A Kind of Romance (27 page)

I punched his arm in a show of brotherly love and gave him my flippant standard reply. “If it’s not a holiday… no. Why?”

“You’re an asshole. How does Benny put up with you?” he asked, smacking me upside the head before quickly moving out of my reach. “Dad invited him, so I think you’re going anyway. Bring a bottle of something expensive.”

“Don’t hold your breath. The door’s locked, genius. Try the back,” I said, chuckling lightly when he flipped me off.

He strode purposefully around the corner to the back of the building. I was about to follow him when I saw movement inside the store. My father and Benny were engaged in an animated conversation near the register. I watched the two men surreptitiously. My father was a short, balding old man now, but once upon a time, he’d been a larger-than-life figure to me. His big, booming voice and congenial personality drew people to him. Everyone loved George. Children, college students, busy young professionals, and retirees. Even gay people loved him now. Yet as I observed him with my somewhat flamboyant lover, I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d been robbed.

Something stood between my father and me. Something he wanted to cover and pretend didn’t exist. It felt like a physical barrier. It had to be the same something that kept me from banging on the window to say hello. I wished like hell I could overlook the past as easily as he seemed to, but fuck… I couldn’t let it go. It was my problem. Not his. Sure, he’d been the cause, but he’d apologized. Often. He’d shown he was a different man than the one who’d endlessly belittled and harassed me for being someone he didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand what held me back from taking what he offered. From allowing him to be part of my life the way he wanted to be.

I hadn’t told him anything about Benny and me. I let him make assumptions, but I hadn’t shared much beyond occasional dinner plans. It irked me that my dad and brother were inviting him to a family dinner, and once again… it made no fucking sense. Benny worked for my dad. Of course he had a relationship with him. I looked up just as Dad smiled at Benny, patting his shoulder affectionately. He loved him because I loved him—whoa!

What the fuck? Love? I licked my lips nervously, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes, willing myself to relax and stop thinking so hard. When I opened them a moment later, I focused on Benny and felt a sense of calm sweep over me. He caught my stare and looked over at me with a shy smile that made my heart skip a beat. We were separated by a pane of glass that somehow seemed symbolic. Like everything I needed was within reach if I could only figure out how to break through the barrier.

BENNY WAS
more talkative than usual on the ride home. He regaled me with a funny story about the farmer from Iowa and his wife who’d taken a look at his purple-tinged hair and couldn’t stop staring at him while they sampled bagels and cream cheese like they were a wild and rare delicacy. His nonstop monologue would have driven me crazy a few months ago. Tonight, it soothed me. He soothed me. The way he twisted in his seat to face me, touching my arm occasionally for emphasis. The way his eyes sparked with humor one moment and exasperation the next. It was when he went suddenly quiet that I became uneasy.

“Why aren’t you talking?” I asked as Hector navigated the congestion on Broadway.

“I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I couldn’t get a word in edgewise,” I countered.

“You have the floor now. What’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking about my company cock”—I gave him a sideways, cocky smirk as I reached over to cup his package—“tail party. It’s on Friday.”

“I remember. Lucky me. An evening with a bunch of hetero finance geeks and their lovely wives,” he drawled.

“It sounds awful, doesn’t it? We’ll be outta there within half an hour. I just have to put in an appearance and—”

“Then why have me go at all? I can meet you afterward—”

I shook my head and frowned. “Nope. I need you.”

“I suppose I should fix my hair. Whatever will they think of me?” he asked as he ran his fingers through his bangs.

“Who cares what anyone thinks?” I grasped his hand and turned my palm to lace my fingers through his. I shot him a grin and raised his hand to kiss his fingers. “Thank you.”

He looked down at our joined hands and then at me in surprise. He cocked his head and brushed his hair aside with his other hand. He seemed suddenly nervous, or maybe just puzzled. Either way, I was perversely pleased when he stuttered and cleared his throat.

“What for?”

“You’re good with my dad. Thank you for being kind to him.”

“There’s no reason to thank me. I love George! He talked about you a lot today. He was telling that couple from Iowa about his successful Wall Street son and—you know, he loves you, Zeke. He just wishes you’d visit more often.”

