Chapter Fourteen
Gabriel showed up the next morning, determined that he was going to make things right.
Only to walk over to Sean’s truck and discover that it was closed up tight, with a handwritten sign, posted in the window that stated they wouldn’t be open for the next ten days.
“What’s this?” Gabriel said as Tony walked by. Looking casual, but if Gabe knew Tony at all, knowing it wasn’t. “Did you have something to do with this?”
“All I know is Sean decided to go away for awhile, take a trip,” Tony said. “He said he needed to think about something.”
Gabriel felt like crying. Sean had said that they needed some space, but it had never occurred to him that he would mean they needed this much space.
He’d thought a couple of days, at worst, and then Sean would come waltzing in, with a huge grin on his face and a love confession tumbling out of his mouth.
Because one thing that Gabriel was more sure of than ever was that Sean loved him. He couldn’t feel all of this for someone who didn’t feel it back; it just didn’t feel possible.
“So he left,” Gabriel finally said. He wanted to pour out the whole horrible story, but from the sympathetic expression on Tony’s face, he had a feeling he’d already heard most of it.
“He left,” Tony said. He reached out and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “But he’s gonna be back, okay? And I think maybe it’ll be good for both of you that he went.”
“Good from a you’ll have some time to get over each other point of view or good from a he’ll have something to say that you want to hear point of view?” Gabriel asked.
But Tony didn’t give anything away; just looked regretful. Sorry. And that was definitely way fucking worse.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “I think the only person who can answer that question isn’t here right now.”
“Ugh, you’re fucking useless,” Gabriel moaned.
“But hey,” Tony said encouragingly, “you know what Sean being away for a week means?”
“That I’m going to be miserable and drunk the whole week?”
“That you have time to figure out what you want to do with your truck,” Tony said.
“What? I mean, I have the new name,” Gabriel said. “I already picked it out. I have the logo done and everything.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Tony said. “But I just thought maybe it’s time for you to do more than just re-name yourself, you know? Maybe think about a total rebrand.”
Before Gabriel could ask Tony to explain what the fuck that even meant, he’d strolled off, whistling obnoxiously.
Like he’d just set up everything to his own fucking satisfaction.
Gabriel went storming back to his own truck, in a mood that was not only increasingly bleak, it was increasingly pissed off.
“You look like someone peed on your lawn,” Ren said, when he stomped up the stairs and into the truck.
“Worse than that,” Gabriel said, leaning against the bulkhead. “Sean’s gone and Tony’s decided that it’s okay for him to interfere.”
“Is that really a surprise?” Ren asked. “Tony lives to interfere. And it’s not like he hasn’t, already.
” He gestured towards the sign hanging in the window, advertising their new special, the wrap that Gabriel and Sean had invented together.
“The good news is that at least that particular interference was profitable.”
“He told me while I’m re-naming myself, maybe I should think about re-branding,” Gabriel said, hating how wretched he sounded. “What the fuck is wrong with what I’m doing now?”
“Maybe there’s nothing wrong with it,” Ren said, “and maybe everything is wrong with it.”
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked suspiciously as he washed his hands. As much as he’d like to throw a fit, he couldn’t, because there was a shit ton of work to do. And more of it, now, because Sean had left, leaving Gabe’s truck as the only one who was selling the new special.
That also meant that Gabe was going to have to figure out the sourcing for the wraps and for the vegetables. He was already internally groaning thinking about it.
“I mean, you’ve been doing what Nonna did, and what Luca does, and what your parents do, forever,” Ren said. “That doesn’t mean that’s all you’re capable of.”
“You sound like an annoying combination of Tony and Sean,” Gabriel complained as he dried his hands.
“I probably do, because they’re probably right,” Ren said. “By the way, don’t worry about stocking up, because while you were over gnashing your teeth and re-breaking your heart over at Sean’s truck, he had his daily delivery re-routed over here.”
“Really?” Gabriel was pleasantly surprised.
“Just the stuff we needed for the new wrap,” Ren confirmed. “It needs prepping, which’ll be a problem and a half, but if we rush, we should be fine.”
“Alright,” Gabriel said, and couldn’t believe he’d been so upset when he marched in here, he hadn’t spotted the boxes of produce, much more plentiful than their normal delivery, sitting in the corner, ready to be prepped for the day’s meals. “I guess I’ll get started on this.”
