Chapter Four
Gil
“Hey, Dad. How goes it?”
On Sundays he closed the store and tried to sleep late. It was also the weekly phone call with his parents where he spent time reassuring them that he was well, life was good and no, he hadn’t met anyone.
“It goes, it goes. What can I say? Another day, another root canal. The fun never ends.”
Gil grinned to himself. His father grumbled but the truth was, he loved working and at sixty-three, showed no signs of slowing down. His patients adored him, and he had a devoted staff who were like a second family.
“Victor behaving?”
His brother had followed in their father’s footsteps and become a dentist, although Victor was a periodontist and had married Sofia, a cosmetic general dentist. It all worked perfectly for them, as one could refer patients to the other. Keeping it all in the family.
“They’re good. The little ones are keeping him and Sofia busy. They miss their uncle.”
The one problem with living where he did was the distance, but the thought of moving back to the crowded city gave him hives. He preferred the quiet solitude of the country. He’d found a rental house at the edge of town, bordering a farm, so he had no neighbors aside from the cows and sheep that would occasionally stray into the road.
“I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”
He always made it home for the holidays and it was wonderful to see everyone, but after three days, it was enough—enough questions about when he’d start dating again, enough probing into why he didn’t want to move home and be with his family instead of in a tiny community where no one knew him. How could he explain that was the reason? That it was easier to survive in solitude and hide out with his grief for company?
“I know, but it’s not the same. Are you sure you don’t want to come home to stay?”
“Now you’re sounding like Mom. Where is she, by the way? Usually she’s the one giving me the spiel.”
“Sofia has a cold, so she made chicken soup and went over to help with the kids and give her a break.” Sofia had taken time off from the practice to stay home and raise the twins. After seven years of trying to conceive, multiple miscarriages and failed IVF, she and Victor had given up, only to get pregnant naturally. The twins were almost three, and Gil missed his little niece and nephew and vowed to be a better uncle.
“ Mmm . Mom’s soup is the best. No matter how I try, I can’t replicate it.”
“Don’t even bother. Meanwhile, she always says hers isn’t as good as her mother’s. Moral of the story? Make it your way and own it.”
He’d heard that all his life—make it your way.
He’d tried…and for a while, he’d succeeded.
“How’re you really doing, Gil? Is it getting any easier?”
Still in bed, he rolled up in a ball and stared at the opposite wall. “Yeah. It is.”
I’m coasting. Existing.
But he couldn’t say that—if they knew how hard it was for him to simply will the energy to breathe, his parents would storm Main Street and drag him home.
“Good. Time. It takes time.”
“That’s what they say.”
He waited for the inevitable.
“Have you been going out? Trying to date?”
One thing he’d always been grateful for was the support of his family. Coming out to them at sixteen had been the scariest moment of his life, but they never wavered in their love. When he and Victor would go out before Sofia came into the picture, they’d been each other’s wingmen—Gil would point out cute girls, and Victor would find the hot guys. If he moved back, there’d be more of the same—weekends spent trying to fix him up with every eligible gay man his mother and Sofia and all their friends knew. Gil found himself backed into a corner and forced to do something he hated. Lie.
“Yeah, sure.”
His father’s laughter boomed from the phone. “You were always the worst liar.”
His lips twitched. “I know. But seriously…I think about it and…I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right.”
“I know it seems that way, Gil. And your emotions are completely valid. In the meantime, not everyone you go out with has to be a boyfriend. It’s okay to test the waters and just date for fun.”
“I guess.”
He’d never been a serial dater. He loved being part of a couple. His first relationship had been as a junior in college. He’d met Mark, a psychology student, while studying at the library. Mark broke up with him after graduation, admitting he hadn’t wanted to be monogamous anymore. Gil had remained single until Rob.
“Please try. We are worried, especially since you refuse to come home.”
“Dad,” he warned. “Please don’t put it like that.”
“I know, I know. You’re an adult. But we’re here. For whenever you need us.”
“Thanks. I’d better go. Tell Mom I love her and I’ll call to speak to her later.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family. He did. They were kind, loving and funny. Generous with their affection and time. If anyone needed something, they’d be there to help. But they were also all up in each other’s business, living within blocks of each other, dropping in to say hello, and getting together on the weekends. It was accepted and expected.
Not for him. The quiet one. The grieving one. The one who wanted to be left alone.
He showered and dressed, feeling decadent that it was close to noon and he was still lounging at home. Gil decided on such a beautiful day—sunny skies, a whisper of a cool breeze—a long walk to clear his mind was the perfect remedy to chase the blues. He put on sweats and a hoodie and set out on the road.
Five miles later, the hoodie was off and tied around his waist, and rivulets of sweat dripped from his face. He leaned against the lamppost in front of his store.
“Gil!”
His heart gave a happy bounce while his stomach tied in a knot. He kept his sunglasses on when he faced Benji. Dammit, didn’t the guy ever take a day off? And for fuck’s sake, why did he have to look so damn hot? He gave a quick nod, which might as well have been a bear hug, as Benji ran across the street.
“Did you run a marathon or something?”
Thank fuck the shades hid his eyes, so he could clandestinely devour the sight of Benji Roth as he approached. The long-sleeved T-shirt clung to his sculpted torso and Gil refused to drop his gaze below Benji’s waist, knowing those muscular thighs in gray sweats would be his undoing.
“I-uh-I walked from my place.”
“Where do you live?”
