The Imperfection of Swans

by Brandon Witt

  Renata cut him off, addressing Noelle. “So, let me get this straight. Without ever bringing this up to me, you’re asking my sisters and brother for God only knows how much money, and you convinced Kevin to quit his job on the slight possibility that we qualify for loans. That’s not even taking into consideration that the sellers of the brownstone would accept our terms.” Her typical composure was cracking. Renata’s hands trembled to the point that her fork tapped against the china. Releasing the fork, she folded her hands and placed them in her lap under the table. “Is that about right?”

  Noelle didn’t respond to the accusations and instead waded in deeper. “Well, I was thinking, you’d be in a position to press the point with the sellers. I know they are out of state. I’m sure you have some card to play.”

  Kevin gaped at her, uncertain whether he should be impressed with her bravery or horrified by her recklessness.

  Anthony slapped his hand on the table, once more causing everyone else to jump.

  “For Christ’s sake, Tony. Stop trying to give us heart attacks.” Renata glared daggers at her bother.

  He ignored her. “Count me in.”

  Renata practically hissed. “Don’t you think you might want to discuss this with your husband? I know it seems the hip thing to do is make decisions that alter the family without your spouse’s input, but I can attest that it’s not nearly as much fun as Noelle might make it seem.”

  “Rick will be fine. He loves Kevin nearly as much as I do!”

  This caused Renata to flinch. She glanced over at Kevin, then back to her brother. Then Noelle. “I’m not sure I see this as an act of love for our son. I know you think it is, but this is encouraging him to ruin his life. To throw away everything he’s worked for. All his successes would be for nothing.”

  Francesca spoke, this time all timidity replaced with soft compassion. “Renata.” She waited for her younger sister to turn to face her. When she did, Francesca’s smile wavered, and tears threatened at the corner of her eyes. “I seem to remember Dad directing a similar sentiment at you a few decades ago.”

  Renata blanched, her face going slack. Kevin knew she’d never recovered from the rift that had separated her from his grandfather. It was part of the reason she’d left the old neighborhood and had been willing to buy in a less savory location. “Sexual orientation is quite a different story than a career choice. One is who you are. The other is just that, a choice.”

  “True. But I think Dad would have preferred you to make a reckless career choice than to live your life as a lesbian.” Francesca wiped at her eyes with the corner of her napkin, then continued. “You were brave and daring, and you risked it all. And because of that, you’ve gotten the most beautiful life.” She gestured toward Noelle and Kevin. “And you helped pave the way for Anthony and myself.”

  Renata lifted her hands to smooth out her already perfect chestnut hair, then addressed Kevin. He was surprised to see slow trails of tears down her cheeks. “I know this has always been your dream, my love. But is this truly the path you want to take?”

  Kevin wiped at his own eyes with the back of his hand. “I know this is what I want, so much. I’m not sure if this is the right way, or if I should.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She nodded, contemplating. “Are you afraid of it?”

  His voice broke, and tears fell. “Yeah. Terrified.”

  Renata studied him, her gaze unflinching and laser-like. Another nod, determined this time. “You should be. However, you won’t have to do it alone.”

  CASPER

  CASPER SHUDDERED as he closed the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Why the hell did he keep doing this? It was one thing to hook up with a stranger, a person who could be anybody. It was another to keep fooling around with someone who actually repulsed you.

  It wasn’t that the guy was unattractive. But he was just so…. Casper couldn’t put his finger on it. It was an elusive quality, or two. Whatever the mythical combination, it was the recipe for being a tool.

  But, really? Who was the bigger tool? Casper was willing to bet he was, as he kept coming over.

  In his defense, Casper listed the reasons in his mind, justifying the continued experience. He worked a gazillion hours a week. He lived with a gazillion roommates. As usual, tonight he’d gotten off work at nine and needed to be back in the morning by five. There was no time to play the flirting hookup game while switching back and forth between the sex apps on his phone.

