trash collection, the names and numbers of local handymen, and how to turn off the gas and water hookups in the basement.
“Speaking of Beck, are you sure you’re okay with this? I’ve only met him a couple of times, but Jack says he’s a great person.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I sound more confident than I feel. Acting skills for the win. When the driver had pulled into the driveway earlier today and I’d seen Beck’s car parked there, I suddenly felt like I’d been stabbed with a syringe of adrenaline. Was the universe telling me to take another shot at the cute blond? It hadn’t occurred to me that Beck was there not to say goodbye to his cousin before he took off to parts unknown, but to stay for the summer, just like me.
My attraction to Beck seems more like a liability than a perk now. We’re going to be living together, and I’ve never broken my own rule about not shitting where I eat. That means never hooking up with a co-star, at least not while the show’s still running, and never ever hooking up with a roommate.
Sure, the circumstances are a little different considering we’ll have separate rooms in a 2,500 square foot house instead of sharing a bedroom in an 800 square foot New York apartment, but the principle is the same. I’ve had enough roommates to know it’s usually best to keep them at arm’s length.
So Beck’s cute. Doesn’t change the fact I’m here for a specific reason—to write my stupid play. I’ll just have to scratch the itch with someone else.
“By the way, is there anywhere to meet guys in this town?”
Pete shakes his head, as if my question disappoints him. My shoulders stiffen. I don’t have to explain myself to Pete or anyone else. I’m a thirty-year-old man with a healthy libido and I haven’t gotten off with anyone in three whole weeks, which may not sound like a long time, but for me is a new record. It’s a legitimate question.
“There’s Sparkle, the gay bar in Midville. They have live music sometimes on the weekend. Which reminds me, you can use my car if you want. The keys are in the cupboard. But promise me you won’t drink and drive.”
“I promise, Dad.”
Pete rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. I get it. Have fun.”
He puts his hands up in surrender, but I’m not done being defensive.
“Just because monogamy turns you on, that doesn’t mean we’ve all been brainwashed into thinking we have to be with only one person for the rest of our lives.”
Pete frowns. “I’m not saying you have to get married, but when was the last time you stayed with a guy for even a week? You might actually like it if you tried it.”
“I’ve tried it,” I say sullenly. Pete’s one of the only people who even remembers that far back.
“You mean Aidan? That was eight years ago,” Pete says gently.
The gentleness rankles. I’m not a delicate flower. “Yeah, I learned my lesson and I’m perfectly happy; thank you very much.”
“I know you got burned. Hell, I was there helping you pick up the pieces,” Pete says, still with the soft voice. “But what if I’d let what happened with Kurt stop me from trying? I’d never have found Jack.”
“That’s completely different.” Pete’s toxic ex stole from him, gaslit him, and cheated on him, and is now serving time for embezzlement. Aidan hadn’t been a literal criminal—he’d just taught me the valuable lesson that the more you love someone, the more they can hurt you.
Pete stares at me, his eyes melting like chocolate coins in the sun.
I sigh. Pete’s superpower is he can say whatever he wants and get away with it. He’s too good to stay mad at. “You got lucky, okay?” I try on a smile. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Let me just say one more thing and then I promise I will leave you in peace for two whole months,” Pete says.
“Except when you’re texting me to check on Cleo.”
“Which I promise to do no more than once a day. Twice at most,” he amends. “Anyway, I just want you to know that I admire your stubborn streak. It’s what’s gotten you where you are—an honest-to-god working New York actor. You did it. The thing you wanted to be—you made it. And I think that the play you’re writing will be amazing. Stubbornness can be a good thing when you aren’t giving up on your dreams, but don’t let it stop you from going after other things, too.”
“Things like long-term relationships?” I ask sharply, stubborn enough to be unwilling to let him get the last word.
“Maybe. Or maybe just more than a one-night stand. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Keep an open mind. Isn’t that what writers should do, anyway?”
I roll my shoulders to relieve them of the anxiety that’s locked them up. “Come on, Pete, I’m not really a writer.”
“What are you talking about?” He waves his hands and knocks the printed instructions to the floor. As I bend down to pick them up, he keeps talking. “I read the one-act play you won that award for. It was freaking good. Which reminds me—The Rosedale Art Center puts on a Shakespeare comedy every summer. I think they already cast it, but maybe you’d want to ask them if they need any help.”
I straighten up and heroically refrain from wincing. Add community theater to the list of things I don’t dig. But Pete means well, and he is giving me a place to stay rent free, even if I have to share it with a too-cute, currently hungover, off-limits boy.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say noncommittally. “Look, you and your man go have the time of your lives and don’t worry about anything—especially me.”
“I’m good with that plan,” Jack says, coming into the kitchen dragging a giant rolling suitcase.
“I thought you were packing light?” Pete’s eyes widen when he takes in the size of his husband’s luggage.
“I tried, sweetheart,” Jack says plaintively.
“Where are we going to put all the clothes you said you’d buy me?”
“I guess we’ll just have to get another suitcase while we’re there.” Jack sidles up to his husband and gives him a sickeningly besotted grin.
I absolutely do not make a gagging noise. I’m thirty, not thirteen.
“We better get going. You got everything you need?” Jack asks me.
“Pete has thoroughly briefed me. You two crazy kids get out of here. Europe is waiting.”
“Thanks for doing this. And thanks for being cool about Beck. He doesn’t really have anywhere else to go right now, so I’ll feel better knowing he’s set for a little while. And between the two of you, I know Cleo will be well taken care of.”
“Sure, no problem,” I say, wondering again why Beck is so transient. “Now get.”
Pete and Jack take turns giving Cleo goodbye kisses, then they each give me a goodbye hug. We all tromp out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door.
“You guys leaving?” It’s Beck, standing in the doorway to the living room. His pink shirt is as wrinkled as yesterday’s newspaper, and he has matching pink sleep lines from the couch pillows etched into the side of his face.
As I hope the nap has done him some good, a wave of fondness hits me low in the chest and throws me off-balance.
“Hey, sleepyhead, just in time to say goodbye,” Jack says, pushing past me to give his cousin a bear hug. “You be good this summer, you hear?”
Beck yawns expansively. “I promise.”
Pete takes a turn hugging his cousin-in-law, and then the newlyweds are gone, whisked away by the car service they ordered to take them to the airport.
The house suddenly feels extra quiet. I glance at Beck, who’s rubbing his eyes like a little kid. “I bet you could eat a horse.”
He groans. “Oh my god, I’ve never been so hungry in my life.”
“Come on, let’s see what’s in the fridge.”