Chapter 10 #2
I lifted a shoulder and was about to say something to redirect the conversation when I saw my mother headed for us.
She was looking picture-perfect in a navy knit dress and Gucci boots, her hair and make-up immaculate.
We exchanged air kisses and she did the compulsory rundown of what I was wearing, in case I had missed the mark on the dress code indicated in her invitation.
She seemed to approve of my semi-casual ensemble.
“Easton, darling. Your dad didn’t say if you confirmed.
I was so busy this morning with last-minute fires to put out, I didn’t have time to check.
And yesterday, we barely had any chance to talk.
” I’d ended up bailing on her after only thirty minutes at the Fall Wine Festival.
I’d felt bad but left after some work stuff came up.
My mother didn’t have the same degree of loathing for my job my father did, but she wasn’t throwing the DA’s office any fundraisers either.
The only time she’d come to my office, the seventies’ wall paper and bad carpeting had her practically in tears.
“Sorry, I left you hanging, Mom.” She gave me a tight smile, then looked down at my grandpa with a fond one. “I made do. I only stayed for a few more minutes and came home and watched a movie with Grandpa. Your dad is always so busy at those things, it’s best to let him work without interfering.”
I swallowed hard on the words that wanted to come out of my mouth about my dad making it his life mission to ignore all of us whenever possible. I was about to comment on her outfit to just find something to say when my father walked up.
“Glad you could join us, Easton. I can’t imagine they make you work on Sundays at that place.” You’d think I was working for the mob, the way my father talked about my job.
“No, they don’t.” I kept my answers short with my father. With him, anything you said could be (and usually was) used against you.
I’d also been with the DA’s office for years, so nothing about my job or my schedule was news.
That didn’t stop him from acting like it was some random thing that I’d started doing overnight just to piss them off.
It always caught me by surprise that my father’s unrelenting disapproval of everything I did still managed to hurt.
I should be used to it by now, since my entire life he’d acted like everything about me from my sexuality to my job were somehow personal affronts.
My mother’s face had that tight expression she usually sported whenever my father was being particularly assholic, but I knew she wouldn’t challenge him.
That would just give him a reason to say something shitty to her, too.
My grandfather, on the other hand, had no such qualms. “Leave him alone, Junior. He works too hard to have to put up with your bullshit whenever he’s here.
” The way he said “Junior” made my dad squirm, and it almost made putting up with his shit worth it.
The gasp from my mom at my grandfather’s language was almost comical. “Father! Language.”
My dad just huffed and turned to talk to someone else. It seemed he was done being an ass, at least for now.
Grandpa just rolled his eyes and turned to me again while Emma distracted my mother with some questions about the catering.
“What’s going on, son? You don’t seem like yourself,” he asked me, concern clear in his eyes.
I hesitated, trying to find the words. I wasn’t so sure even I knew what was happening with me.
Other than I was beginning to realize some of the things that Patrice had been saying.
What Emma had been trying to tell me. That to be a good guy, it wasn’t enough to not be bad.
I couldn’t take shortcuts with that if I wanted a real shot at being with Patrice.
I remembered my grandfather was waiting for an answer and I sat in a chair next to his wheeled one, so we could be eye to eye, taking the hand he gave me.
His skin felt papery and delicate these days, a little more frail each time, but those eyes told me he was well aware there was something I needed to get off my chest.
“I’m just asking more questions, I guess. Not taking things as a given, making myself see what I don’t want to see.” I tried to pull the words out, because that was sort of the rub of it all, not voicing the things that bothered me. “It’s new for me to feel like I’m inconvenient.”
Grandpa made a sound of understanding and gripped my hand tighter. “You really are tangled up. You’re usually on the other side of this conundrum and you certainly don’t pine.”
My grandfather, as always, saw too much, and soon I had Emma as an audience, too.
What he said was true—I was so past my usual playbook when it came to Patrice, I had no clue where I was.
If I had any sense, I’d just give up on things.
Patrice hadn’t exactly given me any indication this morning that being with me was anything but a lapse of judgment.
Except I hadn’t imagined how his hands trembled on my face as he kissed me.
“I’m not sure if this is the right person for me. Being with me is complicated for him. I think it feels like he’s compromising his ideals.”
“Are these ideals worth sacrificing yourself for?”
“Yes.” I thought about Tyren, Ari, Ron, and the fact that, to me, what was happening in town was a concern, even an inconvenience, but to them, it was a threat.
No, Patrice’s inner struggle about us was not completely unwarranted.
Still, I looked at my grandfather, hoping he had some magical solution to my problem.
“Then don’t make him.” The tightening in my gut at the finality in his words confirmed I’d been lying to myself all morning. I had not given up on having something with Patrice.
My grandpa’s strong grip snatched me back to his attention.
“It’s not about giving up, son, it’s about you letting him know that his ideals are valuable to you, too.
” He held up a hand as I was about to refute his solution.
“I know that you’ve probably said so to him, but you can’t just say it, you need to figure out a way to actually let him see it.
Meet him halfway, just make sure he and you both know that keeping you is worthwhile, too. ”
Emma chimed in, of course. “I wish you could see what we see, East. You’re not just good at your job, you’re an amazing guy and I’m sure Professor Hottie knows that, too. He keeps coming back, doesn’t he?” I smiled at her nickname for Patrice, but stayed quiet, figuring myself out.
The truth was, no matter how much I wanted to take what they were saying and run with it, things kept getting more complicated, and this morning hurt.
If there really was any chance of us moving forward, I couldn’t keep making the first move, or letting Patrice act like whatever happened was him not thinking.
No, I agreed with Grandpa. I could meet Patrice halfway, but for any of this to work, next time he would have to step up, too.