His tentative tone made me wary. I had a feeling he was quoting a direct conversation but didn’t want to upset me.

“So he says, but the fact is… we don’t do well for long stretches together. Someone always ends up pissed off. And usually, it’s me,” I said with a humorless huff.

“It’s because you’ve never forgiven him. You have to let it go, Zeke.” A heavy silence fell between us. It seemed to take on a life of its own in the car’s lush interior. I had a feeling it could turn suffocating, even before Benny spoke again. “What happened anyway?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

I felt the heat of Benny’s shrewd gaze, but he didn’t push me for details. Maybe he sensed I wouldn’t share, or maybe he understood there really was nothing to be gained by dredging up bad memories.

“I used to think guys like you had it easier than me,” he said softly.

“How?”

“You aren’t obviously gay. I figured that meant you escaped some of the bullying and general fuckery that was a part of my everyday life growing up. I was wrong. I think it’s been harder for you in a different way. You’re constantly trying to prove yourself worthy. Maybe it began when you were young, but you still want everyone to know you’re smarter, better-looking, and have a shitload more money than they do. It must get tiring.”

My hackles rose instinctively. The urge to tell him he didn’t know shit was strong. But I didn’t. I felt uncharacteristically raw tonight, and Benny was my buoy. His intent wasn’t to challenge or criticize. He was simply voicing an observation. His tone was soft and infinitely kind. And when he squeezed my hand between both of his and then kissed it, my heart leapt at the sweetness of the gesture. I swallowed hard and nodded.

“You have no idea,” I whispered.

WE MADE
love with a passionate intensity that night. Benny clung to me as I moved inside him. He hiked his legs high around my hips and dug his heels into my ass, quietly urging me on. Maybe that was why it felt different. He was never quiet and especially not in bed. Benny had no qualms telling me exactly how hard or how rough he wanted it. He liked to switch positions at random times. One minute I’d be on my knees plowing into him from behind, and then he’d pull away, push me flat on my back, and ride me to oblivion. On more than one occasion, I’d had to hold him down and insist we were doing things my way. It sounded barbaric, but Benny fucking loved it. Those were the times I was glad to have thick walls to dampen the never-ending chorus of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Tonight we moved in silent harmony. It was a beautiful dance. A perfect balance of give and take. I held him close as we moved toward imminent release, and fuck, I felt invincible. Together we were powerful. I snapped my hips as I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. He moaned and smoothed his hands over my back and spread his legs wider. I wanted to crawl inside him. I wanted to take his body and claim his soul. I wanted him to be mine. And when I looked deep into his eyes as our orgasms crashed over us, I could have sworn the ensuing magical feeling was a sign.

MY FIRM’S
quarterly cocktail parties were a pain in the ass. They were private schmooze fests for the elite top performers, ostensibly to acknowledge a job well done. There was generally a large bonus associated with the honor. I had yet to find a way to take the money without attending the party, but I’d become deft at making my appearance as brief as possible. With any luck that wouldn’t change tonight. One hour, I mused as I glanced at my watch.

“Are we late?” Benny picked imaginary lint from his black trousers and squirmed in his seat like a kid dressed in his uncomfortable Sunday best.

I doubted his ensemble caused him any anxiety. He looked cool and sophisticated in a sharp houndstooth blazer with a classic white oxford shirt. I reached over to still his hand and laced our fingers together. I squeezed gently and smiled across the Mercedes’s darkened interior at him.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Is Hector going to wait for us?”

“He’ll be in the area. Why?”

“Just curious. This is kind of far. Where are we going again?”

I turned in my seat to get a better look at him. “Columbus Circle. There’s an exclusive restaurant in the Time Warner Center my boss loves.”

“How many people will be there?”

“Fifty… maybe less.”

“Oh.”

“Ben, look at me.” I waited for him to comply before continuing. “There’s no reason for panic here. Everyone is very friendly.”

“Then why do you hate going to these things?”

“’Cause it’s a company function. I see these assholes every day! For the most part, they’re decent enough, but I sure as hell don’t want to hang out with them on a Friday night,” I said with a snort.

“Hmm. Do they know you’re gay?”

