by Eli Easton
The first weekend back, Brent checked in with all the AJC branches and then got absorbed with the decoration of the cafe. He had a bunch of his photos from India printed along with images he’d found online of other places around the world, travel iconography, images of gardens, food, and anything else that inspired him.
By Sunday, his dining room table was covered with photos, drawings, paint chips, and fabric swatches. River was assigned to nail down the menu and kombucha brews.
It was the tail-end of June, and the weather was sunshine sweet, warmer than it had been all spring. River sat on Brent’s deck with his laptop, searching out recipes and making lists. He had dozens of dishes to research, including things they’d tried in Mumbai. It was a challenge to figure out how to adapt some of the foods for their cafe system and to find recipes that were authentic without being ridiculously complicated. Of course, he’d be working with a chef to really pin things down, but he wanted to get a list of suggestions organized.
River loved the idea of having a signature dish from each country, with plenty of hearty vegan and veg options. It was easier than he’d assumed. For Germany, he wanted brats on a pretzel-bread roll with sauerkraut. He found a faux-meat company that made vegan brats so they could offer the meal with regular brats or the vegan version. For Italy, it had to be pizza, and pizza was easy to adapt toppings to include meat and cheese or not. Israeli salad, hummus, and falafel wraps were already vegan. The task had the downside of making him constantly hungry.
On Monday, he picked up the kombucha bacteria culture, the SCOBYs, from a local organic store, and created a first fermentation batch with good black tea and sugar. He made eight one-gallon jars and put them in Brent’s basement next to the furnace. The bacteria would eat the sugar, turning the jars from sweet tea into kombucha in about a week’s time. Then he’d be able to do a second fermentation, adding flavorings and sealing batches in smaller jars to get carbonization.
Even though they were each focused on their own projects, they stayed connected. When River passed Brent on the way to the kitchen, Brent stopped working long enough to give his hand a squeeze or initiate a quick kiss. Or River would be working on his laptop and feel hands on his shoulders and a press of lips to the top of his head as Brent took a short break.
For the first three days, they were in a world of their own. Brent had groceries delivered, so they made lunches out of the fridge and sat on the deck to eat, discussing their progress, or just soaking in the sun. Brent would reach across, and River would take his hand. Faces tilted to the sky, River warmed inside and out, enjoying a few minutes of bliss in-the-now until it was time to get back to work.
On Tuesday morning, River went to the regular staff meeting at Expanded Horizons. It was nice to see everyone again, and they all asked about his trip.
Jack had two new clients for him, both older men. One man in his fifties had trouble achieving and sustaining an erection. The other was a porn addict who couldn’t function well in a relationship, and Jack thought the client might benefit from having the sexual brought back into the realm of the spiritual. Plus, River was still working with Harrison too.
Of course, his surrogacy work would pick up just as he entered a personal relationship.
River thought about it all the way back to Brent’s in the car. He and Brent hadn’t discussed his surrogacy practice, or how Brent felt about it. But then, they’d so recently become lovers. Why would they? Now that it looked like things between them would continue, he supposed being open about it was the best policy.
When he got back to Brent’s, he asked if they could talk. They went out to the dock in Brent’s backyard and put their feet in the water. River told him about his new clients.
“I’m not sure how this goes,” River confessed. “I haven’t been in this situation before. How do you feel about it?”
Brent’s expression was studiously neutral. “Well, I knew you were still working as a surrogate.”
“Yes. I have a calling to be a healer. It’s important to me.” He didn’t say more important than the cafe, but it was. Working on Harmony Tree Cafe was fun, but his heart would always be in working with people.
Brent’s words were careful. “I know it is. And you’re great at it. You helped me tremendously. I have to admit, I don’t love thinking about you touching other men’s penises. But I also know how professional you are, that you keep a certain distance with your clients. Even when I was one and I hoped you wouldn’t.” His smile was wry. “I’m not going to tell you that you can’t do your work, River.”
“Okay. If it becomes a problem for you, you’ll talk to me about it?”
Brent nodded. “And if something happens with one of your clients that’s more personal….”
“It won’t.”
“Deal.”
Brent gave River a long hug. He seemed vulnerable, and River hugged him back hard, wanting to reassure him. He wondered why he’d even felt the need to discuss this. The word “monogamy” had never been mentioned. And, hell, he wasn’t even here permanently. But his gut told him Brent McKay cared for him, and he wanted to honor those feelings.
Every afternoon at five, River drove back to the houseboat to take Lily and Beauchamp out for a walk, give them some attention, and feed them dinner. Then he drove back to Brent’s, where they made love for a few hours, before he went home to Lily and Beauchamp for the night.
It wasn’t the most convenient routine, but it seemed to serve all masters. Except that Brent looked disappointed when River left for the night.
On Thursday, when he packed up his laptop and went inside, Brent paused mid-sketch and came around the table. He put his arms around River’s waist.
“Mmm. You’re warm from the sun.” His cheek pressed against River’s hair.
River smiled at the blossom of pleasure in his heart chakra. He kissed Brent’s neck and gave him a squeeze. “I have to go take care of the beasts.”
