The Glasshouse (Lavender Shores Book 6)

by Rosalind Abel

  “That doesn’t mean you owe her the rest of your life.”

  It hurt to see from his expression that he wasn’t so sure about that, though he didn’t say as much.

  Some part of my brain screamed for me to stay silent. Especially not knowing what I would do if he gave the wrong answer, but I had to know. If I didn’t ask, those fears that woke me up in the night would become monsters. “Do you want to do another show? Are you turning her down just because of me?”

  “No.” He met my gaze instantly and didn’t hesitate. “Not at all. I never wanted to do the shows. The modeling and endorsing different shit was one thing. It was just photo shoots and little commercials. Having the camera crew follow me around constantly? No. I never wanted that. That was Angela and Will’s idea. I did it for them.”

  The relief was so great it nearly made my knees weak.

  Enough of trying to alleviate my fears. I needed to distract him. “So what are you thinking for this place—unless you really do want to make it a sex room, which I am one thousand percent in agreement of—what else are you thinking?”

  It took a few seconds, but his grin arrived. Though there was no hint of lust like I hoped. He blinked a few times and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s your place. I didn’t mean to tell you that you couldn’t tear it down. It’s nice of you to keep it, but I know it’s not what you want.”

  “It’s not that. I don’t mind having it. I just don’t have a vision for it.” Maybe I should’ve just straight-up asked him if he wanted to use it for flowers somehow. I wasn’t sure if that would make him happy in this moment, or if, in the space he was in, would simply tarnish the suggestion. “Obviously we have to fix the glass, and most of the bricks either need to be repaired or replaced. The roof is in good shape, though.”

  He nodded slowly, then glanced up at the metal rafters. There was a second level up top which was a pinnacle of windows, letting in more light before being capped off once more. “Yeah, the glass and the brick, that’s a good idea. And maybe….” He swallowed, and I couldn’t tell if he wasn’t sure what he was thinking or if he was struggling coming back to the moment. Maybe he needed to talk about Angela more and I wasn’t helping. “Perhaps we could rip down all the vines and really clean the roof. I think the copper is in good shape, and that it could really be pretty. We could clean it all up, make it shine.” I thought I heard a hint of excitement begin to grow. “Right now, it’s a little rusty. We could fix that, but if we take care of it, once it starts to age it will get that beautiful green tint as it begins to oxidize. And we could plant different vines to grow up it. Maybe wisteria, clematis, or jasmine.” His eyes closed gently, his smile grew, and he was himself again. “Maybe jasmine. Can’t you just picture being out here at night or the early morning with so much beauty and smelling jasmine? It would almost be too perfect.”

  Jasmine it would be. “I think that sounds amazing.”

  He opened his eyes, the beautiful brown glistening and making my heart melt. “You do?”

  The hope in his voice mixed with surprise that I would agree, played a different kind of game with my heart, causing it to ache. It was like he expected me to say no and crush his idea. “Of course I do. We can do whatever you want with this place.”

  He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably as he let go of my hand. “No, I wasn’t trying to take it over. This is yours.”

  “Harrison.” I recaptured his hand. “I am not Angela. And I am not Will. This isn’t a TV show. You can say what you want.” I gestured around the space with my free hand. “Look at it. What do you envision? What do you see here?”

  He followed my motion, and I swore I could see the answer behind his eyes. He did see something, but he shook his head again, and it was gone. “Doesn’t matter.”

  Sudden anger flicked through me, catching me by surprise. “Come on, Harrison. Say what you’re thinking. You don’t have to be timid about it.”

  He winced at my tone, and the hurt that crossed his face cut deep.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Harrison. I didn’t mean to sound frustrated. I’m not trying to push.” What the fuck was wrong with me? I wanted to make this place special for him, not some burden… not… whatever I was doing.

  He squeezed my hand, but let it go, then blinked a couple of times. “You sounded like Jasper right there, just for a little bit.”

