Chapter 9
A sigh left Jensen’s lips as he turned off the car.
He wasn’t exactly morose. Especially not at the prospect of his parents’ company.
The brick and stucco house he was parked at was one of two places he felt comfortable.
Until he’d moved into his current home, it was the singular place he knew he wouldn’t be judged or forced to fit into a precut and -labeled box.
His parents had bought the suburban home when Jensen was just three years old, and he couldn’t remember anything that came before.
Since then, the garden had been redone several times, more specifically whenever his mother decided she was going to be on top of it.
The roses leading up the walk were the only things that had survived his mother’s decades-long feud with landscaping, and that was because they really didn’t need to be taken care of.
Inside were his two favorite people, and Jensen was excited to embrace them and eat a hearty helping of whatever his mother cooked for lunch.
Basking in their calm presence was the best way to decompress after the craziness of his morning.
Which was why he wasn’t sad or particularly depressed.
But his morning had lacked one component he was actually looking forward to.
Daniel had left sometime during the night, after Jensen had fallen asleep in blissful contentment.
Their coupling had been so good that he hadn’t considered being insecure about the morning after.
Usually, he was so strung tight about awkward morning conversations that he told his hookups they needed to leave before he fell asleep.
Some of them got upset by the apparent brush-off, but Jensen knew they’d hate him babbling and freaking out about social etiquette, warring with his need to be alone, more.
Yet he wanted Daniel in his space. That was insane enough on its own, but Jensen also felt cheated that he hadn’t gotten to wrap himself around Daniel and have a cozy morning together before he had to leave.
In the moments it had taken him to wake fully, before realizing Daniel had left, he fantasized about strolling to get coffee and a quick bite to eat together.
He’d daydreamed about kissing him goodbye and making promises they’d stay in touch.
But Daniel had swiped all those options off the table, his phone number on the nightstand the only proof he’d been there at all.
Jensen had entered the contact into his phone, taken a picture of the paper, then tucked it into his wallet to make sure he didn’t lose it, but he wasn’t sure he planned to use it.
Besides, what if it was a fake number Daniel had given him just to lessen the sting of leaving?
That didn’t really make sense, Jensen could admit that, but his anxieties had flared up the moment he opened his eyes and realized he was alone, and now all the illogical, worst-case scenarios seemed plausible.
With another sigh, he pulled on the door handle and got out of his car.
The San Francisco summer heat assaulted him, the sun beating down on his head, adding another layer of sweat to his body.
In the time it took for him to cross the threshold of his parents’ house, the sweat he’d wiped off in the airport bathroom had been dutifully replaced with a vengeance.
He quickly kicked off his shoes, not caring that they landed on either side of the rack his mother had set up.
Shoulders slumped, he dragged his feet into the kitchen, chasing the smell of stewed tomatoes and herbs.
A corner of his lips kicked up when he saw his mother, all but dancing around the kitchen in her checkered apron.
Her curly brown hair was pinned up in a bun, steam from the stove making it go a bit frizzy.
Predictably, she was wearing her house clothes but had every ring Jensen’s father had ever given her adorning her long fingers.
Not much had changed in the room over the years, making it more familiar and nostalgic than most of the world was.
From the somewhat tacky and very dated design choices down to the rooster plates displayed on top of the cabinets, every stitched-together piece of the room filled Jensen with ease.
This was home. This was a place that didn’t force him to get used to constant changes. It was years of happiness baked into the taupe walls and discolored grout. It was stability.
It was impolite of him to stand in the arched doorway and stare at his mother getting food ready without offering to help.
“Do you need assistance with anything?” Jensen stepped further into the kitchen.
His mother startled slightly before abandoning her station and shuffling across the floor. “How was your trip back?” Her hands went up to frame his face. “Are you all right?”
Jensen puffed out a breath. “I was fine when I called you after the plane landed, and I’m still fine.”
