by Tara Lain
Daisy swallowed a little champagne. “What do you hope to do when you graduate, Ian?”
He could actually feel Braden and Max looking at him. Don’t glance at them. “I want to go to work for a good architectural firm where I can continue to learn and still have some interesting responsibilities.”
She laughed. “Sounds like you might have put that on a resume a time or two.”
Max leaned in. “Nope. No resumes. We found him. We’re keeping him. Don’t be luring him elsewhere, Miss Daisy.”
“Needless to say, I’m fine with that strategy.” Ian smiled.
Mireille stared up at him. “Does that mean you’ll be working for my daddy?”
“I already do.”
“Will you be working for him more?”
“I guess that could happen.” He glanced up at Braden and right back down to avoid dissolving in the blue sea.
“That could mean you have to take Anderson with you to work so he won’t be alone.”
“Ah-ha, I see your strategy, Miss. How about we dance and discuss it?”
“Do you think we can dance and discuss at the same time? You’re quite tall.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
As he walked away from the table, Sophia said sharply, “What is that boy doing here?”
Amazingly, before anyone else could answer, Jo-Jo replied, “He’s our friend, ma’am. Any problem with that?”
Since no reply came, he must have shocked her into speechlessness. Still, Jo-Jo had just insulted the wife of one of Ian’s big bosses on his behalf. Not good.
The dance went well, with Mireille waltzing on her own feet for a while, on Ian’s for a bit, and finally getting twirled in his arms to a symphony of giggles. They agreed that planning Anderson’s future for him wasn’t fair, and they’d better ask him if he wanted to be an architect. When they returned to the table, Doug and Sophia had gone off to talk to friends and clients at other tables, and the general atmosphere warmed considerably.
Finally, Audrey gave her fund-raising speech while dessert was enthusiastically consumed by the kids; then Mireille folded against Ian and fell sound asleep.
Daisy leaned over and whispered, “She certainly does like you. You must have a family full of children you’ve helped raise.”
He smiled, although it took a little effort. “Actually, I was raised mostly as an only child. My brother is eight years older and left home when I was still little. I’d have liked to have a bunch of sisters and brothers to take care of, though.” He petted Mireille’s soft hair. “Seriously, she loves my cat. I just go with the package.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
He grinned, glanced up, and met Braden’s eyes gazing at him all—what? Soft? Sweet? Sure. He liked anyone who liked his kids.
Braden nodded toward Mireille. “I should get her home. What do you say, Jo-Jo? Shall we get sleeping beauty to her chariot?”
“Probably more like a carriage, Dad. Yeah, I’m ready.” His face lit up. “Hey, it’s still early. Maybe Ian wants to play some video games?” He looked across the table anxiously.
Funny. Nothing he’d rather do. But did Braden want him there?
“Ian probably has plans, Jo.”
Ian swallowed. “Uh, no. I don’t actually. I’m happy to kick your butt in some Halo.”
Jo-Jo pumped the air. “Yes!”
Ian carefully slid out from under Mireille’s sleeping form and lifted her in his arms.
Daisy stood and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She whispered, “I’m so glad Braden found you.”
What the hell did she mean by that? Before he could ask, she’d gone over to kiss Braden good-bye. Max gave Braden a clap on the back. “See you tomorrow.”
As they started toward the door, Audrey Romign hurried over. She smiled at Mireille. “I don’t have to ask why you must leave, but thank you so much for coming.”
Braden gave her a hug. “It’s a great event, Audrey. Expect a contribution from Lord and Kendrick.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’m delighted to coerce you.”
Jo-Jo shook her hand.
She looked at Ian, then back to Braden. “So, I’m looking forward to seeing the results of your collaboration.”
Ian chuckled. “It’s not a collaboration, Audrey. This is about Braden coming up with earthshaking ideas and me telling him how great they are.”
Braden looked a little uncomfortable.
She grinned. “I think you’ll be surprised. Be prepared to tell me who came up with what ideas. If you’re reticent, I’m sure I can get a full report from Max.”
Braden grinned. “Okay, full report. See you soon.”
