Love in La Terraza (14 page)

“I realize it’s not ideal, considering we’ve not been together very long—”

“That’s putting it mildly, Henry. I love you for offering, but—”

“You’re afraid of putting a strain on our relationship,” Henry interrupted. “I get that, and I know I should be worried, too, but I’m just not. I feel like I need to say that.”

“What about your job?” Cain asked. “I doubt they’ll be singing your praises for stepping in. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to think of something on my own. I refuse to drag you into it.”

Henry wasn’t happy with that answer and was surprised by the disappointment he experienced. “You’re running out of options, Cain.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Cain scowled, not seeming pleased by that last bit.

“Just say yes, please.” Henry reached over, running the back of his hand over Cain’s cheek. “I’m sick of knowing how unhappy you are, constantly torturing yourself over all this.”

“Sorry I’m bringing you down.” Cain rolled onto his back.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Henry couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Not exactly the outcome I was hoping for. You’re running out of time, baby. Please think about that, and let me worry about my job.”

“How the hell do you know how much time I have left?” Cain asked.

“I just do. You know it, too.” Henry sighed. “Look, I’m not sure how, but they seem to be fully aware of your financial situation. Franklin all but told me—”

Cain rolled over, turning his back to Henry and slipping under the covers. “I’m tired.”

“Shit,” Henry whispered, placing his hands over his face. “I feel like I owe it to you to tell you what I know.”

“Can you get the light?” Cain asked.

Henry sighed, slowly pulling back the sheets while reaching over to turn off the lamp. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

He heard Cain sigh, too. “Let’s just get some sleep, okay?”

“Sure.” Henry rolled over, kissing the back of Cain’s head before slipping his arm around him. He was relieved when Cain wriggled back into his body.

As they lay there in silence, their breathing slowing, regulating into a syncopated rhythm, Henry tried to convince himself he wasn’t attempting to use the situation to insinuate himself more substantially into Cain’s life and did his best not to succumb to the fear that Cain’s refusal was an attempt to keep him at arm’s length.

* * * *

The mood in the entire apartment had shifted dramatically since Henry had brought up the topic of losing La Terraza the night before. Cain had been quiet all morning, keeping his distance and ducking back behind those inner walls.

Henry pretended to work on the Peterman project while Cain spent several hours outside piddling around with the landscaping. Henry guessed he’d forgotten to put sunscreen on his face. Cain had worn a hat but still had a little raccoon action going on from having also worn sunglasses.

The tension was something Henry despised, and he’d worn himself out attempting to figure out a way to turn back the clock and do that whole thing over again. He never should’ve opened his big mouth to offer his help then lowered the boom with how fucked Cain was after he’d refused that help. Despite the fact everything Henry had told Cain was the truth, Henry wasn’t able to completely convince himself that his motivations for offering those truths were completely honorable.

Having Cain reject his offer stung a bit more than Henry had liked.

He couldn’t deny the fact he wanted to be the white knight, riding in to save the day just in the nick of time. The minute that had been taken away from him, Henry had gone into full self-defense mode, spouting off about the big bad wolf coming to blow Cain’s house down.

It was a shit move he now regretted. He should have waited a few days at least. If nothing else, it couldn’t have been misconstrued as vengeful.

The truth of the matter was something Henry was desperately trying to ignore, doing everything within his power to pretend Cain hadn’t said no because he had doubts about them as a couple or worse yet, the possibility that Cain didn’t trust him.

That killed him.

Even now, with Cain standing in the middle of the kitchen in his underwear, arms dangling lifelessly at his sides, Henry tried to overlook that bit of obvious. He’d been unable to keep himself from poking the wound, further irritating the man he cared about having just told Cain he’d be better off selling it now if he wasn’t going to do whatever it took to save the place.

“Why are you pushing for me to sell all of a sudden?”

“All I’m doing is asking questions, Cain. Is this place truly
your
dream or the one you adopted when your grandmother passed away and left it to you?” Henry paused, looking into Cain’s eyes while waiting for an answer that never came. “You continue torturing yourself to the extent I’m beginning to think you enjoy it. I’ve offered to help you, yet you refuse it. I don’t know what else to do? I’m not even saying you should or shouldn’t sell. I’m merely attempting to understand why you keep putting yourself through the drama.”

“You told me once that you were tired of games, no longer interested in love that came with conditions,” Cain said, standing his ground when Henry stepped up into dining area.

“That’s still true.” Henry knew by the look on Cain’s face exactly where he was headed.

“Well, I’m the real deal, Henry, but I don’t come all tied up in a perfect uncomplicated package. The things about me that you claim to love are the very things that make it impossible for me to let this place go.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Henry sighed, clenching his fists before shaking the stress out of his hands and arms. “Damn it, Cain. I do love that about you. I respect it. What I don’t get is your unwillingness to accept my help while still refusing to sell. That makes no sense. It is lose-lose for you.”

“I can’t accept your help, Henry. It’s too soon. I don’t dare put that kind of pressure on us as a couple. Maybe if it were a year down the road…”

The ache in Henry’s chest told him to stop but wasn’t as potent as his fear or the desire to dig until he found the bare root of Cain’s true reasoning.

“Then sell La Terraza and take the damn money!” Henry growled, visibly frustrated. “Do you truly believe martyring yourself is the way to go? You’re talented, Mr. Green Jeans, so take the money and open your own landscaping business, take a vacation around the world with it, give it to fucking charity if that makes it easier to swallow, but to not sell or take your one shot at saving the place? That’s just stupidity.”

