A Kind of Home

by Lane Hayes

  “Thanks,” I said. Adam sat on the edge of the barcelona chair and eyed me over the rim of his mug. I searched for a conversation tidbit that didn’t scream awkward. And failed. “So… you’re talking to me again?”

  “I wasn’t ever not talking to you,” he said with a frown. “I’m sor—”

  “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

  He took a sip of coffee, then scratched his stubbled jaw as though looking for a neutral topic appropriate to discuss over an impromptu cup of java. “We should talk. Are you around later? I need to head uptown, but—”

  “What’s uptown?” I intercepted.

  “Dogs.”

  “What day is it? Big dogs or little ones?”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was obviously wary of my friendlier tone. “It’s a big-dog day. Why’d you sleep on the sofa?”

  “I do that sometimes,” I lied. “It’s comfortable.”

  “No, it’s not,” he retorted.

  “What’s wrong with my sofa?” I sipped my coffee but kept my gaze on him.

  “Nothing. It’s an amazing sofa,” he said in a reverent tone. He held my gaze for a long moment before continuing. “But… it’s a sitting kind of sofa.”

  “Or a sex kind of sofa.”

  He flinched slightly but recovered and inclined his head. “True, but it’s not a ‘lounge with your feet over the back and chillax with a beer or three while watching a couple football games’ kind of sofa.”

  “So… no to chilling out but yes to sex?”

  I felt my forehead crease with faux confusion. I was being a dick and I knew it. But the last time we’d been in this room together, I had my legs locked over his ass and—I heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of my neck in an effort to stop the flood of erotic memories.

  Adam stared at me for a long moment. “Want some aspirin?”

  “Yeah, I guess I could use some.”

  “I’ll get it. Go back to bed. We can talk when—”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “Where?”

  “To walk the dogs.”

  I was on autopilot and was as surprised by my offer as Adam seemed to be. But it wasn’t a bad idea. We couldn’t keep this up. We had to address what happened. It would give us a chance to talk with canine diversion. Plus it would bide me some time. I wasn’t ready to deal with that note. I wanted a break from this roller coaster, and if I could set my infatuation aside—and I would—I knew I’d be safe with Adam.

  “You want to walk dogs with me?” he asked dubiously.

  “Sure. I don’t have to be at practice ’til this afternoon. Where do you take them again?”

  “Central Park.” Adam studied me for a long moment and stood. “All right. If you’re coming with me, get dressed. We need to get to the subway—”

  “The subway?” I asked in a deflated tone.

  “What’s wrong with the sub—oh. I forgot. You’re famous,” Adam teased with a wry grin. “Maybe another time. I don’t think the dogs will like your bodyguard anyway. Sit tight while I grab the aspirin.”

  “Wait! Never mind. I can take the subway,” I blurted.

  Adam narrowed his gaze and shook his head. “Isaac, I’m not walking around the park with an entourage.”

  “Let’s ditch him.”

  “Are you in junior high? You’re acting weird. Grown adults don’t put shoes in dishwashers or—”

  “They don’t?”

  “No. And they don’t play ditching games.”

  “Says the guy who’s tiptoed out of the house every day for a week to avoid talking about the sofa incident.”

  “I didn’t do that.”

  “You did.”

  He pushed his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry. I just… I needed to think. It was incred—”

  “Save it. You can tell me how awesome it felt to fuck a guy while we’re walking in the park. And I promise to be completely cool when you explain your bicurious alcohol-induced lapse in judgment. Sound good? All you have to do is help me escape.”

  “What happens when someone recognizes you?”

  “You’ll be there.”

  “So you want me help you ditch the guy in the lobby and take over his duties on the off chance you get mauled in the park by crazed fans who can’t believe their good luck at running into a rock star.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He let out a put-upon sigh and rolled his eyes. “Hurry up. I don’t want to be late.”

