Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Quinton
“I’m home.” I stepped through the front door of our lovely house with a sigh of relief. I toed off my shoes and dropped my knapsack at the front door. After hanging my coat in the front hall closet, I grabbed the knapsack again and started to head upstairs.
“I made beef stew.” Mama poked her head out from the kitchen.
“You’re a goddess. Let me throw my clothes in the washing machine, and then I’ll be back down.” I’d showered after work, and put on last night’s clothes to come home in. Too many memories of Leo clung to them, so everything needed to be washed. Pronto.
“Go. Then come and tell me about work.” She disappeared back into the kitchen, sending a waft of fragrant air my way.
Mama worked as a nurse at the hospital as well—she was the reason I’d gone into nursing in the first place.
I’d witnessed too many doctors and knew that path wasn’t for me.
I’d considered physio or massage therapy—hell, even chiropractic—but I wanted to help people when they were at their worst. That meant working at a hospital.
That said, a hospice program had recently tried to lure me away.
I hadn’t taken the bait. Most of the time, I enjoyed working with patients who, if all went well, could continue on with their lives. Perhaps altered, but still moving forward.
After changing into my Valentine’s Day pajamas, I dumped all the clothes into the washing machine, turned it on, and headed downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen, I inhaled deeply. “I love you.”
Mama grinned. “I considered what to make for tonight. I decided on good Canadian comfort food.”
I couldn’t remember if beef stew was actually Canadian, but it didn’t matter. Comfort food was always the best.
Well, so was the Chinese food she loved to make.
And Korean, Greek, Mexican, Indian, Vietnamese, and every other place in the world. Mama had brought her love of food from China when she emigrated thirty years ago.
My father secured a job in Vancouver working for a financial firm navigating the Hong Kong transition and the implications for the Canadian financial markets.
Mama brought her nursing skills and found a job at the Abbotsford hospital. She’d spent much of her study time learning English and then blended her translation skills to work as a nurse.
I was born a few years later, and she insisted I learn both Mandarin and English. As one of three Chinese Canadian kids in my class, I struggled to straddle both worlds. When the time came to pick a career, though, I didn’t even consider business. Nope, nursing all the way.
My dad lived to see me graduate from nursing school five years ago—then died of a massive heart attack in his sleep.
Amidst our grief, Mama and I also felt some guilt. We’d tried to get my dad to visit the doctor for regular checkups.
Always too busy.
Now, too late.
Needless to say, I hounded Mama to do everything she could to remain healthy. I wasn’t losing another parent.
I poured two cups of tea and set them on the table as Mama ladled the stew into bowls. “Smells so damn good.”
“Today was sort of boring. I also baked a lasagna. We’ll have enough food to see us through.”
“You’re working tomorrow, right?” Mama did on-call work these days. That said, she worked most weekdays and some weekends as well. She claimed she liked to keep busy.
I worried about the strain on her body. She always appeared so slender and frail to me. Yet she worked so damn hard.
“Yes, I’m working a shift in the kidney dialysis unit.”
“Ah. So you’ll see Lucia.”
Mama smiled. “Lovely girl. Too bad you can’t marry her.”
I pointed my fork. “I’m gay. She’s a lesbian. That just doesn’t work.”
She shrugged. “How are you going to have children if you don’t marry?”
I sighed. “Mama.”
“Yes?” She arched an eyebrow.
“First, who says I want children?” I took a mouthful of stew. The rich flavor hit my tongue, and the savory taste elicited a moan from me.
“Well, I want grandchildren.”
She never said she was disappointed her only child turned out to be gay. That said, she’d always wanted more children—but that just hadn’t been in the cards. I always wondered if they’d considered adopting. Regardless, she had me and she claimed she loved me very much.
But she wanted more out of life.
“You could always volunteer at a preschool.” I grinned.
“Not the same thing. I want to have someone I can help raise.”
“Mama—”
She waved me off. “Just an old woman talking. Now, how are the plans going for your Valentine party?”
“You mean my Absolutely Amazing Valentine Shindig?”
“Yes, my dear. You remember I’m working the night shift at the hospital.”
I sighed. “You don’t have to leave the house during my parties. I’d be thrilled if you attended.”
Yet she never would. She always made herself scarce—usually taking a shift at the hospital.
“These are your friends, Quinton. You have the right to privacy.”
I burst out laughing. “We’re not having orgies, Mama.
” Although I’m not going to mention the time Rayne and Everett went at it in my office.
Especially since that was the night Foster and Arnav were in the spare bedroom.
Halloween last year had been truly epic.
At my New Year’s party, Foster had proposed to Arnav—pretty much shocking everyone.
He was the quiet one in that couple. They’d been together just over a month.
Yet the proposal—and subsequent quickie marriage—worked.
That couple was going to go the distance.
“Maybe no orgies, but you’re entitled to a life of your own. You'll be forging your own life at twenty-six.”
Almost twenty-seven, but I’m not going to mention that… “Well, we’ll save leftovers. I think Ravi’s bringing those pastries you love so much.”
