Page 182 of Playing By Ear

Perry took in a deep breath, smelling the spring rain that held a faint promise of summer. “I could never admit this before, but I started camming because I was lonely. Nathan was gone, and our mutual friends faded away. There was Brian, of course, but a best mate can’t be everything. I was working more and more from home, all alone. A writer’s life can empty so quickly if we’re not careful. Doubly true for disabled writers.”

Jamie nodded. “You’ve formed a good community on your channel.”

“Yes. At first I felt guilty for resenting their expectations. Most cammers would kill to have such loyal followers. But things keep escalating. Sooner or later, I’ll do something I don’t want to, just to keep the cash rolling in.”

“I wondered how you’d ever top the digital butt plug.” Jamie took his hand. “I’m glad you’re not lonely anymore.”

“Me, too.” Perry wished they could carve out another bubble of time and space to be truly alone together.

“So you’ll send this piece to one of your editors?”

“I’ll send a proposal to the two who might be interested.” Perry’s pulse sped at the thought. “If it’s published, it could help readers see disabled people as we are: human.”

“I’ve never seen you as anything but.” Jamie pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m writing a song for you. I’ll play it for you when it’s done, because I need you to know.” He touched Perry’s cheek. “I love you, Perry.”

Jamie’s words, spoken for the first time, were more arresting than Perry could ever have predicted.

“I love you, too,” he blurted before kissing Jamie, then kissing him again, then again, willing all their worries to flow forth on their shared breath. Outside, the wind shifted, sprinkling them with cool rain through the open window.

Perry’s phone rang where he’d left it on the mattress. “Och, who is it?” He’d shut off VoiceOver’s spoken notifications to guard his privacy here, but it was unnerving not to have callers announced.

Jamie took a step toward their bed. “It’s your mum.”

Perry went over and picked it up. “Mum, what’s⁠—”

“Tell me it’s not true.”

He sank onto the mattress. How had she already heard his secret was out? Was there a Facebook post he’d missed? “Look, Mum, the situation is under control. I’m gutted it’s come to this, but I refuse to pretend I’m ashamed when I’m not.” He straightened his posture and declared, “I’m going to tell the truth. In fact, I’m going to write an essay about it.”

There was a short silence. “An essay about dating a gangster?”

Perry’s breath stopped. “Erm, sorry?” he choked out.

Jamie sat beside him with the basket of muffins. He clearly hadn’t overheard that last bit.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” she asked. “The father of your boyfriend—the boyfriend we’ve still not met, and now I can guess why—has brain cancer, and according to the media, so does Martin MacKray.”

Christ. In all the furor over his camming and Martin’s decline, Perry had forgotten to keep his parents in the loop. Or had he simply not wanted to deal with it?

“Jamie’s not a gangster.”

Jamie froze, a muffin halfway to his open mouth.

Perry continued. “I told you, he left his family ages ago. He wanted no part of the crime. He even changed his surname. He’s back with them only because his dying father needs care.” He slid a hand onto Jamie’s knee. “I would be proud to have you meet him, because Jamie Guthrie is the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Oh.” His mum’s voice sounded unusually small and soft. “You did tell me he’d left them. I must have forgotten.”

“I understand why you’d be protective, but I’m handling myself. Most of them are—” He stopped before the words rather nice could escape his lips. “They treat me well, because they can see Jamie and I love each other.”

She let out a long sigh. “This is…a lot, Per.”

“I know, I’m the one living it.” He took a beat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

His mum made a dismissive noise. “Look, I’ve meant to phone you for days, but I’ve struggled to find the words.”

Perry glanced at Jamie, whose gaze seemed fixed straight ahead, maybe on the baby monitor. “Right words for what?”

“To say I’m sorry. For the way I reacted to your…vocation.”