Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hayes, Lane

  “Yeah. Except she told me she was worried about you,” I said in a passive-aggressive tone that would have made my mother proud. In my defense, I decided there was no need to rush into an interrogation. I might as well enjoy a drink or two before the conversation potentially turned caustic.

  Dad chuckled. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “You seem fine. What were you doing in the city?”

  “Visiting a friend.”

  Oh boy. That was my opening. I wasn’t ready, though. I needed liquid courage. And more time. I thanked the server when he delivered my drink and took a quick sip. Nope. Still not ready.

  “I was geared up to take BART to your place and chow down on frozen pizzas. This is…unexpected.”

  “Vive la difference! Tell me about your new job and your plan to eventually rule the art world after a brief stop in the real estate biz.”

  I snorted at his lame attempt at humor, but I felt the tension ease from my shoulders because I recognized this guy. My dad was famous for telling a story incorrectly as a ploy to get others to engage. A typical dinner table discussion when I was a teenager would begin with me giving monosyllabic answers to well-meaning queries about my day. Dad would let a few slide before he’d make up some ridiculous story about hearing that I’d been randomly chosen to take over for the star quarterback at the big game on Friday night. My jaw would drop in dismay before I gave him the real story…the boring one, about what really went on in my humdrum world. Crazily enough, we’d both walk away smiling.

  I gave him the highlights of my tumultuous week, silently congratulating myself for making it sound like I’d landed on my feet when the truth was I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. We ordered a bottle of Conrad’s finest Pinot with our dinners and chatted about everything from my sisters and their families to Opening Day for the Oakland A’s. Somewhere between the caesar salad, a scrumptious filet mignon, and my second glass of wine, I forgot this wasn’t just supposed to be a pleasant father-son dinner. It was a fact-finding mission. Except, he seemed happy and like the good ol’ dad I knew and loved. I was beginning to think my mom’s concern was way off-base when his cell rang and then vibrated.

  He gave it a cursory glance and was about to continue ranking pitchers in the National League, but he did a double-take at his screen instead. His entire face changed. Everything about him changed. His posture, his expression, the tilt of his head. His eyes lit up and took on a dreamy sort of look that spoke volumes without him uttering a word. In that one instant, he looked twenty years younger. And he looked like a man in love.

  I gulped and reached for my water.

  “I apologize, son. Let me answer this real quick. Where are my glasses?”

  “Your suit pocket?” I offered, looking over his shoulder as the door behind him opened.

  I studied the strangers gathered under yet another crystal chandelier around a long rectangular table in a book-lined room. It was a warm, inviting atmosphere. Someone was giving a toast and—

  Whoa. Was that…? It couldn’t be. Holy fuck.

  That’s why this place sounded familiar. Finn mentioned it the other night. That had to be his party next door. I craned my neck around my dad who was squinting at his phone. The back of the man’s head looked familiar, but I had to see his profile again to be sure it was him.

  “There!” Dad declared, setting his readers on top of his phone.

  He pulled out his credit card and signaled to our waiter that he was ready for our bill. When he handed it over without opening the leather-bound folder, my senses went on high alert. His odd choice of restaurant was one thing, but not going over the itemized list to double-check that there were no discrepancies was completely out of character. My father was an accountant, for fuck’s sake. He never walked out of McDonald’s without studying his receipt first. It was a quirky trait we all teased him about when we were growing up. He’d just smile good-naturedly and assure us we’d do the same thing one day when we had families of our own to feed.

  My stab of worry was exasperated by the knowledge that Finn and his party were a few feet away. I swallowed hard as I leaned in to give my father a thorough once-over.

  “Dad? Are you okay?”

  He tilted his head in surprise and smiled. The slow-growing gesture soon became a radiant, toothy grin that took over his face transforming my ordinary-looking dad into someone I almost didn’t recognize.

  “I’m wonderful,” he replied.

  This was it. I’d officially run out of time. I bit my lip and narrowed my eyes, hoping I might read his mind and render an in-depth query unnecessary. No such luck. Go on, Josh. You can do this.

  I took a fortifying swig of water and then dabbed at the corner of my mouth with my napkin before blurting, “Are you seeing someone?”

  His impossibly bright smile widened as he nodded his acquiescence. “I am. And Josh, I’m very happy.”

  Gulp.

  “That’s good,” I squeaked. “Um…how—I mean, yeah…how, when, where? I’m kind of in shock.”

  And I was sweating now too. I tugged at the collar of my borrowed shirt, suddenly grateful it was a size too big for me and equally glad my friends insisted on the extra cologne. At this rate, I’d be a stinky, schvitzing mess before we said good-bye.

  “I understand. It’s got to be a bit strange, but then again, you may be the baby of the family, but you are thirty-two.”

  “What does my age have to do with anything? You’re still my dad.” I shook my head irritably and motioned for him to continue. I could beat myself up over my lackluster maturity later. Right now, I literally felt like a twelve-year-old swimming in someone else’s clothes. I wanted answers, but I was afraid I might not be emotionally equipped to handle them. “Just tell me…everything.”

  “I met Lars through work when I was auditing the—oh, thank you.” Dad smiled pleasantly when our waiter dropped off his credit card. He scribbled a generous tip in the appropriate column before putting his card in his wallet and tucking his readers inside his suit pocket. “Where was I?”

  “Auditing? And thanks for dinner. This was a lot nicer than our usual father-son hangouts.”

  “Exactly!” He smacked his hand on the table and leaned in again. His eyes took on a stormy, passionate quality that had to indicate we were no longer talking about auditing or swanky restaurants. “Life is too short. We get a finite amount of time on this planet. It’s our duty to live it. Really live it. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Uh…I guess.” I squinted at my father, wondering where the hell he was going with this.

