I studied the handsome faces of Andrew and Joel. Replayed their interactions with Sandy. There’d not even been a shadow of malintent between them. Just love and complete adoration for their daughter, and for each other. They were a family.
The other marvel was that there was an equal number of heterosexual love stories in the book. I’d anticipated it only being the gay relationships that were featured. But they were there too, given just as much attention and value. Truly equal. Regina Bryant and her husband were near the front of the book as well. On the opposite page a shot of their entire family. And good God, what a family. So many kids!
Still, my skepticism wouldn’t stay silent as I went from page to page, from love story to love story. Of course everything in the book was glossed over. They weren’t going to share the bad things. Wouldn’t share the hurt. Although, even as I thought about it, I recognized the hypocrisy as I recalled the unending scrapbook albums my mother created. Each of them so cheerfully stuffed full of cut-out hearts and embossed flowers and birds surrounding every picture and documentation of each family event. So much so that a person looking through them would’ve thought we were the Brady Bunch. But I knew how very untrue that was.
Then I came to a page with Adrian, a beautiful woman, and a little girl. My heart leaped. I hadn’t realized Adrian had been married before he’d got together with Jasper’s brother. It looked like the beginning of Adrian and Harrison’s relationship had been filled with drama on both sides. Curious to see how much of that they documented, I began to read and was thrown off for a moment. The script read Andre and Megan Rivera. It only took a few seconds for it to click—somewhere in all of our discussions around Neal and how to keep Jasper safe, I recalled Adrian having a twin. With a jolt, I remembered Adrian mentioning his sister-in-law had passed away three years before.
Not all stories in the Lavender Love book had happy endings, it seemed.
“Quite a book, huh?”
I nearly slammed the thing shut at the sound of Jasper’s voice by my shoulder, embarrassed at having been caught looking at it.
Jasper glanced at the page. His tone softened. “Oh, yeah, stories like that hurt. But I’m glad they’re there. Even seeing how much pain Andre had been in, and the rest of the family, for that matter. But still, he had love, real love. A lot of people never get that. He’s lucky.”
Was he? If it had been real love, I was willing to bet Andre Rivera was devastated. I imagined he’d have a very different take on how lucky his fortune turned out to be.
I refrained from saying so and randomly flipped to another page before glancing up at the shop. Xander was still helping someone in the cookbook section. A different customer than had been there before. All the other tourists had left. I hadn’t even noticed.
How long had I been staring at that damn book? So intently that I hadn’t even heard the chime of the door for the comings and goings of everyone inside. Neal could’ve come and taken Jasper away.
“Are you all right? Is everything okay?”
Jasper looked up at me, startled. “Yeah. Why?”
Of course he was okay. He was right beside me. I was being an idiot. If Neal had come, I would’ve noticed, would’ve felt, or at the very least heard some sort of altercation. I glared back down at the book, like it had betrayed me. Had attempted to make me lose Jasper.
I almost laughed at the thought. Appropriate for a book about love—ultimately you either were betrayed or, like Adrian’s twin, you simply lost.
“I was just checking.” I searched for another topic, anything to distract, and found one easily enough. “Just how big is this book conference in San Francisco? If you get me the name of the hotel and everything, I’ll call them this evening and coordinate with their security, let them know that I’m coming, what my role is, and that we may need assistance.”
Jasper blinked and took a step back. “That’s a little overkill, don’t you think? What are you picturing? Neal coming in with a gun and shooting up the place?”
I hadn’t, but from how crazed he’d been two nights before, the thought wasn’t inconceivable. “Not really, but I could see it.”
He gave a partial laugh, partial sigh combo. “I was exaggerating. Neal’s not going to do that.”
“We don’t know what Neal will or won’t do. I think that’s already been demonstrated.” I leveled my stare at him. “I wish you’d take this more seriously.”
Anger sparked in his blue eyes, but he blinked it away with another sigh. “I am taking it seriously. Maybe I wasn’t at the beginning, not really. But I am now.” Though his voice was calm, there was the ring of steel in it. “But I’m not living in terror or catastrophizing every second. Whether I’m dealing with Neal for the rest of my life or just another two days. I’m simply not doing it. I can’t change whatever it is he’s going to do or not do. I’m only in charge of me.”
Despite knowing that, physically, I could take Jasper in my arms and he would be powerless to stop me, I loved the strength that I saw in him. I hadn’t recognized it that night seven years ago. Not that I’d been searching. Plus, I’d been so broken, I wouldn’t have been able to see strength in anyone else either. “That’s a very Zen philosophy for you, Jasper. I’m glad you can approach life like that, but in the meantime, it’s my job to make sure we’re prepared for whatever might happen.”
He opened his mouth, then paused, clearly deliberating. Several moments passed before he spoke again. “Fine. I’ll give you all the information of course, but please don’t make it sound like by letting me in, they’re opening themselves up to terrorists or something. It’s not the biggest convention of the year; it’s only one night, but it’s important for Lamont’s career, and it’s a big deal for me to be able to take part in this with him. Okay?”
In other words, don’t fuck this up for me. Yeah, there was definitely steel in Jasper Getty. Thank God. And it only made him sexier.
