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“Do as you see fit,” Brad confirms without a fight, his back now to us.
“Go,” Ash mouths, dismissing me with a soft kiss on the lips.
As I comply, the tall brunette wipes her hands on her apron, tightens her shoulder-length ponytail, then pats her nephew’s bicep over his white cotton dress shirt that brings out his sun-kissed skin tone. “Thank you, Ashton. I’ll fix some coffee for us since we prefer it.” Her voice is firm and playful. Her collusion with my man is obvious; the two of them enjoyed cooking together from the get-go. It was another one of Ash’s outlets to shift his focus from his barely contained pain.
Father and son are heavily invested in a game I know nothing about and pretend to follow. Wedged on one end of the couch, I observe the two interact, cheer, and comment. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for Ash to join us and deposit a tray with hot and cold beverages on the coffee table. He rounds the couch and turns on the small lamp on the side table. My breath hitches when his knee brushes mine before sitting between Tom and me.
After a few swigs of beer and another round of comments about lousy players, Brad informs me, his eyes still glued to the TV, “You know, Ashton has never brought anyone home before.”
From the corner of my eye, I see my man’s nose scrunch. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to ascertain that his mind wandered next door, to Tom’s former best friend, their former neighbor, and Ash’s first intense lover, the closeted Silas. Remembering the story that Ash shared with me after our impromptu reunion, I inwardly laugh; Tom does have a habit of catching Ash lip-locked with boys, whether it’s me or Silas. I wonder how much he really knows about them since he believed his best friend was straight.
Bringing me back to the now, Brad angles his body to face me. “You’re family now.” Playing with the collar of my light blue dress shirt—that’s usually reserved for the meager work functions I attend—I take shallow breaths and nervously glance at Ash.
I pride myself on wearing my emotions on my sleeve, but exhibiting them in front of complete strangers is a whole different ballgame.
Attuned to my unease, Ash doesn’t disappoint. His hand covers mine. Our fingers lace together. My pulse trips on itself. Nothing could prepare me for what comes next. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, Nino. You guys are welcome to stay overnight if you want to avoid the crazy traffic. There’s a pull-out sofa in Ashton’s former room.”
The cutest blush colors my man’s cheeks, and once again, Brad’s logic baffles me since many parents wouldn’t accept their kid sharing a bed with their partner under their roof, let alone a same-sex partner!
That’s Ash’s call, not mine, but his blue eyes instantly search mine for approval before he makes up his mind.
“Why not.”
CHAPTER20
SONG TO THE SIREN
Ash
“Thank you for showing me the true beauty of California, babe. I’d only been to a few touristy places before.” The GPS notifies us that we’ve reached our final destination. Nino lets the engine run.
I feel the weight of his unique stare on me. My head’s leaning back on my headrest, though. I hear him take a sip of his Dr. Pepper, the one soda he indulges in from time to time; his excuse is that he can’t get it in France. His low voice fills my car. I shiver, regretting that I can’t coerce him into having car sex to staunch the rambling thoughts that have overwhelmed me since we crossed the city limits.
Wrenching my eyes from the object of my attention outside the car window, I eventually twist my head to glimpse at him. He kills the engine. The soft country music that accompanied our road trip is replaced by the sound of our breathing. Mine’s uneven; his is quiet.
“The scenic route takes much longer, but it was so worth it, right?”
He groans in agreement. “We made the most of your extended weekend… I’m not sure what I liked best: the European feel of Solvang, Big Sur, or Monterey Bay.”
I run my clammy palms over my dark skinny jeans, inhaling and exhaling a few times. My eyes cage his. “You know what I preferred, right?”
“Last night?” I snicker at his remark.
“Now, I’m disappointed… Okay, second best has to be Pismo Beach then!” I smile and lean in to kiss him… He knows me so well already.
“Speaking of cool spots, there’s something else on my to-do list: check out my favorite childhood Mexican place.” We passed the family-owned restaurant on the way here.
Maybe we could get a table on their patio to bask in the perfect 70-degree weather.
We sit in a comfortable silence as I take furtive glances outside.
My town. My street. My house… from a lifetime ago.
It’s my first time back in Loomis. The point was for Nino to see where I grew up.
Was it a mistake to suggest this road trip down memory lane?The idea struck me after coming back from Uncle Brad and Aunt Marta’s on Black Friday.What was I expecting anyway? How is everything around here so vastly different yet strangely the same?
So many questions—and I have plenty more—so few answers. Nino often teases me about my stress-induced tendency to babble and fire questions at him; he calls it my own Twenty Questions game. I always retort that it’s not quite how the game works, but he always counters by blaming his lack of knowledge on his French heritage. I call bullshit. Today, though, the questions are spinning inside my head. Inwardly berating myself for not embracing the moment, I deeply inhale. I may welcome a shortage of air during sex, but this is of another nature.
