Duty and Devotion (8 page)

“You're in love with him.”

“Yeah.”

“And you could see yourself in love with another man?”

“Don't want to.”

“But you could.”

He pondered. He thought about Jim. He thought—yeah, if he had to do it again, he'd probably find himself going wherever it was middle-aged gay guys went to hook up.

“Yeah.”

“So you're identifying at this point in your life as gay, and you're concerned with Evan's self-perceptions and how they affect you.” Liz leaned over to pat his hand. “You know he has to do the work inside to make his own decisions, right?”

Matt blew out a deep breath. “You mean I can't just yell at him until he stops making me crazy?”

“No.”

“That sucks.”

“Come on, Haight—you're better than that now. No yelling or picking fights around the issue. You have to confront it head-on.”

“I try. He says labels don't matter, and it's no one's business and that's that.” Matt toe tapped a small pile of Legos, making them shake and quiver. “Which is true, but it's also not true.”

“True.”

“Are you this sarcastic with other patients?”

“You mean the ones that pay?”

“I've turned into his wife,” Matt added, throwing his mental burdens out one by one. “Or he's trying to turn me into her.”

Liz frowned a bit at that. “What do you mean?”

Matt shook his head. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was going overboard with this. Maybe the whole sex thing during the beach weekend was making him crazier than it should. “I don't know. I feel like I—took her spot. I take care of the kids, I take care of the details and he works, and it's like she never died.”

“I'm guessing that's a bit of an exaggeration. I don't believe Evan mistakes you for Sherri.”

“He'd rather she was here than me.” There. He'd said it. Aloud even.

“Evan didn't get a divorce. His wife died—tragically young. Yes, you're going to feel like a replacement. In some very tangible ways, you are. In other ways you are a unique force in Evan's life.” She paused and made a little “hmmmm” sound in the back of her throat. “Maybe you just want him to recognize that.”

He opened and shut his mouth, teeth clicking audibly.

“I know you know these things. And I know you can connect the dots between them,” she said gently.

Matt moaned as all the pieces of their arguments clicked into place into his head. Being gay meant being different than Sherri, and it was something that was his and his alone with Evan, and there needed to be things about them that weren't just re-creations of Evan's old life. And God, he really hated Liz sometimes.

“I kind of hate you,” he sighed, and Liz clapped her hands.

“Painful truths and eyes opened to inner clarity—that's what I bring to the table, Haight. You knew that, and that's why you came here. Now friend Liz will take you into the kitchen and feed you apple cake with some sympathetic back patting thrown in.”

“I like sympathetic back patting.”

In Liz's huge kitchen, Matt found his familiar place at her island with coffee and the aforementioned apple cake. She even took sympathy on his hangdog expression and offered whipped cream.

“Evan's jealous of Jim,” he announced, licking apple crumbs off his fork.

“One-night-stand Jim?” she asked.

“My friend Jim,” he corrected. “Stop making it sound sleazy.”

“Oh, sorry.” Liz coughed into her hand. “I forgot your delicate sensibilities.”

“Just because I used to be a man-whore doesn't mean I can't have delicate sensibilities about some things.”

“Point.” Liz considered Matt over the top of her mug. “Does Evan bring Jim up a lot?”

“Yes. At ridiculous times—not when I've talked to him on the phone. No, he brings him up when we're…” Matt gestured. “You know.”

“Evan brings up Jim in bed?”

“Yesss.”

“That makes sense.”

“It's gross.”

“Jim is his rival in bed. He's not used to that.”

“Jim isn't his rival in anything. Jim is some guy I slept with once and who lives three thousand miles away and who I talk to on the phone.” Matt could see where this was going, and he was putting his stubborn hat on. Evan had nothing to fear from Jim—nothing.

“Jim is the only other guy you've slept with, which makes you one up on Evan sexually—and when you add on all your other women and compare to Evan's only sexual experience besides you being his wife…” Liz rolled her eyes. “Come on, this is Soap Opera 101 here, Haight.”

“I may be a househusband, but I don't watch soaps.” Matt sniffed. He reached over and snatched a piece of her cake, chewing defiantly.

