All That Glitters

by Kate Sherwood

  And Ben left before giving Uncle Calvin a chance to pull himself together and reply. He had his phone out on the way down the stairs and had already dialed before he made it to the kitchen where Liam was waiting, concern clear on his face.

  It was amazing how the usual rounds of bureaucracy seemed to melt away once Ben mentioned he was calling on Calvin’s behalf, and within a minute or two he’d been assured that Calvin’s regular doctor would call back as soon as possible, even though it was a weekend. Ben sipped the beer he was holding and—wait. How the hell was he holding a beer?

  He looked over and saw a matching bottle in Liam’s hand. Liam had opened beers for both of them, given one to Ben—and Ben hadn’t even noticed? Maybe he was too caught up in worrying about Uncle Calvin, but maybe Liam was just that damn smooth.

  Or maybe the two of them were just comfortable together, just that natural. But Ben couldn’t let his thoughts wander in that direction.

  “Kurt Mason’s going to call.” And just because they had to talk about something, he added, “He was a couple years behind us at school. Do you remember him? Small kid, red hair? Weird to think he’s a doctor now.”

  “I like my doctors in their forties. Old enough to know what’s going on, young enough to still be on top of things.”

  “Uncle Calvin likes his doctors younger than him so he can boss them around.”

  “From what I remember of Kurt Mason, I’m not sure he’d be all that easy to boss.”

  “Yeah, Uncle Calvin’s plan kind of backfired on that one.” Ben grinned and sipped his beer. “I’m not sure what we should be doing in the meantime. Should I be up there sitting outside the bathroom door, listening to him puke in case he asks for help? Or should I give the poor man a little privacy?”

  “No idea.” Liam made it sound like commiseration rather than dismissal. “If it was me, I think I’d want the privacy… but not if I was having a heart attack or something.”

  “Do heart attacks make you puke?”

  “I have no idea about that either.” Liam pulled out his phone, obviously ready for some research, and Ben managed to resist the urge to peer over Liam’s shoulder, calling up a browser on his own phone instead.

  They’d only been searching for a couple minutes when there was a knock on the front door and a male voice called out, “Hello? It’s Kurt Mason. Calvin? Ben? Can I come in?”

  “Kurt!” Ben strode out to the front hall, vaguely aware of Liam trailing behind him. “I expected a call, but not a house call.”

  “I was on the way home from the golf course.” Kurt gestured down at his clothes. “I may not look too professional, but I’ve got my bag with me, and—holy shit. Liam? Liam Marshall?”

  And there it was. The familiar admiration that came far too close to hero worship. As if Liam was something special, something more important than other people in his surroundings. Kurt was a doctor. He saved lives. And he was excited that some stupid architect was back in town?

  But it wasn’t professional admiration, and Ben knew it. Knew it because he’d felt it himself for too damn long. Liam was magnetic, charismatic—beautiful. It wasn’t sexual—or at least, not only sexual. It was just pure charisma, and it was all the more effective because he didn’t seem to use it to his advantage. At least not most of the time.

  “Uncle Calvin’s upstairs in the bathroom,” Ben said. They needed to keep things moving in the right direction. “I can take you up there.”

  Kurt nodded, clearly called back to his official capacity, but he grinned at Liam as he passed and reached out to clap him on the shoulder. “Good to see you,” Kurt said, and he made it sound like this casual interaction had made his damn week.

  It wasn’t that Ben was jealous, exactly. He was just—well, he had no idea what he was. And he shouldn’t be getting distracted by any of that anyway.

  So he stood and listened while Kurt tried sweet-talking Uncle Calvin into opening the bathroom door and then resorted to threats to call the fire department to have them break it down, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing and no, there’d be no financial compensation for the repairs. Finally, there was a click, and Kurt was able to turn the doorknob.

  “Wait downstairs, okay?” he told Ben. “Close enough that you can hear me if I call, but far enough away that Calvin can have some privacy.”

