Surviving the Merge

by C P Harris

  “Do you need my help?” he asked softly, cupping my cheek.

  “No. I need to do this on my own.” I turned my head and placed a kiss to the center of his palm.

  “Do you want a divorce?”

  “No,” I said emphatically.

  “Because if you do―”

  “I said no.”

  He retracted his hand. “Okay.”

  Getting to my feet, I reached up to place a restraining hold on his hair and brought his forehead down to mine. “Why does it feel like we’re miles apart, Blake?”

  “We aren’t, Justin. We’ve both had a long day.”

  “I’m not only talking about today, Blake. It’s been happening in small increments. Please tell me, what is haunting you?”

  He kissed me, catching me off-guard, communicating something in that kiss I didn’t quite understand.

  “Why don’t you go start us a bath? I’ll be up in a minute,” he rasped.

  “All right.” I backed away hesitantly, scrutinizing him, then turned for the stairs. I stopped halfway up—knowing he couldn’t see me—to gaze at him once more.

  He rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, face pointed to the ceiling. Thinking himself alone, he whispered, “Goodbye, Justin.”

  Chapter Eight

  The first night Blake took his sleep aids, things went off without a hitch. He slept so deeply that when his alarm went off the next morning, he didn’t stir. I turned it off and let him sleep in. Then slipped out to start my day.

  I was about to view the fifth and final apartment that I’d circled in the paper that morning. The location not far from the condo, but far enough that I’d still feel independent of what I had with Blake and also far enough where Damon couldn’t easily track me down—right away. Another bonus: the building had a doorman. All guests needed to be announced and given the all-clear before being allowed up. That would come in handy with Damon because he’d find me, eventually.

  The realtor stood waiting for me outside when I pulled up.

  “Sam, right?” I asked, locking my doors with the key fob. Not sure what I expected to see, but it wasn’t the person in front of me. She had a head full of coiled, dark curls, mocha colored eyes that matched the complexion of her skin, and legs a mile long encased in leather. She gave off “badass.”

  She nodded slowly, eyes bulging. “Sweet baby Jesus, that's some beautiful hair. Please tell me you’re gay. Because I’ve sworn off men.”

  I laughed so hard it became contagious. Sam joined in; she’d effectively broken the ice.

  “That was so unprofessional of me,” she said, looking around before leaning in to say, “I’m sorry. I have inappropriate-at-inopportune-times disease. I’m afraid there isn’t a cure for it.”

  Quirky and vibrant, I liked her instantly.

  “It’s quite all right,” I told her. “And yes, I’m gay so you’re safe.” I laughed again, and she smiled from ear to ear. She had the kind of smile that put even her back teeth on display. She smiled from her heart.

  “All right, let’s go check this place out,” Sam said, rubbing her palms together.

  I steeled myself and followed her in. “So, this is your first time showing the place?” My attempt at small talk as we rode the elevator.

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Ah, just assuming.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I’m kind of new on the job. I lost my last one due to my ‘disease.’ So my uncle took pity on me and hired me to work for his agency. I read up on all the details and specifications, so don’t worry, I’ll be able to answer all your questions.” Her voice turned formal. It didn’t suit her.

  We exited on the tenth floor and made our way to the unit at the end of the hall.

  “There’s only two apartments per floor for a total of twenty in the building. You’d be sharing this floor with Old Man Newton―that’s what I’m told everyone calls him. He’s lived here since the building went up fifteen years ago. It’s just him and his mute dog.” She gave me a don’t ask look. “So, you don’t have to worry about noise.”

  I walked in and fell in love. The huge foyer opened into a sunken living room big enough to have a little breakfast nook in the corner. My feet took me to the colossal bay windows that overlooked the central park across the street. Great for running.

  I headed back in the direction I came, passing the front door to enter the galley-style kitchen. Sam hung quietly off to the side. “Everything’s white,” I said, pointing out the obvious.