  Chapter 5

  GETTING BY Brian was easier than I thought it would be. We took the maintenance exit and slipped into the subway entrance without anyone giving us a second glance. I stuck as close as possible to Adam as we pushed through the morning crowd and hopped onto the Midtown-bound train.

  I’d opted to wear dark colors: black jeans, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, and a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball cap. Sunglasses were overkill, but I kept them tucked into the front of my T-shirt, ready to whip out at a moment’s notice.

  I asked numerous questions about the dogs in an effort to get myself in the mood and to stave off worry. “How many are there?” I asked in a low voice.

  “Four today. Two Labs, a golden, and a Labradoodle. Lulu, Jewels, Beans, and Charles.”

  “Charles?”

  Adam’s eyes twinkled. “He’s the Labradoodle, and he’s the biggest handful of all. I usually hold three with one arm and Charles with the other. Think you can handle him?”

  “Sure, but I’m a little out of practice. I haven’t been around animals in years,” I replied before sneaking a clandestine glance at our fellow subway patrons.

  “Relax. No one here is paying attention to us. That’s why I love this city. You can be as anonymous as you want. Like a vampire walking in broad daylight. No one will think there’s anything weird about you unless you go out of your way to make a spectacle. You’re taking a serious risk wearing that cap, though. Nothing says ‘look at me’ faster than wearing anything but a Yankees cap in this city. You oughtta know better, Ize.”

  Adam elbowed me playfully, though I noted his gaze sweeping over our fellow passengers, most of whom looked like professionals straggling in late to work. But he was right. I was more aware of them than they were of me. Everyone was immersed in their own worlds, attached to headphones while reading e-books and newspapers to kill time until they reached their destinations. I studied Adam while his attention was diverted. He looked ruggedly handsome in worn Levi’s and a black tee with faded script under a dark jean jacket. Like me, he wore a baseball cap. His damp hair curled sweetly around his ears. The urge to reach out and twirl a wayward strand was strong, but I held back and cautioned myself to have some self-respect.

  “Whatever you do, keep the dark glasses off until we get outside. Geez, no wonder you needed a keeper. You suck at blending in with the crowd.”

  “First of all, fuck you. Second of all… fuck you again. I don’t need a keeper,” I hissed. “I need a break. If a subway ride uptown to bond with a stranger’s dogs is the best I can do, so be it.”

  He gave me a sideways stare. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

  “Not everything is about you, Adam. But yes, I think you suck.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I—let’s play a game. It’ll loosen you up before the dogs smell your fear and eat you alive.”

  “You’re a genius at changing the subject, but fine, I’ll play.”

  Adam inclined his head toward a young woman sitting diagonally across from us. “See the girl in the beige sweater with her hair in a ponytail? What do you think she’s reading? Where is she going? Where is she from?”

  “Huh? Why? She seems a little young for you.”

  “I’m not interested in her, idiot. It’s a game. Use your imagination.” Adam rolled his eyes. “I’ll go first. I think she switched trains from Brooklyn and is headed uptown to work at a department store. She’s the conscientious type who likes to get wherever she’s going early. She probably gets it fro
m her mother or grandmother, who live back in Iowa. They bug her to come home and find a husband or maybe marry her old boyfriend. She loves them, but she’s never going home. Her heart was broken there. She likes it better here, where no one knows her. And she’s reading a romance novel. They’re her favorite ’cause there’s always a happy ending.”

  I stared at him in dismay. “I—do you know her?”

  “No. I’m just giving you my first impression. That’s all.”

  “That wasn’t a first impression. That was a short story with enough detail to make into a documentary.”

  He snickered, then bumped my elbow. “Your turn.”

  I inclined my head toward a teenager wearing ridiculously loose jeans and a backward baseball cap. He was studying his cell as he leaned on the pole near the exit with the practiced ease of a native.

