by Con Riley
“Yeah. She wants him there too. She wants us both to come to her next session.” There was no way he was going to say any of that to Evan or to his mother. No fucking way. They didn’t need to know, and he wasn’t going to tell them. All Aiden had to do was keep funding their lifestyle, at least until Evan finally got done with college. Maybe then he’d reconsider.
“So, if Evan is with you, he can help you tell her about your visit to the adoption counselor this morning. This new journey is something she could be part of.”
“Oh.”
That father.
Aiden’s breath came out in what felt like a superheated rush. He pressed against his breastbone before taking the phone off mute again.
“Mom, I’m going to call you back in the morning.” He listened for a few more minutes, shifting his hand from his chest when Marco took over rubbing for him, kneading away his tension as Aiden told his mom good night.
Marco’s hands spread out on his chest, squeezing his pecs and slipping upward to his shoulders. His thumbs traced the cords that ran up his neck. When he spoke, Aiden thought he sounded disappointed.
“You looked confused there for a moment. What did you think I meant for you to tell her?”
Aiden tried to look away, only Marco’s grip was suddenly viselike.
This could be it between them.
Or this might be the perfect moment to tell Marco why his life was such a mess.
He looked into warm brown eyes and felt an overwhelming urge—like when he’d first gone away to college—to completely be himself. Back then, he’d taken to ignoring his mom’s calls to come home to help out his father during his busy audit season at his office. Aiden had preferred instead to ride bikes down the sides of mountains or raft through level-five hydraulics, paddling through fierce white water with a huge grin on his face.
His first time away from home, without Evan to constantly consider, had been all about thrill seeking. Being with people who liked the outdoors as much as he did had been so seductive. They didn’t make him feel guilty for taking time out for himself or for doing things he knew Evan hated. The fact that they were a gay-friendly group, and that he’d met men there who had boyfriend potential, had been an added bonus.
Getting blown in a tent on a winter weekend hike had been pretty convincing—hanging with his new friends was much more fun than helping Dad. Stumbling across Ben making out with Theo at his dad’s office that time had put Aiden off too, especially after his visit to Ben and Theo’s apartment. He’d drawn a line when Ben had made it clear that his crush was going nowhere and for a while had thrown himself into more age-appropriate activities.
At the time, he’d thought his shift in attitude had been natural. No one on his floor ever called home, and they all had stories about mothers going crazy. But none of the others had put off what turned out to be repeated calls for real help. His mom must have known that something really bad was up with his dad, but she’d guessed it was work related.
He let Marco kiss him, closing his eyes as fingers pushed into his hair, wishing he could stop this particular guilt-drenched flashback. Marco’s tongue slipped into his mouth, but Aiden was back in his dorm room, making out with a guy whose name he couldn’t even recollect, hands down each other’s pants, right on the cusp of coming. When his phone had rung for the third time that morning, he’d switched it off without looking.
He’d wondered so many times since then if things would have turned out differently had he heard his mother’s rising panic. Would that have been the one time he’d have gone home to help Dad? Work might not have been his dad’s real issue, like his mom thought, but perhaps Aiden being there might have led to a different outcome.
It was natural justice that he now looked after his family.
He’d had a chance to change things and had selfishly fucked that up.
Owning up to that was difficult, but keeping it from Marco now seemed a whole lot harder.
Marco trailed his hands over Aiden’s shoulders as he kissed him more deeply. He started to rock in Aiden’s lap, his hands dropping down even lower. Aiden could clearly feel Marco’s hard-on firming against his belly, and he tried to concentrate on that instead of his heart-pounding panic.
When Marco reached down between them, he quickly broke off kissing. His expression was puzzled as he palmed Aiden’s still-soft dick.
“Aiden, are you really so upset about talking with your mother?” Aiden watched as emotions passed across Marco’s open face—concern, worry, frustration. “I don’t know how to help you.” He leaned forward, offering a simple hug.
Aiden took it, burying his face in Marco’s shoulder, his eyes sore and burning.
Marco asked, “Is this about telling your mamma about your papà?” He held Aiden tighter when he nodded. “Is this . . . .” He hesitated. “Are you really so worried about discussing your adoption with her? Surely it won’t be a completely surprising choice of conversation.”
Aiden shook his head. It would no doubt upset her, but that wasn’t the sword that constantly hung over his head.
He felt Marco take a deep breath. “So, this isn’t about your birth father.” He leaned back, waiting until Aiden met his gaze. His next words were quiet but steady. “Aiden, is there something about your adoptive father, rather than your birth one, that you need to tell her?”
It took a while, and him holding on tight when Marco tried to put some more distance between them, but when Marco asked a second time, Aiden finally nodded.
Chapter Seventeen
Aiden sat at the kitchen table as Marco brewed fresh coffee, paging back through the store clerks’ notebook while his laptop booted. Who would have thought only a few weeks earlier that he’d be about to spill all his secrets to his housemate? He still couldn’t believe he was really going to do it.
Before, an evening at home had put Aiden into a perpetual elliptical orbit, trying to keep his distance from Marco, yet relentlessly drawn back to him as if by the pull of gravity. Now, staying close to him at all times seemed like a much better option.