Speaking of God—goddammit that I couldn’t quit thinking that kind of shit.
As if he was reading my mind, Jasper shifted uneasily on his feet and suddenly looked nervous. “As far as the hotel… I might as well get this over with. I already know they’re totally booked. Have been for weeks. There’s not going to be another room available for you to get.”
“Jasper. Don’t even think you’re going down there on your own. I’m not about to—” Suddenly I realized his meaning, why he went from all steely eyed to barely able to meet my gaze. “Oh.” I followed his lead and took a step back. “Oh.” I’d be staying in the same room as Jasper. “Well… that’s fine. You have two beds, right?” Like that mattered. We could barely stay out of each other’s rooms with a wall between us. Even the night before with the tension that had been between the two of us, the temptation had kept running through my mind.
“No. Just a king-size.” Jasper focused on the book, keeping his gaze trained on the pages. “But I can call and request a rollaway or something. I can sleep on it, with your size you’d crush the thing.”
He probably wasn’t wrong. “That will work. But I’m not taking your bed, I’ll do just fine on the rollaway. We don’t even need that, I can sleep on the floor, or something.”
The or something hung in the air between us.
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” His gaze flashed up at me again and darted away.
Yeah, we would.
We could pretend all we wanted. But it was clear. And it was obvious that we both knew exactly how that night would go.
For the first time that day, for the first time since driving to the youth center, heat zigzagged between us like electrical currents, and I pictured crushing Jasper in my arms in an entirely different way than moments before.
Jasper shook his head as if to clear it, and tapped the page of Lavender Love. “I adore this picture of Robert and Debbra. It’s just so them.” His voice was just a little too high to keep from sounding forced.
Deciding to play along. I looked to where he pointed.
I stepped closer again and looked at the double spread—one side was a large portrait of Robert Kelly with a beautifully handsome woman, and on the next, the two of them were surrounded by five people, three of them listed as their children—and I did a double take. The sight was shocking, but a welcome relief as it cut through the sexual tension between Jasper and me. I leaned toward the book, my chest coming to rest against Jasper’s back as I looked over his shoulder. “Wait a minute. That’s Robert? As in the guy who was wearing the basically see-through thong the other night?”
Jasper laughed and tapped the photo again. “Yeah, doesn’t the flower fill you in?”
Somehow I’d missed that, nearly impossibly. But sure enough, while Robert and the woman were both dressed in their finest evening wear, Robert had a large yellow gerber daisy stuck behind his ear. Leaning closer, I started reading the script but couldn’t make sense of it. “So… Debbra Kelly is Robert’s… wife?”
“Well, yeah.” Jasper’s tone said that it was obvious. And I supposed it should have been; it was right there written in black-and-white.
“As in his wife wife? As in… in the biblical sense?” There was no way. A memory I tried to block out from the book club of a drunken Robert prancing gleefully around Jasper as they tried on different sets of lingerie slammed back full force in vivid memory. “No fucking way.”
Jasper shuddered. “Well, thinking about them in a biblical sense wasn’t something I wanted to picture, but yeah.” He pointed at the other page, the group shot. “That’s Heather; she’s the one Xander lives with. She is Debbra’s daughter from a previous marriage. That’s Lamont and his husband, Tyler. They’re the ones who did this book. Lamont is Robert’s kid from another marriage, or relationship, I’m not really sure. And that’s Andrew and Joel, who were in here today, obviously. Andrew is Robert and Debbra’s kid together. Their family is kind of like a Yours, Mine and Ours situation.”
Again, there it was in black-and-white with photo documentation as proof. Even so, I couldn’t believe it. “You’re telling me that Robert Kelly is straight? Honestly I wouldn’t even have believed it if you’d said he’d ever even seen a vagina, let alone married one….” I shook my head, disgusted at myself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that how it sounded. Married a woman.”
“Your definition of straight and gay and everything in the middle might be a little bit narrow.” Jasper looked up at me over his shoulder. His breath was warm on the underside of my jaw and scented of his recent caramel mocha. “Not that I blame you. We’re both from the same place. It was a crash course in acceptance when I moved here, one that I hadn’t even been aware I needed.”
I only partially caught his meaning, suddenly aware of how close we were. That somehow his back was flush against my chest and stomach, that his lips were angled toward mine and all I needed to do was lower my head and take him. Have a kiss that tasted of Jasper and caramel mocha.
Jasper’s pupils grew, nearly obliterating the beautiful blue, and he sucked in a breath. He didn’t move away, though. If I wasn’t mistaken, he leaned back into me a little farther.
My body responded instantly, growing so hard that there was no doubt he felt me against his hip.
“Hey, Jasper, Miss Brass is looking for a cookbook that’s out of print. Is there any way we can order it from somewhere else? If not, I was thinking we could….” Xander’s voice cut through the moment and then trailed off.
Jasper and I shot apart, and we looked over as one.
Xander and Miss Brass had twin expressions of shock across their faces, which simultaneously transitioned to embarrassed flushes over their cheeks.
Jasper quickly started to rush behind the counter, then caught himself at the edge and stepped back around. He said something to them, but I didn’t catch it. I lowered my gaze, at first to avoid the embarrassment, and then to see if my suspicion was correct.
