Chapter 32
Zeke
The city is overstimulating in the best way possible.
The two-mile walk from Talon’s penthouse to the theater on Forty-Fifth Street is cold and loud, but still bustling with energy, a lot of it mine.
After eating a huge dinner, the walk is necessary to help my food settle.
Talon had asked if I wanted to take the car service, but I’d declined.
I can’t see things as well from the car, and I like to feel connected to the city’s energy, not hide myself from it behind the tinted privacy windows of the car.
As we stroll, people don’t even blink twice as Talon and I walk hand-in-hand down the street. Not a single rude comment or slur is made. We’re just us. Two guys, in love, out for a night on the town.
The smells of the street alternate between food and car exhaust. The occasional horn blares, but I’m learning it’s done more as a communication style rather than out of anger…although sometimes it’s angry communication.
Turning onto Forty-Fifth Street, Times Square is lighting up the night, and my mouth falls open. I come to a complete stop, my head tilting back as I struggle to take it all in.
Spinning in a slow circle as wet snowflakes hit my glasses, I feel the last bit of weight in my chest loosen, leaving me free.
This is home.
“What do you think?” Talon asks, speaking directly into my ear so I can hear him over the noise of the city. People are walking in every direction around us, but I’m frozen where I stand.
I open my mouth to speak, but have to close it quickly, thanks to the emotion stealing my voice.
With a long exhale, I try to pull myself together.
“It’s so much more than I ever imagined,” I finally manage to say.
Talon’s face breaks into his stunning smile, and I throw my arms around his neck. I’m on my toes because I can’t reach otherwise, and in my very own movie moment, Talon wraps his arms around my waist, lifts me into the air, and spins me around.
“I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he whispers against my lips.
“I’m so fucking happy to be here…with you,” I tell him truthfully. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he says without hesitation, and God help me, I believe him.
He sets me back down on my feet and takes my hand again.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
I rely on Talon to guide me the rest of the way because my head is whipping from side to side, digesting the sights before me.
Upon our arrival at the theater, there’s a long line of patrons down the sidewalk, stomping their feet to stay warm as they wait for the doors to open.
I’m prepared to wait patiently; it’s all part of the experience.
But Talon has other plans.
He leads me to the front doors, where two men in suits are standing guard. Upon seeing Talon, they both offer handshakes before pulling the doors open.
“Enjoy your night, Mr. Devereaux.”
“Thank you, Dominic,” Talon replies to the man on the left, offering the man on the right a smile and a nod as he places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me through the door.
“Friends of yours?” I ask, recognizing the jealousy in my voice, too late. I’ve never been jealous before. Never had someone I cared about enough to be concerned that someone else might take them from me.
Tugging lightly on the tie at his throat, Talon says, “They, uh, work for me.”
“What? You mean here?”
“Um…” he stalls, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah.”
My brain connects the dots quickly.
“You own a theater on Broadway?!” I manage to keep my voice down, but it still comes out as a shriek.
Talon nods. “I told you I loved theater the day we met.”
“You remember that?” I ask, totally bewildered.
“Of course. I also remember right after that, you accused me of being a gym bro,” he adds, planting a kiss below my ear and sending shivers down my spine.
Sliding my hand to his pec, I give it a light squeeze.
“You can see how I might’ve arrived at that conclusion.”
“Talon! I heard through the grapevine you’d be here tonight,” a feminine voice rings through the air, making me drop my hand and try to step back, putting a respectable distance between Talon and me.
He traps me against him before I can move, however, and he laces his fingers together at my lower back, embracing me in a hug, my torso pressed against his.
“Sounds like I’ll have to prune the grapevine,” he mutters to me before addressing the woman in front of us. “Hello, Dahlia.”
Oh boy.
I remember the name from Christmas, and Eloise was more forthcoming with the shit-talk on our shopping spree than Talon ever was, so I know a fair bit about the high-society woman in front of me.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says in a way that clearly means she did.
“It’s all right. We have all night,” Talon says, kissing my cheek in a bold statement. “Zeke, this is Dahlia; Dahlia, my boyfriend, Zeke.”
She can’t hide her shock fast enough, and neither of us offers the other our hand.
I nod, finding my words first.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
It’s not lost on me that while he gave her no title, he claimed me as his boyfriend.
As much as I love it and love him, I have to wonder if he’s fully thought this through.
He only just came out to his parents this morning.
He said it went well, but he also seemed a little guarded.
I didn’t press, understanding he probably needs a little time to fully process.
But here he is, outing himself to a person I certainly wouldn’t consider a friend.
“Boyfriend?” she repeats, swinging her gaze back to Talon.
He nods, offering no other explanation, and honestly? It’s the most perfect, dignified response he could have given because it’s no one’s business but ours.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks her. “We were just heading to the bar.”