  Would they or wouldn’t they? Did they play safe? Could they host, unless they wanted to give his roommates a show? Were they hoping for a boyfriend? Did they expect to cuddle for an hour after? Because there wasn’t time for that.

  And, as always, Casper knew he’d be back.

  Sometimes he hated himself.

  Whatever. He’d gotten off, and now he could go home to bed and do it all again the next day.

  His phone vibrated in his hand, startling him out of his thoughts and almost causing him to drop it. He glanced at the screen.

  His mom.

  Gross. Just who every guy wanted to talk to after a hookup.

  His mom didn’t call often, but when she did, she’d keep calling until he answered. Might as well get it over with. Though it would be nice if she’d remember it was two hours later where he was.

  He let out a fog of breath into the freezing night air and began walking. He didn’t need the hookup buddy to come out of his apartment building and make some douche-bag comment while his mom was on the line.

  Casper lifted the phone to his ear, forcing some warmth into his words. “Hey, Mom.”

  Her prim voice crossed two time zones and made the night even colder. “Hi, Casper. How are you this evening?”

  “I’m good. Just walking to my car, and it’s kinda cold, so if I’m muffled, it’s because my scarf is in the way.”

  There was a brief pause. “It’s rather late there. Why are you out and about this time of evening?”

  It seemed she did remember the time difference. And he was willing to bet she was thinking all-too-true things about her son at that very moment.

  Yep. He was definitely the tool. “I just got out of work, Mom. Heading back in at five tomorrow morning.” Maybe that would hurry her along.

  “For as hard as they work you at the restaurant, you’d think you’d be making enough money to live in a place of your own.” Her next words were filled with judgment, though the tone stayed coated in concern. How his mother was able to accomplish such black magic, Casper had never figured out. “Especially considering the money your aunt and uncle left you, but didn’t for your sister. I hope it isn’t all gone, dear.”

  “I’m saving the money, Mom. You know my plans.” He hurried on before she could offer a comment about those particular plans. “And rent is quite a bit higher in Boston than in the Springs.”

  “Well, we’d love for you to move back home. You could stay with your dad and me until you got on your feet.”

  She truly baffled him. There was no doubt about how much she loved him and that she hated him being away. But she would be nearly as miserable with him there as he would be. A constant reminder that her son wasn’t following the laid-out plans. “That’s sweet, Mom, thank you.” Now, let’s move it along. “I’m betting you have news. Did Dad get another promotion?”

  Her tone piped up. “No! Even better! Your sister just told us this afternoon that she’s pregnant!”

  Holy shit. That would bring the grand total up to five. This was good news?

  Apparently he’d waited too long. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Yes, Mom. Very exciting.” Proving that he was definitely the douche bag, Casper couldn’t stop himself. “I know she and Robert have a McMansion, but do they have enough bedrooms for another baby?”

  Showing more self-control than Casper, his mom waited a breath before responding. “Actually they are planning on upsizing. Which would be a lot easier if the inheritance had been split fairly.”


  Sometimes it would almost be worth it to give her half the money. It hadn’t been his fault that his aunt and uncle gave the money to him. Nor was it his fault that his sister had burned those bridges. Not to mention the fact that, whether for love or money, she’d married a man who earned more than the entire inheritance every single year.

  Casper passed over the money dig. “I’ll make sure to text her congratulations before bed.” Maybe he did have some self-control.

  His mother wasn’t done, but she was willing to drop the subject as well, it seemed. “I really do hate that you’re not coming home for Christmas again. It’s been two years. Are you sure they can’t let you off work?”

  Maybe if he’d requested…. “It’s such a busy time, Mom. I’m sorry.” He nearly asked when she and Dad were going to visit Boston, since they never had.

  Look at him. Self-control was his middle name.

  “Would you send some of those gingerbread cookies you make? They are so much better than mine, and your nephew and nieces love decorating them.” The sadness in her voice did cut, though. Through all the drama, they really did love each other. Maybe he’d go home next summer. And his nephew and nieces were definitely the best thing about his sister.