  I didn’t know what to do with that. “Okay. I’m betting that’s not a good thing? The two of you have seemed kind of strained lately.”

  He gave another one of his snorts. “Yeah. You could say that.”

  So, yes, not a good thing. Again, something told me to shut up, and again, true to form, I didn’t listen. “How did I sound like Jasper?”

  For a long time, it seemed as if he wasn’t going to answer, but I could see the debate behind his eyes. That happened often. Thoughts so clearly visible, if you knew what you were looking for, and most of the time they were never spoken. On this occasion, he surprised me. “I think he sees me as weak. That I go with things too easily, that I let Angela push me around, that I did things simply because Will wanted me to.”

  “I can’t say I disagree with him there.” Shit. The words were out of my mouth, and I cringed at how they sounded. “About Angela. Not you being weak.”

  He flinched again. “He also said I got with you too quickly. That it wasn’t good or healthy or… something.”

  “Well, forget what I just said, then. Obviously, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” I grinned.

  It didn’t work. Harrison didn’t laugh. Instead he straightened, leaving the doorway and began to walk around the glasshouse, picking up random pots, spades, and pottery fragments and then setting them back down again as he spoke. “My happiest times growing up were when I was with my mom and we were working in the flower shop. Well, she was working, but she’d let me join her. I don’t even know why I loved it, exactly. Maybe just because everything was so beautiful. Mom was beautiful. The flowers were beautiful. The things she made with the flowers were beautiful. The smells, the way you could take dry twisted twigs and arrange them in such a way that they were art. It was amazing.” His voice grew louder as he spoke. Not angry, just passionate, almost like he was enraptured in the past, and still he paced. “Of course, Dad wasn’t okay with it. He was constantly saying he had two little girls instead of the two boys he thought Mom had given birth to. Jasper and I both were always more effeminate, always liked more girly things. Jasper was constantly reading and coloring, and I was always playing with flowers and drawing. Dad never stopped bitching at Mom for raising two girls. They’d fight, argue. At the end of the day, though, she just ignored him and did what she wanted. What we wanted.”

  I had no idea where he was going. But it was hard to picture what he said. I couldn’t fathom Harrison being the least bit effeminate. He was one of the most masculine men I’d ever seen, physically. There wasn’t a hint of femininity in his voice or the way he carried himself.

  Harrison stopped at the table on the far side of the glasshouse, picking up a worn-out leather work glove. He fingered it lightly as he spoke. “Things got worse the older we got. By the time Jasper was six or so, he was catching a larger portion of Dad’s ridicule. Though neither of us had an interest in sports or anything like it, Jasper couldn’t so much as jump rope without stumbling. Couldn’t pretend to do a lot of the things the other boys did. The fights between Mom and Dad kept getting worse. Never physical, but worse.” He set the glove down and stared at me from across the space. “So I did what I needed to do. I joined the football team, quit going with Mom to the flower shop, gave the few girly toys I had to Jasper to keep in his room, and made sure I only played with cars and guns. Made sure I spoke right, said words the right way, laughed the right way.”

  Even from the few yards between us, I could see the anger in his eyes. I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was directed at me. I didn’t think so, given what he was saying, but it felt like it.

&n
bsp; “I did what I needed to do. When Dad got the boy he always wanted, when I became that boy, Jasper didn’t matter anymore. Maybe that sounds horrible, but that’s exactly what it was. Dad didn’t pay him a lick of attention from then on out. Even after Mom died, it was all about me. I became the football star, and Jasper became… Jasper.”

  We stood like that, on opposite sides of the glasshouse, and I tried to figure out what to say, tried to determine if he was done talking.

  When his shoulders slumped, I figured he’d reached the end.

  I crossed to him and slowly lifted my hands to his arms, just so he could pull away if he didn’t want to be touched.

  He didn’t pull away.

  I ran my hands down those thick, newly tanned, beautiful arms and grasped both of his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing for the way I’d snapped at him, or for the hurt I’d heard as he talked about his childhood. Maybe both.

