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Noah couldn’t help his laugh. “Iam. I’m a socially anxious mess.”
Trying for a half smile, Birdie shrugged. “Well, that’s kind of our fault, isn’t it?”
“No,” Noah said, and he couldn’t help the hint of bitterness in his voice. “It’s my dad’s fault for dying and my mom’s for dragging me here and dumping all her grief on me, thenalsodying. And my bubbe’s for not trying harder to help me fit in when I needed to.” He shrugged. “And it’s my own fault for not getting help when I was older and locking myself away instead of dealing with my problems. None of you made me like this.”
Birdie’s eyes were soft, sympathetic, and maybe full of a little pity, but Noah felt like maybe he deserved that. He was pathetic after all. “I’d like to be friends.”
Noah bit his lip, then nodded and extended his hand. “Friends is…good. I think I can do that. Just don’t get your hopes up for me being any good at it.”
For all the work he did with his hands, Birdie’s palm was surprisingly soft and cool. “Just be you, man.”
Noah withdrew and dragged a hand through his hair. “I accept your apology. I also need to get back to work since I close at four today.”
“For a date?” Birdie pressed.
Noah felt his entire body go hot. “No.” Which wasn’t entirely the truth. He would be keeping the Shabbat, but he wouldn’t be doing it alone tonight. He just wasn’t ready to share that with anyone, not even a new, self-professed friend. “Not a date. But, um…thanks for signing with Adriano. He says it’s fine when people don’t, but I know having someone use ASL helps.”
Birdie shrugged. “My skills aren’t what they should be, but I’m happy to practice. Maybe we can all get together for drinks or something.”
“I’ll ask him,” was the most Noah was willing to concede right then.
He had a lot to think about, not just the videos with Adriano but everything Will had said. How it was okay to just know when someone was right for you. How it was okay to not be…normal the way everyone else was. How therapy wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. How being a little bit broken didn’t mean he wasn’t worth loving.
When Birdie was gone, Noah contemplated just giving up, locking up shop and going upstairs to wait for Adriano to get back. But he glanced behind him then, at the photo of Bubbe smiling between him and Adam when they weren’t quite old enough to understand what this bakery might mean to them one day, and he knew. He knew it was coming to a close, and he accepted that, but he wasn’t ready to hit the end on their legacy just yet.
CHAPTER12
Of all thethings Adriano thought he’d be doing when he got to Savannah, none of them involved perusing private luxury rentals so he could film a series of amateur porn videos where he made his little baker lover come without touching his dick. And Adriano had also started to believe that nothing could get him really and truly worked up again. A person, yes. He had been wildly attracted to Eric on and off during their relationship. The softest, quietest, most vanilla sex between them had often been the most erotic sex he’d experienced.
But this thing with Noah? It was both. It was everything. Knowing that he could get Noah off with a few quiet words and the drag of fingertips along his neck made him wild with power and want, but he acknowledged the voice deep inside him that told him he wouldn’t feel this way if it had been anyone else but Noah.
In truth, he could lay Noah out and fuck him missionary style, and he’d still be out of his mind with desire. He could lay him out, strip him down, and tie him up before fucking his throat with long strokes, and he’d get off just as hard as if Noah was on all fours, doing little more than spreading his thighs for Adriano.
It was the man. It was the man with his curls, paint-splatter freckles, soft belly, and slightly crooked smile. It was the man who didn’t like himself much but wanted to, and Adriano knew he wouldn’t rest until Noah freed himself from the belief that he wasn’t worth any of this.
Adriano would burn his life to the ground if it meant keeping Noah in it, and he had never felt like that before. Not even with Eric, not for a single moment they had been together. Adriano had once thought about marrying Eric. He had thought about just making it official and choosing to spend the rest of his life with that man, but that seemed such an absurd, far-off idea now.
He almost wanted to send Xander a thank you note for being the piece of shit who had been sneaking around with Eric behind his back.
It was with that smile he walked into the lawyer’s office, which sat next to the newspaper, and offered over a hand-written note and a blank check.
I’d like to make an appointment and pay for a retainer in order to draw up a contract.
The secretary looked like she was a hundred years old. Her arthritis-bent fingers took the note, eyes squinting behind her bifocals. Her lips moved, and he knew she was speaking, so he waved at her to get her attention, then signed, ‘I’m deaf.’
It was not necessarily a universal sign, but even a person with almost no ASL usually got the gist. She stared at him a long second, then started to speak again.
“I’mdeaf,” he said aloud.
Her brows furrowed, and her finger pointed toward the door, lips flapping. He had a feeling she was dismissing him, and his anger started to rise before the door behind her desk opened and a man walked out. He looked a lot younger than Adriano, maybe late twenties, and a little nervous and harried. His hair was light brown, skin pale, fingers soft when he extended his hand, and Adriano took it.
The man said something that looked like, “Right this way,” and the beckoning gesture was enough for him to trust it.
He passed the old lady and moved into the office, finding it cozy and warm with mahogany furniture and leather sitting chairs. The man gestured to them, and Adriano got situated while he moved behind the desk, then pulled out a yellow legal pad and began to write.
Do you have an interpreter?
Adriano didn’t really expect the sharp twinge in his chest at the loss—not of Eric but of communication. Of how Eric ruined everything, of his own part for not following his own damn rules about relationships with his interpreters.
