From Brussels, With Love

by Emy Calirel

  Jerome put his hand on her purse before she could pick it up. “Please stay and have lunch with us. Trevor wants to invite us to a restaurant.” Brigitte looked at the fridge, but Jerome spoke before she did. “Neutral ground. I think it’ll make it easier for him.”

  “Are you sure, mon grand? I don’t want to intrude on your limited time together.”

  Jerome wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I actually would like for you to meet him. Properly,” he added when he saw her smirk.

  “Well, then. No one has invited me for lunch in a while. I’m not saying no.”

  “You’ll have to speak English, though. He won’t understand French.”

  Trevor came back looking impeccable in his white shirt and dress pants, but knowing he was commando and probably uncomfortable sent a weird mix of lust and amusement through Jerome.

  “Plaisir,” Trevor said, holding his hand out to Brigitte. “Désolé pour… avant?” he asked, looking at Jerome questioningly.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Brigitte said, her English perfect. “Jerome talked about you a lot.”

  Trevor seemed pleased and surprised. “Your English is very good, madam. Which is a relief because my French isn’t.”

  “If I find you naked at my son’s house, you might as well call me Brigitte.”

  Jerome coughed to hide his laughter.

  “I was a mechanical engineer,” she went on. “I spoke English so much I sometimes forgot I could speak French.”

  “Should we go, then?” Jerome asked. “I’m starving.”

  Trevor glanced at his suitcase, shifting. “How about you two go, and I’ll join you downstairs in a minute?”

  Coughing wasn’t enough to hide Jerome’s amusement this time, and his eyes teared up in glee when Trevor glared at him. Brigitte was watching them in question.

  “Come on, maman. Let’s go.” Jerome picked up Brigitte’s purse and led her to the door. Before leaving, he took his keys from the counter and threw them at Trevor. “Don’t forget to lock the door on your way out.”

  Chapter 13—Trevor

  IT TOOK Trevor until they made it to the restaurant to get over his awkwardness, drawing from years of business meetings to do so. Brigitte happened to be great company and easy to talk to, which helped a lot as well. Seventy-five summers, like she said, she was full of energy, interesting, and as clever as her son. It wasn’t difficult to see where Jerome had picked up his sense of humor either.

  Trevor had been pleased at Jerome’s choice for the restaurant. It wasn’t as fancy as the ones he was used to, but the food was good, and he genuinely had a pleasant time. Brigitte alternated between teasing her son and asking Trevor questions about himself, until she declared herself tired just after dessert, and ready to head home.

  Trevor went to pay, observing Jerome interact with his mother from afar. They seemed really close as they laughed together, their smiles matching as Jerome helped her into her coat. Trevor felt a pang of envy when he thought about his own mother. Evelyn was loving, but she and Trevor had never been that close. Never shared inside jokes or easy laughter. He couldn’t even remember the last time they had a good time together, and she wasn’t the one Trevor called when he needed help.

  “Well, thank you for lunch, Trevor,” Brigitte said when she and Jerome joined him at the register. “I don’t think anyone has treated me to a restaurant since I retired.”

  “It was my pleasure. I have to admit, I eat out more often than in nowadays.”

  “Because of work?” Brigitte asked as they made their way out, her arm hooked with Jerome’s even though she obviously didn’t need the help to walk.

  “And because I’m a terrible cook.” Trevor opened the door for her and Jerome. “Even when I eat at home, it’s usually takeout and ready-prepared meals.”

  “Nothing beats homemade,” Jerome said, purposely brushing Trevor’s arm as they walked past him.

  Brigitte beamed. “I know you’re saying that just to please me, but I don’t care. I’m taking it. Now, boys, time for my nap.” She let go of Jerome’s arm and kissed Trevor’s cheeks before turning to hug her son goodbye. Her eyes were glinting and she looked everything but tired as she turned away from them. “Don’t bother walking me back to my car. I know the way!”

  They watched her stroll away, a spring to her step and hands deep into the pockets of her coat to protect them from the cold.

  “She’s not actually tired, is she?” Trevor asked, the crisp air outside making his breath puff in front of him.

