"I just hope she doesn't know Ava is bisexual. I don't want Ava to have to deal with whatever prejudiced bullshit that woman might come up with."
"Her being Jess's girlfriend will already be enough to make for a horrible time."
"Makes me wish I could pay that lady a visit and give her a piece of my mind."
Carter sighed. "Yeah." He took a step back to lean against the small table pushed into the corner formed by wall and railing. "I wish Jess could cut her out of her life and stop caring about what she thinks of her. Her siblings support her, and so do her friends."
"What about her father?" Zyan asked.
"He distanced himself after the divorce," Carter said. "Jess doesn't talk about him much."
Zyan stepped closer, his lower back pressed against the railing as his body faced Carter, even when his gaze was lowered to the potted plants on the table. Their position took him back to all the times they'd stood like this, and how one of them had always moved closer to either snuggle in or steal a kiss. He missed that, wanted it back, and wished he knew how to take that first step to test the waters, but he didn't even know where to start or whether it would ruin what they'd just built back up.
He felt his skin prickle and knew he was being watched. He'd become familiar with the sensation, especially today. Every time he'd turned to look at Carter, Zyan had already found him staring. Zyan wasn't sure what Carter was looking for, whether he was expecting Zyan to do something, or if there was something fundamentally different about him that Carter was trying to get used to. He only knew it was amusing, in a way, because no matter how often Carter was caught, he didn't stop, and yet, he always seem flustered when Zyan called him out on it.
"You're doing it again," Zyan said.
"I'm aware."
"Why?" Zyan asked.
"Why what?"
"Why do you do it?"
Carter shrugged. "Can't I stare at my gorgeous ex-husband?"
Zyan couldn't fully hold back the smile. "You might be old, but even after two hundred years, your flirting hasn't improved in the slightest."
Carter looked mildly offended. "I got you to marry me. Repeatedly."
"I was young and very gay, and you were the first guy who ever hit on me."
"That doesn't explain the other times we got hitched," Carter pointed out.
"Hm," Zyan made. "There was that one time when you wanted to try out the drive-through chapel."
"We didn't go through with that one, remember? Unlike the time you got down on one knee in the London Eye when we reached the top."
"What about the time you wanted to get married in a wedding dress, just because?"
"We didn't go through with that, either, which makes me wonder why we only ever go along with your ideas."
"Because mine are clearly better."
"Really?" Carter teased. "Because I remember the only time you cried during a proposal was when I did it right after the news broke that we could finally get married properly and legally with documents and everything."
"What about the time you were the one crying during the proposal because you thought I had died in a snowboard incident?" Zyan asked.
"There was so much blood, and I was worried, and then I remembered we'd gotten divorced two years ago, and I just didn't want you to die before we could fix it," Carter defended himself.
Zyan smiled a little. "The wedding ceremony that time was nice," he recalled.
"You looked really damn hot in the blue suit."
"I wanted to stick with the traditional black, but you were insistent."
"Because you look really damn hot in blue," Carter repeated.
There was something in Carter's expression that reminded Zyan of thousands of shared moments in the privacy of their own four walls. "Do you think it would be wise to try again?"
Carter's dark eyes seemed to bore into Zyan's, like he was trying to memorize everything about them and what they'd never been able to hide from him: the uncertainty, the hope, the fear, the promise for better things to come. "I don't know," Carter said honestly.
Zyan swallowed. "Do you want to?"
Carter nodded slowly. Zyan looked away and bit at the inside of his lower lip. Was this the right time? Should he risk it? Would he regret it? What about everything that had driven them apart? Was it not important anymore?
Carter didn't push. He waited patiently, as if they had all the time in the world, and in a way, they did.
"We would have to go slower," Zyan said before he made eye contact again.
"That would be smart, yes."
"We would have to talk more, or history will repeat itself."
"I'm okay with that. That would be more of a challenge for you, actually."
Zyan nodded a little. "No moving in together before we reach the three-month mark."
Carter gave a nod of his own. "But if we did, I would suggest your apartment."
"Why?"
"Then Jess could move in with Ava, so all four of us share a hallway."
"That sounds more of a reason for me to move in with you."
A slow smile spread across Carter's face. "Don't pretend with me, Zyan. You love that ball of energy."
"She has her moments," Zyan admitted, before breaking into a smile of his own. "Okay, I kind of love her."
Carter laughed. "There you go. Now you just need to tell her."
"Hey, I have done that! Just not that often. It's meant for special occasions."
"Sure, honey."
Zyan huffed.
Carter waited a beat as the atmosphere shifted around them. "So?" he asked quietly. "Do you think we deserve another chance?"
"I do."
Carter's gaze darted across Zyan's face. "But?"
"I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Ruining what we have."
"Me too." Carter's voice was low, matching Zyan's admission.
"What now?"
"We can keep going like this."
"As…friends?"
Carter nodded.
"Or?" Zyan pushed, knowing the answer.
"We can try again." Carter had put up walls. He was trying to hide himself, to pull his own wants and needs out of the equation and only let Zyan decide based on what he wanted for himself. The attempt was honorable, but what Carter preferred was still easy to read.