I let out an exasperated rush of air. “Yes. Geez, Ben, we’ve been through this. You never get nervous. Why now?”

“I don’t do well in big hetero groups where I don’t know anyone. I get that sick feeling in my stomach like déjà vu of when I was in grade school and I knew it was only a matter of time before I got locked in the girls’ bathroom.”

I squeezed his fingers and chuckled lightly. “I got your back, babe. No one’s going to mess with you without coming through me first and—why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason. That sounded kind of… romantic, in a weird way. If you aren’t careful, everyone will think I really am your boyfriend.”

His words were teasing, but there was enough truth in them to make us both a little uncomfortable. We
were
like boyfriends. He knew it. I knew it. And we both knew I was the one wearing a suit of invisible armor that kept me from acknowledging that Benny and I had become more than we set out to be. In a relatively short amount of time, he’d become important to me. We shared more than a bed. We shared our secrets, our hopes, and even our fears. I wanted him with a passion that for once in my life wasn’t born of anger or uncertainty. I didn’t worry about balancing the scales of injustice when I was with Ben. I could simply… be.

I should speak up now. I should tell him how I feel
,
I thought
.
We were good together. We shouldn’t make sense, but we did. As the sound of his melodic voice filled the space between us, I let my mind wander. He should move in with me. His place was far too small. I wondered if he’d want to redecorate mine. I’d have to talk him out of it. He had a thing for crystals and mirrors. Maybe we could add a mirror or two in the bedroom but—

“Zeke.”

I started and blinked before refocusing on Benny and glancing out the window. We were idling in front of the Time Warner Center.

“You ready?” I waited for him to nod and then added, “One hour.”

PIERRE’S WAS
intimidating to all but an elite few… people like Carter who’d grown up on the Upper East Side and spent time at their weekend home in the Hamptons. To the rest of us schmucks, it was one of those slightly terrifying restaurants where the rules of decorum were a baffling mystery. I’d literally been raised in a bagel store. This wasn’t the world I came from by a long shot. However, my job offered me entry into exclusive eateries all over Manhattan. Over the past five years or so, I’d developed an immunity to over-the-top opulence. Sure, the view overlooking Central Park was impressive, the wine list was world-class, and the American French fusion cuisine was phenomenal, but I would have been equally happy at home with my feet on the sofa eating takeout and watching
RuPaul’s
Drag Race
reruns with Benny.

I waved a brief hello to one of our brokers and then set a possessive hand on my date’s shoulder. I gave an exaggerated covert look to my left, then right, a la James Bond, before staring deep into his eyes. “Here’s the plan. I need to give my regards to the three partners, one of whom is standing a few feet away by the fireplace. Schmooze or cocktail first? Your call.”

Benny chuckled. “You start schmoozing. I’ll be in charge of the alcohol. What do you want to drink?”

“The usual.”

“Got it. Martini for you, dirty martini for me. If I can’t find you, I’m drinking them both.”

“Is that a warning?” I huffed in amusement as I brushed my hand over the lapel of his suit coat. He looked so fucking hot tonight. There was no color in his hair for extra pizazz. No glitter, eyeliner, or lip gloss. Only Benny. I knew he’d come au naturel thinking it’s what I would have preferred. He would have been surprised to know that although I thought he looked amazing, I wouldn’t have minded his unique flash of style either.

“That’s a straight-up promise, honey.” He grinned wickedly before turning toward the short set of stairs leading to the bar area.

I watched him sidle past my self-important-looking coworkers, tossing a casual smile here or there as he signaled the bartender. I turned to survey the room for a moment before making my way toward the gigantic modern fireplace situated in the middle of the generous bank of windows lining the entire restaurant. The fireplace and view served as a stunning dual focal point to the restaurant’s simple décor. The space was a study in glass, crystal, and white linen. Huge autumnal floral arrangements flanked the mantel, and smaller matching bouquets were placed throughout the room to add a bit of drama to the otherwise stark ambiance. The resulting elegance spoke louder than gilt-framed mirrors and opulent centerpieces. It was gorgeous. A boisterous greeting jolted me from my reverie a moment later.