  If I wasn’t sure, there was no way Harrison could be, but he nodded anyway.

  For some stupid reason, I tried to tie what he’d said to our earlier conversation about the glasshouse, but I couldn’t make it match up, and didn’t know how to make it right. Didn’t know how to make him feel better.

  Though it was a stupid choice, considering the reaction I got earlier, I decided to make him laugh. Or at least try.

  “You know, I’ve talked a lot about the expectations of being in a founding family. So, I have a similar story to that.”

  I waited for his eyes to lift. They finally did, meeting mine in such a hesitant way that it hurt again. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded seriously. “When I was in junior high, all the other boys had those tennis shoes that light up. You know, you would stomp on the sole and they would flash.”

  Harrison nodded again. “Yeah. I had a pair of those.”

  “See, then you know how cool they were.” I managed to impart more gravity to my tone. “I begged for those shoes, for two Christmases, two birthdays, two everythings in between. It was always a no. Over and over and over again. Granted, I got pretty much all else I asked for, but Mom and Dad said no way in the world was I ever getting shoes that lit up.”

  Harrison’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t speak.

  “I know. Totally not fair, right?” I didn’t wait for a response. “Mom said there was no way in the world any child of hers, a child of the Rivera founding family, would ever wear something so tacky and garish in public.”

  Looking ever more confused, Harrison blinked, opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again.

  “I can see by your expression that you’re as appalled as I was. You know what? That was one of the few battles I didn’t win. I’ve still never owned a pair of light-up shoes.”

  I waited for some sort of crack in his expression, a smile as he realized I was teasing, something.

  He continued to look baffled.

  Proving that I couldn’t learn from my past mistakes, I pushed it one step further. “So, see….” I shoved his shoulder gently. “You’re not the only one with childhood issues, mister.”

  Harrison’s jaw fell open, he blinked, and right when I thought he was going to shove me out of the way and head for the hills, I got what I’d been waiting for. His lips curved, he rolled his eyes, and choked out a harsh, emotion-filled laugh.

  I sighed in relief, and then smiled along with him. “You think you might want to tell that story to Angela? Maybe she could use it and we could star in some Hallmark movie. You know, a real tearjerker. We call it something like The Little Queer Boy with No Flash. Oh, oh! I know! Better yet! Papi Ain’t Got No Bling.”

  He groaned and then laughed again. And then again. And then so hard tears rolled, and a smile formed.

  When he was able to breathe again, he looked over at me. “Was that story even real?”

  I clutched my heart like he’d mortally wounded me. “I can’t believe you would ask that. I bare my soul, and you ask if it’s real?”

  “Whatever.” He rolled his eyes again and snickered. “Was it?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “It actually was. Not as moving as what you describe, but yeah, that’s a true story.”

  “So, you really never got your flashing shoes?”

  “Nope. Never did. My heart has never healed.” I was so thankful that he was smiling again I could barely contain my relief. Especially after thinking I’d royally fucked-up.

  His smile changed and grew wider. A glint appeared in his eyes. “Think you might want to take the day off work tomorrow?”

  I hadn’t been expecting that, the question threw me off. “Um, sure?”

  “Great!” He grasped my hand and instantly started leading me out of the glasshouse. “Let’s go home and clean up. We’re going to San Francisco for the night.”

  Not one ounce of that made sense. But I couldn’t care less. Harrison had my hand in his; he was excited and seemed happy once more. He could tell me we were going to go door to door singing Christmas carols and I would’ve agreed.

  Nineteen

  Harrison

  “The Castro?” Adrian swiveled toward me in the passenger seat, his voice excited as he pointed out my window. “Oh! Hot Cookie! I love that place. They have cookies shaped like dicks. Boobs too, but—” He shook his head. “—no… just no. There are some differences between me and Andre, and boobs are for sure one of them.” He put his hand on my thigh, giving it a squeeze. “I don’t know what made you think of the Castro, but great idea. I haven’t been here in ages.”

