by Lane Hayes
“Aye. But it’s not something everyone knows so…” Finn smacked his palm on the rock’s surface meaningfully then spoke in a thickened accent. “This is a secret stone now. Whatever is said here cannot be repeated. I’m serious. The fairies will take your voice and sell it to the sirens should you breathe a word without permission.”
“When you say ‘fairy,’ do you mean the rainbow warrior kind with a glitter wand like myself, or is this an Irish mythical creature who probably can’t afford the airfare to California?”
“A rainbow warrior and a cynic? Come now, Joshy. You can’t be both. Choose one,” he scolded playfully.
“Fine. I can keep a secret.”
He lowered his glasses and stared deep into my eyes as if gauging my sincerity. Then he pushed them on his nose and turned to face the ocean. “I had a crush on Scarlet when we met ten years ago. She was and is lovely. Inside and out. I wasn’t attracted to her sexually, but I liked being with her. She has a great sense of humor. She’s funny…like you. She’s one of those rare people who can always see a silver lining. For someone with a dark cloud over his head, she was magical. I’m superstitious. I started to think that meeting her when I did had to mean something.”
“You sound like Nick.”
“Hmm. I asked her to dinner. I made reservations at a fancy restaurant my grandmother had recommended. I wanted to impress her. I was a simple Dubliner with simple tastes. Scarlet was out of my league but at twenty-five, I had nothing to lose and maybe with her, I had something to gain.”
“Money?”
“No,” he scoffed indignantly. “A do-over.”
“A mulligan,” I amended.
Finn inclined his head with a slight upturn of his lips. His expression was earnest though. There was no trace of humor, laughter, or anything fun. I held my tongue and waited for him to go on.
“We met at the restaurant. She seemed confused to find me at a semi-private table alone when she showed up. Late, by the way. Scarlet is always late.” He rolled his eyes with mock irritation. “She could tell something was different about me. I stuttered every other word. It was painful…like being back in grade school again.”
“You stuttered?”
“Aye. It was terrible. When I was a kid, I saw a speech therapist a couple of times a week. I missed football practice regularly, which drove my father batty. That’s not the story I’m telling though.”
“Sorry. You were wooing Scarlet…” I reminded him with a tight smile.
Finn chuckled lightly and leaned into me so we sat shoulder to shoulder. “Right. Let’s just say I’m glad no one filmed me and that she put me out of my misery before I embarrassed myself any further. Scarlet set her hand over mine and very kindly told me not to speak. That got me a bit riled, I admit. I tried to plead my case but after thirty seconds of saying, ‘Scar, Scar, Scar’ she shook her head and said, ‘Finn, stop. I’m flattered but darling…you have a dick. I’m never going to be interested.’ ”
“So she’s in the closet?” I asked with a frown.
“She’s out to close friends and family. Her family was tolerant until she brought her lover to her cousin’s wedding. It was a disaster. Her aunt fainted, her mother had a fit, and her father drank. A lot. There were rumors of him and a stripper afterward, and it was a mess that turned into a PR nightmare. Brennan Enterprises is a giant conglomerate involved in everything from aerospace to communications. But they’re very conservative. Tawdry rumors about an alcoholic, philandering father and a lesbian daughter had to be squashed. Since that debacle seven years ago, I’ve been her date at any family event and most business functions too.”
“What about her girlfriend?”
“Her name is Keisha. She’s an African American former model turned businesswoman. She’s bright and beautiful, and Scarlet’s over the moon for her. They’ve been together for years.”
“You said she’s engaged. Are they getting married soon?”
“I don’t know. She’s been quiet for her family’s sake. Her mom passed away last year and…I suppose the timing was never right. But she’s thirty-five now, and she wants to start a family.”
“What does that mean to you?”
Finn shrugged and looked away. “I just told you so you’d know you have no reason to be jealous of Scarlet.”
“Jealous is definitely not the right word. I’m not jealous because I’m not entitled to the emotion. But I’m confused. People associate you with her and infer you’re a couple, which is exactly what you want. Nothing is transparent with you. Maybe you’ve been part of her secret for so long, you don’t know how to be honest anymore.”
“I’m always honest,” he said testily.
“But you’re not open. I think you get off on being mysterious and unknowable. Not my kink. Not my problem.” I waved a hand dismissively.
“What is your kink?”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“That sexy voice. It drives me crazy.”
“In a good way, right?”
I sensed his stare in my periphery but I cautioned myself not to give in and not to be charmed. He had a talent for throwing me off guard. And I wasn’t going there again.
“Look, I may be gullible to a fault and guilty of believing what I want but after brunch at my gay dad’s house, I’m beginning to realize my biggest issues have something to do with the closet. Why aren’t you out?”
“I am out,” he insisted.
“If you’re someone’s ‘beard,’ you’re at least partially in the closet.”
“Hmph. I may not discuss my sexuality in a business setting but I don’t hide my support of LGBT causes or—”
“Straight people support gay rights too.”
“True, and ‘people’ can think what they want. My personal life isn’t up for consumption. Privacy matters to me.”