  “He’s late for work. He’s from Hell’s Kitchen, but he spent the night at his girlfriend’s in Bed-Stuy because her folks were out of town. His parents are pissed. They don’t like the girl. He’s young, maybe nineteen, and they want him to move out, but they want him close too. He’s Puerto Rican. The Catholic guilt comes with the territory, but he isn’t overly concerned about the irate messages they left on his phone. He’s ignoring those and scrolling through BuzzFeed instead to see if he missed anything worthwhile.”

  Adam beamed at me and let out a low chuckle. “Nicely done.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why do you assume he’s straight, though? He could have been with a guy.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t look gay,” I said with a shrug.

  In a flash the gleam of admiration in his eye turned to annoyance. “That’s pretty lame. You should know better than to stereotype.”

  “I wasn’t—okay, I was, but… I can tell he’s not.”

  “How?”

  His persistence surprised me. We were now speaking in code about something I desperately wanted to delve into but couldn’t in a crowded subway.

  “I just can,” I insisted stubbornly.

  “Right.” He stood abruptly and reached for a post to steady himself as the train came to a screeching halt. “C’mon. This is our stop.”

  WE CHANGED trains before exiting at the metro station on Fifty-Ninth and Fifth Avenue. It was after nine o’clock, but Adam didn’t seem overly concerned about being late now. We walked along the wide sidewalk next to the park, where the crowd was thinner. It was a beautiful autumn day. Blue skies and plenty of sunshine with a cool snap in the air. The perfect kind of day to play hooky from real life. I smiled at the notion and was about to share my thoughts with Adam when he stopped to stare at someone across the busy avenue.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Um. I know this is a weird request, but if she says anything… strange… just go along with it. I’ll explain later.”

  “O-kay… but who?”

  “Mrs. Hanson. She’s nice, but—you’ll see.”

  I looked across the street as a moving van passed. An older woman with platinum blonde hair, and dressed from head to toe in shades of pink, was standing near the entrance to a stately building flanked by two enormous topiaries. She waved when she spotted Adam. Then another large vehicle passed and blocked her from view again.

  “Maybe I should wait here. If she recognizes me, I—”

  Adam barked a short laugh and squeezed my shoulder. “Trust me. If it happened after 1990, she doesn’t care about it. She’s a seventy-plus-year-old woman who still has a crush on Jackson Browne and thinks nothing musically interesting has happened since Fleetwood Mac released Rumors in 1977. I was hoping to get here before she got back from yoga, but it looks like she has other plans today. Don’t worry. She’s harmless.”

  His last comment sounded more like a mantra he repeated to reassure himself rather than me, I mused as we crossed at the light. When we neared the taupe awning stretching from the stone building’s edifice to the curb, the woman stepped toward us with her arms open wide.

  “Adam darling! Finally! Here you are! And who have we here? Is this your lover? He’s handsome. Exotic-looking too. My Harold had a thing for exotic types. Gorgeous men from Bali and—”

  “Mrs. Hanson… hi. Um. This is Isaac. Isaac, this is Mrs. Hanson… Charles’s human.”

  Adam’s introduction was nothing short of a “what the fuck?” moment. One of those blips when people you think you know say things you’d never thought they would… like “Charles’s human.” It almost made me forget the strange lady asking if I was his lover. But everything faded the second he set his hand on my shoulder, then ran it down my back to rest on my waist. I felt suddenly breathless and confused.

  I gulped and firmly set aside the wackiness coming at me from all directions to greet the older woman. I held my right hand out and wasn’t surprised when she presented her bejeweled fingers as though she were royalty. If Mrs. Hanson was in fact in her midseventies, she was well preserved, with a rosy complexion accentuated by cosmetics. She was a study in pink from her lipstick to her sweater set and pleated wool trousers to her Louis Vuitton handbag and rose-tinted aviator sunglasses. Her heavily shadowed eyelids were visible through the light tint. And although Adam claimed she was harmless, her lascivious once-over made me nervous. I squeezed her hand and let go as quickly as possible before shoving mine in my back pocket.

  “Nice to meet you,” I murmured.

