Ten
When Sam got home on Friday night, he was stunned when he heard all the noise.
“What?”
“Lemme get this straight,” he said, scowling at me. “I could be in mortal danger here, people could be trying to kill me, but Dane and Aja still let their kids visit?”
“For one,” I began, crossing my arms and mirroring him, “if your kids are safe—and they are—then so are theirs, and, hello, Aja needs to get laid.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” he groaned, “why the hell did I need to hear that?”
“Because it’s true! She needed a date night!”
He was still stunned as he was swarmed by children who came flying in from the other room—Kola and Hannah, followed quickly by Robert, who was the same age as Hannah, and Gentry, who could crawl really fast. Balancing himself on one hand, he put up the other for Sam, who scooped him up in his arms and hugged him.
Gen was adorable, with Dane’s eyes and Aja’s cheekbones; Robert had gotten his mother’s honey-brown eyes and long lashes, but had Dane’s features—his nose and his jaw. I told Aja often that the girls would be waiting in line for her boys.
“We’ll see who gets by Mama.”
I was betting not many. Just thinking about having Aja Harcourt as a mother-in-law would be terrifying. She was smart and gorgeous. Good luck trying to live up to that.
My plan had been to make dinner, but Regina called and said that she had made lasagna and asked if we would like to come over. I explained about Robert and Gentry, and since she had not seen them since right before school started, she was excited to have them.
Once there, I excused myself when I saw Aaron Sutter’s number come up on my display.
“And?” he muttered on his end.
“What? I thought you’d call and give me an update,” I defended myself.
He sighed deeply.
“That bad? I thought you guys had—”
“He had to go work on a task force thing in New York.”
“Yeah, I know. I figured that would be good. If you hated him, it would just be done. If you liked him, you could miss him.”
Silence.
“Aaron?”
He was never quiet or thoughtful, and it was sort of freaking me out.
“He’s in the closet, you know. Like, no one at work knows he’s gay.”
“Yeah, well, only your friends know you’re gay. Even your family doesn’t know.”
“They know.”
“They suspect. Everyone does. But you’ve never come out to the press or to your parents or your brother.
You never go to your big social engagements with a guy on your arm.
You and I never arrived together; we never left together.
When I showed up on the society pages with you, it was always as your friend.
You have amazing friends who would never breathe a word about your personal life.
Even Todd, who I hate or did hate, even him, he—”
“Todd got married and moved to Connecticut, you know. You’d probably actually like him now.”
“Don’t get crazy,” I told him, remembering his buddy who had always figured me for trash. “I’m just saying, you have good people in your circle, and they would never out you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, then what?”
“No, I just … it was nice, you know? He gets it.”
“Okay. And?”
“And what?”
“And Duncan Stiel? What’s the deal?”
He cleared his throat. “When he gets back, he’s gonna call me.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“So …” I drew out the word. “You’re not gonna pop up to New York to visit him?”
“No.” He sounded irritated. “He’s working, and I have to fly to Berlin tomorrow to discuss contracts and … things.”
“Things?”
“Just—goodbye.”
“What about your art auction?”
“I talked to Fallon. You saw the money, right?”
I had. I didn’t check the business account every day like I did my personal one, but I had seen the transfer. “Yeah, but don’t you want to look at what we—”
“No, you know I trust you. Just do it.”
He did not sound like himself.
“You normally try to come on to me, you know.”
Nothing.
“Not that this isn’t better, and Sam will certainly be thrilled, but … I actually thought I was doing you a favor and not making your life shitty. I’m sorry you and Duncan didn’t—”
“What?” he snapped, sounding irritated.
Wait now …
He was being very defensive about Duncan Stiel.
“Aaron, do you like Duncan? Does he like you? Tell me now.”
He coughed, but there was no great outpouring of information.
“You’re really starting to—”
“He’s different from what I thought.”
“And you’re different right now than you’ve ever been,” I let him know because, really, I had never met this man before.
For as long as I’d known Aaron, he’d been arrogant and conceited and brash.
There were quiet times, yes; there were times he tried to get me to move in and see the life he could provide.
There were times he’d tried to change me, make me dependent, make me love him, body and soul.
But the man on the phone was unsure, and that was simply not Aaron Sutter.
“Jory.”
It was my fault. I broke him, and now I was worried. He had a lot of people depending on him for their livelihood. I had to fix him.
“What can I do?”
“I … I want to go to New York.”
Oh. Well now. “You do?” I could not hide my surprise.