  His excitement made me think my plan had been wrong, as I figured I knew what he expected in the Castro. I supposed it wasn’t too late to change. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have kept what I was envisioning a surprise. I think you’ve got the wrong idea. Although, we can do anything you want.”

  I saw the place that was my intended destination, and drove past it, giving Adrian a chance to respond.

  Some of the excitement on his features faded, and I could feel him growing cautious once more. That had happened several times on the drive down from Lavender Shores. Left me feeling guilty. Clearly, he felt like he was navigating on thin ice after my emotional outburst in the glasshouse. “So… we aren’t stopping by a sex shop in the Castro to get some dominatrix stuff and then heading to a bathhouse, so you can strap me in a sling or a sex bench thingy?” Though there was the hint of teasing in his tone, I figured that was probably exactly what he’d envisioned. It wasn’t like I’d drive all the way down from Lavender Shores to buy him penis cookies.

  “You know, I hadn’t thought of it.” The idea was tantalizing and made my palms begin to sweat. Maybe that would be a good thing? “I’ve never done anything like that. The stuff I did with guys before I was outed was pretty tame, and very secretive. And then once it was public, there was no way I could go to a place like that. Pictures would’ve been spread everywhere.” Even if neither one of us knew the right name for a sex bench thingy, chances were we’d have a good time using it. And at that point, what did it matter if more pictures or videos surfaced? I turned onto a side street and slowed so I could look at him. “Is that what you want to do? I’m willing to give it a try if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

  “No. No. Not at all.” He almost sounded panicked. “I mean, of course, I’m up for anything you want to do that involves you taking your clothes off.” He forced a smile. “I’m up for whatever you had planned. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to take over.”

  “That’s okay. It would be fun. Why don’t we switch to that plan. It’s a lot better than what I thought.” Except that I had no idea how to do any of those things. “Do we look up a bathhouse on the map app? I don’t really know how to find one of those places?”

  “Oh, they’re easy to….” Adrian started to pull out his phone, paused, then shook his head. When he smiled at me, it looked genuine and calm again. “Actually, we can do that anytime we want. I’m going to shut up and quit guessing. Whatever your ori
ginal plan was, let’s do that. Surprise me.”

  “No. It was a dumb idea to begin with, and there’s no way it could be fun compared to getting crazy at a bathhouse.” Seriously, what the hell had I been thinking?

  “We’re staying the night, right? If that kind of thing is something we still want to do, let’s go tomorrow, before we go back home. I really do feel like being surprised, and I’m crazy curious about what you thought of in the glasshouse. I could literally see the plan smack into your head. Let’s do it.”

  I debated ignoring him, pulling out my phone and looking for a bathhouse myself, but I knew he would just argue with me all the way there. “Okay, but the minute you’re bored, just say and we’ll switch gears.”

  For a second, I thought he was going to argue, but then he just nodded. “Deal. Now lead on.”

  Following his direction, I circled around the block, pulled back onto Castro, and within a couple of minutes, parked directly in front of my intended destination.

  “Whoa.” Once out of the car, Adrian stood in front of the windows and gaped. “This isn’t a sex club?”

  Now that he mentioned it, I could see what he meant. The huge sign above the double spread of windows that scrawled out Marilyn and Celestia’s in cursive script was fashioned fully from pink and silver sequins. And the windows themselves on either side of the black door were an array of male and female mannequins in front of black velvet curtains, all wearing different combinations of corsets, hooker boots, wild-colored wigs, and lingerie.

  “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve had the penis cookies; they are good. We can go get them instead.”

  He swatted at me. “Knock it off. This’ll be fun. If that isn’t a sex shop, I have no idea what you’re getting ready to pull me into.” A spark of irritation sounded in his voice, but it disappeared quickly. “Please quit worrying. I’m with you. Which means, no matter where we go, I’m going to have fun. And I love that you dreamed up this plan out of the blue and just jumped for it. I think we’ve both been needing an adventure.”