He watched as Marco went through coffee-making motions, chatting easily as he did so. Once Aiden admitted that he had things to tell him, Marco had eased off immediately, saying nothing more about it until Aiden was ready. What had helped the most, he realized, was the way Marco acted as if his silent freak-out was normal. He didn’t make some big drama out of them having a discussion.
Instead, Marco had prolonged their hug in bed for a while, saying nothing, and somehow that had made talking easier for Aiden. “When I say that I’m going to be looking after my mother forever, I mean it. She’s my responsibility now, and she always will be. You need to know, I guess, before we start something serious.”
Marco’s arms had tensed around him.
“What I mean is that I’m responsible for her financially, and that’s never, ever going to change.”
He’d felt Marco start to pull away from him, so he rushed to add a gruffly whispered, “That might be a deal breaker for you. I should have made that clearer right away.” That’s when Marco had suggested they get dressed again and decamp to the kitchen.
When Marco slid a steaming cup across the kitchen table toward him, Aiden sat up straighter, expecting Marco to start asking questions. But as he watched Marco go stand at the sink instead, looking out into the night-dark backyard with his own cup cradled in his cupped palms, he started to wonder if Marco’s suggestion had been a Daly-style stalling tactic.
Aiden stood so quickly that his coffee slopped over his cup rim onto the small kitchen table, but that was far from the forefront of his mind as he crossed the room to stand behind Marco. With the kitchen lights on, the windowpane acted like a mirror, reflecting a blank expression that looked out of place on Marco.
Shit.
He should have kept his mouth shut.
It took him a few moments to realize that Marco was speaking quietly to him.
“Sometimes I think I need to have every
important conversation with you more than once, tesoro.”
That single Italian endearment had Aiden dragging in a breath. Being called a grown man’s treasure used to really bug him. Now it was a something he pinned his hope to.
“In fact, I’m almost certain that repeating everything I say to you is what I need to do now.” Marco’s deeply shadowed gaze met Aiden’s own in the window. “Did we not have a ‘being close to our mammas’ conversation already?”
Aiden agreed that they had, recalling Marco talking to him about exactly that the evening Marco took apart his mom’s broken mower. He nodded, his chin brushing against Marco’s silk-soft hair.
“And did I forget, somehow, to tell you that I understand the strength of the bond between a mother and her child, especially when the child becomes the caretaker?”
Aiden shook his head.
“Then perhaps we should begin by me repeating what I just heard, so I can be sure we are on the same page.” This time Marco didn’t leave a gap for any interjection. “It sounds as if you think I will have an issue with the way you run your life.” He turned around to face Aiden, looking up and frowning. “There are only two things I take issue with. First, that you believe I need to think before getting serious.” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment, lashes casting shadows before he looked up again. “Aiden Phillip Daly, I’ve been serious about you for a while now.” He shook his head. “I’m only sorry that you did not already know this.”
When Aiden drew a breath in, Marco touched one finger to his lips. “Hush. The other issue is perhaps more troubling. Can you think of any reason why caring for your family would make me view you badly?”
Aiden hesitated, then shook his head again.
“Neither can I, so I’m not sure why you brought it up. Unless I’ve missed something in translation?”
This time Aiden shrugged. Now that they were getting down to it, it seemed harder to continue.
“I think perhaps we both need to be explicit.” Marco bridged the small gap between them, holding Aiden firmly by the hips. “Come sit at the table. I will talk you through my family’s arrangements, and you can tell me yours. I don’t know why this is so important to you, but if something bothers you this deeply, we do need to resolve it.”
Once they were settled, sitting on opposite sides of the table, Marco started talking.
“I handle Mamma’s investments for her. Now that I live so far away, my brothers look after her day-to-day finances. The long-term stocks and shares she owns are as easy to manage here as there, but if she needs to withdraw a significant amount of cash”—he made an expansive gesture—“to buy a new vehicle for one of my nieces or nephews, or a piece of artwork perhaps, I prefer that my brothers monitor so she draws from the correct account. She is very astute still, but lately she gets confused between her credit and debit cards.” He shrugged. “It is a small thing, but her eyesight isn’t what it was, and she’s too vain to wear glasses. It embarrasses her when she makes mistakes, so we don’t let it happen.”
That type of financial arrangement was so far from Aiden’s experience that he could only stare down at the table.
“So I understand that you have to stay in close contact, although your mamma has seemed focused and intelligent each time I’ve met her. I’m sure she could handle balancing her own checkbook, if that’s something you see as an obligation, or perhaps you could let Evan help her?”
Aiden snorted. He couldn’t help it, or keep his next laugh in. Balancing a checkbook or paying for new artwork wasn’t exactly his most pressing issue. Sometimes just paying the power bill cleared out his emergency stash. He’d be royally fucked if his mom shopped like Marco’s mother. When he glanced across the table, Marco frowned back.
Aiden apologized immediately. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m really not. Maybe . . . .”
His next huff of breath was quick and decisive. There would be no going back now.
“This might be easier to explain if I show you rather than tell you.” He inserted his flash drive into the laptop port and waited for it to register, typing in the pass code that he’d only shared with Theo. The spreadsheet he opened had several different pages. He clicked on the tab that took him to his mother’s household expenses.