Out in the hall, Braden said, “Want me to take her? She’s pretty heavy.”
Ian shook his head. “No. She’s fine. Let’s keep her asleep for as long as possible.”
“I didn’t valet. Want me to get the car and bring it around?”
“No. I’m in the self-park lot too.” Of course, Braden parked himself because his car was too nice to valet, while Ian did it to avoid the disdain of the parking attendants.
Braden held the door, the cool night air hit them, and Mireille burrowed farther into Ian’s arms. He followed Braden and Jo-Jo across the portico entry to the self-park lot. Yes, this did count as an upper-body workout. He hadn’t guessed how much a five-year-old would weigh.
Braden drove a classic Jaguar—no wonder he didn’t give it to the kamikaze valets—and he held the door while Ian slid Mireille into her car seat in the back.
Jo-Jo said, “Can you come right over? Maybe we can make pizza?”
“Still hungry?”
“Well, that chicken wasn’t much.”
“Have to agree. Yes, I’ll be right behind you.” His phone buzzed. “Oh, excuse me.” He walked away from Braden and Jo-Jo, his heart pounding in time to Rico. Rico. He glanced at the time on his phone. Eight thirty-five. Late where Rico was. Sucking breath, he looked at the text.
Dr. says Dad not recover. May die but I have to stay here. So sorry.
Ian stared at the phone. What did that mean? May die but I have to stay here? Was his dad dead? Stay for how long? Rico’s father had a large development business, but Rico’s older brother helped run it. Rico always said he’d escaped a bullet by coming to the US for school, which assured his brother would run the family business, not him. So he had to stay for a while longer. How much longer? Jesus!
“Everything okay, Ian?”
Oh, he’d forgotten they were there. “Uh, kind of. A text from, uh, Rico. It’s not real clear. Sounds like he’s upset and kind of confused.”
“Maybe this isn’t a good night for video games?”
Jo-Jo murmured, “Aw, Dad.”
Ian blew out his breath like a horse. “No. Video games will be good for me.” Actually, being with Jo-Jo and Mireille—and Braden—would be the good part.
“Yay.” Jo-Jo beamed.
“I’ll be there as soon as I send a text back.”
He walked over an aisle to his car, slid in, and flipped on the light. His fingers flew on the keys. So sorry this is such an awful time. Am with you no matter what. Tell me what you need. I’m there. When shall I come? Love you.
Chapter Nine
Two hours later Braden, stuffed with pizza, flipped through a design magazine and watched Ian and Jo-Jo yelling and screaming in their final conflict. Jesus, they could be the same age—if Ian weren’t so damned sexy. He’d thrown off his tux jacket, cummerbund, and tie, along with his shoes. Sleeves rolled up and sandy hair flying, he’d morphed from a responsible adult into some wildass Peter Pan, fighting off Captain Hook and his crew. Braden had never seen anything prettier—speaking aesthetically, of course. Yeah, right. I should be arrested.
Ian fell backward on the Persian rug that now sported bits of crust and several empty glasses of root beer. “I give. I’m defeated.”
Jo-Jo flexed his muscles. “You’re getting old. That’s your problem.”
Braden sighed quietly. I w
ish. “Okay, son, you’ve pushed the envelope on sleep. Elena’s going to be after me with a broom for letting you stay up so late. Off you go.”
“Shit.”
“Jo-Jo.”
Jo-Jo glanced at Ian. “Sorry.”
“Hey, I’m with you. I’ve gotta work tomorrow, and you’ve beat the pants off me. I deserve my beauty sleep.”
Jesus, I’m a crappy father for embarrassing my son. “Yeah, Jo, you’ve got that big track meet tomorrow, right? You need sleep for that.”
Some of the embarrassment dissolved from Jo-Jo’s face. “Right. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He stood and extended his hand to Ian. “Thanks for playing.”
Ian reached up and shook. “My pleasure.”
“Come over and let me beat you anytime.” Jo-Jo laughed, gave Ian a small salute, and hauled himself up the hall toward his room.
When Braden heard the door close, he turned to Ian. “Thanks. I forget he’s almost grown sometimes. I didn’t mean to embarrass him in front of you.”
