by Jayce Ellis
“Yeah. A little stupefied by everything that’s going on, but I’m good.” He looked up at his best friend. “I want this.”
Deion smiled, and it was gorgeous. “I do, too. Let’s make it happen.”
Chapter Seven
Carlton was uncharacteristically nervous, his right knee tapping, brushing against Deion’s leg. It was a damn shame that mindless contact seared through Deion’s body so much. Pathetic, really, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He wanted to lay his hand on Carlton’s knee, soothe him with touch, but especially now, with his return date to Chicago unknown, it was even more important for Deion to keep some boundaries in place. Physical distance was impossible, so he was going for the emotional kind. He didn’t have much hope for its success, but he had to try.
“Carlton Monroe?” the receptionist asked.
Carlton jumped to standing, smoothed his hands down his pants, then looked at Deion. “You coming?” His eyes looked so eager, Deion hated to dash his hopes.
Deion shook his head. “No, you go on ahead. It’s probably better for you to talk to the attorney alone.”
Carlton paused for a minute, like he wanted to argue. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.” He huffed out a breath, flexed his hands, then nodded, like he was psyching himself up for the most important thing in his life. And maybe he was.
“I’ll be right here,” Deion said, and Carlton gave him a relieved smile. The receptionist waited patiently at the door and, when Carlton turned toward her, led him down the hall.
Deion sighed and sagged against the seat. Carlton’s friend Lawrence, the one who’d flirted mercilessly with him and had been the genesis of the most awkward week Deion had ever spent with Carlton, was an attorney. He wasn’t personally handling the case, but he’d pulled strings to get Carlton an early meeting with another colleague. Carlton had insisted Deion come along, and the argument Deion’d prepared in his head fell by the wayside after getting up and driving with Carlton to take Olivia to school. DC into Virginia in the morning was no joke, against traffic or not. By the time they got her there, they had to come directly to the office anyway. Now all he could do was wait.
The lobby door opened and Lawrence stepped through. At least, that’s who Deion thought it was. He looked like the guy Deion had met on Friday night, with his light skin and hazel-bordering-on-green eyes. Tall, imposing, and drool-worthy, especially in a suit. Like, good goddamn, that should be illegal.
“Deion,” he said, his face breaking into a smile before he crossed the room and extended his arm, “good to see you again.”
Deion stood and shook, and Lawrence motioned for him to sit back down. Deion did, and Lawrence sat next to him, then unbuttoned his suit jacket and made himself perfectly at home.
“How are things going?” he asked, his voice low in the otherwise empty lobby.
Deion didn’t know this guy from Adam, but the genuine concern on his face was touching. He cared about Carlton, notwithstanding intentionally raising his hackles at the club.
Deion nodded. “Things are good so far. A little touch and go, trying to figure out how all the pieces fit.”
“I can imagine. Carlton doesn’t have kids, right? Only his nephew for that year?”
“Right.” Deion laughed a little, remembering. “He said he didn’t even feel like a father, since Trey is so damn self-sufficient, but this? This is different.”
Lawrence nodded. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“You got kids?”
“Five.” Deion whistled low and Lawrence chuckled. “I know, right? College kid—that’s where I met Carlton—sixteen, thirteen, and eight-year-old twins.”
“Dear lord. You’re going to be doing this for a while, huh?”
“No doubt. My ex says that she wants to take our second on a three-month European vacation next summer. Just the two of them.”
“So you’re going to be in charge of the others?”
“Looks like it.”
Deion swallowed his laugh. Lawrence had paled, which was saying something, like the thought petrified him. “Well, three won’t be that bad, right? I mean, your ex has four all the time.”
Lawrence looked at him, his eyes a mixture of humor and irritation. “You sound like her.”
Deion laughed and shifted in his seat. “Sorry, man.”
“No worries. Hell, you’re right and I know it. And it’s not like she’s not giving me ample time to prepare. But still...” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
“You got any advice for Carlton?” Deion asked. “How to raise a fourteen-year-old girl when you’ve never done it before?”
“Don’t I wish? Things have changed so much from when we were kids, you know? And as much shit as I managed to get into, I don’t think I’d make it today.”
Wasn’t that the damn truth. Deion didn’t know how parents today did it.
“Really,” Lawrence said, “Jaq is the one you should be asking. He and his mom raised his daughter on their own nearly from her birth. If anyone knows the mind of teenage girls these days, it’s him.”
“You got all boys?”
“Nope. My sixteen-year-old, and one of the twins, are girls. But Lana, my older one, pretends I don’t exist. Hell, half the time she won’t come over for the weekends, and I don’t force it.”
That really kinda sucked, and Deion scrounged for the right words to say. But Lawrence just shrugged and smiled, one Deion could tell was practiced and not at all real. Given their limited interaction had involved Lawrence irritating the hell out of Carlton, Deion couldn’t say he blamed him, so he shifted the conversation back to Olivia. “Anything you think I can do to help out?”
Lawrence peered at him, his brows drawing together. “How long are you here? Carlton had said it was ten days or something.”