“Whatever. So she bats for the other team and you like being a lone wolf. Your arrangement seems cold. I couldn’t do it. Reciprocation is important. Maybe she doesn’t want or need anything from you but—”
“She does want something,” he blurted.
He looked away again, but I could tell from the rigid set of his jaw that he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. I waited for him to go on, but he remained stubbornly quiet and almost preternaturally still.
“What does she want?”
“A baby.”
Holy fucking crap! What the hell? My insides churned feverishly while I sought an appropriate response. I settled for, “Oh.”
“Oh?” he snorted. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Give me a minute. There’s more. I’m just having a hard time verbalizing it. I—does she want to have sex with you now, or is this a turkey baster thing?”
Finn furrowed his brow and cast a “what the fuck?” look my way. “She wants my sperm.”
“Okay, wow. That’s wild. So you’re going to be a daddy,” I said softly.
“Not necessarily. I told her I’d think about it.”
Something in his delivery stopped me. He sounded upset—or at least agitated. “Probably a good idea. Are you gonna raise the kid too? How would it work?”
Finn shrugged and looked away again. “Scar and Keisha would be the primary parents, but they’d like me to take an active role. It would be odd if I didn’t. We’re friends but…”
“But you don’t want to be a father,” I finished for him.
“That’s not it. It was…unexpected. I knew she wanted a family, but I didn’t think she’d ask me. I never thought I’d run into this again.”
“Again?”
Finn deflected the question with a subtle shake of his head and spoke quickly. “I can’t get my head around the idea, and I don’t think I have what it takes to be a good parent.”
“Most guys probably feel that way initially.”
“Maybe, but my example isn’t the best. I’m nothing like my father but I…can’t help worrying there’s some latent asshole gene reserved
for offspring that I won’t be able to control. Professionally, I don’t care who thinks I’m a prick. If I’m short-tempered, brutally honest, or prone to taking advantage of stupidity for gain…so be it. It’s business. You’ve got to be sharp and stay on your toes. But you can’t be like that with children.”
“Have you told Scarlet your concerns?”
“Yes…she laughed. She seems to think I underestimate myself and then went out of her way to assure me there was no requirement on my time. I could come and go as I pleased. A father figure rather than a real dad. I liked that idea even less, but I also hate the thought I could ruin some innocent life simply by being…me.”
“You’re not going to ruin anyone. Especially not someone you want to help mold to be the best person they can be. My dad is amazing. He’s not perfect but he tries. He makes me want to try too. Today is a great example,” I said with a half laugh. “I don’t know how much you overheard in the living room but—”
“Everything.” He patted my knee when I winced. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m in awe of your relationship with your father.”
“How?”
“You respect and admire each other. I don’t have that and…it’s heartening to know fathers and sons like you exist.” Finn sat up slightly and bent his knee as he faced me. “You have a funny way of thinking out loud, Josh. You see the positive, chastise yourself for mentioning the negative, and vow to be fair and supportive. I admire your tenacity and resolve. Watching you and your father do your best to put each other first was eye-opening for me. You’re a lucky man.”
“I guess I am, but”—I nudged his shoulder until he looked at me—“is that why you agreed to come with me to brunch…to watch the father-son show?”
Finn gave me a crooked smile. “It was fascinating, but no. I came because you invited me.”
“And?”
“I wanted to be with you.”
“And?”
Finn let out an amused huff then turned to face the ocean. “I wanted to see how your interview went.”
“Wait. You were worried I’d like Dante in a not-so-business-y way, weren’t you? You like me.”
He lowered his sunglasses down his nose and shot me another “what the fuck?” look. “It was a job interview, not a date.”
His careful disdain might have fooled me any other day, but not today. Maybe we were both raw, or maybe we’d seen and shared too many “real” events in a short period of time. Either way, I knew he was full of shit.
“You like me. Admit it,” I teased, pinching his arm playfully.
“I like you a lot,” he replied, capturing my wrist.
“I like you too, but I don’t really trust you.”
I half expected him to move into my space and overpower me with some sexy maneuver that would encourage me to do something impetuous like take my clothes off on the rock. But he didn’t budge, and his expression wasn’t seductive in the slightest. It was vulnerable. I furrowed my brow and cocked my head inquisitively.
“How do I prove myself? I want to know.”
“There’s nothing to prove, Finn. I know this has been a strange couple of weeks but…we can’t do this again.”
“We don’t have to do anything. In fact, I don’t want to do anything unless you trust me. But it would nice to have a friend who doesn’t want my sperm—”
“Actually, I do want your sperm,” I deadpanned before throwing my hand over my mouth and widening my eyes. “I’m such a ho. Don’t listen to me.”
Finn chuckled then slung his arm over my shoulders and mussed up my hair until I shoved him.
“You’re funny, Joshy. Friends?” he asked, offering his hand.
“Friends,” I agreed, batting his hand away.
“Good. We can start over. As friends only. Maybe if we go slow, without sex getting in the way, you’ll learn to trust me.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Just…don’t push me away like you did last year.”
I frowned at the “as friends only” addendum but let it go. “I won’t.”