  “You bet, Mom. In fact, I saw a cookie cutter the other day that looks like a penguin wearing a scarf. I’ll get that and send a few of those cookies too.”

  “Thank you, dear. They will love that.” Her voice sounded a bit brighter. “Well, I should probably let you go since you have to be up so shortly. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom. Give Dad my love.”

  ONE OF Casper’s roommates was still playing on the keyboard when he got home. It almost brought Casper to tears.

  There was never a quiet moment in the place.

  Maybe he should start hooking up with someone who did want to cuddle and have sleepovers.

  His mood darkened as he walked through the kitchen. Crumbs everywhere. Always crumbs. And coffee grounds. It made him murderous.

  He hadn’t always been this angry. In high school, he’d been voted Mr. Congeniality his senior year. Which was perfect—he couldn’t imagine anything gayer.

  Casper glanced at the time. Too late to take a swig of Nyquil if he wished to be any use at all at the restaurant in the morning.

  Instead of hanging his jacket in the closet, he stuffed it over the space between the floor and door of his room. It didn’t completely block out the clanking of his roommates, but it helped.

  He’d forgotten to brush his teeth.

  Screw it. No way was he leaving his bedroom now. Plus, seeing the disgusting shape he was certain the bathroom was in would just piss him off more.

  He crawled into bed, knowing sleep was a long way off.

  And actually, that was okay. Closing his eyes and envisioning his own bakery, designing it and redesigning it over and over again, was more soothing than any dreams that might come his way while counting sheep.

  KEVIN

  THE EXTRA shot of espresso in his Americano probably wasn’t the best idea. Nor was arriving at Starbucks nearly half an hour early to prepare. Kevin had wanted to get settled in, to feel like he’d established his turf. Take the time to go over his arguments, increase his confidence. Just like he would in any other pitch meeting. Considering the consequences this particular presentation held, with his own future in the balance instead of the direction of a new ad campaign, maybe he should have come up with a different strategy. Maybe not throwing away fourteen years of his career would be a good place to start.

  Instead of confident, controlled, and at ease, Kevin just felt jittery. And nauseous. He glanced at the occupant of the table closest to him to see if she could hear the churning of his stomach. Luckily, the girl wore headphones.

  Maybe a few minutes in the restroom. Splash his face with water. Have a nice long self-talk session with the mirror. Of course, with his luck, Scott would arrive while he was freaking out in the restroom, assert his own dominance, and the entire past half hour would have been for naught.

  Then the coffee shop door opened, and Scott walked through, scanned the room, and made his way toward Kevin.

  It had been at least two years since he’d seen Scott. A shot of resentment coursed through Kevin as he noticed Scott was even better-looking than he remembered. Apparently the layers of hate he’d painted over the man in his mind hadn’t actually affected the reality. Damn.

  At six foot three, Scott was able to weave through the tables with an otherworldly air of masculine grace. And if his hairline was receding a bit, it didn’t keep his hair from glowing like gold from the sunshine pouring through the windows.

  Scott smiled his Prince Charming smile as he reached Kevin’s table and slid free of his jacket, gloves, and scarf, revealing a perfectly tailored suit. A suit that strained around the hard curves of the man’s body. Had his biceps always been that massive?

  It took a moment for Kevin to realize Scott had his arms open. Wanting to flee, Kevin stood and allowed Scott’s tree-trunk arms to wrap around his five-foot-seven frame. The experience was claustrophobic and threatening.

  “It’s so good to see you, Kevin. It’s been too long. Three years?”

  Scott’s voice was warm honey and gravelly sex.

  Kevin fucking hated it.

  “No. Two years.” Kevin pulled himself away. “The divorce was three.”

  “Well, it’s good to see you. It’s been too long.” He chuckled. Scott actually chuckled. He probably thought it was charming.

  Kevin ground his teeth.