“It’s such a damned tough age. Not quite anything, you know? Too old for toys, too young for boys. Or in his case, girls.”
“You think he’s straight?”
“Yeah. When we were watching TV the other night, he made a few comments about some girls in school and their boobs. Not the type of observations I would have made at his age. And he knows I’m gay, so he wouldn’t have said it to impress me. All signs point to straight.”
“I’ve got to admit, I’m relieved.”
Ian pulled his legs up and hugged his knees. “Too tough being gay?”
“Partly. Plus, there sure are a lot of people who’d hate me more if he turned out gay.” He laughed. “How’s that for self-interested?”
“Actually, it’s getting so fashionable for kids to be gay these days, he may hate you for not passing it on.” Ian laughed, then grabbed the dishes, stood, and carried them to the kitchen. When he walked back in, he sat on the couch and slipped on his shoes. “Thanks for letting me hang out. My brother and Ken are so busy planning their wedding with Ken’s mom, they’re not around much. It’s fun being here.”
“My kids really like you.”
He looked up from tying his laces. “And I like them.”
“So are you in the office tomorrow or at school?”
“School in the morning and office in the afternoon.” He stood and shrugged on the jacket.
Whew, hard not admiring that cute ass. “You don’t get a lot of leisure, do you?”
“No, too busy trying to impress the hell out of some great architects I know.” Ian’s dimples flashed.
“We’re duly impressed.” Their eyes clung together. Braden inhaled. “So how about we do our first brainstorming on the Romign project?”
“Great.” He sounded like Jo-Jo enthused about a video game.
“I have a planning meeting for our first summer beach party at lunch. Then I think I’m free. Come check my office when you get in.”
“Will do.” His pocket buzzed. “Oh.” His eyes widened and a reflexive grab of his hand had that phone out of his pocket in a flash. Then he glanced at Braden. “Sorry.”
“No. It’s fine. Check to make sure everything’s okay.” Even if watching you check your boyfriend’s texts is slightly masochistic on my part. He dragged his eyes to the TV but glanced sideways in his peripheral vision.
Ian stared at the phone, frowned, and his face gradually crumpled from that optimistic cockiness to the look of a sad, lost, and lonely boy. Oh shit. No thinking. Braden flew off the couch, covered the space between them, and had Ian clutched in his arms so fast he hadn’t taken a breath. “Oh no. What happened? What’s wrong?”
“He’s not—” A sob burst out of Ian’s mouth, and he clamped it closed.
“Tell me.”
“He’s not coming—” His body shook with the effort to keep from crying.
Braden petted Ian’s hair and rocked him gently from side to side. Ian barely stood on his own power, he leaned so heavily on Braden. Braden coaxed, “Not coming?”
“He’s not coming back.” When the words got out, they sounded dull and flat.
“Not coming back home? From Mexico?”
Ian nodded.
“But doesn’t he have a job and life here? Isn’t this his home?”
“I-I thought so.”
“This is only a text, right? There may be much more to it. It has to be really late there. You’ll talk to him tomorrow, and then you’ll get the whole story.” His heart thumped hard—but why? Because he was consoling a friend—or because Ian might not have a boyfriend?
“I guess. I’ve barely talked to him since he’s been gone.” Ian sighed and laid his head heavily on Braden’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
Braden tightened his arms, trying not to think about the play of muscle in that slim body. “No. Thank you.”
Ian stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe around the fifteen pounds lying on his chest—and the message that wouldn’t leave his mind.
In answer to his text to Rico saying he’d be there for him no matter what and when should he come, Rico had replied:
You don’t understand. I’m not coming back.
And that was it. Not I’m sorry. Not I love you. Nothing.
Ian glanced at the clock. Get up and get to school. It was six. Maybe eight where Rico was. How long should he wait until he called? How could he avoid disturbing Rico’s family, but still get him before he settled in at the hospital?
He ran a hand down Anderson’s silky fur, grasped him firmly, and moved him aside, sitting up at the same time. Anderson didn’t even protest. Yeah, he got the lay of the land. Don’t upset Ian any more than he already was.
