by Cate Ashwood
I wanted to tell him. I wanted Asher to meet him, to meet my whole family, actually. After they got over the initial shock of seeing me with a six-foot-two man, I knew they were going to love him.
At the same time, I wanted to keep Asher to myself for a little while longer.
“Pretty sure that’s not possible.”
“What’s the fucking holdup, then? Is she ugly? Stupid? Republican?”
“Nope. None of those things. Haven’t had the time, is all.”
“Well, make the time, then. Holly’s bugging me to have you guys over for dinner. You know her. She wants to bond with this girl and take her for pedicures or some shit.”
I pictured Asher getting his toenails painted in the nail salon with Holly and barely restrained a laugh.
“We’ll set something up soon. I promise.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Calvin dropped his usual tongue-in-cheek tone. “Seriously, though, dude. You sound happy. And I’m happy you’ve found someone who makes you happy.”
I didn’t know how to respond. My brother, who had never been overly observant of the feelings of others, had picked up on the change in me since meeting Asher. “Thank you. I really am.”
“Amazing what getting laid will do for a guy’s disposition, huh?” Aaand my brother was back.
The summer was crawling to a close, the beginning of the fall semester only a week away. I had one week before I was to officially return to work after the break, and Asher had told me he had something special to show me.
After a fifteen-minute-long discussion of the pros and cons, I managed to convince him a blindfold wouldn’t be necessary. I almost gave in. He was so excited, and his mood was contagious. The drive from my house over to Fremont felt like it took ages.
He found a spot to park and hopped out before I’d gotten my seat belt off. I hadn’t seen him this excited since I’d figured out how to give head. By the time I’d gotten out of the car, he was already moving, marching with intent between a truck and an SUV.
I guessed we weren’t going to make use of the crosswalk, then. I followed behind, jogging to catch up as he dashed across through a break in traffic.
When we reached the other side, Asher stopped in front of a door. He glanced down at the ink scrawled across his palm, then back up at the door before pulling it open and holding it for me to walk through.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, the bright sunshine outside making my eyes work to see in the dimmer light indoors. When I looked around, I realized this was unlike any other restaurant or lounge I’d ever been in. In one corner, there was a bar with stools covered in deep brown leather. The antiqued sign that hung above the liquor bottles read Fitzgerald’s, and the walls that flanked either side of the bar were inset with shelves packed to bursting with books.
The whole place reminded me of a study in an old English manor, complete with wingback chairs positioned around each of the tables. I’d half expected the patrons to be smoking cigars and drinking brandy.
It was incredibly busy, and much to my shock, Asher had made a reservation. I was still reeling from that information as we made our way to our table.
“What is this place?” I asked after the hostess had seated us.
“A lounge,” Asher answered as though it was obvious. I suppose it was, but this place wasn’t a typical lounge. It was a library with a bar. Even the cocktails were literary themed: The Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Absolution, and the Crack-Up to name a few.
The waitress came by to take our order, and as we waited for our drinks, I thought about how different my life had become since meeting Asher. This place was the polar opposite of the bar where we’d first met. Only a few months earlier and I’d have felt so out of place. I’d had no idea my life was on the cusp of changing forever.
That one text and my out-of-character decision to meet Asher had changed everything. I was a different person with him—no longer a fish out of water—I was very much at home in his company. I craved it, missed him when he was gone. He was the first thing on my mind when I woke up in the morning and the first person I thought to call when something happened, good or bad.
The lights in the room dimmed, and one brightened over what appeared to be a stage at one end of the room. I hadn’t noticed when we walked in, with so much else to look at, but there was a chair and a microphone set up in the center.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here tonight,” a woman with purple curls said, speaking into the microphone. “I am so pleased to introduce our guest speaker. Please give a round of applause for Dalton Fellows.”
Asher’s smile stretched from ear to ear, and I stared at him curiously for a moment as we clapped. I’d known him long enough to know that look. That look meant something was up. I didn’t have time to postulate on what it might be before a man took the stage.
He appeared to be in his midsixties with a well-groomed beard and thick glasses. He wore a tweed jacket and corduroy pants. Idly I thought he must be dying from the heat. The lights shone brightly on him, and he squinted as he tapped twice on the mic before speaking.
“Thank you all so much. Thank you. Hello. For those of you who are scratching your heads and wondering who this old fogey is up here, my name is Dalton Fellows. I’ve written some books, and I’m here to do a selection of readings from them for you tonight.”
Dalton cleared his throat and took a seat.
“I’m the author of a number of psychological thrillers, some of which became quite popular over the years, as well as a successful series of spy novels. I also wrote a western, but I think my mother is the only person who actually read it. Besides those, I also wrote children’s fiction novels under the pseudonym Davis Roberts.”