  “Give me a moment, if you don’t mind. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m starving.” With another flashing smile, Scott headed toward the line for the baristas.

  Hadn’t eaten since breakfast? Who had? It was noon! Most damned people didn’t eat a meal between breakfast and lunch. Kevin reached for his Americano, but his hand shook so much it threatened to spill. He placed it back down and watched Scott from behind.

  It was one of the things that had driven Kevin crazy about Scott. He was forty-five. Looked thirty-two, if a day. Ate like five fraternity boys rolled into one and had the sculpted body of a male model. All with a mere forty-five minute workout five days a week.

  The fucker.

  This was a mistake. A huge mistake. There’d been reasons the two of them hadn’t talked in two years—the overwhelming murderous rage and insecure terror Scott inspired being primary factors.

  There had to be another way.

  Scott returned with a large chocolate-looking Frappuccino, a ham-and-cheese croissant, and a large square crumb cake. “Did you already eat?”

  Kevin pointed to the Americano. “Lunch.”

  Scott gave a knowing nod and bit into his croissant, then chewed for a moment with his eyes closed in pleasure.

  Kevin took the opportunity to breathe deeply and count to ten.

  “So, how is everyone? Renata is gorgeous as always, I’m sure. Noelle is probably in hog heaven getting ready for Christmas.”

  Kevin nodded and took a sip of his drink to avoid speaking.

  Another gleaming smile. “And you, Kev? Are you happy? Seeing anyone?”

  This time a bit of the Americano did spill. Kevin wiped it up with a napkin. “Can we not do this?”

  Scott had the impudence to look innocent. “What? I just want to know you’re okay. I care about you.”

  Kevin snorted. “Right. That concern was obvious when you served me divorce papers out of the blue right after agreeing to be my backer in business. All for that guido twink. What’s his name? Carmine? Vincent? How’s he doing? Spread-eagle as always, I assume?”

  “Joe.” Scott took a deep breath of his own. “And that didn’t work out. He was a little too… clingy.”

  “Well, that is shocking news.” A tension headache was building behind his eyes. He hated feeling this way. Hated the sound of Scott’s voice.

  “Kevin, you asked me here. As a favor.” He r
eached toward Kevin’s hand and then seemed to think better of it. “Do you need me to leave, or are you finally looking for closure?”

  Closure. Fuck him.

  Another deep breath.

  Exhale.

  “Sorry.” How that word seemed to scratch his throat on the way out. “You’re right. I did ask you. Thank you for giving me your lunch hour.”

  Scott smiled once more, this one a bit less plastic Ken doll. “Want to just dive into it, then? Maybe less painful for both of us that way.”

  As if Scott felt any pain about their past.

  Kevin nearly launched into another diatribe, but a glow from the windows of a certain brownstone began to grow in his mind.

  “Good idea.” Now that the moment was upon him, the tension began to build for an entirely different reason. If this didn’t go well, there was little hope for the dress shop coming into being. Maybe no hope. And of course it would be Scott who was pivotal. And so far, things weren’t going well.

  “Remember that dream of mine? That wedding dress shop you’d agreed to support me with? That little old thing? Well—” Kevin bit his tongue, took another breath, and adjusted his bitter tone. “Sorry.” He took a small drink. Nothing spilled. He forced himself to meet Scott’s blue gaze for the first time. “May I start again?”

  Scott nodded, his expression unreadable.

  Another breath. Good God, when had it become so damn hard to even breathe? “So, there’s this brownstone that’s about to come on the market. In the South End. I haven’t seen in it yet, but from the outside, it’s exactly what I’ve been dreaming of. Maybe even better.” His throat closed up for a second. The possibility of it all seemed too good to be true. Too foolish of a dream.

  Scott’s voice sounded genuinely apologetic. “Kev, you know I’d love to help.” He cleared his throat. “Well, maybe you don’t, but I would. However, I can only imagine how much a place like that would cost. I don’t have the resources to back that. When we were together, splitting the mortgage, two-income household—”