You Were Made for Me

by Tinnean

  “Forget about it. That’s what family is for.”

  “I… I don’t have a reservation for a hotel.”

  “It’s not likely you’ll get one. It’s Christmas, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “My seatmate on the flight said the same thing. Can I stay at the Y?”

  “I have no idea. You’re going to be staying with me and my husband.” I got a kick calling Quinn that.

  “You’re… you’re married? To a man?”

  I had to laugh. “Yeah, I am.” The kid went silent. “You still there, Kit?”

  “Yes. I… I’m just surprised you’re gay.”

  “I don’t know, Kit. Didn’t being invited to my wedding to a man tip you off?”

  “What are you talking about? I was never invited to your wedding.”

  “You were.” I ground my teeth together. “I was told you and your brothers couldn’t make it because it was the middle of the week, and you all had school and work.”

  “I need to use the men’s room,” he said abruptly.

  “Okay. You’re in Terminal B, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Mark. I appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I hung up, then dialed Quinn.

  “I’m just about to save what I’ve been working on and get ready, Mark.”

  “There’s no rush. Something’s come up.”

  “Oh?”

  “My youngest cousin’s in town.”

  “Were we expecting him?”

  “No.” I liked the fact Quinn automatically thought “we.” “He’s had an issue with one of his brothers, and he said he wants to talk to me about it.”

  “Issue?”

  “Yeah. When I first met him, I had a feeling he was gay, but he denied it. He had a girlfriend and felt that should be proof enough.”

  “Apparently it wasn’t?”

  “No. It sounds like he left on the spur of the moment, and I’m surprised he was able to get a flight out.”

  “He’ll stay with us, of course.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s family.”

  Yeah, he was.

  “Where is he now?” Quinn asked.

  “At National. I’m on my way there.”

  “What about the party?”

  “I won’t be able to make it, but you can still go if you like.”

  “Would you mind if I skipped it? It won’t be any fun without you.”

  “If you want to stay home, stay home.” The sweet talker.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if your cousin’s missed lunch. I can prepare sandwiches or make some soup—whichever he would prefer. But the presents for the little ones—no, that’s right, you brought them with you this morning.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll drop them off at the cafeteria on the way out. The thing is, Kit might not want to talk in front of you.” He might not be happy that I’d outed him to Quinn, but if it upset him, I’d apologize later. I wasn’t going to keep any kind of secret from Quinn.

  “If that turns out to be the case, I’d have no problem staying out of your way. I could get some work done in my study.”

  “Thanks, babe. I appreciate it.”

  He made an impatient sound. “Do you want to have dinner at home? Should I order something from that Portuguese restaurant, or did you want to wait and see if he was up to coming to Raphael’s with us?”

  “Let’s wait and see, okay?”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you later.”

  We said goodbye and hung up. What was that expression? Man plans and God laughs? I put in a call to The Boss’s office, surprised when he picked up instead of Ms. DiBlasi, his secretary.

  “What is it, Mark?”

  “Something’s come up, and I won’t be able to attend the Christmas party.”

  “That’s too bad. Business?” He’d been turning over more and more of the day-to-day running of the WBIS to me, and while it was gratifying that he trusted me to such a degree, if I didn’t have Quinn, I’d have lost patience with the minutiae of office politics.

  “No.” I’d have told him that straight off. “It’s family.”

  “Portia?” He abruptly sounded tense.

  “She’s fine, and so is Quinn. He won’t be at the party either.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you.” I could never figure out if he was pleased I’d married Quinn because Quinn had been a thorough, capable, hardworking agent when the CIA had been smart enough to hold onto him, or if it was because it brought Portia closer to his sphere of influence. “As it turns out, my cousin is having a problem in his personal life.”

  “Ah, your dad’s side of the family.”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t ask how he knew that. I also wasn’t surprised he didn’t ask me to invite Kit to attend the party. It was better for civilians to know as little as possible about the WBIS.

  “Well, have a merry Christmas, Mark, and wish Quinton the same.”

  “And Portia too?”

  “Of course.”

  I laughed. “I will. Merry Christmas, Trevor, to you and Ms. DiBlasi and Rayne.”

  He chuckled, and I could picture him shaking his head. Maybe not everyone in the WBIS realized Grey Rayne was his daughter, but most knew they had to be related in some way.

  We hung up, and I retrieved my overcoat, draped it over my arm, gathered up the gifts for the kids, and headed down to the cafeteria.

  Ms. DiBlasi was overseeing the setup. She pointed me toward a table that was laden with brightly-wrapped presents, and I got out of there before she could lasso me into arranging tables or hanging decorations—Quinn had had me doing enough of that at home as it was.

  I jogged out to the parking lot, got in the Dodge, and headed to the airport.

  ~*~

  IT WAS EASY TO spot my cousin when I walked into the terminal building. He looked like a younger version of his father. Or maybe it was just how I remembered Steve looking when I’d known him as a kid.