Sure enough, Jasper’s arousal was as evident as my own.
Yeah… there was no doubt how the night at the book conference was going to end up.
Given that, I supposed it was silly to fight the impulse. Or to even pretend that Jasper and I were going to maintain a professional relationship from that moment onward. Nevertheless, we both tried.
We had a silent, awkward dinner that evening, followed by more awkward and silent reading time. Him tucked away in his alcove, this time knees drawn protectively up to his chest, and me on the far side of the sofa. Maybe, as he was a more accomplished reader than myself, he was actually able to enjoy whatever book he had in front of him. For my part, I spent the entire couple of hours reading the exact same chapter over and over and over.
When we finally said a tense goodnight, it was almost a relief to shut myself away in the bedroom.
That relief lasted for a good three seconds, before the wall separating our bedrooms very loudly began to request for me to tear it down.
Miraculously, sleep found me relatively quickly. However, it didn’t last. I woke up around two in the morning, fully alert and riddled with stress.
I sat straight up in bed, flaring out my senses, attempting to detect any movement in the night, sounds outside the door or rising up from the bookshop. There was nothing. No sound of Neal, no sense of alarm.
Even so, I crept from my room, and carefully opened Jasper’s bedroom door.
He was asleep, that quiet, peaceful breathing of his calling to me. Reminding me how it had felt with him dreaming in my arms.
I closed the door and returned to my room. It wasn’t Neal I was sensing, nor danger that had woken me up completely stressed out. I didn’t even think it was my unshakeable desire for Jasper; though I wasn’t sure how hard I was actually trying to shake it.
Gradually, I became aware of my father’s voice, just little whispers in the night. As I listened, it was joined by the other men in my family. By the officers in my precinct, the casual conversations and jokes and commentary in the locker room, the offhanded comments my partner would make in the days back when we patrolled the streets.
They hadn’t even hurt, not really. They’d just been the way it was. Just statements and jokes of reality.
A reality to let me know that the other whispers that tickled my ear back then were the temptations of death and destruction. Feelings and lies that weren’t even true to who I was. Couldn’t be. I was a man. A cop. A Wallace.
The voices grew louder as I began to pace, floorboards squeaking under my feet, cutting through the silence of the night and threatening to wake Jasper.
On impulse, I left the room, shut off the alarm, and tiptoed to the bookshop. As I lifted a copy of Lavender Love from the counter, I had a strange sensation, like I was Adam accepting the apple from Eve’s hand. Though not religious, not in the slightest—none of the Wallace men were—the thought was nearly enough to cause me to put the book back.
Ridiculous, completely ridiculous.
I took the book back upstairs, reinitiated the alarm, and started to go back to bed. I halted in the doorway, the bed looking lonely, depressing. Looking over my shoulder, I studied Jasper’s alcove, bordered by shelves of books, the soft streetlights glowing against the starry sky.
Unsure if I was invading Jasper’s space or not, I walked over and fit myself in the nook, on the opposite end of where Jasper sat. Invading his space or not, it was preferable to going into his bedroom and invading his body, even if I knew I’d be welcome.
Even so, I propped the book on my legs and began to turn the pages once more. Each photo, each story, offered its own set of whispers against those in my mind. Against things that I’d believed to be true about myself. Against things that I’d believed to be facts about being gay in general. Each one whispering that maybe, just maybe, I could have a different life than what I’d come to accept.
Then I came to the page with old Pete Marks. Even in the dim light of the stars filtering through the windows, the photograph was beautiful in its artistry, and its loneliness. While the other pages showed couples together,
caught in an embrace, surrounded by children or family or pets, the love documented with Pete sitting alone in the chair, his faithful hound at his feet and his wedding portrait by his side, was somehow more visceral and more tangible. More real.
I let my finger travel the path Pete’s had taken earlier in the day.
Maybe my life could be different from what I’d assumed, been taught, and accepted as fact. But even if that was true, it still ended like this. With a person alone, with a person longing.
Jasper had said that Andre had been lucky to have the love he’d had with his wife. I hadn’t been sure.
But Pete? Watching him, listening to him… though I’d heard the hurt and longing in his voice, I had no doubt how he would answer that question. None. He would say that he’d been lucky. That he’d do it all over again, even if he knew the ending.
I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to be lucky.
Thirteen
Jasper
My heart froze as I stepped behind the counter. I could feel the blood drain from my face and heard the catch in my breath.
Apparently so could Russell, as he rushed over on high alert. He’d been quiet and distant all morning. Almost sad or something. That all fell away as his hand gripped my shoulder. “Are you okay? What is it? Another rose?”
It might as well have been. How could Neal have gotten into the bookshop while the alarms had been set, while Russell and I had been overhead? I tried to explain but my mouth had gone dry, so I gestured to the counter.
My hand shook. I could say all I wanted about not being overly concerned about Neal, but my body revealed me as a liar.
Russell stepped nearer, following my motion, and then turned back with his brows furrowed. “I don’t see a flower.”
The Alcove (Lavender Shores Book 7) Page 15