  “Probably not, no. And maman never naps.” Jerome turned to Trevor and took his hand. “What do you want to do this afternoon? The sun’s shining, the sky’s blue, we can go anywhere you want.”

  “What about the European quarter? A nice lady just told me her son used to work there. I happen to know he’s an amazing guide. You think he would agree to show me around?”

  Jerome shifted and looked away. “I’m sure it can be arranged, but you realize I don’t have access to anything anymore, right? We can go to the Parlamentarium or the House of European History, but they have audio guides.”

  “As much as I enjoy museums, I want to spend the day with you, not an audio guide. I was thinking more about walking around. You can show me where you worked and tell me about it. I’m curious.”

  “Sure. Okay. There’s a great coffee shop I used to go to all the time. I would love to go back with you.”

  THE COFFEE shop was crowded, so they decided to get their cups to go and walk to Leopold Park instead. Jerome had insisted on paying, so Trevor waited for him outside, and used the time to check his work emails. He had promised Jerome he wouldn’t let work interrupt their day, but he wanted to make sure there was no emergency while he had a minute.

  “There you go,” Jerome said, appearing next to him with a small white cup. “Work?” he asked, glancing pointedly at Trevor’s phone.

  “Just waiting for you,” Trevor said, putting his phone away. The cardboard cup was hot and felt good between Trevor’s freezing hands.

  “Mm-hmm. So,” Jerome said as they started walking again. “Want to meet my friends tonight?”

  Trevor startled. “Really?”

  “If you want to.” Jerome shrugged, but he looked as nervous about the idea as Trevor felt. “Mariam just texted me. The group is meeting tonight to try out a new bar. Since there’s still no heating at my place, I figured we could join them.”

  “Isn’t Mariam the friend you dated in high school?”

  Jerome laughed. “Yeah, she is, but it was a long time ago. I promise you have no competition.”

  “I wasn’t worried. I would love to meet your friends.”

  They walked quietly for a while, just enjoying the moment. Buildings peeked behind the trees, and the park felt like a heaven of peace in the middle of the city. Despite the cold, a lot of families were there, enjoying the sun. Kids ran after geese and each other on the grass, laughing and screaming, while dogs happily chased after balls and sticks. Trevor tried to imagine what Jerome’s friends were like, playing scenarios in his head.

  “I can’t believe you used to work here,” Trevor said when their walk brought them to the House of European History. “It must have been an amazing job.”

  “The salary was good, the job not so much.” Jerome steered Trevor toward the path alongside the lake. “I used to live about ten minutes from here. Had a fancy apartment and wore suits to work every day.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes, way.” Jerome grinned, but it didn’t last. “But at the end of the day, money isn’t enough when you go to work walking backward every morning. I didn’t have time for friends or family. Mama’s cancer put things into perspective, but you already know that story. I don’t care about the money if I hate the life I have to live in order to get it.”

  “Surely there must have been things you liked about your job here, wasn’t there?”

  “Sure, but there wasn’t enough.”

&nbs
p; Trevor bit his lip, turning the words in his mind before he spoke. “It’s not a position I understand,” he finally admitted. “Giving up a good, safe job to open a souvenir shop that doesn’t make you any money.”

  Jerome tensed next to him. “The store will make us money eventually. You can’t understand choosing happiness over wealth? Sure, it’s tough. I’m stressed out and I need to be careful what I spend my money on, but I would never go back to working here, with snobbish suits all day.”

  “Ouch?” Trevor asked.

  “I wasn’t talking about you.” Jerome took a sip of his coffee. “But you have to admit, you can be a bit snobbish too.”

  “I guess so.” Trevor reached for Jerome’s hand. He didn’t want them to argue. “My family didn’t have any money growing up. The fridge was never full, and it’s good my mom owned the house, because we wouldn’t have been able to pay rent. I always promised myself I wouldn’t live that way if I could help it. Wouldn’t spend my life worrying about paying bills. Money might not make you happy, but you sure as hell are happier when you have it.”

