by Emy Calirel
“Hi,” he said, his voice thick.
“Can I buy you a coffee?” Trevor blurted out, immediately berating himself. “I would like to talk to you. Somewhere neutral.”
Jerome nodded and glanced down at the card. “Let me just get my coat, and we’ll walk. I’ll be right back.”
THEY MADE the ten-minute walk to the coffee shop in silence, their eyes meeting often as they glanced at each other. Trevor was surprised by the place Jerome picked. He had bypassed the small Turkish cafe and instead led them to a posher place with organic coffee, recycled wooden tables, and green plants hanging from the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Jerome said as soon as they were sitting.
“I know. I received your card. I’m not sure why you’re apologizing, though. I’m the one who messed up.”
Jerome shook his head and reached for his necklace. “I pushed you away. Didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself before I stormed off.”
“I’ve wanted to call you every day for the last month, but I wasn’t sure you would want to talk to me,” Trevor admitted.
Jerome looked up and finally met his gaze. “I’ve missed you a lot.”
“Me too.”
A waitress came by to take their order, and Trevor used the interruption to gather himself. Now that he was facing Jerome, he couldn’t remember all the carefully planned speeches he had rehearsed for days in his head.
“I came out and quit my job,” he said, not sure where to start anymore.
Jerome’s eyes widened. “What? But you love your job.”
“I do, but I hated my boss and the business ethic. The money wasn’t worth losing myself for.”
“What are you going to do now?”
Trevor shrugged. “I still want to be a project manager, but I’m thinking of maybe going freelance. Valentina heard I left Sidelux, and she already contacted me. I need to think about it.”
Silence fell between them, and Trevor took his courage in both hands.
“I’m really sorry, too,” he said quietly. “You were right. Not about everything, but I should have made you a priority, and I should never have shown your drawings without your permission. My good intentions don’t make that right.”
“I know you were only trying to—”
“Please,” Trevor interrupted him. “Let me say what I have to say before I lose my nerve. I shouldn’t have accepted the Chinese project knowing it would upset you. And I knew it would hurt you the moment Banks gave it to me. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it right away. I was scared of your reaction, but I also felt… I felt stuck. I felt like I didn’t have a choice. You saw where I came from, and I worked really hard to get where I am today. I was afraid of losing it all, and then I lost you. Nothing was worth losing you over, but I realized it too late.”
“I felt so out of place in your world,” Jerome said, glancing away briefly before he looked back at Trevor. “So unworthy. I’ve been scared of getting hurt again for a long time, and when you pulled me out of my comfort zone, I crumbled. I ran back to safety and broke both our hearts in the process. Truth is, you made me feel safe. You made me feel like I could do anything. But even if you hadn’t, you’re worth daring to try new things for. It took me too long to realize it, and then it was too late.”
Trevor took a deep breath and put his hand on the table, palm up. “Maybe it’s not too late. But you were right, we weren’t working. If we want a chance, we need to learn to do better. I love you, and I want to try.”
Jerome took Trevor’s hand without a second of hesitation, his palm warm against Trevor’s.
“I love you, and I want to try,” Jerome repeated, his eyes glued to their linked hands. “But I don’t know if I can bear to say goodbye again. I’m not cut out for long-distance relationships. It’s killing me. I’m miserable when you’re in Dublin.”
Trevor tightened his grip on Jerome’s hand. “My job will always require me to travel, but if I go freelance, I can base my office anywhere. I can locate it in Brussels. Stay here and be close to you.”
“You can’t just throw your life away for me. No matter how much I want you here, it’s unfair to you.”
Trevor reached out and put his other hand on Jerome’s cheek, making him look up. There was so much hope and fear in his eyes, it broke Trevor’s heart.
“You love Brussels. This is home to you and where your heart belongs. I have nothing in Ireland but a best friend I can call anytime. I want this. I want to be here and learn to love this city as much as you do.”
He trailed his thumb along Jerome’s lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but he had more to say, and he forced himself to let go. The waitress watched them, hovering near the kitchen with their coffees on her tray. Trevor smiled at her and nodded, thanking her when she brought their order to the table.
“I’m not sure how to say it, so I’m just gonna say it,” Trevor said when the waitress left. “I like money. I don’t like it above everything else, but I need it to feel good about myself and my life. I need it to feel safe, and I’m not ready to give it up. I’m a fancy guy with expensive tastes. I like extensive wine lists, good restaurants, and I like wearing suits. Button-downs and dress pants make me feel confident. I can’t change who I am.”
“I don’t want you to change. My insecurities made me believe your money made you better than me. That you treated me to expensive places and spent so much on us because you thought I couldn’t take care of myself. That I needed it to love you.”
“I never thought that.”
“And maybe you’ll have to remind me of that here and there. I like my life simple and money isn’t a priority to me. But I was so dead set on my vision of what was the right way to live, I never stopped to consider how you saw things. What’s important to you. So maybe we can compromise. Sometimes I’ll wear my suit and we’ll go out to fancy restaurants, and sometimes we’ll chill at home and have a kebab from the place down the street. If you feel like I’m taking advantage, you’ll tell me, and if it’s too much for me, I’ll tell you.”
Trevor’s heart was racing, the butterflies in his chest fluttering like every time he was near Jerome. “We’re giving ourselves a second chance then?”
“And this time we’ll do it right.”
Jerome stood up and leaned across the table for a kiss, his hand resting behind Trevor’s neck. It was one of those slow, soul-reaching kisses only Jerome knew how to give, and it made everything right again. Centered Trevor like nothing else could.
