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“You’re my son. I haven’t seen you in over two months. Giving you time wasn’t an option,” Mom said.
I waved at the doorman when we got inside.
“Hey, Mr. Wells. You’re back,” Wilson said.
“For a few days. This is Brian Manning. I need to add him so he’s free to go up at any point.” I turned to Brian. “He’ll need your ID.”
Looking slightly unsure, he set his bag down and pulled his wallet out. A minute later Wilson was done and we were taking the elevator to the fifteenth floor.
“How was the flight?” Dad asked, and we passed the time making small talk.
I unlocked my door to bright sunlight spilling in, and Mom said, “I came over yesterday and opened the blinds. I kept the windows open for a little while to let fresh air in too.”
“My parents live a few blocks away. They help keep an eye on the place while I’m gone,” I told Brian.
He went straight over to my piano, which had been a bitch to get up here. He ran his fingers along the keys, not pressing any of them, and again, I wished we’d brought his guitar. We could have played all night together.
“Charles says you play the guitar,” Mom said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Brian replied. I could tell she was going to remind him he didn’t have to use the honorific, so I shook my head. He would continue to do it because he didn’t feel comfortable with them yet. Reminding him not to wouldn’t be helpful.
“Brian made me fall in love with music again. We play almost every day. There’s a little bar we go to sometimes and perform.”
“I love that,” Mom said. “I can’t wait to hear the two of you play together.”
“Did you bring your guitar?” Dad asked.
“No, sir.”
My parents looked at each other, confusion passing between them. I’d talked to them some about Brian, of course, but I could see he wasn’t what they had expected. They knew me, and for me to be so serious about someone who was so different from me, was a shock. They would love him because I did, but they had questions.
“We’ll be right back. I’m going to show Brian to the room so we can put our bags away.” I motioned toward the hallway. “Come on, sweetheart.”
He followed, and when we got there, I closed the door behind us. “I can get rid of them,” I said softly. I dropped my duffel and wrapped my arms around Brian, but he stiffened.
“You can’t do that. They’re your parents. Like they said, they haven’t seen ya in a long time.”
“So? They’ve seen me my whole life, and I want you to myself tonight.”
Brian pulled back. “Don’t do that…please. Don’t push your parents away because of me. I’m not a kid. I can handle it.”
I bristled, not liking how that sounded. “I’m not treating you like a kid. I’m trying to help.” I was sure I was fucking this up, but the truth was, this was new for me. I didn’t have all the answers. I was doing the best I could.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. I was pretty sure he was shaking some. “I know…but you can’t this time. It just makes me feel bad when you feel like you have to make your own parents leave because I can’t handle it.”
Well, shit. When he put it like that, I understood where he was coming from. No one would want that. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t gotta be sorry. That’s me. I wish I wasn’t…” He waved at himself. “Like this. But I need you to just go about whatever it is we’re supposed to be doin’ while we’re here and not change things up because of me.”
“Okay. But for the record, I like you the way you are.”
He gave me a small smile, then walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my neck. “I love you.”
I ran my hands up and down his back. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
There was no denying we were different, but right here, when he was in my arms, it was easy to forget about all that other shit. There had never been anything in my life I wanted more than him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Brian
Everything in New York City was so loud. It was loud at night, which made it hard to sleep. I was pretty sure I’d kept Charles up, tossing and turning, even though he pretended to be well rested. We got up in the morning and went to breakfast at one of Charles’s favorite cafés, which wasn’t far from his place. It had been loud on the streets and loud when we’d eaten outside. The sidewalks were busy all the time, the streets packed with cars, horns honking, people almost getting run over. I probably should have told him I wanted to stay in his apartment when he’d asked, but how fair was it to have to rearrange his whole trip home because of me?