I turned my head to look at Asher. I’m sure my eyes were the size of saucers. He was staring at me, his smile impossibly wider than it had been before Dalton had taken the stage.
“Seriously?” I whispered.
He nodded emphatically and reached into his back pocket. He withdrew my dog-eared copy of The View from the Willow Tree and placed it on the table. “He’s signing autographs after the readings.”
I had so much to say, but Davis had started reading and I didn’t want to miss a second of it. As an adult, it had never occurred to me to look up his other works, but after listening to him speak, I knew how I would be spending the last week of summer.
He was incredible.
Just as incredible was the man I was sitting with. Of all the random places he’d taken me, the odd events he’d convinced me to attend, this one had been researched. He’d made plans in advance for me. And for Asher, that was significant. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment idea he’d had.
His blue eyes met mine across the table, and in that instant I knew.
I had fallen in love with Asher Wescott.
“Oh god, Ash. God, that feels so good.”
Asher was on his knees in front of me, an image that had become one of my very favorites in the weeks since we’d first started sleeping together. The thing that man could do to me with his mouth alone… I was awestruck every time.
It was Sunday and after a late evening at the literary bar the night before, Ash had come home with me and we’d crawled into bed, where he’d curled his body around mine and pulled me close.
I always slept better when Asher was with me, his large frame compressing the mattress, so even without conscious intent, I spent the night pressed up against him.
I’d woken up with his mouth on my neck, his breath across my skin, and the sound of his voice in my ear. It hadn’t taken more than minutes before he was inside me, pounding into me, branding me with the way he moved over me, within me.
It was the best way to wake up and one that had become our routine in the previous weeks.
Saturdays were for BLT and avocado sandwiches.
Sunday mornings were for marathon sex with Asher.
My cock was buried in the back of Asher’s throat, my eyes roll
ing back as his finger circled my hole. The thing about being with Asher was that nothing was predictable. Every time we had sex, it felt like a new experience, but there was one thing I could count on, and that was at least one orgasm that split my world in two.
I tightened my hands in his hair the way he liked, my hips snapping forward as he went to work sucking me until I forgot what planet we were on. His tongue worked around my tip every time he pulled back, and his slick finger pushed in to fill me. When he took me all the way back, I groaned, his name rumbling from deep in my chest.
“Henry? You home?” A voice called from the living room.
Asher pulled off, his lips red and swollen as he looked up at me with wide eyes.
“Shit,” I breathed. “Calvin.”
Asher rocked back, sitting on his heels. His chest was covered in sweat, and his cock was still wrapped in his fist. He dropped his hand to the side and stood, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.
“Go on. I’ll keep quiet and wait here for you.”
My brain was racing ahead of me, analyzing the possible outcomes of this scenario. I nodded blankly and grabbed the closest pair of pants, pulling them on before walking out to meet Calvin.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought your tools back.” He held up the red metal box I hadn’t seen in months as he bent, trying to peer around me. “You got company?”
I nodded. In that moment, I had a decision to make. I could keep lying to my brother about the man I was in love with, or I could come clean and let the scene play out as it would. There was no point in trying to be coy. I was half-dressed, Calvin had heard us through the wall, and the whole house smelled like sex. Even if it hadn’t, I knew I wanted Calvin to meet Asher. This was as good at time as any.
“Ash, can you put some pants on and come out here?”
Asher sauntered out of the bedroom a few minutes later, sweatpants slung low enough on his hips the V of his abdominal muscles almost came to a point in full view.
“Ash, this is my brother, Calvin. Calvin, this is Asher.”
“You’re not a woman.” Calvin sounded totally stunned.
“Nope. But apparently that’s a common assumption in the Hathaway family.”
“I thought you were a woman.”
Asher laughed. “Apparently.”
“Well, this is awkward,” Calvin said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’ll go make some coffee,” Asher offered. “It’s nice to meet you, Calvin.”
“Likewise,” Calvin said and watched as Asher disappeared into the kitchen before turning back to me. “What the fuck, Henry?” he hissed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me? How long have you been lying to me about being gay? And what about Megan? Was that just—”
I put both hands up to stop him. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I should have said something. I know that. But I didn’t know how to tell you. For a long time, I wasn’t even certain how to put it into words, how to explain to myself what was happening, and then once I’d finally seemed to get a grip on what it all meant, so much time had passed and I didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“Since when?”
“My birthday.”
“Since your goddamn birthday?”
I nodded. “I met Ash that night.”
“I remember, but I thought… I guess I don’t understand,” he said, looking as lost as I felt.
I sighed. I understood. I’d felt like that, too, but I didn’t know how to make him see that.
“I could barely explain it to myself—how the hell was I supposed to explain it to anyone else?” I said, taking a seat on the couch. He followed suit, dropping to sit in the chair opposite me. “I spent my whole life thinking I was straight. I always knew I was different than you—I never experienced crushes in the same way you did… Having a girlfriend was never a priority, but I liked women fine.”