“Just one more thing,” Jerome said when he pulled away. “Whatever hotel you checked in at, you’ll have to cancel the remaining nights. You’re staying at my place while we figure things out. I’m not letting you go again.”
“Yes. Whatever you want,” Trevor said, pitching his voice lower and rubbing his foot along Jerome’s leg under the table. He smiled when his words and action provoked the flash of lust he had been hoping to see in Jerome’s eyes.
Epilogue
JEROME CARRIED yet another box into their new home. “I can’t believe you made me move to Ixelles.”
After a year and a half of going back and forth between each other’s apartments, he and Trevor were finally moving in together in a two-bedroom apartment near the Abbaye de la Cambre.
“We’re only twenty minutes away from the store,” Trevor said, following Jerome with a stack of smaller boxes in his arms. He went to put them in his future office before coming back into the main room. He was sweaty from the July heat and the move, his white button-down clinging to his chest. He stopped in front of Jerome, with his hands on his hips. “It was ridiculous to keep paying two rents when we spend every night together. And with your book coming out, the contract for the next one, and my business taking off, we simply needed more space. I love you, but if I have to deal with one more ink mark on my clients’ files, I might throw a fit.”
Jerome smiled and put his arms around Trevor’s neck. “You do realize I’m already moving in with you,
and you don’t have to convince me more, right?”
Trevor deflated and leaned forward to put their foreheads together. “I know. I’m just stressed out. Valentina’s store is opening next week, and I want the house to be all set up before I leave on Sunday.”
“And it will be.” Jerome played with the small hairs at the back of Trevor’s neck. “And if it isn’t done, we’ll just finish when you get back. You’ll only be gone for three days.”
Trevor closed his eyes, his hands on Jerome’s hips. “Is Brigitte still coming over later?”
“Yes. She said, and I quote, ‘You two will just eat junk food if I don’t bring you something, and you need a good healthy meal to start well in your new home.’ Pretty sure she also can’t wait to visit.”
He and Trevor had bought the place without showing it to anyone first, deciding to keep their nest for themselves for just a moment before they shared it with their loved ones.
“I would bet my right hand Quentin will have an ‘unfortunate’ fight with Sonia while you’re gone, too, just so he can come over and sleep here.”
Trevor snorted. “He knows he’s welcome here anytime, right?”
“He knows. I think he’s a little overwhelmed with the baby on the way and everything. He just needs to get drunk and spend some quality time with his best friend.”
“We should keep bringing boxes in,” Trevor said after a moment. “There’s not much left.”
Jerome kissed Trevor’s cheek before he stepped back. “We should.”
TREVOR WAS still on the phone with Hannah when Jerome brought the last box in, so he decided to hang up the frame they had made together to make their house a home. It featured all the postcards Jerome had sent to Trevor, and in the middle, the one Trevor had left in Jerome’s mailbox. The hand-drawn claddagh was all wonky, and Trevor’s pen had leaked in the top corner, but the words written on it sent a thrill through Jerome every time. “From Dublin, With Love.”
He felt Trevor approach, and a second later Trevor’s arms were around him, Trevor’s chest against his back.
“How’s Hannah?” Jerome asked, still looking at the drawings telling their story.
“She’s good. She and Max are official now, and Hannah is moving into my old flat with him next month.” He tilted his head to kiss Jerome’s neck. “I like that you put the frame above the fireplace. It’s homey.”
Jerome turned around, careful to stay between Trevor’s arms. “I think after I’m done with the next book, I’ll be ready to go back to Mama’s story. But I’ll need your help to get through it.”
Trevor’s expression softened. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Whatever you need from me, you’ve got.”
Jerome lost himself into Trevor’s blue eyes, into the feeling of being so cared for and loved.
“Did you know Belgium was the second country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage in 2003?”
Trevor visibly swallowed. “A great tour guide told me that once. Are you proposing to me?”
“Not yet. When I do propose to you, I’ll do it right. But soon, Mr. McGill. There’s no doubt in my mind that I want to marry you.”
Trevor smiled and leaned closer, his soft lips a breath away from Jerome’s. “Just so you know, when you do ask? I’ll say yes.”
EMY CALIREL grew up in France, but also spent some time in Africa as a child. When she finally reached adulthood, she jumped on opportunities and moved to California, then Ireland, before coming back to her roots. San Francisco still holds her heart, though, and always will.
After trying a couple different jobs, she settled down and now works in a funeral home/monumental masonry, which she loves. To handle life’s daily stress, she laughs with her coworkers a lot and spends any free time she gets reading or daydreaming about queer folks finding their happily ever after.
She’s a cat owner, a plant killer, and a San Francisco Giants fan. Wanderlust flows in her veins, and her goal is to visit every capital in Europe—if she can ever stop herself from going back to London over and over again.
Emy’s muse is a sassy being who expertly farms plot bunnies in Emy’s overgrown imagination. As a consequence, Emy has more stories and characters living in her head than she’ll ever be able to write in her lifetime. She’s fine with it, though, as, like a child, she loves playing in her sandbox.
A documentary enthusiast and curious to a fault, Emy often loses herself in research and will happily share her discoveries with everyone. Did you know most mammals empty their bladders in twenty-one seconds?
Twitter: @EmyCalirel
By Emy Calirel
From Brussels, With Love
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
From Brussels, With Love
© 2019 Emy Calirel
Cover Art
© 2019 Brooke Albrecht
http://brookealbrechtstudio.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-632-5
Digital eBook published October 2019
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America