Fifteen minutes later, he’d done a quick wash and shave. Dressed in jeans and a shirt appropriate to Lord and Kendrick, he headed for the kitchen. Ken stood at the stovetop, sipping coffee and staring at a pot of water.
Ian faked a half grin. “Watched pots and all that.”
Ken’s smile lit up his almost-too-handsome-to-be-believed face. “Perfect timing. Shall I put in a couple of eggs for you?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The egg carton already sat on the counter, and he slipped four eggs into the water.
Ian glanced up. “Where’s Jim?”
“He started really early today. They’re trying to get the renovations on that building done before the tenants get in.” Second only to Ken and Ian and maybe Anderson, Jim loved his job as a partner in Ballew and Carney Design/Build the most.
Ian poured coffee into his mug and added cream.
Ken grabbed a couple of small bowls from the cabinet. “How was the big event last night? We’d just gone to bed when we heard you come in.”
“Yeah. I left the fund-raiser after dinner and ended up playing video games with Braden Lord’s son, Jo-Jo.”
“My. You’re quite a fixture at that house.”
“I really like them. The kids are great. Braden brought them to the fund-raiser, so that’s how the video invite got issued.” He stared into his coffee. Pale beige. Kind of how he felt.
“Are the kids the attraction? Or Braden Lord?” He flashed those even white teeth.
“What? Oh, I like him a lot. He’s kind of, I don’t know, lost and uneasy with the whole gay thing. He’s even asked me for advice. He’s really nice.”
“Ian, what’s wrong?”
His eyes flicked up to Ken and filled with tears he just couldn’t control. “I don’t think Rico’s coming back from Mexico.”
“What the hell?”
“I got this weird text.”
“Text? That’s not how you tell the guy you love something like that. Fuck!”
“I know. I’m going to try to call him this morning on my way to school.”
While Ian filled in the details of their odd communications, Ken pulled the eggs off the fire, cooled them, and scooped them into the dishes. He added some toast he’d already made and shoved it all on the break
fast table.
Ian sat across from Ken. “But on that last text….”
“Yeah. The one that said you didn’t understand?”
Ian nodded. “He didn’t even say—you know, like how he was sorry or loved me or anything.”
“Eat your eggs.”
Dutifully, Ian shoved them into his mouth.
Ken wiped his lips and sipped coffee. “He’s probably going through a lot of shit. Maybe torn between what his family wants and needs and what he wants. I know a little about that.” Ken tried hard to be a dutiful Japanese son—a tendency that had almost kept him and Jim apart.
Ian nodded.
“So I think it’s a good idea to talk to him. Give him a try—”
Ian’s phone rang. He grabbed it. “It’s Rico.”
“Good. I’ll clean up. You talk.”
Ian hit the button as he walked into the living room. “Hi, Rico.”
“Hi, Ian. I’m so sorry about that crappy text. It’s just so hard here.”
“I know it must be awful. How’s your dad?” He really wanted to scream “What do you mean you’re not coming back?” but he kept his voice calm.
“He’s not great. The doctors say he may never recover completely.”
“Recover? But wait. I thought he was dying. That’s better, isn’t it?”
“No. I mean yes, it’s better, but he’s not dying—right now. He’s just not himself.”
“Well, fuck, Rico, all older people change, but if he’s recovering, that’s great news.” He laughed. “Where is he?”
“Home.”
“Home? Holy crap, that’s terrific.”
Silence.
Maybe not great news. “So why did you say you’re not coming back?”
Rico sighed long and loud. “My father can’t resume his business responsibilities.”
“But doesn’t your brother run the business?”
“Yes, but it’s grown to the point where they need more help, and adding architectural services would save a lot of fees they end up paying now.”
“So you’re joining the business.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. It’s the best thing I can do for my family.”
“So—”
“I’m so sorry, Ian. Your life is there. You have to finish school, get your license. From what you say, it sounds like Lord and Kendrick will snap you up. What a great opportunity. I’m so happy for you. And your family is in California. Mine is here.”