45. Arlo
Hota’s flushed face goes white at the mere sound of his phone. Hell, it’s not even an overbearing ringtone that elicits the reaction. The simple vibration of his phone has him scrambling to silence it completely.
I let my gaze lay heavily on him while his settles on the screen.
Hailey glances between us, catching on quickly.
After we ride several blocks in silence, Hota’s dark gaze meets mine.
There’s such pain and uncertainty in his eyes. So much of it he shoved away to be the man who’s always there for others. I feel responsible for it. Just a week ago, that weight lay heavily on my shoulders. By making me face myself head-on, he helped me ease it.
I can do the same for him. I want to.
Before I can ask who’s calling, Hota nods and takes a deep breath. “Watching you embrace your freedom, and our wife do the same, gives me the courage to explore my greatest vulnerability.”
Our wife…
Goddamn, that’s so cool .
Our wife laces her fingers with mine and then Hota’s.
My throat goes tight. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been receiving calls from Japan for the past few weeks.” His big hand scrubs down his face, and then slicks back his disheveled hair. “I’m terrified it’s my father calling. I don’t want to speak to him. He said all he had to say almost twenty years ago. He’s made no effort to contact me throughout the years. No letters. No emails. No texts. No calls.”
His free hand goes white at the knuckles. The bones in his hand strain his skin to the point of bursting and the muscles flex around them. His hand holding Hailey’s stays perfectly calm, strumming gently over the back of hers.
“He missed birthdays, graduations, holidays, and the mundane shit of my life. He wasn’t there for me even before I stood up to him, not more than a physical presence anyway. I couldn’t ask him about anything, from how the toaster worked to how to take someone on a proper date.”
Sorrow pours out of him in waves.
“I couldn’t even seek comfort from him when my mother died.” His head shakes. “So I haven’t answered the phone.”
Without choreographing the shift, I move to the far side of Hota, Hailey slides over, and Hota follows. I sit where he was and we envelop him in our arms from both sides.
He doesn’t cry or scream, though both would be perfectly acceptable. Hell, expected even. Instead, he grips onto us for dear life. As though he might be swept away without the anchor.
Usually, I’m antsy to get home. Today, I’m thankful for the traffic that allows us to stay in this protective cocoon.
Several minutes pass, and then Hota straightens. He still clings to our arms, but relaxes enough to sit back against the seat with a huff.
“You haven’t answered the phone,” Hailey observes. “You also haven’t blocked the number.”
Hota laughs, while dropping his head forward. “You would notice the thing I’m most ashamed of.”
“What exactly are you ashamed of, Hota?” she asks in the softest voice.
“I’m ashamed that I still want a relationship with him, even when I know he doesn’t deserve it.” He bares his teeth at the idea, even as the tears finally flow.
“There is no shame in wanting connection. Your heart desires love just like every other person in the world. It’s what links us. Our need for acceptance, for community.” She presses her lips to his temple. “It is possible for people to change. Look at us. We’re a perfect example.” She waves a tiny hand between us.
I’m so proud to call her ours.
“There’s also no guarantee he has.” Her shoulder bobs. “If he hasn’t, that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. His failures as a father do not reflect on you as a son.”
“Fuck no,” I chime, adding major value to the conversation.
“There is no harm in finding out.” She smiles. “Whether you find a relationship worth building upon or a lost cause, at least you’ll know.”
I pull Hota’s face to mine and smother his lips. I taste his tears and siphon away as much of his sorrow as I can before easing back. “It’s your choice, either way. If you choose to make contact, you won’t be alone. You’ll never be alone again. We won’t let you.”
“Once again, stalkerish.” He smiles.
“Just don’t file restraining orders against us.” Hailey winks.
“Never.” The sorrow in his eyes is replaced with mirth and love. He holds our hands for the rest of the ride, and still holds tight out of the car, inside the elevator, and into the condo.
The sun is setting and I’m struck by how breathtaking the colors and view are. “Do you want to live here permanently?” I turn to Hota. His brows are bunched. “I just… It’s beautiful here and I didn’t ask you if you want to live at the house. I just assumed.” I slide my suddenly sweating free palm over my pant legs. “But if you love it here, we can live here.” I wince and then turn to Hailey. “Or at your old place.” I shrug and look between them like a lost puppy.
“All to say, I don’t care where we live. As long as we’re together. And relationships are about communication and I didn’t even ask you,” I say turning back to Hota. I had asked Hailey, but that was before we were a trio.
I open my mouth to speak again, but Hota’s lips stop me.
As kisses go, it’s pretty chaste, but no less moving as he drags his mouth across mine. “I’m pretty sure I speak for Hailey when I say, we want to live in the place with the kick-ass closet, special vanity, and custom bed.”
“Not to mention a rooftop terrace, a solarium, and a kitchen that you know exactly how to use,” Hailey reassures me.
“Thank you, both of you for guiding me through my meltdown,” Hota whispers, pulling our gazes back to him. “I’ve thought about it and I’m ready to make the call.”
“Would you like to go sit in the living room together or would you like some privacy?” Hailey asks.
“I’m done doing things on my own.” He tugs us into the living room and onto the couch in a damn near dog pile.
Not complaining one bit.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, finds the number, and then hits send and the speakerphone. “It is early in Japan,” he blurts before the call even connects enough to ring.
“Considering they already called this morning and the consistency of calls you’ve gotten over the last few weeks, I expect they’re awake and willing to answer.” I soothe my hand down his thigh.
The ring shoots through the room. Hota jolts. “It might just be persistent telemarketers.”
“It could be.” Hailey pulls her long hair to one side. A curl twists the red in a gentle wave that falls just below her left breast. She settles her other hand over Hota’s nape.
The line rings a second time.
Hota’s lips move. To make another excuse, I’m certain.
“Odenwa arigatou gozaimasu, Kido-san.” A jubilant female voice gushes through the phone’s speaker in greeting.
Hota’s brows go high in surprise. “Eigo de onegaishimasu.”
“Yes, we can speak in English, of course,” she quickly concedes.
From what I know of his father, speaking in any language other than Japanese would not be so easily received. Anticipation knots tighter in my belly. The need to know what is going on, so I can best support my love makes my foot tap impatiently.
“My name is Emi Saito. I am your father’s assistant.” Her words reverberate around the room, hitting me right in the belly.
A part of me is pleased his father’s behind this, while the other half would love nothing more than to pummel the guy for how he’s treated Hota. Hell, how he is treating Hota. The man couldn’t pick up the fucking phone himself?
Hota’s drawn brows are replaced with a hint of a sneer, clearly thinking along the same lines.
It’s a relief in and of itself. I can’t tell him how to react to this situation, no matter how off the rails it goes. He has to be the one to steer the train or bail off the side. Either way, it’s my job to ride or jump with him.
“Your father would like to see you,” Emi continues.
“He couldn’t call me himself to say so?” Hota snaps.
“I am sorry to tell you this over the phone, but your father is not well.”