  “The backyard,” Uncle Calvin croaked. “Wait in the backyard.”

  “Downstairs is fine,” Kurt said firmly. Then he slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  Ben obediently headed downstairs, where he found Liam waiting for him with two bottles of beer, one in each hand. He wordlessly handed Ben’s to him and said, “We just wait?”

  And that was what they did. They stood there at the bottom of the stairs like two anxious fathers awaiting news from the same delivery room, and at some point they finished their beers and Liam got them new ones, and muted voices filtered down to them from above, loud enough to hear that Kurt was doing most of the talking, but too quiet to be sure just what he was saying.

  Finally, the doctor came down the stairs and smiled at—at Liam, for fuck’s sake! “Calvin wants me to tell you he was right,” Kurt said. “He did get sick because he had chicken instead of steak last night.”

  “What?” Ben demanded. Was Kurt being charmed by Liam and by Calvin?

  “Food poisoning,” Kurt said. “Salmonella in chicken legs. I took a culture and I’ll get it analyzed to be sure, but I’m pretty confident. There’s a national recall, but it hasn’t gotten as much publicity as I’d have liked.”

  “He’ll be okay?” Ben asked.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t get dehydrated—I’ll come by again tomorrow, if that works for everyone? But, yeah, he should be fine. He’s in great shape, especially for his age—he wanted me to be sure I told you that too. He wasn’t as enthusiastic about me telling you to pick up some Pedialyte, but it wouldn’t hurt. If he’ll drink it. Otherwise, water is good. No coffee, no alcohol. No spicy foods.”

  “But he’s going to be okay.” Ben needed to hear it just once more.

  And Kurt seemed to understand. He reached up and clapped Ben on the shoulder, then looked him in the eyes. “He’ll be okay,” he said firmly.

  And Ben believed him. Mostly. But he still took a long swig of his beer and wished it was something stronger.

  He and Liam showed the doctor out and then were left in the front hall together.

  “I’m sleeping in your bed,” Liam said.

  Ben stared at him.

  “Upstairs. Calvin turned your old room into a guest room. That’s where I slept last night. I just thought I should mention it, because if you wanted to stay over, you’d probably want to sleep in there. And I could move, of course. To the couch, I guess?” Liam peered skeptically into the living room, clearly measuring the couch and realizing it was too short for a grown man to stretch out on.

  “What’s wrong with the regular guest room?”

  “What?”

  “There are three bedrooms, Liam. There always have been. Did you never notice that?”

  “I guess he’s using it for something else?”

  “He wasn’t a couple weeks ago.” Ben frowned and started up the stairs, then down the hall without even a quick inquiry as he stormed past the bathroom.

  Was this another one of Calvin’s games? The sickness seemed genuine enough, but before that, back when he’d been healthy, there was no damn reason to put Liam in Ben’s bed. The bed the two of them had shared so many times. No reason other than game playing by an annoying, interfering—

  He pushed the door to the guest room open and stopped short.

  The room was jam-packed with boxes. Ben nudged one with his foot, and it moved enough to show that its contents weren’t heavy, but too little for it to be empty.

  “Is Calvin a hoarder now?” Liam asked from too close behind Ben. “That’s new.”

  “He’s not a hoarder.” Ben crouched and read a
few labels. Party supply stores, baby shops—everything he’d need for the baby shower he’d decided to throw for Dinah and Seth. Being stored in a totally logical place. In Calvin’s home, where he could do whatever the hell he wanted, without any need to ask for Ben’s permission.

  He straightened up. “Okay. Yeah, this room is out of service. And I would like to stay over, just to keep an eye on him. But you don’t need to take the couch—I can.”

  “That’s stupid. You’re two inches taller than I am.”

  “But you got here first. And you’re the invited guest.”

  “It’s your room. There’s nothing more ‘first’ than it being your room.”

  “That hasn’t been my full-time room for almost two decades. And maybe I don’t need to stay, anyway. It’s not like I live that far away.”