“I’ve got the meatballs today,” Ren said, gesturing to where he was already mixing them up in the big bowl. “And I’ll start the red sauce in a minute.”
Normally, Gabe would’ve protested. He always made the sauce. That was what he did. Nonna had forced him to memorize it early on, because the recipe hadn’t ever been written down.
“Please,” Ren added when he glanced over and saw Gabriel’s confusion. “Do you really think I don’t know the recipe?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Gabriel answered honestly. “I’m a fucking mess right now.”
“You’re not a mess,” Ren said firmly. “But you are at a crossroads, and that means you’ve got to decide what you want to do next.”
Gabriel looked over at his cousin. His best friend, if he was being perfectly, totally honest with himself. The only person he trusted more than he trusted himself.
“I don’t think that’s right,” Gabriel said. “I think it means that we’ve got to decide what we want to do next.”
Ren’s face broke into a huge smile, totally authentic, no deliberate charm to be found. “Really?”
“Really,” Gabe said firmly. “I finished buying Luca out, so I own this now, and well, I kind of think we should own it.”
“I won’t argue with that,” Ren said.
And even though everything was falling apart, it also kind of felt like the beginning.
Sean had thought he’d feel a lot differently if he ever came back to Oregon. Especially if he ever swallowed all his misgivings and not only came back to Oregon, but went to the place that he and Milo had loved to visit together.
Cannon Beach was laid out like a particularly busy labyrinth, already buzzing with people clogging the streets even though it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet.
He could’ve flown in—Cannon Beach wasn’t a long drive from Portland, where the airport was. But he’d driven, because he thought he’d need the alone time to figure out how he was going to face this place.
He leaned against his car door and let his eyes drift across the busy streets. The cafes that he and Milo had shared so many meals in, the shops they’d browsed through, buying little trinkets and framed photos for the wall of the condo they’d shared in Portland.
He’d kept them all, but he couldn’t face displaying them, even two years after Milo had passed, so they were still sitting in boxes, stacked in the closet of the spare bedroom.
Someday, Sean had always promised himself, he’d unpack them and hang the pictures and set the driftwood and the blown glass pieces on his mantle and the coffee table.
Or maybe, he never would, not now. Not when he’d apparently moved on and hadn’t even realized it.
Guilt that Sean didn’t want to feel, guilt that he rejected, swamped him anyway.
It had been two days since he’d left Gabriel and Los Angeles, and he still wasn’t sure what the origin of the guilt was.
Was it because Gabriel had told him he loved him and he hadn’t been able to say it back?
Or was it because deep down, he’d felt a reciprocal feeling, and the very idea of moving on, of moving past Milo, was intolerable?
Must not have been too intolerable considering how tightly you were clinging to Gabe, his conscience supplied, even as he tried to silence it.
So he felt guilty about both, then. He regretted how much he’d hurt Gabriel. He regretted how easy it had been for him to fall into a new relationship with him.
How much he’d wanted it, even as he’d tried to claim otherwise.
Sean pushed away from the car. He’d come here, he might as well swallow down his pain and all this interminable guilt, and do what he’d come here to do.
Except, as he walked down the street towards the first set of shops and restaurants, a few blocks from the beach entrance, he still didn’t know what that was, exactly.
Was he asking whatever was left of Milo for forgiveness? Was he figuring out what he felt for Gabriel?
Maybe, Sean thought, staring in the window of the Celtic-themed store that Milo had adored, he should start by figuring out what he was even doing here.
“Sean!” Tara stuck her head out the open door. “I thought I saw it was you!”
He and Milo had spent so much time in this store, his husband deciding that despite all the clear indications otherwise, deep down he must be Irish, that they and the owner had become friends.
He hadn’t seen her since before Milo had died, the last time they’d come to the coast for a long weekend, staying in the family cabin that was usually available for them.
Sean wasn’t staying there this time; he wouldn’t be able to bear it. Milo’s mom, Lacy, was a wonderful lady, and he missed her, but he wasn’t sure he could face her. Surely she would be able to tell, just by looking at him, that he’d moved on, and he couldn’t do that to either of them.
Tara would have heard of Milo’s passing from Lacy, but he was still unprepared for her big, tight, undeniably fierce hug when he stepped into the shop.
“I heard about Milo, I am so sorry,” she said, her voice thick even though it had been four years.