  It wasn’t logical for me to resent Steve for cutting me loose all those years ago. After my father was listed as missing in action, Steve had tried to look out for me. And maybe that was why I’d followed Kit into the restroom of the funeral home where my old lady had been laid out, handed him a business card, and told him to call me if anyone gave him grief for being gay.

  I approached the kid, who stood a bit above six feet. He had prominent ears and hazel eyes. He had a small carry-on leaning against one leg like a puppy, and he checked his wristwatch, bit his lip, ran a hand through his hair, and checked his watch again.

  “Kit.”

  His head shot up. “Mark?” He blew out a breath. “I… I thought you’d changed your mind. Thank you for coming for me.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a half-hearted smile. And although his eyes were dry, they were red. “M-merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas. Is this all your luggage?”

  “Yes. I just threw a few things into my carry-on. I didn’t even tell my mom and dad where I was going.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just had to get out of there.” He snuffled, took out a handkerchief, and blew his nose. “I’m so sorry to disturb your holiday.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go. You can fill me in on what happened when we get on the road.” Sometimes it was easier for people to spill their guts when they thought they weren’t being observed, and Kit wouldn’t know I had excellent peripheral vision.

  “Okay.” He caught up the handle of the carry-on, and I led him out to the parking lot.

  Once we got to the car, I popped the trunk, and he put the carry-on into it, then got into the front seat and buckled up. Silence in the car was so thick you could cut it with the proverbial knife, but as soon as we were on the GW Parkway, he began talking.

  “How could you tell I was gay? Was it the way I acted or spoke?”
<
br />   “No.”

  “Then how…?”

  “Let’s just say in my line of work, it pays to be observant. How did your brother realize you were gay?”

  “He… uh… found something on my computer.”

  “One thing—make sure you always clear your browser.”

  He laughed.

  “Something funny?”

  “You could say that. My seatmate on the flight said pretty much the same thing, only his one thing was the word ‘locks,’ as in having them on my bedroom door. He said they’re our friends.”

  “That’s true.” I thought of the locks I’d had on my condo, and the multiple locks I’d insisted we put on our new home. “You spilled your guts to a total stranger?” I frowned. He was a civilian, but still, it wasn’t safe.

  “He wasn’t exactly a stranger. You could say he’s family.”

  “He’s gay too?”

  “Yes. We met when he kept me from skidding into a puddle of vomit in the terminal at Logan.”

  I shook my head. “Suppose you tell me what made you decide to come see me.”

  A glance from the corner of my eye showed him worrying his lower lip. “I suppose you could say it started when my girlfriend broke up with me.”

  “Did she learn you’re gay?”

  “Not exactly. I… uh… asked her if we could try anal. She said no, and that if I was any kind of decent man, I wouldn’t ask her to do something so unnatural.”

  I kept my eyes on the road, but another glance revealed Kit’s reddened cheeks and his gaze fixed on the lane ahead of us. Traffic was light, and my exit had come up. I flipped on the blinker, steered the Dodge off the parkway, and waited for him to continue, which he finally did.

  “After that, things went downhill fast. About a month later, we broke up. See, one of the problems was… well, not to be crass, but once I penetrated her, I couldn’t stay hard.”

  “So you left her hanging?”

  “No, I made sure she came. I’d either go down on her or use my fingers.”

  “Okay, so you’re a thoughtful lover.”

  “She didn’t see it that way. If I just could have…” He sighed. “But I couldn’t.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It could have been she didn’t ring your chimes.” We came to a stop sign, so I was able to see how he reacted to that. He surprised me.

  He turned his head to stare at me, his jaw almost hitting his chest. “He said the same thing.”

  “Your seatmate? Well, there you go.” No cars were coming, so I drove on.

  “The thing is, I found something else that did—” He made finger quotes. “—ring my chimes.” He fell silent.

  I waited to see if he would tell me on his own, and after a long minute, he did.

  “I found a site online. Guys…”

  The words petered out, so I helped him. “Fucking?”

  “What? No!” His face had become so red, touching a piece of paper to it could have started a fire.

  “Then what?”

  “They were kissing. The way they placed their hands… Like, one guy would have a hand on the other guy’s waist, while he threaded the fingers of his other hand in the guy’s hair. And the second guy would have his arms wrapped around the first one’s shoulders, like there was nowhere else he wanted to be. Jesus, it was… romantic.”

  I could see how someone new to the gay scene would see it that way, and I understood it, because kissing Quinn was exactly like that. I stopped at a light and turned my head to observe him.

  “I tried kissing Nat—Natalie, my girlfriend—that way, but it just wasn’t the same.” He shrugged, looking helpless. “I mean, she loved it, but it just didn’t feel the way I expected it to. Not the way it did with P-with my seatmate on the flight.”

  “You kissed him?”

  “In the men’s room. And it was…” He gave a sigh that could only be labeled as dreamy. The smile he directed my way was equally dreamy. “I’m going to call him later, and we’re going to get together while he’s down here.”

  “He might not—”

  “He will. He said he would.”

  I could see he was letting himself in for some heartache, but he was going to do whatever he chose. The light changed, and I shifted my foot from the brake to the gas. We were almost home.