“You know, you're really going to have to bring me tougher problems,” Liz sighed. “These are softballs being lobbed at me.”

“Sorry my pedestrian issues aren't exciting enough for you, Dr. Liz. Maybe you need to get back to forensic work.”

“Maybe I will.” Liz pushed her plate over to Matt's side of the island. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Maybe you need something of your own again—something that isn't taking care of the house and kids.”

“So I should get a job?” Matt considered it, but nothing of interest immediately came to mind. He liked being home, liked being around the kids. He liked going to the gym when it wasn't crowded and taking a run through quiet streets, not fighting rush-hour traffic.

“Or a hobby or—something. Something just yours and no one else's. It might help ease your feelings that you're just replacing Sherri.”

“Hmmm… Maybe.” Matt finished Liz's piece of cake and his coffee.

“That'll be three hundred dollars.”

“I'll pay the receptionist on the way out.”

* * *

Matt took advantage of his quiet day to putter around before heading home to pick up the kids. He went to the gym after leaving Liz's house and stopped by a bookstore to rifle through the magazine section. The Relationship aisle he passed on the way there almost lured him in, but he kept walking. He doubted anyone had written a book to address his special snowflake problems at the moment.

But when he thought of books, Matt thought about the “joke” books Jim sent last year. The Gay Kama Sutra, if he recalled correctly. When he moved in with Evan and the kids, most of his books and non-sentimental items ended up in the sunroom—which is where Matt found himself wandering into when he got home.

It took a few minutes, but under the textbooks and old Sports Illustrateds he found the box from Jim and the book, still tucked neatly inside.

They'd not really ever used it. With all Evan's jealousy of Jim, Matt didn't think it a great idea to pull the book out at bedtime and announce where it came from. Hell, the title alone might send Evan fleeing out of the room in sheer horror.

He stared at the cover for a few minutes, thumbed through a few pages. His groin showed some interest—that was a nice mood lifter.

Maybe it was a pipe dream to imagine he and Evan could find this mutual ground, where labels didn't matter but shame wasn't in the equation. Maybe they could find a way to express their sexual desire without all that baggage suddenly throwing itself into the middle of things.

Maybe he should take his own advice and shut up, appreciate what they had instead of wishing there was more. Who cared if Evan considered himself gay? So long as he came home to Matt every night, why did it matter?

Fuck, this love thing was complicated.

* * *

“So dinner? The four of us? Isn't that a little weird?” Matt stirred spaghetti sauce in a bubbling pot on the mess that previously was their stove. The cell was wedged to one ear as Jim's amused laughter answered him.

“Maybe, a little. But why not? I think it'll be fine. We're all adults.”

“Hmmm…and I guess you're technically not an ex because you know, been in that situation unintentionally—ex meeting current, and it was ugly. Authorities were nearly called.”

“Ha. No, this is just four grown men having a nice dinner and me getting some enjoyment out of an evening of theater.”

“Theater?”

“Griffin's friend Daisy is opening in some big Broadway play.” Jim sighed. “It's not even a damn musical—that would keep me awake. It's a play.”

“That's where they just talk, right?”

“Sadly, yes. But I promised. And Griffin's dad was supposed to come with us, but he's had bronchitis for weeks. I don't think he's joining us.”

“I feel like your backup plan. Color me insulted.” Matt turned off the stove and opened the oven to check on the store-bought lasagna. His stomach growled in perfect tandem with the smell wafting upwards.

“You're more my opening act.”

Matt could hear a riotous amount of noise sneaking through the phone and walked to the fridge. “Where are you? A carnival?”

“Griffin's house. He has eight sisters.”

“Holy hell.”

“All older. Some are married. Their spouses are here. And their kids. And at least five dogs.”

“Is it a party?”

“Oh no, just dinner.” Jim sounded bemused. “I'm a little nervous what a party would look like. I think they rent out the Knights of Columbus.”

“Nice.” Actually it did sound nice, and Jim seemed to be enjoying himself.

“So we on for dinner? This Saturday night—our treat, your choice.”

“How can I say no? I hear you retired cops are made of money.” Matt was wondering how he was going to convince Evan of this idea when the oven timer went off.

“It's a date, then.”