He ran the sleeve from his hoodie over his wet face. “On the other side of town, Rabbit Run Farm.”
Benji’s eyes bulged. “That’s almost seven miles from here. You walked all that way?”
“Seven point two, if we’re being exact.”
A snort escaped Benji’s lips. “Anything above a mile is horrifying. I’m from Florida. We don’t walk anywhere unless it’s inside a mall with air conditioning.”
“New Yorkers walk everywhere.” He folded his arms, then adjusted his sunglasses. Dammit, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Or take the subway.”
“Trust me, I know. I went to school in the city. NYU.”
“Oh.” He stood awkwardly, out of practice with casual conversation.
“Listen, I just made a whole carafe of iced coffee—” Benji started, but he shook his head.
“No, I’m fine.”
“And took out a whole tray of muffins from the oven.”
Damn, the man knew his weakness.
“I used the spices I got from you yesterday. Ginger, allspice, nutmeg…and I added a few extras of my own.”
The first step is the hardest.
“Come on,” Benji wheedled. “I hate eating alone.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Okay. I have a feeling if I said no, you’d follow me until I changed my mind.”
“Only for about a mile. That’s my limit, remember?”
In spite of himself, he laughed.
Benji waved. “Follow me.”
“We’re going to eat in the store?”
“Nope, I live above it.”
They trudged up the stairs to the second floor where to Gil’s surprise, a spacious apartment awaited. Neutral furniture played against a palette of sea greens and blues. Abstract art in the same cool tones hung on the walls.
“Wow. This is very nice.”
“Thanks, but I can’t take any credit. When I bought the building, I had the floors renovated and the kitchen redone.” Benji kicked off his sneakers and he followed suit. “My mother picked out all the furniture and stuff. She said it would remind me of home. Sit, please.”
He sank into the comfortable sectional. “Do you miss it?”
“What? Florida?” Benji busied himself in the open kitchen, placing an assortment of muffins on a plate. He took out a jug of coffee from the refrigerator and filled two tall glasses with ice. “Not at all. I love the change of seasons and fall is my favorite, especially up here. I’m close to my family, but I needed to cut the cord.”
“They in your business a lot?” He could relate.
“My business is their business,” he joked. “They have a need to know. Like when my boyfriend broke up with me….” Light faded from his expressive face, casting a shadow in his blue eyes. “Eh. It’s no big deal.”
Gil thought it was, but it became apparent that Benji wasn’t in the mood to be chatty about his past love life, so he didn’t push. “Sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. If I was still seeing him, I wouldn’t be here, having iced coffee and muffins with you.” He pushed the platter. “Come here and try them.”
“They look delicious.” He sniffed and chose one.
“How do you like your coffee?”
“Just milk, thanks.” Benji handed him the container and took creamer for himself. He poured with one hand and bit into the muffin with another. Chewed and swallowed.
“It’s good.”
Benji frowned. “Good? Just good?”
His mouth curved in a smile. “Very good?” He hoped Benji wasn’t the sensitive type. “I tend to go heavier on the spice than most people.”
“So what would you do to make them better?”
He sipped his coffee. “I don’t want to seem like I’m telling you what to do.”
“Don’t worry. I asked. It takes a lot to offend me.”
“Well…I would add some fruit glaze—either orange or lemon. Some candied ginger chopped fine for a stronger kick and a little heat.”
“Ahh, you like it spicy.” Benji waggled his brows and heat rushed to his face.
“It gives more depth. Just my opinion.”
Serious again, Benji pulled out his phone. “Which I’m asking for. So candied ginger, fruits…what else?”
Gil ate more muffin. “Try some cardamom, date syrup…raisins.”
Benji’s fingers flew over his screen. “Huh. I’ve never heard of date syrup. Or used cardamom.” He set the phone on the counter and drank some of his coffee. “How do you know all about this stuff? Did you study it in college?”
“Yeah. I find that part of the world fascinating. Plus it helps with my understanding of spices.”
“How did you get into the business?” Benji picked up the platter of muffins and left the kitchen. “Wait, before you answer, let’s sit in the living room.”
Gil waited and let Benji go first so he could make sure to choose a space on the opposite side of the couch. Less distracting. “My mother’s family has been in the business for generations. We sell to the public as well as specialty restaurants, boutique hotels, and private chefs. My brother wasn’t interested in the store—he became a dentist like our father.”
“That’s so cool. Have you traveled to exotic places?”
“I’m not sure if you’d consider it exotic, but I’ve been to the Mediterranean and North Africa, plus East Asia.”
“I’ve been to London when I graduated college. That’s it. So yeah, it’s definitely exotic to me. You must’ve seen some amazing sights, like the pyramids and the Great Wall?”
He thought back to the last trip he and Rob had taken—Portugal, Spain, Greece, then Morrocco, Egypt, and the UAE. Rob had come home, brimming with ideas for new recipes for the restaurant and his cookbook. They’d taken a cruise from the Greek Islands to Dubai, swam in the crystal waters of the Med and made love to the sound of the surf in Tel Aviv.
“The beginning of a new chapter,” Rob had whispered in his ear as they danced the night away.
So many dreams…gone.
“Gil?” Benji had moved next to him and he blinked, focusing on those soft lips and big blue eyes. Eyes that darkened with what Gil recognized as lust. They pulled him under. He was drowning. His heart pounded.
“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
He had to leave before he…before he kissed Benji.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Gil jumped to his feet and ran as if the hounds of hell were howling at his heels.