Finn pulled me against his side and squeezed my shoulders in a quiet show of camaraderie. It took everything I had not to push him flat on the rock and climb him like a tree, but he seemed content to stare at the ocean with his arm around me like we were two old buddies. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but as the minutes ticked by and as my pulse returned to normal, a sense of calm came over me. I leaned into his touch, letting the worry, doubt, and fear go. I was good at friendships, and neither of us had room for anyone’s extra baggage. More might have been nice, but it could also be another version of the same story we’d been through last year. Somehow, this felt infinitely promising.
7
The strangest thing about embarking on a “new” friendship with Finn was that it didn’t feel strange at all. I expected to fall back into our old habit of engaging in neutral conversations about art and literature as a precursor to sex, but our chat on Finn’s rock changed something. Maybe we knew too much about each other now. He’d been given an unwitting front row seat to the Sheehan family sideshow and instead of racing for the hills, he’d responded by sharing something of himself. I knew there were major pieces missing, but by giving where he never had before, he opened up a sense of possibility.
We knew “secrets” now. But more importantly, we knew the emotional baggage associated with our personal upheaval. We didn’t talk it to death, but if I had a conversation with one of my parents and wanted to get it off my chest, I had someone to confide in whose perspective wasn’t tainted by their own preconceived notions. My friends were one hundred percent in my corner and always willing to listen, but they were almost too close to the situation. They were my brothers. And like me, their unflagging support for my dad was tinged with confusion.
Finn wasn’t confused in the slightest. He was fascinated and almost rabidly curious about the dynamic between my dad and me. But not creepily so. Within a couple of weeks, we put the heavier topics aside and returned to mutual interests like museum exhibits in the area the way we had a year ago. We’d meet for drinks after work or coffee on weekends and extoll the virtues of a new collection we’d heard about. Invariably that would lead us back to my job situation and the French assignment he’d agreed to help me with. What it didn’t appear to lead to was sex. And while I’d initially thought that was a good idea, it was becoming obvious that we were torturing ourselves.
Yesterday was a perfect example. We’d met at a coffee shop in the Ferry Building at noon. It was a Sunday but Finn had to go into his office to prepare for a huge meeting the next morning. I claimed I was in the neighborhood picking up a textbook from one of my fellow Francophiles and suggested we meet. Yeah, I totally lied. I had no intention of lugging a book around the Embarcadero. And though Finn was a better French tutor than I would have thought, I had a hard enough time speaking English around the guy. Especially lately.
I hung on his every word. The cadence, the pitch, the twinkly eyed look he’d give me when he corrected my pronunciation for the umpteenth time, and the drop-dead sexy grin that curled one side of his mouth before the other and made me melt like butter on a warm biscuit. I was a mess around him, and it was getting worse every time we met. My gaze wandered over his stubbled jaw and lingered on the exposed skin under his Adam’s apple. I’d never been one to stare at a man’s throat before, but fuck, everything on Finn was sexier than it should have been. So why were we sipping coffee and nibbling on muffins when we could have been screwing our brains out at one of our places?
I tuned him out as he jabbered in another language. I wondered if he’d changed his mind about me. Personally, I was in over my head. Every time we were together, I liked him more than ever. He was charming, charismatic, and he made me laugh. I was beginning to rethink my initial assertion that friendship and sex had to be mutually exclusive. We hadn’t had sex since the night my dad came out to me. And that was weeks ago. I didn’t like this at all. It was like ignoring the last pint of chocolate ice
cream in the freezer…just because. Who did that? Not me, that was for fucking sure.
“Quelle heure est-t’il?”
Finn leaned forward and tapped my hand. I started, accidentally knocking over the last of my coffee and both of our half-eaten muffins. Seconds later, the seagulls descended. Let’s get one thing straight—the seagulls in the Bay area were freaking big-ass predators. Two landed at my feet then called three of their friends to join them for lunch. When some pigeons invaded their feast, things got crazy. I jumped up to shoo the buggers away, waving my hands and a flimsy scrap of napkin. They were unimpressed. And to prove it, one of them crapped on me. Literally.
Finn was in hysterics. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him laugh that hard. He doubled over, swiping at tears while I stared at the white shit on my sleeve, grumbling unhappily about avian attackers. He was still chuckling when he helped me clean up with bottled water and a stack of napkins. But I didn’t mind. I loved the melodic sound. It wasn’t until the laughter subsided and our eyes met that confusion set in. He wanted me. Bad. Why wasn’t he doing anything about it?
“Why don’t you do something then?” Marley asked, draping my jacket over my office chair.
I snuck a peek at Talia who was busily re-spritzing her Jo Malone at her desk. The last thing I needed was Grant’s cousin chiming in with advice about how to jump-start some nookie with the guy who used to be my sure thing. Talia knew I was gay and had a crush on someone. That was all the intel I was willing to part with for now. Marley, on the other hand, knew everything. I had to tell someone and unfortunately, my best friends were biased when it came to Finn. Marley was the perfect confidante. She didn’t know him and she was always rooting for the underdog when it came to matters of the heart. Or the bedroom.
Besides, I wanted my jacket back.
“Does it need to be dry-cleaned?” I snarked as I stood to greet her.
“Well, my cats have been sunning themselves on it for weeks, but it’s your call.”