“I'll talk to Evan and give you a call back tomorrow.”

“Fantastic. Talk to you later, man.”

They said their good-byes; Matt hung up the phone and leaned against the side of the fridge. Was he trying to force an issue here? Was he creating a situation where he and Evan would blow up into tiny pieces, and he'd be proven right—this couldn't last? Matt took a deep breath.

Maybe he was. Maybe he was pushing Evan to get a reaction.

Maybe he didn't care.

Chapter Nine

“So, Jim and his boyfriend are in town,” Matt began, and Evan automatically turned around to pretend to be interested in raking leaves out from under the tree.

“Uh-huh,” he said noncommitally.

“He wanted to know if they could take us out to dinner.”

“Not sure of our schedule.”

“This Saturday night.”

“The kids…”

“Oh please.” Evan turned back at the snappish tone of Matt's voice and decided this was not the moment for some classic passive-aggressive behavior.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That was quick.”

“Hey, I'm trying not to be a jerk here. If you want to have dinner with some guy you slept with once and his boyfriend—hell, why not?”

“I knew it.”

Evan dropped the rake against the tree and kicked it for good measure as Matt stalked toward the house.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he muttered, big strides catching up with Matt as he walked through the sliding glass door into the kitchen. “Matt, I'm sorry, okay? That was a cheap shot.”

“You really wanna go over this again? You broke up with me, and I spend one night with one guy who turns out to be part of the reason I'm even here, right now, in domestic bliss with your grouchy ass, and you can't spare an evening for dinner? You are a dick.”

Evan winced. “Yeah, I'm a dick. A slightly jealous asshole as well.”

“Good point.” Matt's volume dulled slightly; he jerked open the fridge to take out a beer. And didn't offer Evan one.

“New boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah. I'm glad for him,” Matt said pointedly between drags of his beer. “He's a good person, and he deserves this.”

“Vacation?”

“Post-retirement trip. They're traveling. The boyfriend is a writer. They got a friend opening in a play on Broadway, so they're in town. And they called to ask about Saturday night.”

“So do I have to wear a tie?”

“Will it make you feel better if you do?”

Evan smiled even if Matt didn't. “Yeah.”

“Fine. Wear a vest and one of those pocket hankie things if it'll cut down on the jealous dick factor.” Matt's face was serious.

“I won't be an ass to your friend.”

“Thank you.”

“Really, I won't.”

“Fine.”

The stand-off didn't feel over. Evan crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?” Evan watched Matt struggling with saying something—or not saying something.

“Why is this such a problem with you? You don't even know Jim, but you act like you hate his guts.”

Evan struggled to find a way to express himself that was neither dickish nor jealous, but really, there wasn't much else on his mind. “I guess I just don't understand your friendship.”

“Well, not to be an asshole, but you really don't have a lot of experience with this whole ex-lovers and people you've dated and shit like that.” Matt sighed and finished off his beer quickly.

Evan winced, but he didn't disagree. “True.”

“And I'm not parading a shitload of exes through here. One—that's it, and you know, considering my crappy track record with relationships and general male whoring ways for like, two-plus decades, that's not bad.” Matt mumbled a bit to himself, and Evan felt sorry for being a dick about this even if he didn't quite know how to stop.

“Well let's just make a pact this is your only ex paraded around, and we know my closet is clean and there you go,” he offered.

Matt sighed. Evan knew the constant bickering was starting to get to the other man; years with Sherri taught Evan that sometimes even the person you loved most got on your last nerve. And that was okay. Natural even.

Matt never had that before. Evan's mood shifted from jealous dick to reassuring lover in a nice move that had him a bit impressed with himself.

“Come on, we're making this into a big deal, and it shouldn't be,” Evan said smoothly. He got a quirked-eyebrow look of suspicion from Matt. “Well it shouldn't. On either one of our parts. We'll go to dinner, I'm sure I'll find this Jim a decent if not hideously ugly guy, he and his boyfriend will go to a play and then fly back to the other side of the country, and then we'll come home. It'll be fine.”

He managed to cajole a half laugh from Matt and walked over to close the distance between them as quickly as possible. “You should be flattered.”