Why did Deion feel like there was a world of knowledge in that question? He shifted under Lawrence’s gaze. “Yeah, I was supposed to leave yesterday, but he asked if I could stick around for a minute. I’m on sabbatical,” he said by way of explanation, and Lawrence nodded. “So I don’t have anywhere to be back to. My plan is to stick around until the end of the semester, or until he gets settled down or whatever, and after that, who knows.”
Deion watched as Lawrence made and discarded various conclusions. Oh, to be inside his mind right now. Then he cocked his head to the side. “I mean, I don’t know Carlton half as well as you do, but I think he feels a lot more than he lets on. He plays like he’s a carefree confirmed bachelor all the time, but I don’t see it.” Lawrence arched a brow, then fixed Deion with his gaze. “So, I guess the only thing I’d say is to know what you want, and to look beneath the surface. Don’t accept the him he puts on when he’s playing tough or trying to hide how he really feels at face value. I’m pretty sure it’s bullshit.”
Deion forced himself to close his mouth and swallow. Lawrence, who had known Carlton for a grand total of what—six weeks, maybe—had come to the same conclusion it had taken Deion nearly twenty years to figure out. Hell, as of this morning he’d still been wondering if his conclusions were accurate or a function of him superimposing his own desires. But maybe Lawrence was right, and Carlton wasn’t the unrepentant playboy who dicked someone down nightly. There was zero evidence of that in his house. Deion knew he’d cut back when Trey arrived, but nothing indicated he’d even tried to start up again. If anything, the man probably went to bed alone as much as Deion did. Deion had wondered more than once if Carlton dreamed about him the way he did about Carlton, and then abandoned the idea as the very pinnacle of folly.
“Thanks,” he said, unsure how else to respond. “It’s sometimes nice to get someone else’s opinion.”
Lawrence grinned, and Deion was again struck by this dude’s unrepentant hotness. “Any time.”
The lobby door swung open again and Carlton stepped through. A woman stood behind him,
her poker-straight black hair hanging down to her chin in the sharpest bob Deion had ever seen. Like her hair could cut a bitch.
“Mr. Jackson,” she started, “Mr. Monroe and I are almost finished, but may I borrow you? Just for a moment?”
Lawrence stood smoothly, as though whatever was happening here was to be expected. “Of course, Ms. Chang.” He looked down at Deion and extended a hand, which Deion shook. “It’s been a pleasure. I look forward to seeing you again before you leave.”
“Same,” Deion murmured, but his attention was on Carlton, who looked like he’d been hit by a Mack truck. You okay? he mouthed.
Carlton nodded, but Deion didn’t believe him for a minute. Not with the way Carlton’s shoulders hunched forward, the way his gaze seemed focused on the ground even when Lawrence patted him warmly on the shoulder. Something was off, and all he could do was sit and wait.
* * *
To say Carlton didn’t like the look of foreboding on Lawrence’s face would be the understatement of the century. Lawrence had been so chill in the lobby, talking to Deion like they were old friends instead of perfect strangers. The smooth shift in his face from friendly to almost...hell, he didn’t know, almost predatory, made Carlton cringe.
He followed Lawrence down the hall and to the left, instead of the right like he had with Ms. Chang. Another left, and Carlton found himself in the largest office he’d ever seen. Thing was bigger than his bedroom.
“Have a seat,” Lawrence said, rounding the almost nine-foot-wide cherry desk to take a seat in a chair Carlton knew cost over a grand. It’d been on his wish list for years.
He perched on the edge of one of the guest chairs and tried to calm himself. It’d been a shock when, in the middle of the interview, Ms. Chang had stood and told him to follow her. He was convinced he’d fucked up somehow, but he had no clue what he’d done wrong.
Lawrence wasted no time. “What’s going on, Gwen?”
Ms. Chang straightened in her seat. “There are some...peculiarities in this matter I think you’re better able to navigate than me.”
“You mean his sexuality.” Damn, Lawrence could be cold when he wanted to be.
But Gwen, Ms. Chang, rolled her eyes. Then she looked at Carlton, before raising her brow at Lawrence, who laughed. “Carlton’s a friend, which is why I was giving this case to someone else. You can be real.”
Gone was the more-than-slightly-intimidating attorney, and in her place was a woman Carlton absolutely wanted to have drinks with. “Look, we know legality don’t mean shit in the face of some stodgy-ass judge who hates the idea of single people adopting, especially single gay men, especially of a child of a different assigned gender, especially when legal guardianship is with the child’s married, conservative grandparents.”
Shit, when she laid it out like that, it really did sound like an uphill battle. Far more of one than Carlton had anticipated.
Even Lawrence seemed impressed. Mildly, but it was there. “This is all true, but I’m curious why you think I’d be in a better position to handle this than you.”
Ms. Chang rolled her eyes so hard Carlton truly did fear they’d fall out. “Oh, Mr. Jackson, newly minted managing partner of Carter Andrews, openly pansexual, twenty-two years’ experience under his belt. Versus Gwen Chang, single mid-level associate whose greatest, most fervent wish is that somebody find me a Daniel Dae Kim lookalike who wants to be my sugar daddy and pay off these loans.”