It’s obvious she wants to decline so as not to be in my company, but her status and manners prevent her from doing so.
“That would be lovely, Tal. Thank you,” she coos, using Talon’s nickname.
It’s such a passive-aggressive way of communicating that she knows him intimately, but it bothers me because even I don’t use his nickname…and I’m not sure why. I suspect it’s because I still don’t feel like I deserve him, and part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Dahlia moves in step next to Talon, putting him between us, and I briefly think he’s going to offer her his arm. It would be the polite thing to do.
Instead, he makes a show of pulling out his wallet with his left hand—the side Dahlia is on—while keeping his right hand on my back beneath my leather trench coat.
The man behind the bar greets him by name.
“Mr. Devereaux! Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought maybe you forgot about us.”
Talon smiles. “Hi, Joe. I could never forget you. I’ve been out west sorting out a new property. How’s Annabelle?” he asks, making small talk that seems like something more. Talon knows this man’s family.
“Lucky business, to get the Devereaux stamp and come under your wing,” Joe says before addressing Talon’s question. “And she’s doing great. Loving that violin you gave her. Practices every day.”
Talon is beaming now.
“That’s great to hear. When she’s ready for an audition at Juilliard, you just let me know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Devereaux. What can I get you to drink?”
Talon turns to Dahlia.
“Ladies first.”
She orders champagne quickly and returns her attention to Talon, opening her mouth to speak, but he doesn’t see it because he’s already leaning down to kiss my cheek.
“What would you like, baby?” he whispers in my ear.
“Just water, please,” I tell Joe.
“I’ll have a Jameson on the rocks,” Talon says when the man looks at him.
Talon pulls me in front of him, wraps his arms around me, and presses his lips to my other ear this time.
“If you’re worried about spending my money, don’t be. Like Summit, I eat and drink here for free, which means you do, too.”
Keeping my voice low, I turn to look at him over my shoulder.
“Is that why you grabbed your wallet?” I argue.
He simply smiles and kisses the corner of my mouth as Joe hands Dahlia her champagne and a bottle of water to me.
While he’s pouring Talon’s drink, Talon slips a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet.
Joe balks when Talon tries to hand it to him.
“Sir, I’m well compensated for my time, and when I had to have that emergency appendectomy last year, you paid me for five days I didn’t work.”
“That’s because you’re irreplaceable, Joe. I want you to stick around. This tip is for a job well done.”
Talon slides the bill across the counter and salutes Joe with his drink before holding his arm out for me to take.
I almost forget that Dahlia is on our other side until she opens her mouth again.
“So, Talon, how long have you been…” she trails off, very clearly searching for how she wants to finish the question. “Into men?”
Talon stops short, seemingly having also forgotten she was there.
“Dahlia, I hardly think now is an appropriate time or place. Not to mention, I don’t believe the answer to that question is any of your business.”
For a brief second, I’m convinced she’s going to throw her champagne on Talon, but she collects herself, her saccharine smile promising retribution in ways I can’t begin to imagine.
“Of course. My apologies. Enjoy the show.” She walks away like an untouchable ice queen, immediately gathered up by another group of well-dressed theater patrons, and doesn’t spare us another glance.
“Let’s get to our seats, otherwise I’ll be stopped all night,” Talon says.
I follow him up the ornate curved staircase to the mezzanine and then back down a much shorter set of stairs to our row.
The front row.
The most sought-after tickets in the whole place.
I stare at my seat for a solid minute, trying to absorb the fact that I’m here.
Talon chuckles as he gets comfortable next to me.
“You didn’t really think I’d accept any other seats for your first show on Broadway, did you?” I shake my head, but stay silent because, once again, I don’t know what to say. He tugs on my coat, encouraging me to take it off. When I do, an usher appears at the end of our row.
“I’ll be happy to take those for you, Mr. Devereaux,” he says, holding out his gloved hands like our jackets are precious items.
Considering the price tag that came on mine, I guess it is.
When I finally take my seat, Talon immediately laces our fingers together and places our hands in his lap, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand repeatedly.
“I don’t have the words for how incredible this is, Talon. Thank you,” I tell him, turning to face him in my seat as the theater begins filling in around us.
His free hand slides along my jaw as he leans toward me.
“There’s more, but you’ll have to wait until after the show.”
“More? Talon, I don’t think I can handle more. There’s already been so much. Besides, all I want is you.”
Not only is it true, but I constantly feel the need to remind him of this.
I fell for Talon long before I knew who he was or how much money he had.
And while it’s true, money can certainly help in a lot of instances, it can’t buy happiness.
Talon makes me happy simply because of the man he is, not because of his net worth.
“I know,” he says. “And that means the world to me.”