"What if it doesn't work out again?" Zyan pushed. "What if we're just too dumb to take the hint?"
"Then we'll be left with more memories to carry."
Zyan's throat felt tight. He'd already made up his mind, but he was stalling. He wasn't even sure why. Nerves? Insecurity? Uncertainty? Or were they all just derivations of fear?
"You don't have to decide yet," Carter said gently.
"But I already have."
"Yeah?"
Zyan stepped closer with a nod. "Yeah."
"And what's the verdict?" Carter whispered.
Zyan moved even closer, until there was barely two inches of space between them. "I think you already know the answer to that."
He wasn't sure who closed the gap in the end, but the second their lips met, his brain could only process the here and now.
It felt familiar, but also different. The warmth and butterflies woke memories of a first kiss shared in the far-off past, where they'd been younger and eager and without the weight of the world resting on their shoulders. But there was also a softness and slowness, reminiscent of their second kiss, late at night on the beach, away from prying eyes, and only witnessed by the stars.
Zyan got lost in the drag of lips. His worries and doubts fell away as he let his hands wander until they found purchase on the back of Carter's neck and cheek. Fingers danced across his own sides, but Carter didn't seem to dare touch skin, which was certainly a new development.
When they parted, it was Zyan who pulled away first. He was breathing heavily and touched his forehead to Carter's without ever opening his eyes.
Zyan played with the hairs at the nape of Carter's neck
as he tried to return to the present. The silky strands between his fingers were distracting but calming. He got lost in the tingle of his lips and the warm breath fanning against his skin, but all of it was confirmation that this was happening. He wasn't dreaming or remembering. They'd taken this step again.
"You didn't even try to deepen the kiss," Zyan said finally, teasing. "I'm slightly disappointed."
"You're the one who said we should go slow this time," Carter replied. He tipped up his chin to press a kiss to Zyan's forehead before he pulled away fully.
Zyan had to force himself to drop his hand from Carter's neck and open his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jessica
"Ava, what do you do for a living?" Jessica's mother said the name like it felt foreign on her tongue, as if it weren't the same as her own cousin's.
Ava looked up from the peas she'd been pushing around on her plate. "I work in retail."
"That's…interesting. And do your employers know that you're…?"
"That I'm what? Short?"
Debby and Luke chuckled into their food. Jessica's mother seemed less amused. Jessica bit her tongue to keep herself from smiling. Hidden from her mother's sight, thanks to the oversized centerpiece, her hand sneaked the last few inches across the table until she could hook her pinky through Ava's and squeeze lightly.
"I always felt like people should know who they're hiring," Jessica's mother pushed.
"They know of my job qualifications," Ava said evenly. "My private life is none of their business, just like theirs is none of mine."
"There's certain things—"
"Enough, Mother," Jessica cut in.
"Excuse me. I was just trying to make conversation."
"No, you were looking for a fight."
"Ava," Luke started, his gaze snapping from their mother to Ava, "Jess told me you're into music."
"Who isn't?" Ava teased.
Luke grinned. "I see your point. So what kinda stuff do you listen to?"
"Pretty much everything? I know that sounds cliché, but…I don't like limiting myself to a genre."
"How fitting," Jessica's mother muttered.
Jessica shot her a glare. "Mother!"
Ava cleared her throat. "I mean, there's something unique about each of them that you won't find in all the others. Except maybe country. I could do without that."
Luke laughed.
Jessica squeezed Ava's finger again and felt it returned. The gentle pressured eased some of the tension in her shoulders.
"Hey, Jess, didn't you say your friend owned a label?" Debby asked.
"Yeah," Jessica replied. "Two of his bands just took off on their first world tour, actually."
"That's exciting. Do you know them, Ava?"
Ava scoffed. "I wish! I've been begging Carter to let me visit the recording studio for ages!"
"Do you not get along?" Jessica's mother asked.
"We do. We're friends, even. He just likes to tease me."
"And that friend of yours, Jessica, have I met him before?"
"No, Mother."
"Why not?"
"He likes to keep to himself."
"Why? Is there something wrong with him?"
Jessica ducked her head as she took a deep breath. "No, Mother, he's perfectly fine."
"Then why don't you bring him along next time?"
Jessica narrowed her eyes. "Why? So you can interrogate him, like you've done to everyone I've ever introduced you to? So you can judge his life choices, like you judge mine?"
"I simply like to know the people my children surround themselves with. Why are you behaving like this?"
Jessica clenched her jaw when she met her mother's gaze. Her eyes burned with intensity, her posture spoke of authority, and her tone expected obedience. Jessica was sick of it. "Maybe I'm sick of the way you treat the people I care about." She didn't say it as a question.
"When have I ever been anything but forthcoming?"
Jessica snorted. "That's an interesting way of phrasing it."
"Enough, Jessica! That kind of attitude won't be tolerated in my house! We have a guest!"
"That I brought, and that you've been making uncomfortable since we walked through the door!"
Ava cleared her throat. Her hand traveled over Jessica's hand to squeeze her forearm. "It's okay, Jessie," she mumbled.