  “Anyway, Jason—”

  “Your seatmate?”

  “No, my brother.”

  “Got it, the one you’re having issues with.”

  “Yeah. He found that site on my computer and started screaming at me that no brother of his was gonna be gay. I just don’t understand it. Jason never yelled at me like that before. In fact, no one in the family ever had bad things to say about gay people.”

  As long as their brother wasn’t one. “From what I understand, you’re the last of the brothers living at home.”

  “Yes. I mean, I could afford my own place—I’m assistant manager of a twenty-four hour pharmacy—but Mom gets all teary-eyed if I even mention it.”

  “What was Jason doing in your room?” I turned the Dodge into our street. Kit was silent, so I waited until I turned into the curving drive of Mann Manor, parked in front of the sprawling house, and switched off the engine. “Kit?”

  He looked pale and distressed. “I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought to question it.” Once again he worried his lower lip to the point I thought it would start bleeding.

  “I heard your mother wasn’t happy with what you had to say about In the Dark of the Night.”

  “The movie with the gay character who did a brave thing? Why?”

  “Precisely because the gay character did a brave thing. She thought it was going to encourage you.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not following.”

  “She doesn’t want you thinking that lifestyle is acceptable.”

  “That can’t be right. She had a brother who was either gay or bi. She knows it’s not a lifestyle choice.”

  I shrugged. “That’s what she said.”

  “Wait, how do you know this?”

  “It’s what she said when we had lunch.”

  “You had lunch with my mother?”

  “And your father.”

  “Why?”

  “They were at my wedding, and my husband and I invited them to lunch.”

  “I see.”

  “Speaking of lunch, Quinn’s waiting in the house. Are you hungry?”

  “Now that you mention it… All I’ve had since breakfast was a couple of cups of coffee and a bag of tortilla chips on the flight.”

  “Okay. Quinn said he’d make some soup or sandwiches.”

  “They both sound good.”

  “Let’s go, then. I’ll introduce you to Quinn, we’ll get you settled, and feed you. You’d also better think about what you’re going to tell your old—your mother about where you are and why.”

  “I suppose.” He sighed. “Thank you, Mark.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  We got out of the car, Kit took his carry-on from the trunk, and we walked up the steps and into the house. He got a bit goggle-eyed when he saw the number of locks on the front door, but he just watched as I unlocked them.

  I opened the door, and we went into the house.

  Chapter 13: December 24, 2004

  I WISHED I HADN’T suggested soup for Mark’s cousin. After I disconnected the call, I’d gone through the pantry and realized I didn’t have the ingredients I’d need, so I decided to put together sandwiches instead, enough for all of us. If Christopher Vincent had had as rough a day as Mark had insinuated, the poor man would need nourishment.

  I set the dining room table with plates and glasses, then returned to the kitchen to start work on the sandwiches. I had a platter filled with them and was pondering what to offer Mark’s cousin to drink when I heard the front door open.

  “Babe?”

  “In the kitchen,” I called.

  Mark walked into the kitchen, came to me, and kissed me. Then he ste
pped back. “This is my cousin, Kit Vincent.”

  His cousin stood hesitantly in the doorway. He was a nice-looking man who appeared to be a good deal younger than us, most likely not even in his mid-twenties. He was Mark’s height, or perhaps a bit shorter, and had the same prominent ears as Mark and his father. Apparently that was a Vincent trait.

  “Kit, my husband, Quinton Mann.”

  “Call me Quinn,” I told him. I approached, holding out my hand.

  He seemed a little flustered, but he reached out and took it. “Quinn. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’m disrupting your household.”

  “Not at all. I hope you’re hungry. I’ve made a lot of sandwiches.” I pointed to the platter.

  His stomach rumbled, and he turned scarlet. “I’m sorry. I haven’t eaten all day, although I did have some coffee before we left Logan.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, his seatmate.” Mark didn’t look too happy, and Kit turned ever redder.

  “I’m sure you’d like to freshen up,” I said. “The half bath is right through that door.”

  “Thank you.” He almost bolted out of the room.

  “Mark?”

  “He pretty much spilled his guts to a total stranger, and he feels it’s okay, because the guy says he’s gay.”

  “Ah. Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

  “No. And at least they didn’t exchange last names. The thing is, Kit kissed him in the men’s room and says he wants to meet up with the guy again. The guy has family here in DC, and Kit plans to call him later tonight.”

  I raised an eyebrow, and he gave a disgruntled nod.

  “I know, he’s not my kid, and he’s not my responsibility, but—”

  “—we know nothing about this guy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll learn. If Kit and this young man… Am I safe in assuming his friend is his age?”

  Mark hunched a shoulder. “He didn’t say. Jesus, the guy could be old enough to be his father.”

  “Either way, we’ll deal with it.”

  “Yeah, we will. Kit doesn’t have transportation down here, so he’ll need a ride to wherever they’re meeting, if they’re meeting. The guy could have been yanking his chain. And don’t even hint to Kit that he could take public transportation. He doesn’t need to know that.”