He could tell he’d wounded Cain, who was sensitive about not having gone to college, and already wished he hadn’t used that word.

“Caring about something, believing in it, doesn’t make me stupid!”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…and I didn’t mean it like that, either.”

“I don’t know, Henry. I guess your eagerness to get me to sell or put you on the title by cosigning a loan… It just seems a little conveniently timed, that’s all. Perhaps your motivations are a bit bent toward your own agenda?”

“Jesus, Cain, it was a simple fucking question, and all of a sudden, I’m up to something? Is this your typical response to anyone that doesn’t agree with you?”

“Nice, Henry. Turn it back around on me.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure out how I became the bad guy here.”

You are the bad guy, asshole, the one who won’t stop pushing and meddling.

Cain said nothing, folding his arms but not moving an inch otherwise. Henry went back down into the living, unsure what to do or say.

Finally, he turned back and said. “I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re always going on about how hard it is, that you feel like you’re fighting a losing battle and sinking in quicksand. These are all things you’ve said to me.”

“So quit because it’s hard?” Cain asked, desperation now written all over his face. “Does this mean the only things worth fighting for, according to you, are the ones that come easily? A few bumps, and I’m supposed to give up? Wring my hands and throw in the towel?”

“I’m just trying to be straight with you. Maybe you need to grow up and accept the reality of the situation you’re in.”

“And what’s in it for you when I sell?” Cain asked.

Henry closed his eyes, trying to count to ten. “That’s not the point, damn it!”

“It is to me! It’s a really big point.” Cain growled his frustration, but held to his little patch of flooring in the middle of the kitchen as if he feared moving might result in concession. “Giving up now, would that be the version of me that’s most palatable to you? The guy who fights just enough to not seem weak and spineless but not enough to become an obstacle to inconvenience you and your agenda?”

“I don’t have a god damn agenda.”

“Fuck, Henry, you don’t even believe that.”

“I-I love you, Cain.” Henry shrugged. “Perhaps that’s my agenda. But since you brought up the topic, I need you to answer me this one question, Cain. Please explain to me exactly what makes your dreams more noble than mine or anyone else’s for that matter?”

Cain opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Henry saw in Cain’s eyes that he’d never thought about it from anyone’s perspective but his own. And Henry got that. He understood being blinded by the single-minded pursuit of something. He’d spent years doing exactly that with regard to his career, which had always taken precedence over anything else. Deep down, he feared it still might, that all this pushing was nothing more than an inner drive to steer things toward the outcome that best fit his own career.

Was that why he wanted Cain to sell?

Henry couldn’t make himself believe that to be the truth. “I’ve offered to help you save this place, knowing full well, as you have pointed out, that doing so might place my own professional career at risk. I think I’ve done so partially because I believe La Terraza should be protected, but mostly, I believe I’d be doing it for you, Cain. But what’s beginning to bug me now brings up a whole other question. Would you be willing to do the same for me?”

“Why do I have to make the choice?”

“Because you do, god damn it!” Henry yelled, causing Cain to jump slightly.

They each stood there, Henry waiting for an answer while Cain stared back, no expression on his face.

Henry grabbed his jacket, ripping it off the back of the sofa. He stared at the floors for a brief moment before meeting Cain’s gaze once again. “Guess I’ll take this argument and your silence to mean you’ve already made your choice.”

With that he walked out, quietly. He didn’t slam the door, didn’t raise his voice or say good riddance. He didn’t even say goodbye. He just left Cain standing alone in the middle of his apartment and walked out of the gates of La Terraza for what would likely be the very last time.

* * * *

Standing in the middle of his kitchen, Cain discovered that, with each second that ticked by, it became more and more difficult to breathe. Finally, his legs seemed to buckle as he grabbed a hold of his chest. Dropping to his knees, he sat on his ankles, gasping for air as panic settled in and tears began to flow.

He didn’t want to lose anything and didn’t understand why the cost had to be his and his alone.

Unable to catch his breath, he sobbed so quietly the silence was deafening. There was nothing but tears and gasping for oxygen which he couldn’t manage to get into his lungs. Life always seemed to come calling with a bill he was unable to pay, but for the first time in his relatively short life, Cain suffered a crippling desperation over what he’d just lost.

With his hands dangling lifelessly at his side, the rest of his body heaved and shook.

It was as if the color had drained away from everything and everyone around him, leaving him lost in a sea of black, white and shades of gray.

* * * *

Swiping his keycard, Henry cursed under his breath, trying to stay dry as he hovered underneath the jersey jacket he’d fished out of the backseat of his car. The green security light flashed and the lock clicked, unlatching just as he began to pull on the heavy glass door to the offices of Hamilton-Bach.

He all but leapt inside, stumbling clumsily as he ripped the jacket off his head and held it away from his body so it now dripped all over the black slate floors as opposed to soaking through onto him. Unsure what to do with it, he hung it from one of the hooks on the steel coat rack just inside the door. Henry took stock of his condition; jeans drenched from the knees down and hating that squishy feel of wet socks inside tennis shoes.

Taking a deep breath, Henry headed toward his office. He was a bit of a mess, he recognized that. It had only been a few hours since he’d walked out of Cain’s apartment—most likely for the very last time. He wasn’t sure he could even stand to go by and pick up the few belongings he’d left behind.

Doing his best to ignore the slicing pain in his chest, which seemed to accompany that last thought, Henry sat behind his desk and removed his shoes and socks. It was well after midnight, so he certainly didn’t expect to run across anyone else at this point. The cool air conditioning on his damp feet had him rubbing them together as he scooted closer to his desk, firing up his computer.