Chapter Twenty-Eight
NOW THAT Will had pried Joe’s eyes open, he was seeing all kinds of things he hadn’t noticed.
When Austin folded his own laundry, he often left his clothes inside-out, but he knew it drove Joe crazy, so he turned Joe’s right-side out.
He never complained about buying Joe’s fancy coffee creamer (which Joe denied using to the rest of the Romanos because he didn’t want to be mocked forever).
He called every day on his way home from work to find out if Joe needed him to pick up groceries or Timmies or a stray child.
Every time Will caught Austin doing one of these things now, he met Joe’s eyes and mouthed He loooooooves you or, for variety, made exaggerated kissy faces.
Even the horribly awkward conversation Joe had to initiate about paying Austin back for the electrical work went well.
“I just have to move some stuff around,” Joe said. He didn’t want to touch the money he’d put aside for the kids, but considering he was on a limited income until spring came around and landscaping picked up, he didn’t have much choice. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long, I—”
Austin caught his hands before he could gesture any further. “Hey. Take a breath.”
How could he? How could Joe take a breath when Austin was right in front of him looking at him like that, with those big soft dark eyes so full of—
He took a breath.
Austin squeezed his fingers. “It’s okay. Really. I know you’re good for it. It can wait.”
But something wasn’t right.
Like—Austin always called when he was leaving work, but he kept getting home too soon.
The drive should’ve lasted ten more minutes.
And when he got home, he always went right into the garage and changed, even though it was absolutely fucking frigid in there.
If he was only worried about tracking in dirt or oil, he could’ve changed in the breezeway, which was at least a seminormal temperature, even if they didn’t burn wood in the stove as much now that the pets were all recovered and housebroken.
And there were other weird things. Austin used to drive Joe nuts with the Facebook message tone on his phone, always people wanting to know garage hours or make appointments or whatever. Now Austin was getting phone calls instead. Who got phone calls anymore?
No one their age liked talking on the phone unless they had to. Or were hiding something.
Paul’s phone habits had changed in the months leading up to their breakup. Only afterward did Joe realise he was trying to avoid the paper trail of text messages. Though if Joe were the type to snoop, the call log would have been just as incriminating.
Joe’s brain screeched to a halt as he considered the implications of what he’d just thought, but then he shook it off. There was no way Austin would do that to him. Not Austin, who was gentle with the kids and the animals and smiled at Joe like he hung the moon.
Right?
NOW THAT the thought had occurred to Joe, he couldn’t seem to shake it.
So much about Austin’s routine had changed.
When it was just the earlier return home or traveling from a different direction, Joe could wave it off as Austin changing things up to adapt to their new circumstance and Joe’s illness, but it wasn’t just that.
Austin was hiding something. Changing before he came inside, secret phone calls, and now he was being… weird.
Like bringing Joe the cannoli or offering to drive Will to school, or taking care of the massive bathroom spider without fussing or asking Joe to do it. Like he needed to make up for something.
Joe thought about bringing it up, but what was he going to say? “Hey, why are you being so nice to me?” That was an objectively insane thing to say to your boyfriend.
So Joe kept his mouth shut.
As February wound into March, the weather warmed and Joe started booking summer work.
New money, more money, coming in was essential for the health of Joe’s bank account.
Not to mention that more consistent work outside the house and property would be good for Joe’s mental health.
He’d never been very good with idle hands, and while normally the fixer-upper would be a great way of keeping busy, it wasn’t exactly distracting Joe from his troubles.
Not when each decision was tinged with repeated reminders of his future.
He could make everything to his taste as much as he wanted—he wouldn’t be the one living here.
Of course, the dwindling days of winter also meant something else—early acceptance to higher education.
Joe still didn’t know what Alex was planning, but he suspected there might some trade-school forms hidden away.
Gavin was also a mystery, to himself as much as anyone else.
Fortunately he was totally sanguine about having no idea what he wanted to do with the rest of his life and happily talked about taking time off and getting a job.
Or “the real-life experience of capitalism,” as he called it.
“I’ll come work for you,” he’d started telling Joe the year before, with an easy grin and promises to behave.
Of course, recently he’d started to talk about working for Austin instead, especially whenever Austin was more lenient than Joe in enforcing boundaries.