Carlton couldn’t stop his laugh if he tried. She smiled at him, a real one instead of the very-important, all-business one he’d received earlier, then she got serious. “Lawrence, this kid showed up on her uncle’s front door, asking him to uproot his life in the blink of an eye. Her grandparents—her legal guardians—said sure, take her, but gave him a very real, very permanent ultimatum. That Mr. Monroe here said yes without any hesitation speaks highly of him, and he deserves the best counsel available, one who won’t spend half her time dealing with bullshit legal shenanigans. That, sir, is you.”
Carlton wasn’t going to let himself dwell on the warm feeling he got that Ms. Chang thought anything about him was admirable, but after a lifetime of his parents finding the worst in everything he did, he could admit it was nice to hear something positive.
Lawrence paused for a long moment, his gaze not fixed on either of them, but on something on his computer. Finally he gave a small grin and nodded to Ms. Chang. “You win, Gwen. Give your notes to Betty and have her start a file. Count these toward my pro bono hours.”
“Done.” Ms. Chang stood and handed her notes to Lawrence.
“I can’t ask you to do this for free,” Carlton protested, and Ms. Chang stopped with her hand on the door.
“Um, your friend charges $1,100 an hour for his services. I think you should dig deep in your soul and accept this gift without reservation.” She dipped out the room then, laughing at Carlton’s openmouthed gape.
Lawrence chuckled when the door closed and sat back against the chair. “Okay, so I’ll read Gwen’s notes later and get you set up with a social worker and GAL and all, but what I really want to know is why Deion is still here.”
Fuck. Okay, not where Carlton expected this to go, but he could roll with it. “Ollie showed up barely a day before he was supposed to leave, and we have some shit to work out. I couldn’t let him just hop on a plane before we talk.”
“Shit like you’re in love with him?”
“I...what?” The fuck?
Lawrence snorted, the sound incongruous with the suit and the office. This was the Lawrence he knew, who was going to be honest with him no matter what. “Carlton, no one gets as upset about flirting as you did that night unless you’ve caught feelings.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Lie to yourself, don’t lie to me. You’re used to having that attention firmly fixed on you, and you don’t like to share.”
“Is that why you went in so hard? I should’ve known you weren’t serious.”
“Let’s be very clear here,” Lawrence said, leaning forward with his arms on the table. “Deion is gorgeous, smart as a fucking whip, and has a great sense of humor. I would’ve had not a single problem spending the weekend buried balls deep in him.”
Carlton was going to break this goddamn chair in half and shove it up Lawrence’s ass if he didn’t stop talking about his boy that way.
Lawrence pointed at him and clapped, satisfaction radiating from him. “See, that! That look on your face right now? That’s the shit I’m talking about. Fascinating, really,” he finished, trailing off.
“What is?”
“Being in love with someone without even fucking them. I mean, I know it can happen. I just didn’t know it did happen.”
Carlton shook his head to clear it. This conversation was going off the rails. “Deion and I have had sex. You know that, right?”
Lawrence lurched forward. “Time the fuck out,” he said, complete with the classic T hand gesture. “Y’all have fucked? And you’re still here pretending you’re not into him?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“When?”
“Eighteen years? Something like that.”
“All right, deets. Give them to me.”
Carlton grunted. “You want to gossip.” He shook his head and laughed, pointing to the phone. “Should we call Jaq and loop him in, since this is clearly not work-related?”
“First of all, one of the first things a lawyer learns is how to make anything work-related and therefore billable. Second, that man is still on cloud nine because ol’ boy invited him to his kid’s wedding. He doesn’t need your shit to bring him down.”
“Truth.”
“So talk to me. What’s the deal between you two? I know he was supposed to leave a few days ago, and there’s a reason that has nothing to do with your niece as to why he’s still here.”
Lawrence held a hand up, and Carlton paused. “You’re stalling. You gonna give me your entire history, tell me each meal you two had together and everything, or you gon’ get to the part where y’all fucked and somehow aren’t together?”
The middle finger Carlton gave him was instinctual, but Lawrence was right. He was definitely taking his sweet-ass time getting to the point. “Fine. It’s the end of the academic year, about to go home for the summer. My parents call to tell me Carrie’s just gotten married and moved out, so there’s no need for me to come home for the summer.” He dug his fingernails into his palms, trying not to let the desolation that had overwhelmed him then take him under now. “You know, I don’t think I realized until that phone call that my parents let me come home because Carrie demanded it, and without her there they had no reason to be bothered anymore.”
Lawrence sucked in a breath, his eyes darkening with what looked like anger, not an emotion Carlton was used to people other than Deion feeling on his behalf. “You mean to tell me your parents just up and told you not to come home?”
Carlton shrugged. What else could he do? He was thirty-eight, past the time when shit like that should still hurt, right? “Me and Carrie had gotten closer after I left.” He chuckled. “I think being the golden child was cool when I was giving them grief, but living up to their expectations had to be hard on her too. Anyway, she moved out and my parents told me in so many words they didn’t care where I went, so long as it wasn’t home to them.”
“How’d you take it?”
“Hard.” Carlton could admit that much. He’d taken it hard, and Deion had been there. “Deion came in and found me crying like a baby in my bed, and scooted in to wrap his arms around me.”