by Amy Lane
“You look young and gay enough.” The woman scowled at him. “Mr. Lowell said serious businessman. Leave the flaming purple for the dance floor—”
“Ooh,” Channing said, appearing at his elbow like magic. “I’ll pick those suits. We need dancing suits—”
“Channing!” Tino protested. “I can’t—I mean, you know, for job interviews, I can—” Channing had put all of the money for Sammy’s care in the account the week before. Tino had noticed it, but hadn’t wanted to ask. It was one step closer to making a decision, any decision, and he’d been afraid to even think about it. He had a full bank account, free and clear. He’d paid off his student loans, he had enough money to… to rent an apartment, to buy a car, to buy his own suit.
But not enough for extravagances, and that’s what Channing was pushing on him now.
Channing put his hands on Tino’s shoulders and steered him toward the pretty suits in the bright colors. “For me, Tino,” he said in Tino’s ear, the intimacy making Tino shiver. “I’ll buy you a pretty suit for weddings and dancing, for being young and beautiful and someone I’m proud to be with. You pick out the fun ones—let me pick out the business ones. I’ll meet you in the fitting room.”
Tino’s mouth was dry, and his good jeans were not nearly as roomy as they’d been when he and Channing had walked in.
“But…,” he rasped.
Channing caught his chin. “For me,” he said again, gray eyes sober. “Because….” He bit his lip and looked away, both embarrassed and sad. “Because it would make me happy.”
Tino nodded, not sure what would make Channing look away with that terrible sadness. Anything—anything—to turn that expression back to Channing’s confident sunshine.
“For you, anything,” he said, smiling tentatively.
Channing’s smile came back, but the sadness was still there in his eyes.
“Go to town, Tino,” he said, nodding. “I really want to see you all dressed up.”
Twenty minutes later Tino was standing on a small riser in the middle of the dressing room, and Miss Placer County was pinning the fabric of the trousers Channing had picked out.
“Good choice, Mr. Lowell,” she said, and she sounded sincere and not ingratiating. “This one should be ready by next week.”
“Excellent. Can I have it shipped?”
“Oh yes. And the other three as well?”
“Three!” Tino said, trying desperately to hold still. The woman was pinning his inseam, and he liked those bits! “Channing, that’s—”
“Perfect,” Channing said. “That’s more than a start. But the party suit—the plum velvet coat and the tight black trousers?”
“That can be worn right out of the store,” Helen confirmed.
Tino resisted the urge to whip his head around. “Uh, that one’s a little tight,” he squeaked, because Channing might have had some intimate acquaintanceship with his bits now, but that didn’t mean Tino was ready for the rest of the world to see them.
“That one’s supposed to be tight,” Channing reassured, winking. “And yes—we’ll take that one, and the turquoise dress shirt that goes under it. The black shoes and the package of dress socks as well.”
Tino’s head reeled. The cost… oh Lord. Tino could put a down payment on a car for what Channing was about to pay for his clothing.
He was too distraught to form actual words, but he must have let a sound pass, a gasp, a wheeze, a whimper.
Channing dimpled into the mirror. “I’ll take the suit I ordered last week,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “If it’s ready, I can change while he’s getting that off.”
And Tino just let him.
Just let Channing order him into the suit that waited in the adjoining changing room. Just let him pay for his clothes. Just let him…
Be Channing. Let him take care of Tino like they were a couple, like Tino was a part of Channing’s life intimately enough for their finances to be linked. Let Channing buy him pretty things, like lovers did.
Like lovers did.
The curtain of the changing room whisked back as Tino was straightening his cuffs, and Tino looked into the mirror.
Channing stood there in an olive jacket over a plum-colored V-neck. He took in Tino’s tightly cut jacket and trousers, and he smiled slightly.
“Here,” he said, moving to press the creases out of the shoulders with his palms. “You look….” He bit his lip and shook his head. “So sexy.”
A shy smile took over Tino’s face like an alien being. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” Channing nodded, and Tino looked behind him so he could see that boyish expression of accomplishment up close and personal.
“You taking credit for that?” he asked, wishing he could run a gif of this moment, Channing’s delight—his arousal—in an endless loop, forever.
“No.” Channing rubbed his lips against Tino’s temple. “Not for you having it. For finding it first.”
Heat stole up Tino’s face and suffused his stomach—and all points south.
“I’m so glad you did,” he rasped.
Channing caught his mouth in a kiss, open and carnal, at odds with their civilized, dapper appearance. Tino groaned and reached up to run his fingers through Channing’s hair, only to be pulled back by the tightness of his jacket.
“Damn!” he muttered, squirming—and reaching down to adjust himself.
Channing’s laughter sounded a mite strained. “Just as well,” he said. “We have reservations at Chez Daniel in an hour and a half. That’s like a two-man restaurant—they don’t wait!”
“Dinner?” Tino said, surprised. “Really?”
“And a show,” Channing told him. Then he bit his lip, looking shy again. “I… I mean, I wanted to take you to San Francisco—five-star restaurant, tickets to Book of Mormon—the works. I had this whole fantasy—but… but Helen is the best tailor in the state. So, you know. I thought since the suits were the point, we would sort of have to settle for, you know, Chez Daniel and Stomp.”