“I do.”
“And what’s stopping you?” I wanted to know.
“I don’t want to push if I shouldn’t,” he murmured.
“Wouldn’t going show interest?”
“Or compulsive tendencies.” He sighed deeply.
“So, you’re worried about looking too eager?”
“I don’t want to look like I want more than there is,” he explained. “That’s no good.”
“Okay. May I ask what was said when you guys parted that night?”
He grunted. “That was slick—or tried to be. Ask what you want to know.”
“Did you sleep with him?” This was the heart of the matter.
“Yes, I did.”
“And?”
“And there is no way in hell I’m telling you what went on in my bedroom.”
“You always tell,” I reminded him.
“Not this time.”
Not this time.
“You didn’t use to tell your pals about us.”
“What in the world does that—”
“You didn’t,” I cut him off.
“And so?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“That’s ancient his—”
“Why?” I pressed him.
“Because you were special.” He was matter-of-fact and annoyed at the same time.
“Did you tell anyone about Duncan?”
“You’re the only one who knows about me and the detective.”
Uh-huh.
“So, he knows who you are since you took him home with you.”
“Yes.”
“And how did that go?” This was getting good, and the digging was killing me.
“He’s in the closet. So am I. He liked that I got it. I appreciated that he did.”
“So, that part was perfect.”
“It was,” he agreed with me.
“Oh for crissakes, Aaron, you’re driving me nuts!” I yelled at him. “Do you want to see Duncan again or not?”
“I—”
“Aaron!”
“Fine! Yes, I want to see him! Why the hell do you think I want to go to New York?”
“What did he say? What did you say? Jesus, what is this, junior high?”
“He said when he got back, he wanted to see me, and he wanted to know if that would be okay?”
“And you said, Hell yeah, Detective, I would love to see you.”
“Pretty much.”
Pretty much?
“Aaron Sutter, you sound a little flustered.”
“Yes.”
Yes? “Aaron?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t you dare,” I threatened him. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t.”
Holy. Shit.
“Try.”
“I liked him.”
“Yeah, I got that, and so?”
“And so … I mean, he told me everything.”
“What’s everything?”
“Just about him, about how he’s been screwing nameless, faceless guys and how there was one guy—a special guy—but it didn’t work because of him.”
“Because of who?”
“Duncan. I mean, like I told you, he’s not out, and the guy was, and so he needed me to understand that, and of course I do, and you should have seen how relieved he was, and … he was just … and I want to … shit.”
“You want to what? Move him in? Lock him in?”
“He’s the kind of man who needs to belong to one person. You can tell.”
“Desperation is not sexy.”
“No, not normally, no.”
He was killing me.
“But he wants to belong, and you want what?”
The sound he made, somewhere between a whine and a groan, was deep.
“Aaron?”
“The thought of him just living like he has been when he so wanted to stay … I … and I don’t even know if … I don’t know.”
The weight of it, of what I’d done, hit me. I thought I knew people, thought I knew things, but maybe I didn’t, and when all was said and done, Aaron Sutter had turned out to be a friend, someone I could count on.
“I’m sorry I—”
“Why would you be sorry? Don’t be sorry yet.”
I took a breath.
“I’ll let you know what happens.”
“When?”
“When I get back from New York.”
“So, you’re going?”
“I am,” he husked, and it was a good sound because I’d never heard it from him before.
Since I had no more advice to give, I shut the hell up and let him hang up on me.
“J?” Sam was concerned when I reappeared in the living room.
“Sorry. I had to talk to Aaron.”
“Oh? And how are he and Duncan getting along?”
“I have no idea.”
Sam nodded and then pointed at me. “If that ends in gunfire, it’s all on you.”
“Really? You think that’s a nice thing to say?”
“I’m just saying, cop, playboy… how did that make sense in your head?”
Nothing ever made sense in my head—that was the problem.
Sam had canceled fishing with Chaz and Pat, but since making him go to the movies was cruel and unusual punishment, I had him take care of Gentry instead.
Regina was originally going to do it, so it worked out great.
I met the others—Dylan and her two kids; Harper and his mother, Jessica; Tess and her father, Gordon; my buddy Evan and his two boys, Bryce and Seth—at the movies right after eleven the next morning.
It was a production with that many kids—I had three, and there were nine in all—to get everyone seated with popcorn and a drink and napkins.
Halfway through the movie, Hannah had to pee, but it was fine, as there were more than enough parents to keep a watchful eye on Kola and Robert while I was gone.