Brent pulled back far enough to look in his eyes but didn’t release him. “I was thinking—why don’t you bring Lily and Beauchamp over here? That way you don’t have to keep running back and forth all the time. They’d have more company, and you could spend the night.”
The idea was tempting. Brent’s place was so comfortable, and the drive, though not that long, was usually clogged with traffic. At the same time, it made River uneasy. He and Brent already worked together all day. If he brought Lily and Beauchamp over, they’d basically be living together. River couldn’t relinquish his independence. Boundaries were important.
“I can’t just abandon the houseboat. The owners are expecting me to keep an eye on things, to be living there.”
Brent chewed his lip. “I’m not saying you’d never go back.”
“Besides, I don’t want to stress out the dogs. They’re used to their place.”
“I bet they’d appreciate being with us all day and not being alone so much. Maybe you could bring them over tomorrow morning, and we can see if they settle in? If they like it here, you’d at least have the option of spending the night a few times a week, or leaving when you feel like it, instead of being a slave to the eight-hour thing.”
The eight-hour thing was a pain in the ass. River glanced over Brent’s shoulder at the family room, which held mostly white furniture. “You sure you want dogs here?”
“I would adore it,” Brent said firmly. He cupped River’s jaw and kissed him, the slide of his tongue sending eddies of sensual energy down to stir in River’s groin.
Mmm. Nice.
The energy between them was incredible, and River would miss it when he left. So why not spend time together while they could? Brent’s proposal sounded too reasonable to resist, especially the part about only staying overnight a few times a week. Boundaries could still be in place, right? And it truly would be better for the dogs.
River reluctantly broke the kiss. “Okay. I’ll bring them over tomorrow. But I think I’ll hang out over there tonight. They’ve been alone too much
.”
Boundaries.
“Perfect.” Brent gave him a final soft kiss and let go. His smile might have been a little self-congratulatory, but River let it slide.
That evening at the houseboat, it felt colder than could be explained by the breeze. Since the night in Mumbai when Brent had confessed that he wanted more, they hadn’t gone a day without making love. In India, they’d spent hours absorbed in each other’s bodies, nights spent curled in each other’s arms.
But they were back to real life now, and River’s “real life” included more than Brent McKay. It had to.
So he ignored the urge to go back to Brent’s. Instead, he invited Mrs. Smythe over for a glass of wine. They sat and chatted and watched Precious, Lily, and Beauchamp play around on the deck as if they hadn’t a care in the world.
Chapter 24
River
“I missed our sessions while you were gone, darling boy.” Harrison greeted River at the door with a kiss to both cheeks. “Come in, come in! Set those things down. It makes my back hurt just seeing you carry all that.”
River put his portable futon and duffel bag down by the sofa while Harrison went to fix some tea. “How was India? Such an exciting life you lead, River Larsen. India, Seattle, back to India, and, hopefully, soon Rome!”
“Mumbai was wonderful. Very hot. And very productive.” River smiled. It had been productive in unexpected ways.
Harrison poured hot water into a cup. “Oh! Look at that folder on the counter. I spoke to a friend of mine in Rome, and he said there’s a tantric school there. I thought it might interest you, so I printed out some information. They’re sending me an actual brochure, but it could take weeks. Italians aren’t known for expediency.”
River opened the manila folder on the counter. Inside were printouts about a place called Sacred Tantric Yoga in Rome, Italy.
River turned the pages with interest. The About page said the discipline was established by Yogi Garunda, a master of Kundalini Yoga, in the eighties. It combined aspects of meditation, yoga, and tantra. There were regular classes for practitioners and a series of workshops for those wishing to be certified as teachers.
They had a new certification program starting October first.
River blinked. Oh. Interesting.
A familiar itch awoke in his heart chakra—to learn, to study, to become. To find… what? That elusive meaning of life? Several times he thought he’d found it—when he discovered reiki, when he first went to the Sacred Triangle ashram to study tantra. But ultimately, neither had been everything he’d hoped. He was still seeking. Maybe he always would be.
“Does it seem like something that would appeal to you?” Harrison asked innocently. He handed River his tea.
“Yeah. It does.” River eyed the pages again before taking a sip.
“Mmm. I’ve heard it’s exceptional.”
“Really? Do you know someone who attends classes there?”
Harrison waved a hand vaguely. “Not specifically. But you’d be surprised how small a community Rome truly is.” He blew on his cup. “So… shall I take the apartment off the market then? Starting September eleventh? Hmm? I already have a few reservations I’ll have to cancel. Oh! And we should book flights immediately if we’ve a prayer of getting a decent rate.”
River hesitated. He felt torn. Hell, the word torn was inadequate. He felt literally of two minds.
The idea of Rome had lingered in his consciousness ever since Harrison had mentioned it, lingered as the thing he’d most likely do next. He couldn’t overlook the way this had fallen into his lap—a great apartment for free in the heart of Rome. A chance to help out a kindly old man. And now a chance to study a new discipline complete with a certificate to add to his growing resume. He’d played with the idea of studying yoga more seriously. The idea of tantric yoga was intriguing. If one believed in signposts, this one was in flashing neon.