Jessica bit her tongue as she tried to control her temper. She'd confronted her mother in her daydreams all her life but had never had the guts to make it a reality. Her temper had slipped more and more over the years, but she'd always backed down for the sake of keeping the peace. Yet as she sat there with Ava by her side and her siblings across the table, she realized how pointless it was.
Why keep up appearances with a woman who never deserved to have children to begin with? Why should she get to see her children at all if all she did was make them feel like crap? Someone had to finally put an end to it. Even if it did nothing to change her mother's mind, Jessica knew it would at least make a difference for herself and her siblings. And if that meant cutting ties completely, so be it.
The guilt she'd feel would only be a result of years of manipulation, nothing else. She'd have to remind herself of that.
Her mother set down her cutlery and lowered her hands into her lap. Her face was a mask free of emotion. "You were never like this as a child, not even as a teenager."
Jessica inhaled deeply through her nose. "Back then I didn't know what I know now."
"And what would that be?"
"That you're abusive. That you've put toxic thoughts into my mind since I was a child. That you made me hate myself and feel inadequate because you like to feel in control."
Her mother scoffed. "Is that what your therapist has put into your head? I knew that woman wasn't worth the money we paid for her."
"That's enough, Mother," Luke warned.
"No, no, Luke." Jessica held up her hand to silence him. "Let her speak her mind. I'd love to hear what she has to say." She never took her gaze off her mother. "You wanna talk about my therapist? The one you sent me to because of my panic attacks? Because of my self-harm? You really wanna talk about that?"
"Please, Jessica." Her mother rolled her eyes. "You're making yourself sound crazy. You were just acting out because I wouldn't pay you the attention you wanted."
"I was 'acting out,' as you put it, because you expected the impossible of me! I had to have straight As, work a job, do chores, volunteer at church—"
"As does every other teenager," her mother cut in.
"First of all, no, they don't. Second of all, not every teenager has to hear their own mother spew insults at them when they're twelve. You even made me feel worthless for putting on weight and having acne!"
"You were getting lazy with your work-out routine."
"My anti-depressants made me gain weight! You know, the meds I was on because of you?"
"Why would you bring that up in front of our guest? You're embarrassing us!"
"Embarrass—" Jessica cut herself of before she could scream in frustration.
"With all due respect, Mrs. Lewis—" Ava's tone suggested there wasn't much respect due "—you really shouldn't speak to your daughter—or anyone, for that matter—in this way."
"And who are you to judge my parenting?"
"I'm a daughter and a sister and someone who truly cares about Jessica."
"Are you implying I don't care about my own daughter?"
"Well—"
"Ava," Jessica interrupted firmly. "Thank you. I mean it, but—please, just let me…" She took a deep breath before she could look back at her mother.
"It's her, isn't it?" Jessica's mother said before Jessica could even open her mouth to continue. "It's her and the rest of those…friends of yours that made you act out like this."
Jessica could cry in frustration. "Yes, Mother, this is the gay agenda everyone keeps talking about. We chose to be gay and learn to love ourselves, just so we could tick off
our homophobic mothers."
"I'm not homophobic."
"Oh, really? Are you sure? Are you really sure about that?"
"Ask—"
"Your former co-worker? Yeah, sure, I'll ask her. Or…" Jessica paused. "Or I could just ask myself. Hey, Jess, remember all the times Mom asked if we'd gotten a boyfriend after we came out? Oh yeah, I remember. Good fucking times! Or how about the way Mom slandered the government when they legalized marriage equality? Or when she suggested I sign myself up for conversion therapy?"
"You did what?" Debby shouted. She glared at her mother. "What is wrong with you? Do you know what they do to those kids? The suicide rate?"
"Why did you never tell us?" Luke asked.
Jessica met his gaze and shook her head. "Doesn't matter. It's just the icing on the cake."
"Why are you—" Her mother was clearly searching for the right word. "Demonizing me like this? I only ever wanted what's best for you."
"That's a big fat fucking lie, and you know it!" Jessica shot back. "You didn't give half a shit about me. You only cared about your own image! You wanted three perfect children that went on to get married and have kids one by one so you could feel like you were a good mother when you're the most pathetic excuse of a parent I've ever seen!
"You think just because you never hit us you weren't abusing us? That just because no one called child protective services on your ass that we were in good hands?" Jessica scoffed. She felt like a weight had just been lifted off her chest. And when a warm, soft hand landed on hers and squeezed lightly, she sighed and looked back at her mother, who was still as stoic as ever. "I'm done here."
"Jess—" Debby started when Jessica had pushed back her chair and gotten up.
"It's okay, Debby. I'll call you tomorrow." Jessica looked over at Luke. "You too."
"If you leave now, I never want to see you again."
Jessica met her mother's gaze. "I couldn't care less." She dragged her gaze away to look down at Ava, who still seemed a little shell-shocked. "You good to go, pumpkin?"
"I—yeah." Ava cleared her throat and got up. "Um, it was nice to meet you, Debby. Luke."
Debby offered her a small smile while Luke got up. "I'll walk you to the door," he said.
Jessica nodded absently and led the way, the back of her hand brushing Ava's with every step.
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