Tino pulled away, absurdly moved. The suits were the point—Tino’s interview suit was the point. His eyes burned, and he swallowed hard, not wanting to turn the moment maudlin.
“What?” Channing said softly.
“It’s just….” Tino bit his lip. “It’s just—you keep saying it. You keep saying you want me to… to have my own career, and… it’s just….” He took Channing’s cheeks in both hands and looked at him soberly. “You are the most generous man I have possibly ever met. I… I am so in love with you.”
For a moment the bottom dropped out of his stomach. He’d said it. He’d said he was in love. He’d admitted it was a big deal, that this man moved him and that his life, his soul, was not moving on after this. There was nothing disposable about his relationship with Channing Lowell. There was no planning to start another life, another relationship, another path.
Channing was his path.
He’d had it all wrong. He’d thought he would have to find a way around Channing to have his career.
He was going to have to find a way around his career to have Channing and Sammy. Because there was no other way.
“Yeah?” Channing whispered, looking at him with shining eyes. “You love me?”
Tino nodded, beyond pride. “So much.”
“I’ve loved you for so long,” Channing said frankly. “From the first night when you made me and Sammy dinner. From watching you and Jacob interact like brothers. Everything you’ve done… the way you look at me… the way you greet me in the morning when you could be sleeping in.”
Channing’s audible swallow made Tino touch his cheek in sympathy. Such a hard thing to admit, this love. Tino had no idea it would be so terrifying.
“I didn’t want to pressure you,” Channing continued, and it was like the rest of the boutique had ceased to exist. The rest of the world had ceased to exist. It was just Tino and Channing and their bare and beating hearts, suspended between them with words.
“Pressure?” Tino could barely hear his own voice.
“Yeah.” Channing kissed his forehead. “Pressure. I didn’t want to make you feel like you were obligated to stay with me. You had all these plans.”
Tino shook his head. He understood. “We fell in love,” he said simply, smiling. “And I can make all the plans I want, but life is what happens in the meantime.”
“That’s really wise.” Channing’s warmth was seeping through the velveteen of the suit, and Tino wanted it all for himself.
“My mother said that,” Tino confessed, and Channing’s laughter splashed like water. It broke them apart after one last wistful look.
“You finish dressing,” Channing said, brushing his cheek with a knuckle. “I’ll go settle up.”
Tino watched him turn around in his dashing summer suit and wondered how it should happen that this guy—this generous, driven, bright and shining man—would fall in love with him.
Tino was spoiled, he decided. The oldest son, the first to graduate. He was spoiled—there was no other way it could happen.
He’d have to be very, very grateful for all the riches life had dropped on his shoulders. He never wanted to take them for granted.
GETTING into Channing’s car wearing that brilliant, bright fitted suit felt like stepping onto the set of a movie, and dinner in the small, exclusive restaurant didn’t dispel the illusion.
But conversation was as it always had been between them—quick, bantering, kind. Channing talked about his business week, Tino updated him on the parts of Sammy’s life that he’d missed. Channing talked about Sammy’s upcoming school year and how they’d need Carrie’s help, and Tino….
Gnawed his lower lip and worried.
“What? What are you so anxious about?” Channing asked.
“One of us should take him to school,” Tino fretted. “Or pick him up. One of us—I mean, at least a few days out of the week. I gave a headhunter my resume last month—she said she’d have some interviews lined up for me next week. I’ll tell her it has to be in Granite Bay or Folsom. I can drop Sammy off and Carrie can pick him up at three-thirty, and I—”
“I can be home by six,” Channing said meaningfully.
Tino rolled his eyes. “No, you can’t—you work in Sacramento, Channing. You may or may not have figured out that traffic sucks. I’ll be home—”
“Tino, you can’t promise you can be there before you even see the job—”
Tino shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t want to leave him alone!” he said, remembering his own childhood. “When I was a kid, my mom used to come get us from school and take us to her job sites. We would do homework at the boss’s table, like Hope will, and we always knew Mom was right there.” Tino let out a breath. “I came out to my mom while she was making some rich person’s bed, you know? I want Sammy to have that—not the gay!” He waved his hand when he saw Channing about to sidetrack him. “The….”
“The two-parent home,” Channing said, quirking a smile. Their portions of meat were small but exquisitely sauced, and Channing gestured for Tino to take another bite before it got cold. “I understand. And we’ll work to have that. But I’ll tell you this now, Tino. You don’t get to do all the work. You don’t get to do all the sacrifices.” Channing took his own bite, and Tino’s frustration receded. “It’ll work out,” Channing said after a few moments of quiet eating. “Do you trust me?”
Tino remembered then that life was what happened when you were making plans. They would find a way to make their life happen in a good way—make sure Sammy was happy and secure. It would matter that they were both invested.
It would matter that they both cared.
“I trust you with everything,” Tino said shyly, looking at the last bite of food on his plate.
“Yeah?” Channing worked at eye contact, and Tino felt like he had to give it up.
“Yeah,” he said, wondering if Channing could see him blush in the low light of the restaurant.