“Dean makes the pastries. Ravi makes the roti.” She closed her right eye in contemplation. “Or maybe not.”
I loved that she tried to keep up with all my friends and their culinary abilities. I grinned. “Regardless of who brings what, I’ll save some for you.”
“And a Nanaimo bar—I have to have a Nanaimo bar.”
Since the chocolate and pudding goodness was my favorite as well, I could easily save her one. “Anything else?”
“I’m making spring rolls. Hopefully one will survive.”
Suggesting she take one or two to work with her that night wasn’t advisable. She was making them for my friends. Wouldn’t do to run out.
“I’ll put Adam in charge of ensuring you’ll get everything you would like.”
When I’d met the man at the hospital last year, he hadn’t been in great shape.
He wasn’t taking care of himself. His burn injuries from ten years earlier had left scars, and he used those as an excuse to hide away.
Dean, the buoyant Aussie, had begun to pull him from his self-imposed exile.
Only, when Dean had gone away for work, Adam had regressed.
I gave the man a stern talking-to and then added him to my list of invitees. The first few parties, Dean had to drag his now-husband. Last I’d heard, they were planning matching shirts for my party next week.
“Adam’s a good man.” Mama soaked her homemade scallion pancake, a thin and flaky Chinese flatbread, with the remnants of her stew.
Mama loved trying new foods, but she always had to, in her own words, add a touch of home to every one of her meals.
I personally thought she just loved eating in general.
How she could eat that much and stay so thin was beyond me.
Of course, I ate nearly as much and was always on the slender side. A few muscles from when I found the time to work out.
Nothing like Dr. Leopold Rodgers’s muscles, though.
Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. Don’t—
“You didn’t come home last night.” Mama sipped her water. “Thank you for texting me. I try not to be intrusive. I try not to be a pest.”
“I try to be respectful.” I didn’t stay out often, but when I did, I’d shoot Mama a text. She knew what I was doing, of course, but she never commented.
“And this one? Was he a nice man?”
I nearly choked on my mouthful of scallion pancake. After swallowing, and gulping down water, I cleared my throat. “Why do you ask?”
She gave me that look. “A mother always wants assurances that her son is picking appropriate people to spend his time with."
Said mother will lose her shit if she finds out I spent the night in a hotel room with a surgeon. From our hospital, no less.
“He’s…very successful.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s a nice man.”
Ouch.
But she wasn’t wrong.
“I promise to let you vet any potential future partners.”
“So this wasn’t serious.” She held my gaze with her dark-brown eyes. A few crow’s feet had appeared in recent years—but she still had radiant skin and a quick smile. Losing my father had dimmed that for a while. But she was back to happy and joyous most of the time.
“Serious is such a relative term.”
“A one-night stand?” Again with the penetrative stare.
“Well, there won’t be a repeat.”
She pursed her lips. “Maybe less time in the bar and more time on an app.” She held my gaze. “Mrs. Wang has a perfectly lovely daughter. Since you sometimes date women. Or how about Joe Chen? He’s about your age and a friend of my friend Mr. Lu. Didn’t you say he was gay?”
“Mama.” She did love to go on about me finding the one.
“I had thirty years with your father. Not nearly enough. If you find someone sooner, rather than later, then you’ll have a long life with them as well.”
Unless they’re older.
Well, Leo’s not that much older.
About ten years, if I didn’t miss my mark.
And he could die the next day in a car crash.
Well, that was true as well.
Or I could meet the man of my dreams, marry him, and we might live fifty or sixty years together. I just couldn’t be certain. All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t do it for Mama. If I married, it had to be for the right reason.
For love.
I rose, grabbed our bowls, and headed to the dishwasher. Mama believed the dishwasher used too much water and preferred to wash dishes by hand. If I managed to fill the dishwasher first, she’d wag her finger, and then relent. Downstairs? In her apartment? The dishwasher had never been used.
“You’re working tomorrow?” Mama brought our mugs to the sink, dumped out the remnants of the tea and handed them to me so I could load them.
“Yeah. Nephrology.”
She patted my arm. “You’re good at that.”
Although she wasn’t wrong, she wouldn’t understand my true reticence. Leo might’ve just started at the hospital, but eventually he’d be performing surgeries. That meant interacting with him. No way around it.
I’d have to be on guard.
Both for my sanity and, more importantly, for my heart.
I gave Mama my best smile. “I’m going to make it an early night.”
She gazed into my eyes. “One day you’ll tell me what’s troubling you.”
Her insight didn’t surprise me. That she thought this was more than a twenty-four-hour thing did.
“Maybe. I’m not certain your heart would be able to take the stress.”
She laughed. “As long as you use protection and stay safe, I’ll survive. Goodnight, little one.”
Given I was almost a foot taller, her nickname never ceased to amuse me. “Goodnight, Mama.”
I’d hoped for a quick and deep slumber. Instead, it took forever to fall into the most erotic dreams I’d had in a very long time.