  “Yeah, most people want a blank canvas. The stainless-steel appliances are new. The kitchen got a remodel after the last tenants moved out.”

  Sam opened the cabinets, then moved on to the fridge. She couldn’t resist stepping into the role of admirer. Couldn’t blame her; the place was spectacular.

  “Is that a balcony?” I asked. The ad didn’t mention a balcony.

  Sam stepped in beside me. “Pretty amazing, right? It wraps around the whole apartment.”

  I darted through the living room, straight for the sliding doors. A small table and two chairs sat outside, and at the curving far end were French doors that opened to the master bedroom. I could sit out there and enjoy the rain or enjoy it from the comforts of my own bed. My lips tugged upwards but quickly thinned when I remembered that I’d be enjoying it alone if Damon didn’t agree to my terms. The epitome of a bittersweet moment.

  Down the hall, I inspected the second room, already planning to convert it into a dance space.

  “Well, that’s it. The rent includes two parking spots, the daily paper, free access to the fitness center and indoor pool.” She went through her crumpled checklist, ticking things off before looking at me expectantly. “What do you think? Do you have any questions for me?”

  “I love it, and none that I can think of at the moment.” I turned in place, chewing nervously at the inside of my cheek. “I guess I do have one question, how soon do you need an answer?”

  “Well, this is a hot commodity. The sooner the better would be my guess.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Why? Do you have a hot stud that you need to clear things with first?” Her eyes shot straight to her hairline, and her hands clamped over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Did I ruin this? My uncle’s going to kill me.” She smacked herself on the forehead.

  “Sam, it’s okay.” I laughed. “Really. I, ah... I do have a ‘hot stud,’ but I don’t need to clear it with him first. It would be nice to have some time to think about it. I don’t want to rush into anything.” The truth? I was terrified and wanted to give myself the chance to back out.

  “I’ll tell you what—my uncle has exclusive showing rights to this place. You’re my last potential for the day, and we can’t show it tomorrow or the day after because maintenance will be buffing the floors. That gives you two days. I can’t make any promises beyond that.” She looked apologetic.

  “Two days is more than enough time. Thank you.”

  She shrugged and flicked her wrist, “No problem.” Snapping her fingers like she’d just remembered something of great importance, she said, “I know how you can pay me back for my kindness.” Her eyes lit up. I couldn’t help my smile. “I’ve got two tickets to see The Covers tonight, and my flaky friend backed out on me last minute. You can take his place.” Again, that smile. I had a feeling she knew what it did to people.

  Gearing up to politely decline, Julie’s voice entered my head: “Do something you’ve never done.” So instead, I found myself asking, “Who are The Covers?”

  She squealed. “They’re a sick cover band. They do all the greatest hits. They’re amazing! They’re going to be at this cool dive bar across town. Beers are cheap, and the crowd is always great...” She droned on and on at an unprecedented speed, her hands flying everywhere. She’d lost me after confirming they were a cover band, but I didn’t stop her. I found her litany endearing.

  She came up for air after running down a list of songs they performed. Shrugging, conveying a carefree attitude at od
ds with the knot in my chest, I said, “What the heck. I’m in.”

  “Yayyyyy.” She jumped up and down in triumph before planting a kiss on my cheek. Pulling back like I’d burned her, she said, “Shit, there I go again. Don’t kiss the clients, Sam,” she chastised herself.

  I hadn’t laughed that much in... forever.

  I felt a stab of disappointment when I arrived home and Blake wasn’t there. I agreed to meet Sam at the bar around six, which gave me a few hours to get ready before needing to make my way over. I’d hoped to get some alone time with Blake first. I had an urgent desire to connect physically with him, more than I normally did. Which said a lot.

  The perceived gap between us served as a trigger for my insecurities. With everything going on, I needed the constant reassurance of our love that always came with that level of intimacy. It didn’t help that I missed Damon quite terribly. I could use his brand of anchoring as well.