But, on the other mind, there was Brent and the new cafe. There was the dog park on Capitol Hill, and Dr. Halloran, and the rest of the team at Expanded Horizons clinic. There was the way Seattle had felt like home just a week ago when he’d driven toward the city lights on his way in from the airport.
Then again the clock was ticking on the houseboat. What would he do when time was up? Maybe Brent would offer to let River stay with him. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t just be subsumed into Brent’s life. Sure, they had an amazing connection, but they’d only been intimate for… what? Two weeks? It was hard to believe. It felt like much longer, but really, it had just begun.
Reality had yet to intrude, but it would. He and Brent would never work long term.
River was not another Kathy McKay. Not even close. How would he fit into Brent’s life? With his family and friends? Business associates? Even if they could get over the idea that Brent was with a man, he was so different in every way.
Plus, River was a surrogate. He had his clients, his work as a healer. Brent claimed to be okay with it, but for how long? River’s lifestyle wasn’t meant for monogamy.
Somebody else’s Brent McKay.
Finally, there was his freedom. River never stayed. There was a whole world out there. Sometimes it was hard to leave places. Leave people. But in the end, nothing was permanent anyway. Life was, to put it titularly, a river. He was a river. Things flowed to him and away again. Or, as his mother put it, he was a dandelion puff floating on the breeze. To attempt to cling to things, expect things from people—that only led to disappointment and heartbreak. Better to not expect. Better to let experiences pass through your fingers like sand, neither judging them or trying to hold them fast.
“River, my dear, you look as though you’re trying to solve the problems of the universe. It’s a year in Rome, not rocket science. Say yes.”
“Can I give you an answer by tomorrow?” River asked Harrison.
Harrison scowled. “Tomorrow, darling. But no later. I really must get my things in order. Oh! Do yourself a favor and look at photos of Rome on your computer tonight. Piazza Navona, the Pantheon, the Vatican. All the little streets and restaurants. The arts! The shopping. It’s simply heaven.” Harrison placed a trembling hand on River’s arm. “And it would mean so much to me to be able to see it again before I die. I wouldn’t be able to go without you, you know. You’d be doing me a tremendous favor.”
River forced a smile. “I’ll let you know.”
Harrison was a perfect gentleman during their tantric massage. He really was a dear old man.
* * *
River needed to talk to someone. He had friends, but they were the kind who, after not seeing him for five years, would throw out their arms and hug him with a heartfelt “It’s good to see you, brother.” They were not the kind who sent birthday cards. They were not the kind you called to talk things out.
His best friend from high school had pretty much dropped River after he’d gotten serious about a girl. His closest friend at the ashram, Davie, was wonderfully wise. River would love to have a heart-to-heart with Davie, but he was now somewhere in Tibet, and he’d repudiated cell phones.
If this were about money or legal issues, he might call his father. When it involved a gay relationship? Never.
Sitting on the deck of the houseboat that night, watching the lights around Lake Union emerge to do battle with the gloom of twilight, he clutched his phone in his hand, just needing.
A man who returns again and again to a well with bitter water is a fool. Or, possibly, someone in whom hope never dies. River called his mother.
He got her voice mail the first two times. He tried once more, knowing she might pick up if she thought it was urgent. He was still surprised when she answered.
“River! How are you? Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine, Mom. Where are you?”
Where are you was always the first question with Verona Nilson.
“Marseilles, lambchop. At least for now. The coast is so pretty.”
“Oh? Are you staying with so
meone?”
“Francois. I told you about Francois, didn’t I?”
River rubbed his forehead and tried to recall. “Hmmm. Is he the one who was mayor of a small town?”
“Yes, that’s Francois. Wonderful man, but so serious!”
Her tone was chiding, which meant Francois was probably on his way out. He likely was wanting to get serious about her.
“I’m glad things are going well, Mom. I was wondering—do you have time to talk?” River heard the skepticism in his own voice and swallowed it down.
“Sure, lambchop. I’m just sitting here watching the sun come up, all cozy on the couch. So what is it?”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed at a heavy ache in his chest. “I have a chance to go to Rome in September. Stay there for free with a friend. Maybe get certified in a tantra yoga discipline. There’s a school there.”
“It sounds wonderful! What’s not to love? Oh, and Rome isn’t that far from Marseilles! I could come see you. Wouldn’t that be fun? You and me in Rome.”
River’s heart gave a meaty thump. “Really?”
“Of course! It seems like forever since I’ve seen you. It’s been, what, a year?”
River clutched the phone tighter. “Three. Last time was in California just before you left for Peru. You came to my graduation ceremony at the massage school.”
River remembered it well. It was the first graduation of his that his mother had ever attended. She’d just happened to be in San Diego to get on a cruise ship. She wore a flowery sleeveless dress, her long blond hair thick and wavy as ever, her face and body still beautiful. His stepmother, Michelle, had loathed her on first sight. And his dad had stared at his plate all night at the restaurant.
Yeah. That had been an interesting family dynamic.
“Oh Lord, River. It hasn’t been that long!”
“It’s been that long, Mom.”
“Ta! Then we have to meet up in Rome. Let’s make that happen, okay, lambchop?”