“You know, if I wanted to press my advantage….”
Tino sat up straight and rolled his eyes. “If you wanted to press your advantage, you would have packed a cleaning kit and lubricant—”
“Which I totally did,” Channing said without repentance. “Tino, I’m only so awesome. We have a hotel room when we’re thirty minutes from home. I’m totally hoping to score.”
And that broke the awkwardness like nothing else could have. “There’s no law that says I’m putting out,” Tino sniffed. “Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you get everything you want.”
Channing laughed, a low, filthy sound that went straight to the pit of Tino’s desire. He started nodding, his deviant grin so wide his cheeks were appleing.
Tino couldn’t help it. He lost his look of disdain and started to grin back—and nod.
“Yes,” he conceded, just as Channing said, “Oh yes.”
“Yes,” they said together.
“I’m totally putting out tonight,” Tino reassured him.
“I totally knew you would,” Channing gloated.
They didn’t say much else during dinner—but neither of them quit smiling either.
Paths
STOMP was wonderful but loud, and it sort of killed conversation between them on the way to the B&B on Salmon Falls road. When Channing pulled up and parked in front of the rambling two-story farmhouse, Tino sat for a moment and took the place in.
It was beautiful—the walkways were planted with flower beds, and the extensive yard behind the house glittered in the moonlight.
Beautiful and storybook—but not home.
“Tino?” Channing asked, turning to look at him curiously.
Tino grimaced. “It’s awesome,” he said softly. “But….” He bit his lip.
“What?” Channing’s voice dropped. “I mean, you don’t have to put out—”
“Are you kidding? As much as I want you right now?” Tino shook his head and wiggled in his seat. “I am like a rocket. I am not kidding.”
“Well, let’s go—”
“Not here,” Tino said, surprised when it came out.
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t be.” Tino turned to him in the confines of the car and leaned over and kissed him. “Someday you’ll take me to San Francisco or LA. Someday we’ll maybe get married and have a honeymoon, and we’ll do all the glamorous stuff that people dream about, you know?”
“But—”
“But tonight I want to make love to you at home. Is that okay?”
Channing’s faint look of anxiety faded. “Yeah. You like that house?”
“It’s beautiful, but… but it’s ours. Your bedroom, it’s become ours in the last weeks. I… that’s what I love best about it. I could make it more mine—”
“And I wish you would.”
“You just wait. There will be Star Wars memorabilia in every corner, believe you me. But… but mostly I just want us in a place we love.” Tino looked again at the house. “It’s pretty,” he said wistfully. “But it doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“And I do,” Channing said, getting it.
“Yeah.”
CHANNING went into the B&B while Tino called Carrie and told her they’d be home shortly.
She asked if she could stay the night, since Hope was already asleep in the guest bedroom that used to be Tino’s and she was following suit soon.
Of course—it was only fair.
They got home late and slid into bed tired and happy, but Channing’s mouth on Tino’s body was all the fulfillment he needed—or had the energy for that night.
The next morning, they went out to brunch with Elaina, which proved far more entertaining than Tino had hoped.
Elaina was thrilled to spend more time with Sammy, and extremely candid over her pancakes at IHOP. “It’s like the less time she spends at home, the longer it’s going to be before they know she’s knocked up,” she said glumly, eating a bite of something called a pancake puppy. Sammy had devoured thre
e of them, but Channing and Tino were regarding them with deep suspicion.
“You know she’s knocked up?” Tino asked, surprised Nica told her.
“Only because she’s a homicidal heifer—my first thought was that she was psychotic. I started looking up psychological disorders, but then I heard her throwing up one morning and it totally made sense.”
Tino laughed, low and evil. “Do me a favor and tell her that when she makes the big announcement.”
“Yeah—when’s she making that?” Elaina ate some fruit, and the low, psychosomatic rumbling in Tino’s belly eased.
“Uh….” Tino wrinkled his nose. “Uh….”
“My birthday?” Elaina complained. “Oh, are you kidding me? Well, it’s a good thing Mom and Dad are bringing me back a platform and a barre for the garage, or this birthday would so suck.”
“You knew about that?” Tino asked, impressed.
“Well, duh. Two weeks ago I point out the practice stage I want and ask if Dad can make it, and she says, ‘Dad works hard enough—I think we can afford it.’ And the manufacturer is in San Francisco.”
“So are really awesome dancing schools,” Tino said, thinking his parents would probably do that, just for their baby.
Elaina wrinkled her nose. “I’m not going to be famous,” she said, raising a slender shoulder. “I don’t mind. But I can teach dance—I would love that.” She smiled at Sammy. “How about you, Sammy—don’t you want to learn how to make the tap-dancing noise?”
Sammy stared at her, nonplussed. “I already know how to do that,” he said. “It’s fun, but not as fun as piano.”
Elaina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but which one of us has a guinea pig—tell me that, kid. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve got a guinea pig, so I’m still better than you.”
Sammy stuck out his tongue—and then grinned at her.
Elaina crossed her eyes in return.
Tino looked grimly at Channing. “Are you stopping at Sammy, or are there going to be more? Because see? This is what you have to look forward to.”