  “You’ll just worry if you go home. You won’t get any sleep. I’d like to say you can trust me to look after him, but we both know he’s going to be even more of a pain in the ass with me than he would be with you. And assuming Calvin’s well enough to be left alone, you’ve got a big day of building ahead of you tomorrow.” Liam looked down at the beer he was holding, then shrugged. “I can still drive. There’s a B&B I’ve stayed at before. I can give them a call.”

  “They’re hosting the building team—the pros who were babysitting us all day? They’re from out of town. There’s no room at that inn.”

  “So I’ll have some more beers and sleep outside. Is that hammock still up?”

  “You could stay at my place,” Ben said. It was too much, too damn intimate, but it was a hell of a lot better than offering to share the bed at Uncle Calvin’s. And if they didn’t solve this issue soon, Ben knew that was the exact offer he was going to make. He’d have some rationale about it being totally platonic, just a matter of convenience, but he knew he’d blow through that at the first hint of a suggestion that Liam might be interested in more. And as devastating as it would be to have a one-night stand with Liam, it would be even worse if Liam didn’t show that tiny hint of interest to set it all off.

  There was no winning that scenario. Having Liam stay at his house while Ben took his old room at Uncle Calvin’s? Awkward and weird, but not disastrous. “I have a guest room. Minimal boxes. Clean sheets.”

  “Sounds like paradise, but are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Absolutely better to have Liam as far away as possible. That was the only way Ben had a prayer of getting through this night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  LIAM DIDN’T sleep well. He kept wanting to get up and look around. Not snoop, exactly, but—well. Something close to it.

  He managed to resist, but the mental effort made it hard to relax. Knowing he was in Ben’s house, only feet away from Ben’s bed? Yeah, that made it hard to relax, even if Ben wasn’t actually in the bed.

  It made for a fitful, restless night before he walked to the job site. Ben was there, since Seth’s wife had volunteered to look after Calvin, but he was back to cool, remote, frustrating Ben. Liam wanted to grab him, drag him behind a stack of lumber, and pin him against it and kiss him until he stopped being mad, until they both forgot their history, their mistakes, forgot their damn names, let go of everything that got between them—

  Liam carried sheets of drywall instead. He cut and fit and taped and worked and pushed all other thoughts out of his mind.

  At lunch, Seth fell into the food line behind him and followed him over to a spot under a shade tree. They settled, took a few bites of food, and then Seth said, “You having fun?” in a tone that made it clear he knew it was a stupid question.

  “I shouldn’t be here.” It was so clear, really. It had been just as clear the day before, of course, but Liam hadn’t been as tired then, and it had been easier to keep his spirits up. “Ben doesn’t want me here, and I have a lot going on back in the city. What the hell am I thinking, wasting my time like this?”

  “If Ben did want you here, would it still be wasted time?” Seth sounded like he was picking his words carefully, but Liam wasn’t sure he appreciated the effort.

  “Hypotheticals are just one more way to waste time. I can’t afford to be messing around with all this.”

  Seth shrugged. “We’ve gotten a lot done—we’re ahead of schedule, even with Calvin sick. And you were an extra anyway. If you can’t be here, we’ll be fine without you.”

  It wasn’t said in a mean way. Seth was trying to help, not to hurt, and Liam knew it. Still. We’ll be fine without you. He wasn’t needed. He was just an extra. There was a community here, a damn family, but he wasn’t part of it. He’d blown his chances at that years and years ago.

  The sandwich was too dry. He took a slug from his can of pop to wash down the bite in his mouth, then forced himself to take another and swallow it before saying, “I’m not going to quit. I said I’d do it and I’ll do it. And I’ll stop bitching about it. Sorry.”

  Seth shrugged easily. “It’s fine. I invited the bitching, and you’ve been working hard. It’s not like you were moping around, not getting anything done. Really, you’re a better worker when you’re a bit mad—I wonder if there’s some way for us to harness that. We could team you up with somebody really annoying, and you could work out your frustration with amazing feats of building-related strength.”