  With one foot on the stairs, I heard the front door open; I rushed over to greet him.

  “Mmm, if this is how I’m welcomed after a day of you apartment-hunting, I think we should turn that into your profession.”

  I released his lips and my hold on his lapels. “You’ve had much better homecomings from me,” I murmured as I removed his jacket and tie, hanging them on the coat hooks by the door.

  Sensing my mood, he took my hand and guided me over to the sofa. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  The stern set of his jaw told me we would not be covering up the real issue with sex. New territory for me. “I’m desperate to be close to you,” I confessed. My answer took him by surprise.

  “I don’t understand. We are close. Is it the move?”

  I supposed that played a part. Codependency wasn’t something you shook overnight. Although it seemed Blake didn’t struggle with this problem. Feeling alone in this aspect didn’t help. “Why are you pretending to be okay with this? The move,” I clarified.

  That brought him up short. “I am okay with it. I want to support—”

  “Then why did you whisper goodbye to me when you thought you were alone last night?” I wanted answers.

  He ran a hand down his chin, carefully choosing his words. “I won’t lie. A part of me knows I’m losing you, but your needs come before—”

  I cut him off with a frustrated sound. What did he mean by losing me? I’d already said I wasn’t leaving him. To be fair, the plans I’d discussed with Julie were unknown to him. Maybe I was the one with the problem. Too needy lately. Short on time, for now, I let it go. “Can you teach me how to not be awkward?”

  He gave a surprised chuckle. “What?”

  I filled him in on the apartment I fell in love with and about Sam and our plans for the night. “I can’t wait for you to meet her. You’ll love her. If I don’t scare her off with my inability to be fun.”

  “You’re plenty fun, Justin. People fall in love with you within minutes of talking to you. How many invites have you turned down?”

  “Too many to count,” I admitted.

  “See?” He looked pleased to make his point. “You exude goodness untapped, and anyone who’s lucky enough to spend a minute around you would want to hoard that.” He pulled my bottom lip from between my teeth. “Be yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  Blake joined me in the shower, promising he wouldn’t be a distraction. “What are your plans for tonight?” I asked. “While I’m out screaming and throwing my underwear at the sexy guy band.”

  “Guy band?” He laughed so hard I feared he might slip and break his neck. “First of all, just because they are not boys doesn’t mean you can call them a ‘guy band.’ And second, have you seen The Covers? I’m not concerned.” He shook his head indulgently and washed off.

  “All right, all right, laugh it up.”

  Blake fell on his ass, and I may or may not have played a part in it. Feeling guilty, I offered my hand and got yanked down for my trouble. Needless to say, we ended up making out like teenagers on the wet tiled floor.

  We dressed in separate rooms. My style, when not in a leotard or thong, veered toward casual. Skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers with my hair piled high atop my head. For the special occasion, I added a gray-and-brown plaid waistcoat on top of my fitted white tee and swapped my high-tops for a pair of brown hard-bottom wingtip boots that Blake got me last Christmas. Rushing down the stairs, my focus on securing my watch, I almost fumbled the last step when I looked up and saw Blake standing by the window.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, quickly striding my way.

  “What are you wearing? Blake?”

  He relaxed when he figured out my issue. “Yeah, it’s me.” He peered down at himself. “I decided to go casual tonight.” Ash had invited him to a basketball game.

  “Okay…” I trailed off. Blake was a suit-and-tie type of man. He wore suits to the grocery store. All he owned were suits. He might lose the jacket, and sometimes the tie, if the situation called for casual, but that was as far as it went. Right now, though, he wore all black designer high-top sneakers, figure-hugging beige cargo pants, and a black t-shirt that would rip down the middle if he so much as flexed a muscle. A military-style Nixon watch completed the ensemble. I’d seen informal wear on that body before, but not on that man. Not in a while at least.

  “Blake, what’s going on? Where did you get those clothes?”

  “I bought them.”