Satisfied enough, she let go of him, returning to the stove. “A lot can happen in a little time, especially in an airport. Your aunt Daria met a psychic on one of those shuttle buses to the parking lot, and now she’s living in Connecticut with her husband, and they have three beautiful kids.”
“Mom, Aunt Daria was already engaged to Charles. The psychic didn’t do that.”
Pointing a wooden spoon at him, she shook her head. “She was having second thoughts about marrying him. If she hadn’t met that psychic, she could be living in Tampa with her mother.”
Jensen rolled his eyes the moment her back was turned. “I got to my car just fine, and traffic was light. Uneventful. I didn’t run into a single medium, figuratively or literally.” He sat on a stool and rested his elbows on the kitchen island. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s doing a puzzle.”
“A puzzle?” he asked, already getting up.
“Uh-uh.” His mother whipped around, sauce from her wooden spoon splattering on the counter. “No, you don’t. You’ll sit here and eat lunch with your mother. Then you can go help him.”
Jensen’s shoulders sagged, but he sat back down.
He had spent countless hours of his childhood in the spare room, putting together puzzles with his father.
His mother rarely joined in, but she’d sit in the plush corner chair and read while they silently slaved over that week’s challenge.
His father had once joked they should enter into competitions.
Of course, that got a deep laugh out of Jensen, since neither of them could handle crowds and the mention of timed competitions made them both shudder.
“Good boy,” she remarked. Moments later, she set down a plate in front of him, laden with pasta and vegetables.
When he raised his eyebrows about the amount of food on his plate, she raised hers back.
“You’re too skinny. Did they not feed you at the conference?
I knew I should have sent you with a few meals. ”
“Mom,” he groaned. “I’m a grown man; I can feed myself.”
“Don’t get her started,” his dad said as he walked in the room. He slipped behind her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he went by. “Thank you for making lunch, beautiful.”
Jensen turned toward his father, hoping he could get him to see reason at least. “No one else has their mothers sending food for them.”
“That’s because they have spouses at home that do it for them.
” His mom finished scooping her own portions onto a plate.
“I was just telling your father you need to find a man. Preferably a chef that can fatten you up. Are you sure I can’t set you up with that hairdresser from the salon I go to?
The pozole recipe I got from him was very tasty.
If you two got together, he could feed you and cut your hair. ”
“Mom, you don’t even know if he’s gay.” Jensen knew for a fact he was gay, or at least not straight.
He’d seen him on a hookup app about a year ago when Jensen’s horniness had outweighed his social anxiety for a night.
At least, he was pretty sure it was the same man his mother had shown him pictures of.
It was hard to tell from the angle he’d chosen for the images he uploaded.
The similarities had been close enough for Jensen to ignore the profile just to be safe.
Clearing his throat, he shifted on the stool.
“Besides, I met a man over the weekend.”
Both his parents stared at him, shock so evident on their faces that it was actually insulting.
He met people. He went on dates. Occasionally.
Okay, it had been quite a while since he last tried dating a man, hookups not included.
That wasn’t exactly his fault though. He’d been busy at work and dreaming up new plans to remodel his house.
And then he’d gotten really invested in an old TV show that had twelve seasons, and he had to finish that or he’d be thinking about it constantly.
Besides, it was difficult to date at his age.
A sour taste bubbled up his throat whenever he thought about dating someone in their twenties—it simply felt strange now that he was nearing his mid-thirties.
Even if he had any interest in an age gap, he didn’t have anything in common with people younger than him.
Most of the good men his age were already partnered up, and the others weren’t looking for a relationship for one reason or another.
That left all the people who were single for a reason, which were the men he happened to run into more often than not.
It didn’t help that Jensen’s world was quite insular.
He refused to partake in the club scene and had never enjoyed loud bars.
Dating apps had been promising in the beginning, as having all relevant information about a person before meeting was ideal for Jensen.
He could even get a few conversations out of the way through text so he didn’t feel so awkward and unprepared on first dates.
But his experiences on the apps had been mostly demoralizing, and it didn’t take long for him to delete them.