Austin hadn’t agreed to anything, but always encouraged Gavin to explore his options and not feel the need to just go work for his dad.
But Will and Meg had sent out applications, and while finances were likely to curb Will’s options, the sky was the limit for Meg.
The kid was Olympic-hopeful level of talent, which meant she’d have her pick of Canadian and American schools.
Not that Joe was willing to risk jinxing things, but he was pretty sure she’d get a full ride. She was smart enough for it too.
So it was hardly a surprise when Meg texted the group chat one afternoon with a shot of an early acceptance from the University of Michigan.
And naturally, since Joe was a spiralling stressed-out emotional mess who loved feeding all of his adopted children, he texted back the date and time for a celebratory dinner.
AUSTIN KNEW how Joe got about dinners. He suspected part of it was hereditary—he’d experienced a Romano family dinner, after all, and Nonna made Joe look like an absolute beginner.
So in the days leading up to the event, he made it a point to get home on time, pick up a few extra chores, run the vacuum a little more frequently.
He had more energy now than he’d had in years anyway, probably from a combination of working fewer hours and eating better food, though the quality of sleep he got passed out next to Joe factored in too.
After work one day, he even went by the hardware store and bought a plastic bin to go in the fridge, which he labeled in Sharpie: FAMILY DINNER SUPPLIES. DO NOT EAT.
Will got a look at it when he was getting out the condiments for dinner one night and gave him bombastic side-eye, but Austin just said, “Your father is under a lot of stress,” and went on with his sudoku puzzle.
Will closed the fridge and the side-eye became a staredown Austin could feel right through the feeble protection of the newspaper. “You could fix that.”
He set his pen down. “I’m trying,” he pointed out, gesturing to the fridge. He hadn’t reorganized the thing and made himself promise implicitly to lay off the three pounds of cheese because he was worried about his cholesterol.
The stare did not abate.
“What?” Austin asked when Will didn’t offer anything further.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” But Austin thought he heard him muttering under his breath as he returned upstairs. “Un-be-fuckin’-lievable.”
Austin had to work the day of the dinner, but the kids were all coming over right after school, so he cleaned up and changed at work and sent Joe a text—call if you need anything on my way home—and then got in his car.
The phone remained silent, so it was only a short time before Austin pulled into the driveway.
He parked in front of the pole barn, next to Meg’s little Chevy, and did his best to skirt the half-frozen puddles and slush piles on his way to the door.
Not that the kids had bothered, judging by the melting goo pooling on the boot mat.
Austin added his own to the pile and poked his head into the kitchen, which already smelled like Joe’s enchilada casserole. “Hey.”
Four heads looked up from the table, two from the floor—the kids, Pepa, and Ozzy, but no Joe. Meg and Gavin waved; Alex nodded. Will huffed.
Tough crowd. “Where’s Joe?”
“Went to change his shirt,” Will said shortly.
God, did Will have something up his ass again? Austin hoped not. This was supposed to be a night for celebrating. He glanced at the stove timer. “Cool. Hey, help me set the table?”
It was another three minutes before Joe came in, face pink like he’d just scrubbed it with cold water. Austin hooked an arm around his waist before he could get to the kitchen and pulled him in for a kiss. “Hey. Enchilada sauce accident?”
Joe blinked at him as though he didn’t know what Austin was talking about. Then he looked down at his shirt. “Oh. Uh… yeah.”
Austin frowned. “Are you feeling okay? You’re not getting a fever again, are you?”
Joe batted his hand away from his forehead. “I’m fine,” he promised. “Can we eat?”
That wasn’t like him, to be so short, but maybe he was stressed. Maybe he’d gotten enchilada sauce on one of Gavin’s hilarious tree pun shirts. “Guess we better before the kids decide Pepa looks edible.”
Joe snorted. “I think they’d eat Will first.”
“Harsh.”
Dinner was—well, the food was good. Austin had questioned the wisdom of inviting Alex to a dinner to celebrate Meg when the two of them still had bouts of sniping, but Joe pointed out he couldn’t very well invite Gavin and not Alex without Alex feeling left out, or Gavin deciding not to come, and they figured they had to risk it.