  “But you hate wearing sneakers, unless you're working out.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” he said. “I used to wear whatever Damon wore, or have you forgotten? We didn’t have separate wardrobes.”

  “But after he left, and you had the power to decide, you got rid of all his stuff and bought suits.”

  “I was trying to get rid of him, Justin. Anything that reminded me or you of him. But if I’m saying that I’m committed to rebuilding our relationship, then I have to take steps that demonstrate I mean it. Since it seems like he might be around here more often, I purchased him a few things. Not a lot. He’ll want to choose for himself. It’s an olive branch. Plus, Ash told me to leave my ‘stick up ass’ vibe at home. His words exactly.” Blake shrugged.

  “Ash always tells you that,” I deadpanned.

  “This time, I’m listening. What do you think?” he asked, with his arms held away from his sides.

  I took in his normally curly hair, slicked back with product, and his typical five o’clock shadow looking more like seven o’clock. “You look hot,” I said. That pleased him. His dimples made an appearance. I held a hand out and stepped back when he tried to make his way to me.

  I could not be late for my first date with Sam.

  Chapter Nine

  Arriving late wasn’t a great first impression. But if the amount of people still hanging outside the bar was anything to go by, the show hadn’t started yet.

  I lost track of time after Blake informed me he wouldn’t be coming home from the basketball game. That he’d be staying the night at our house in Chadwick. He swore he’d take the sleeping pill before bed and drive home first thing in the morning, so I relented. I called Ash and told him to make note of any odd behavior for me.

  The scent of oncoming rain in the air perked me up as I made my way to the entrance. I took a deep breath; the sharp smell of earth and ozone filled my nostrils.

  It didn’t take long to spot Sam sitting on a stool at the end of the bar closest to the stage. Catching sight of me at the same time, she enthusiastically waved me over.

  “Hey, you’re late, Mister.”

  The added sass made it sound more like Mistah.

  “I’m sorry. I, ah, lost track of time.” I rubbed the back of my neck. Should I leave?

  “Did your hot stud hold you up?” she whispered, conspiratorially.

  “Um... ah...well―”

  “I’m only kidding.” Her eyes laughed. “Oh my God, you’re beet-red. Did I embarrass you?”

  “No.” I threw in a weird giggle, and she f
rowned, not understanding my discomfort. I thought back to Blake’s words: be yourself. “You’ll need to excuse me. I’m new to this. I may be awkward at first.”

  “New to what?” she asked perplexed.

  “Hanging out. Making friends.”

  “You don’t have any friends?” She cocked her head. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe it. My life revolves around dance and my husband.”

  Something behind me caught her attention. When she looked back to me, she said breathlessly, “They’re coming around to collect tickets, which means the show’s about to start! I want to hear more about this dancing and husband stuff later on.” She patted my knee. “You and I are going to be great friends, Justin.”

  “We are?” The last word was pitched higher than intended. I blushed at my own eagerness.

  “The bestest, sweetie.”

  My heart swelled with a giddiness never before experienced.

  At the end of the night, we stumbled into the condo, barely making the short distance to the couch before our legs gave out.

  The show was amazing. We stood on the bar top and belted out lyrics, and for every wrong word, we took shots. After a certain point, we were screwing up the lyrics not because we didn’t know them but because we were wasted on tequila. We bought CDs after the show and managed to get them autographed. One of the best nights of my life.

  I wanted more just like it.

  “Sa... Sam?” Unable to hold my head up, I stopped trying and slumped onto the sofa cushion.

  “Yeah?”

  “We’ve got to take these wet clothes off. We’re fucking up the couch, and Blake is going to kill us.”

  “Ugghhh,” she groaned. “Why does it have to rain so much?”

  “I wove the rain.” Did I say wove?

  “Justin?”

  “Yeah?

  “Where am I?”

  It hurt to laugh. “We were too drunk to drive, and you couldn’t find your house keys, so we took a cab to my place.” I forced myself to stand in increments and went in search of towels and robes.