  “Likewise, darling. You two make a scrumptious pair,” she purred, casting a shrewd look between us, before addressing Adam. “His caramel skin and your sun-kissed muscular—”

  Adam cleared his throat loudly and pointed toward the door. “I should get the dogs, Mrs. Hanson.”

  “Yes, of course, dear. Charles is with Consuela. He’s rambunctious and ready to play this morning. Give him extra love, won’t you? I’m off to play bridge. Au revoir!”

  She sailed toward the curb and climbed into a black Mercedes limo. Adam tugged on my sleeve and pulled me inside the posh building before I could ask any questions.

  FIRST WE picked up Charles, who lived with his pink-hued human in a luxurious apartment on the tenth floor. I was prepared not to like the dog based on his somewhat lecherous owner, but he was pretty fucking cute. He was a three-year-old Labradoodle with a beautiful chocolate coat, soulful eyes, and whole lot of energy. The other three dogs, who lived in an even more opulent home on the fifteen floor, were docile by comparison. I nearly dislocated my arm when Charles yanked me sideways in his haste to get outside.

  The enthusiastic dogs took us for a walk. At least that’s how it seemed until we crossed the street and entered the park. We bypassed the zoo and headed south along a wide sunlit path.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to give me another leash to make it even?” I offered, sidestepping a jogger.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for. Charles is fine on his own, but he’s too feisty to walk with these old guys. He gets excited and ends up getting tangled and creating general mischief. They think he’s a pest.”

  I nodded as though I understood completely. I didn’t know shit. My thoughts were turbulent. On one hand, I was thrilled to be taking an impromptu stroll through Central Park. It was a beautiful day, and the rush of freedom was intoxicating. However, the memory of last week’s unexpected… transgression and the letter I’d received last night made me anxious. I stared up at the majestic trees and then glanced over at Adam. His cap shadowed much of his face, but his sharply defined features were evident. He was taller and bigger than me, and so damn sexy. My hands were clammy and my cheeks suddenly felt too warm. Not good.

  “So tell me about Charles’s human,” I suggested, looking for a neutral topic.

  “I don’t know her all that well, but she’s sweet in an eccentric way. I feel kinda sorry for her.”

  “Why? Fifth Avenue address, designer duds, and a chauffeured ride. She seems to be doing just fine.”

  “She�
�s lonely. Some days she waits for me here and joins me for a walk, even though she’s paying me. I thought it was strange at first, but then I realized that sometimes she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Or maybe she doesn’t know who she is anymore. Like she started down one path and got sucked in by the promise of a life with no worries, only to find out she didn’t read the fine print and she probably should have. I get the feeling she wishes she remembered who she used to be.”

  “I know the feeling well.” My tone was light, but my words carried weight. I kept my gaze on the happy dog pulling me up the path.

  “So do I.” His smile was a weak upturn of his mouth.

  “How?”

  “In the obvious ways. I’m thirty-three and I’m starting over. Sometimes I don’t feel connected to the younger version of myself.”

  I nodded, surprised by his candor. His honesty demanded like currency, but this kind of soulful sharing seemed strange when we hadn’t yet acknowledged our drunken night together.

  “What version do you mean?” I prodded gently.

  “The version of me who thought he had all the answers. The guy who married his high school sweetheart was confident he was making the right decision. That guy knew where he was going. He had it worked out. Marriage, house, job, dog, and eventually… kids. I’m not him anymore. That’s all.”

  “Everyone changes to some degree.”

  “Maybe. You did. Now you live a life most people would envy, but is it everything you hoped it would be?”

  “Sometimes, yes. Other times it’s harder than I thought it would be.” I adjusted my sunglasses with my left hand and held on to the leash a little tighter when Charles yanked me forward. I scrambled to catch up to him and tripped over a loose rock.

  Adam grabbed my elbow before I fell face-first in the dirt. “You okay?”

  I brushed his hand away. “I’m fine.”

  Adam raised a brow and gestured at Charles, who was happily sniffing grass. “I warned you he was—”