  Jerome didn’t answer until they’d made it up the incline to the European Parliament glass building. “Our views are different, and I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

  TREVOR FELT like he was in a bubble. A very slow and loud bubble smelling of fried food and alcohol. He had ended up tucked into the corner, stuck between Jerome, the table, and the wooden wall, a beer in front of him and Jerome’s hand on his thigh. Jerome and his friends were talking animatedly, but Trevor wasn’t sure about what. They had spoken English at first, some better than others, but quickly reverted back to French, and Trevor had zoned out, observing and drinking to pass the time.

  “What do you think?” Jerome asked, his hand tightening on Trevor’s thigh, pulling Trevor out of his torpor.

  “Um?”

  Jerome frowned. “Never mind. I think we should get going.”

  “Already?”

  Trevor was about to finish his beer when Jerome took the glass from his hand. “Yes. I think someone’s had enough drinks for one evening.”

  Trevor almost protested, but truth be told, he wasn’t really thirsty anymore. And he was tired of feeling left out.

  They said their goodbyes quickly before leaving the bar, Trevor bumping into a couple of patrons on the way. The place was crowded. Too many people, not enough space to walk without touching anyone. Cold air hit him as soon as Jerome opened the door for him, and Trevor shivered. It felt good, though, and it cleared his mind a little.

  They walked back toward the apartment, Jerome’s arm around Trevor’s waist steadying him. Jerome felt warm and solid, his presence comforting, and Trevor put his arm around Jerome’s shoulders to make sure he wouldn’t pull away.

  “Sorry we forgot to speak English. We didn’t mean to leave you out. We just got carried away.”

  “It’s okay. Hank talked with me a little. Or maybe it was John. The journalist one.”

  “Hank,” Jerome said, pulling Trevor a couple steps to the side to avoid them walking into a trash bag on the pavement.

  “Hank. Right. He was nice. And Mariam is very pretty. I understand why you liked her. You think your friends liked me even if I don’t speak French?”

  “I’m sure they did, yes.”

  “Well, good. Because I like you.”

  Jerome snorted. “And I like you too. I like that you’re getting chatty again.”

  “Am not.” Trevor tightened his lips in defiance. They walked in silence for a couple minutes, Trevor catching himself several times when his mouth almost ran faster than his brain.

  “I don’t mind you talking, you know.”

  “That’s great because we mostly talk on the phone, so if you minded me talking, it would be a problem.” Trevor snagged his foot on a paving stone. He stumbled and only stayed upright because of Jerome catching him. “I went loads of places, you know?”

  “Did you?”

  “I did. New York and Paris and Amsterdam once too. And also India and I almost went to Brazil. And I keep going to Tuscany, but my favorite place of all the places is Brussels, because it’s your place. You would make any place look good. The buildings are pretty, but there’s also trash on the streets, annoying pigeons, and stupid paving stones you stumble over, but you make it pretty. You make it shine. It’s all so pretty when you’re the one showing it to me.”

  Jerome tightened his arm around Trevor, and when Trevor looked at him, Jerome was smiling.

  “Tell me about your travels.”

  Trevor talked until they arrived at Jerome’s apartment. He told Jerome about Valentina’s small village in Tuscany where she had decided she wanted to make her shoes. He told him about how he got sick in India and lost in Amsterdam, and how he and Hannah had flown to New York for New Year’s Eve the first year Trevor got a bonus at his job.

  When they finally made it up the stairs, Trevor was hungry, a bit dizzy, and horny. He kissed Jerome’s lips as soon as Jerome closed the door, and tried to get his clothes off. The stupidly small buttons of the shirt Jerome was wearing were tricky, though, and Trevor had to stop kissing Jerome to focus on them.

  “I wanna fuck you tonight,” Trevor said as Jerome put his hands on Trevor’s hips and made him carefully walk backward toward the bed. “Or maybe you can fuck me again. As soon as I get those pesky buttons to let go.”