  “You sound too much like Calvin, with his schemes and manipulations.”

  “He’s the master. I’m a mere apprentice.” Seth frowned. “Actually, I think Dinah might be his real apprentice. I’m kind of worried about her spending the whole day with him today. She’ll come home even more Machiavellian than she was this morning.”

  “A day spent looking after a sick old man is going to make your wife sinister? That seems like the reverse of what I’d expect.”

  “Expectations do tend to reverse themselves once Calvin’s involved.” But Seth really didn’t sound too worried.

  “You guys are pretty happy together, huh? Things have worked out well for you.”

  Seth’s smile was sweet and genuine. “I’m the luckiest man alive. Wife, daughter, life—everything’s fantastic.”

  “Damn. Are you auditioning to be the annoying guy who makes me work harder?”

  Seth’s smile widened. “I have to audition. Damn, I don’t know—is it really that much of a treat to be the guy hanging out with you?”

  Well, Ben would clearly say it wasn’t, but Liam didn’t let himself point that out. He asked polite questions about Seth’s family and actually found himself enjoying the answers and the conversation that flowed from them. Seth was a lucky man, and it was hard to resent him when he acknowledged it so openly.

  Ben stayed remote for the rest of the afternoon, and when it all wrapped up around four, he kept himself conspicuously distant from Liam as everyone exchanged sweaty, satisfied hugs of congratulation for a job well done.

  Liam’s hands were blistered, with bandages wrinkled and grimy from work; his neck was sunburned despite repeated applications of sunscreen; every muscle in his body was complaining, with a special scream coming from those bastards between his shoulder blades; he was grimy, smelly, and he had a three-hour drive home before he could do anything about either of those issues.

  And he still would have been perfectly satisfied with his life if only Ben would smile at him. A little wave, maybe, a suggestion that he knew Liam was alive. That he cared Liam was alive.

  But Liam didn’t get what he wanted. Seth and most of the rest of the team were friendly and happy with him, but Ben? He left earlier than anyone else, saying he had to get home to Calvin, but clearly more interested in getting the hell away from Liam.

  So Liam drove home, lonely and smelly, got disgustingly delicious drive-through burgers for dinner halfway home, made embarrassed excuses to the neighbors he met in his building’s elevator, showered, pulled on clean clothes, and tried not to sulk.

  But it was deeper than a sulk, wasn’t it?

  He was legitimately disappointed. He’d hoped for somethi
ng, and it hadn’t worked out.

  But that wasn’t the end of the damn world. He needed to keep himself together. He hadn’t started crying, at least, so that was a small victory.

  And it was Sunday night, which meant he had a phone call to make. Not that it was likely to be interesting enough to distract him from his misery, but it was probably important that he keep to his routine. He found his phone, ignored his aching muscles, and made the call.

  “Liam!” his mother gushed. “We just got in the door. We had an early dinner over at Charles and Martha’s. They have a lovely new pool—well, more than that, a sort of pool area—an ‘outdoor room,’ they called it, with the pool and a cabana and a patio and some beautiful plants, although those are still a little small. But they’ll grow, of course! And your father is—it’s Liam, dear. Go get on the other line.”

  “Sounds like a nice evening,” Liam managed. He’d hear about his father’s golf games and his mother’s dinners and he’d give them a watered-down version of the situation at work. He wouldn’t mention any peculiar building activities at all—and it would just be a typical Sunday-evening parental check-in.

  Or so he thought, until his father got on the phone and said, “Liam. I’m glad you called, son. We were going to get in touch with you later this evening.” And there was something unnaturally grave in his tone.

  Cancer. Heart disease. Bankruptcy? Suddenly Liam’s own complaints seemed petty. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, it probably won’t affect you much, really. But we wanted to let you know before we made it public.”

  “Okay….”

  His mother broke in. “Your father and I are getting a divorce. We’ve been talking about it for a while, and we just… well. It’s time.”