“And men?”
I shook my head. “Not until Ash. Or at least, not that I could recall. When I had a drink with him at that bar, something between us clicked. I didn’t even realize it was happening, and then before I knew what was what, we’d spent the evening together and he was kissing me good night.”
“And you liked it,” Calvin clarified.
“I freaked out. I dodged his calls for two full weeks, and then he showed up at my office, and I confessed I hadn’t realized it was a date. I told him I wasn’t interested in men that way.”
“So, what changed?”
“I did, I guess. Or perhaps changed isn’t the right term. Came to a realization might be more apt.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what it was like when he kissed me, and then we spent time together and all I wanted to do was kiss him again.”
“And now?” Calvin asked.
“And now I’m in love with him.”
Calvin didn’t say anything. His expression wasn’t one of judgment or condemnation, though I hadn’t expected it to be. I had always known my brother would be understanding. His acceptance of me one way or the other hadn’t factored into my decision not to tell him.
Now, watching how hurt he seemed, his usually witty quips missing in action, I regretted not saying something sooner.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.
Calvin looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine. “I get it. I’d have freaked out, too, and I guess it’s understandable that you wanted to take some time to figure shit out for yourself before you told other people. But Jesus, Henry. You coulda told me. I wouldn’t have given you shit about it.” He huffed a breath. “Does anyone else know?”
I shook my head. “You’re the first.”
“Okay.”
I relaxed my shoulders.
“So I shouldn’t go spilling the beans to Mom and Dad yet, huh?” His smile was back, and I knew everything was going to be okay. Fifty pounds of tension melted away.
Calvin stood and pulled me into a hug. We weren’t a physically affectionate family, but I welcomed his embrace, hugging him hard enough that he grunted before I let go and he stepped back.
“I guess I’d better leave you guys to it. But for what it’s worth, in the thirty seconds I spent with him, I got the impression he’s a good guy.”
“He really is. We should grab lunch sometime. The three of us, or four, if you want to invite Holly. Maybe at Happy Fortune Noodle House?”
“And with more clothing next time.” He walked toward the door before turning back. “But so you know, I’m proud of you for finally getting laid, Henry. About goddamn time.” With that, he was gone.
I exhaled hard and dropped to the sofa, bouncing once on the soft cushions. Asher came out of the kitchen carrying two cups of coffee and set them down on the coffee table.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“So much better.” I took one of the cups from him and took a sip, immediately scalding the roof of my mouth. I winced and placed the cup back down next to his. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Um… all of it? Your kitchen is open to the dining room, which is open to the living room. I know you’re a psychologist, not a physicist, but I can try to explain to you how sound waves work if you’d like.”
I tried to push him, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. “Henry,” he started, and the air in the room changed almost immediately. I swallowed hard and looked up at him, knowing this was important, but I stopped him before he could speak.
“Wait,” I said. “This wasn’t how I pictured this happening, but it seems that when it comes to you, nothing goes the way I think it will. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times before, but it never seemed like the right moment. The way I feel about you is so far from how I ever thought I could feel about another person. You’ve broken every belief I had about myself and who I was, but I am so grateful you did.”
He looked at me with those deep blue eyes and I
almost fell apart.
“I love you.” I needed him to hear it.
“Henry,” he repeated. “You might have noticed by now that I’m not the type of person to adhere to routines.”
“You don’t do repeats,” I said, remembering his words from the first night we’d met.
“Exactly. No repeats. Life’s too short not to make the very most of it, and for that reason, I hate standing still.”
I didn’t know where this was going, but he looked so earnest it made my chest ache. I didn’t speak, just let him say what he needed to say.
“Things changed when you walked into that bar. After a while, life wasn’t so much about chasing the next new thing. Life became about being with you. You’re the type of man who likes standing still, who enjoys routine and predictability. I used to believe those things were poison, but I’ve come to realize that when something is right, there’s no need to chase after anything else.”
He leaned forward to kiss me, gentle, chaste, and then pulled back to look me in the eye. “What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never been happier than I’ve been these last few months with you. I want to stand still with you. I love you, too.”
My throat was tight and my hands were shaking. I threw my arms around his neck and held him close, my face buried in the curve of his shoulder. I breathed in deep, the scent of coffee and wood filling my lungs.
We stood there for several long moments, neither of us loosening our grip, and I wasn’t willing to let go.
Maybe ever.
“We’re out of red.” Asher came up behind me as I was dicing peppers in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Already?” I turned to face him. “I thought four bottles of each would have been enough.” He looked so handsome in his blue button-down that if our house hadn’t been filled with friends and family…
He shrugged and grinned at me. “What can I say? Our friends are lushes.”