Marco moved his chair so they sat side by side. He looked down the columns listing everyday expenses, nodding in recognition. “This looks much the same as how I have things organized for Mamma.”
“Uh-huh.” Aiden highlighted the total for last month’s household expenses, then clicked through to another page that detailed all the payments from his business account. It only took a few moments to move the cursor to highlight an identical figure.
Marco’s forehead subtly furrowed. “So you redirect all her payments to come out of your business, rather than from her own income?” He thought for a moment. “Is that some kind of tax-avoidance strategy?” He scanned the whole screen for a moment. “Is that why you froze when we were in your father’s office? Did you think she would be upset at how you redirect her cash?”
“Not exactly, but I guess it’s all kind of linked.” Froze was a kinder word than Aiden would have chosen for the panic that had paralyzed him the last time he went home. When his mom had questioned the way he funded her and Evan’s lifestyle, he’d truly thought it was game over.
“What is this other payment? The one you’ve titled ‘Evan.’ I see his name up here on the payroll section too. Why are you paying your brother twice?”
“I’m not.” Aiden took a deep breath. “That’s for his share of the apartment rent and his living expenses—his car, cash to cover his share of the utilities, and some extra spending money.”
“You pay him an allowance and all of the apartment costs? Even though you no longer live there?” Marco rubbed his forehead. “Evan contributes nothing? Your brother lives there rent free with his boyfriend?” He leaned closer. “Show me your spreadsheet for income.”
Aiden clicked the final tab. It took a while for Marco to process what he was seeing. Aiden picked up his cup of now-lukewarm coffee, marveling for a moment that the liquid’s surface didn’t tilt wildly. He couldn’t figure out why his hands weren’t shaking. Wasn’t this exact situation in one of his recurring nightmares? He took a long, slow, too-cool sip, waiting for Marco’s next question.
Marco murmured, “Mi serve carta e penna.” Guessing what he needed, Aiden passed him the store clerks’ notebook and a pencil. Marco paged through the spreadsheet again, quickly scribbling down numbers, asking tersely worded questions that Aiden responded to like orders.
“What is this?”
“Mom’s car payment.”
“And this?”
“Um,” Aiden squinted. “That’s for an architectural organization’s membership fee.”
“I guess that must be for your brother.”
Aiden had nodded, then voiced his “Yes” when Marco glanced up for confirmation.
“It’s a professional group. It’s good for him to make contacts.”
“Hmm.” Marco didn’t sound impressed, and when he looked up again to see Aiden still squinting, he crossed to a kitchen drawer, coming back with Aiden’s reading glasses. He waited until Aiden put them on before saying, “Tell me what this amount is for. It seems like this payment only started recently.”
“Yeah, that’s for Mom’s therapy.” That shit wasn’t cheap. He’d cursed Joel even more for interfering when he found out how much each session ran to.
“Isn’t it covered by your medical insurance?”
It was hard to answer through gritted teeth. “Only the first two appointments.” After that, he’d made up the difference.
Marco frowned, paging back a ways through previous months’ expenses before paging forward again. He kept asking questions as he clicked more tabs.
“Where is the payment for your health insurance? I see Evan’s—”
“I never get sick.” He pretended not to notice when Marco’s gaze flickered down to
his chest. “I can look after myself,” Aiden said. He watched Marco’s jaw clench as he jotted down more figures, his muttering in Italian now sounding somewhat snippy.
“So, this total is made up of your brother’s and your mother’s personal expenses, which you fund from your business account.” He indicated a penciled figure. “Show me where the corresponding payments are from your mother that cover them. Does she pay you back from some kind of pension, or from long-term investment income?”
When Aiden didn’t speak, Marco swiveled to face him. “Is this what your mamma meant when she mentioned a trust fund? Does your father’s estate have some restriction that means it pays out only once a year? Do you have to wait for reimbursement, and that causes you cash-flow issues?”
Trust fund. Aiden snorted and looked down again at the table. “This is the difference between us, Marco. It sounds as if you manage your mom’s money. Mine doesn’t have a dime more than Social Security. There is no secret stash of cash from Dad to provide for her future. There’s no life insurance money either, beyond the policy that paid off the house. There are no stocks or shares, or even retirement savings.”
“But your father was successful—I remember Theo describing him to me.”
“He was. He was brilliant with figures. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about corporate finance.” Aiden reached over to the keyboard and closed down the spreadsheet pages. “You’re just gonna have to believe that I do things this way because there were zero other options. The money Mom had in savings didn’t even last a year.” The details were unimportant, but it was only fair that Marco know the extent of his obligations. They weren’t going to change significantly until Evan could support himself.
When he finally managed to look up, Marco’s expression was uncharacteristically blank again.
There.
That was the reaction he’d been expecting.
Marco’s next words were strangely quiet. Aiden had to lean close to hear him.
“Your mamma lives in a big house, Aiden. Why are you paying rent on Evan’s apartment? Surely his living at home would save you a substantial amount of money? And your mother’s car is close to brand new, while your own truck is—” He gestured toward the kitchen garbage can.