Chapter 6
Chapter Six
TIGO
After a quick shower and change of clothes, I hustle over to the main building to talk someone into covering me today. I’m still reeling from asking Cato to move here for me. I don’t even know what came over me, aside from a strong need to keep him.
Today just has to be chill. I’ll show him everything I love about the city and hope he loves it too.
Enough to get him to see the possibilities.
I just refuse to do a long-distance thing.
It’s too hard. There’s too much pining and loneliness.
Even for Cato. I can’t put either of us through that.
If this weekend is all we have, at least we can make it amazing.
Inside the lobby, I see Howie standing behind the counter, holding an inflatable flamingo and staring down at the counter.
“Morning, Howie.”
He looks up, his brow pinched. “Hey. You didn’t see how these stupid things got in the fountain, did you?”
“No. I would have told you. We all would, How.”
He exhales, slumping his shoulders. “It’s driving me crazy. There’s only one person in this world who knows how much I hate flamingos, but he’s been gone a long time.”
“Dead?”
“No. Only in my heart.”
“Ah. Former love?”
Howie nods. “Way former. High school. We had dreams together. We were gonna run off to Europe and build a life there where we could be free.” He sets the flamingo down. “Anyway.”
“What happened?”
Howie shrugs. “Don’t really know. His parents told my parents we weren’t to speak anymore, and I never saw him again. I heard rumors that his parents shipped him off to a strict boarding school.”
“I’m sorry, Howie.”
He waves me off. “It was a lifetime ago.”
I want to ask how flamingos play into it, but a few guests walk through the door, effectively ending our walk down memory lane. I head over to the restaurant, happy to find Fitz and Zane chatting as Fitz takes chairs off the tables.
“Morning, guys.”
They both turn to me. Zane nods in his typically stoic way while Fitz waves.
“I have a favor to ask, Fitz.”
“Let me guess. You need to take today off to spend with our guest?”
I chuckle. “Uh, yeah, actually.”
“It was a good date then? Oscar said he saw you guys looking all mushy.”
I shake my head but can’t avoid the grin tugging at my lips. “It went well. I want to show him around town.”
“No problem, man. I got you.”
When I walk back through the lobby, Howie is dealing with a customer who doesn’t look too happy.
I jump behind the counter to help the other customers check in and get to their rooms. I can’t hear what the argument is about, but when Oscar happily enters, he pauses, looking around for a quick escape.
It’s too late. The guest sees him and points.
“Him! That guy.”
Busted, Oscar cowers behind the front desk. “Sir, I swear I wasn’t hitting on your wife. She’s not my type at all.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” the man demands in a booming voice. “You’re saying my wife isn’t attractive?”
“What? No! I just mean…ah, fuck it. I’m gay, dude.”
The man pulls his head back, blinking. “Gay? Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Forgive me, but I’m not in the habit of shouting my sexuality out to people.”
The man nods, looking sheepish. “Well, then I apologize.”
“No problem. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was truly just being friendly.”
“I understand.” The man offers his hand, and Oscar shakes it. “Uh, have a good day.” He leaves quickly.
Once he’s gone, Oscar slumps against the wall. “Gee, that guy was intense. I told his wife she had a pretty smile, and he lost his shit.”
“You’re not gay,” Howie notes. “At least I didn’t think so.”
“Gotta do what you gotta do.” Oscar shrugs, grinning. “I’m off to clean the pool.”
I turn to leave, saying, “Never a dull moment around here,” when Cato comes through the door. “Oh, hey. I was just on my way to come see you.”
“Oh.” He smiles as his cheeks turn pink. “Maybe I panicked.”
“Over what?”
“You were gone a long time.”
My heart flutters in my chest just knowing he cared. “Sorry. Handling work stuff so I can focus on you the rest of the day.”
His smile grows. “Awesome.”
“On that note, ready to head out?”
“I am.”
By the time we pull back into the hotel parking lot, both of us are exhausted and high from too much sun, laughter, and maybe a few margaritas. We saw everything from Balboa Park to La Jolla to the Gaslamp District.
We’re still laughing about nothing in particular when we collapse on Cato’s bed, our hands entwined.
“San Diego is awesome,” Cato says.
“Yeah, it is.” I roll to my side, gazing down at him. His eyes are closed, his hair fanned across his forehead. I brush it away, leaning in for a kiss. “Do you need a nap?”
“No. You?”
“Nope. Could use a shower.”
He chuckles. “Same.”
“How about together?”
He opens his eyes. “Yes, please.”
A few hours and an epic sixty-nine later, we step into the hotel restaurant since neither of us has the energy to venture out again.
Today has been perfect, but there’s no way I’ll fuck it up again by suggesting he uproot his life for me.
If he feels the way I do, he’ll make the decision on his own.
We’re both quieter than we were during the day, likely aware that this magical weekend ends in the morning.
We chat about the things we did today and more of the mundane stuff that makes us who we are, from music preferences to whether we consider ourselves neat or messy.
We align in many ways, but I know I don’t need to point that out. It’s obvious.
After dinner, we walk the grounds, pausing when we see Howie and a striking man with him near the pool. Howie glances at us before motioning me over.
“Hey, Howie.”
“Tigo. This is my favorite nephew, Atlas.”
The man laughs. “Only nephew, but sure.” He offers his hand. “Atlas.”
“Tigo. This is Cato.”
They shake hands too.
“I’ve begged Atlas to come see the place, but Mr. Financial Advisor has been too busy.”
Atlas frowns. “Come on, Uncle How. You know it’s not like that. You’re my favorite uncle.”
Howie chuckles. “Only uncle.”
We all laugh.
“Did you have a fun day?” Howie asks Cato.
“The best, thanks.”
“Good.”
“How long are you staying with us?” I ask Atlas.
“Just tonight. I have to be back in New York by Monday morning.”
“I tried to get him to stay,” Howie pouts.
“It’s tempting,” Atlas agrees, looking around. “San Diego is light years different from New York.”
Nodding, I reply, “I bet.” I glance at Cato. “Well, nice to meet you, Atlas. Hope to see you around.”
“I’ll make an effort,” he says.
Cato and I walk back to his room, hand in hand. The closer we get to morning, the heavier the mood. Once inside, we sit on the loveseat, still silent.
A few minutes later, Cato twists to face me. “I have an idea.”
“Hit me.”
“Let’s forget tomorrow exists and just live for now.”
I nod, smiling. “Good plan.”