  Jerome laughed, and Trevor looked away from the shirt to glance at him. He was beautiful, and Trevor almost forgot his mission. “Or maybe you can suck me,” he said, going back to the buttons. “You give really good blowjobs. You’re like the very best. And that piercing… God, I love your piercing. You know… ha!” Trevor exclaimed as he finally undid one of the shirt’s buttons.

  “Sit down.” Jerome pushed Trevor when they reached the bed.

  Trevor fell heavily on the soft mattress and almost lost his grip on Jerome’s shirt, but he hung on, forcing Jerome to bend down.

  “You know, I looked on Google and they have vibrating piercings. And light-up ones. Did you know that?” Trevor asked, pushing Jerome’s hands away when Jerome tried to make him let go of the shirt just as another button came free. “I’m not sure I wanna see your tongue all lit up, but maybe I can buy you one that buzzes. Can I do that? I wanna do that, but I don’t want you to be mad.”

  Jerome grabbed Trevor’s wrists. “Let go of my shirt, Trevor.”

  Trevor frowned but dropped his hands. Jerome pulled the shirt over his head.

  “Oh. That was much easier. You’re clever.”

  “And you’re funny.” Jerome kneeled on the floor in front of Trevor to take Trevor’s shoes off. “I used to have a buzzing piercing. I’ll see if I can find it for you.”

  Trevor straightened and grabbed Jerome’s shoulders. “Tonight? You’ll look tonight? I miss you so much, Jerome. So much. And I want you all the time, but I can’t even see you when I’m in Dublin because you won’t get a webcam, and I really miss you.”

  Jerome opened Trevor’s pants and made him raise his hips so he could pull them down his legs. He threw the pants in the corner of the room, near Trevor’s suitcase, before looking back at Trevor. He reached out to brush his fingers over Trevor’s cheek. Trevor automatically leaned into the touch.

  “I miss you, too, when you’re gone,” he said quietly.

  Jerome became blurry, so Trevor blinked a few times.

  “Does the buzzy piercing actually buzz? Can you hear it buzz?”

  Jerome chuckled and shook his head. He grabbed Trevor’s shirt and pulled it over his head without undoing the buttons.

  “No, you can’t hear it buzzing.” He stood up but left his hands on Trevor’s thighs. “You’re very drunk.”

  “And you’re very pretty. Will you look for your piercing tonight?”

  Jerome kissed the side of Trevor’s mouth. “I will. Lie down. You need to sleep it off.”

  “What I need is you in that bed with me.”

  “Then get
under the covers and wait for me,” Jerome said, straightening.

  Trevor nodded eagerly and pushed himself up the bed. He struggled a little with the covers before finally sliding under them, shivering from the cold sheets against his flushed skin. Jerome walked away from him and disappeared behind the half wall separating the bed from the rest of the apartment. The room was turning, so Trevor wrapped the covers more tightly around himself and closed his eyes, willing it to stop, as he waited.

  Chapter 14—Jerome

  “HOW’S THE headache?” Jerome asked, caressing Trevor’s naked back.

  Unsurprisingly, Trevor had woken up hungover. Jerome convinced him to take a hot shower and get some food, which seemed to help, but still, they had decided to take a short nap. Trevor was breathing slowly, his head on Jerome’s chest, but Jerome could feel he was awake.

  “It’s okay. I’m just too comfy to want to move. Did you want to do something?”

  “Not really.” Jerome glanced at the clock on his nightstand before reaching for his necklace. “Weekends always go way too fast,” he said quietly. “Having you those extra two days was a real treat, but you’re already leaving in four hours.”

  Trevor shifted and raised himself on his elbow. “I’m coming back next weekend like we had planned. This was just a bonus.”

  “I know. I just wish we could stay like that. Not go back to a reality where you live more than nine hundred kilometers away from me and have to spend hundreds of euros every time we see each other.”

  “Jerome, please do me a favor. Stop worrying so much about money and how much I spend on us. I’m happy to spend my money on you. You’re worth it and more.”

  Jerome swallowed heavily and nodded. He must have looked as sad as he felt, though, because Trevor kissed him gently.

  “Let’s just enjoy right now, okay? We still have four hours left before we need to worry about the rest.”