  “Your mom is one of my best friends. I love her and I always will. But I’m fifty-nine, Josh. I’ve been going through the motions for years. I wasn’t unhappy, but I’ll admit I was lonely.”

  “And now you’re not.”

  He grinned in response. “That’s right. I met someone amazing. Someone who made me realize I had to stop being the guy everyone wanted me to be for their sake and follow my heart.”

  “O-kay. That’s good. Um…so you work together?”

  “No, but we met on a job and I was instantly attracted. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s a crazy, upside down, white-knuckle, heart-in-your-throat feeling…all day, every day.”

  It was hard not to smile. He was more vibrant and energetic than I’d seen him in years. “Sounds like a roller coaster ride.”

  “Sometimes it feels that way. But it’s good.”

  “I’m glad. Mom was worried about you. She got me going too.”

  He chuckled lightly. “You can report that I’m fine.”

  “You should have just told Mom. You talk to her all the time. That’s why she freaked. She probably thought she’d be the first to know. She hated that one of the neighbors saw you with someone.”

  Dad’s brow creased in confusion. “Who saw me?”

  “Agnes Preston, I think.”

  “I really doubt Agnes—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Dad,” I huffed. �
�Will we meet your…friend soon?”

  He let out a long sigh and then set his napkin on the table. “If you’d like, but—it’s complicated.”

  It was my turn to frown. “Why? Oh, no. Is she way younger? Like my age? Oh, my God. You are having a mid-life crisis. Please tell me you didn’t buy a Corvette, three gym memberships, and that all your credit cards are maxed,” I pleaded.

  My tone was jocular, but I was dead serious. If he told me he was dating the girl I sat next to in tenth-grade biology, I might lose my shit. Or my dinner.

  “Relax. No. Lars is younger than me, but only by five years.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Is she married or going through a bad divorce? What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that…Lars isn’t a she.”

  We stared at each other for a long, painfully uncomfortable moment. An invisible cocoon seemed to cover our table, accentuating the awkward silence and the rush of blood to my head.

  “What are you saying exactly?”

  “Lars is a man. I’m gay.”

  Holy crap on a cracker.

  I opened and closed my mouth twice before gaping at him in utter dismay as I attempted to process what he was saying. What did “I’m gay” mean? It had to be different than my version of “I’m gay,” right? Because I was the seasoned homo here. Not my father, for fuck’s sake.

  I raked my fingers through my hair. Or I tried to. Eric overdid the gel big-time. My wavy locks felt like sandpaper. Rough and unyielding. It was a weird contrast to my freaked out, fluid state of mind. I had to remind myself this wasn’t about me.

  “Okay. I—I don’t know what to say. This is—” I stopped to look around the restaurant at our well-dressed fellow patrons engaged in polite conversation I had to imagine sounded nothing like this one. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “About eight months ago. Like I said, I was auditing his firm. He owns a construction company here in the city. We spent a lot of time together and one day…it was just impossible to hide I was extremely attracted to him.”

  I swiped at my brow with the back of my hand and swallowed hard, then sent up a quick prayer he wouldn’t share an inappropriate sex story. The idea of my dad comparing penis size with a construction worker was more than I could handle.

  “I meant, when did you decide you were gay or bi or—when did you change?”

  “Josh, I didn’t change. I was always this way. But I had a family. I had responsibilities above and beyond myself. There was no room for me to be me. Does that make sense?”

  “I—don’t know. Are you going to tell Mom?”

  “She already knows,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “She knows?” I asked, completely mystified. “But she—I don’t get it.”

  “You know your mother. Her photo is under ‘passive-aggressive’ in the dictionary.”

  “She told you to tell me and then told me to call you and…wow. This is…weird.”

  “I know, but she’s been great about everything. Her only request was that I tell you before your sisters.” He pushed his chair back and stood.

  “Because we have so much in common now.” I tried to infuse humor in my voice to keep myself grounded, but I was becoming more overwhelmed by the second.

  Who was this guy? He looked like my father, but this fancy restaurant and the perfectly pressed oxford shirt he was wearing didn’t jibe with the man I knew. And where the hell was he going now that he’d dropped this bomb?

  “Maybe we do. By the way, I sold my condo. Escrow is closing in three weeks, and I’m moving in with Lars.”

  My mouth was open again. Jesus Christ. “Where does he live?”

  “In the Castro. We’ll be neighbors.” He grinned and motioned for me to get up and follow him. “Let’s go, Josh. I’d like to introduce you to him.”

  I couldn’t move. My legs wouldn’t cooperate, my head was reeling, and I was precariously close to being sick. I needed to be alone to figure out what this meant. I downed the last of my water then stood, thinking I’d call him back and say my good-byes. He was already near the bar, though. I couldn’t get his attention without yelling his name. Somehow I doubted my fellow patrons, forking over a hundred dollars a plate, would appreciate the interruption. I grabbed my coat from my chair and started after him only to be pulled backward. I glanced down and realized the cuff of my shirt was caught in the chair. I tried to un-attach myself without making a scene, but my heightened anxiety made me clumsy.

  I tugged again just as the door to the private room opened and Finn Gallagher appeared. Hand in hand with the beautiful blonde from the museum.

  I froze like a deer caught in headlights. My father motioned for me to hurry somewhere in my periphery as Finn moved forward with his gaze locked on the woman at his side. My heart accelerated wildly. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was like the Sahara. I had to get out of there. Fast. I yanked my sleeve forcefully and immediately winced at the sound of ripping fabric. Zane was going to kill me, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I turned abruptly and sent the chair crashing to the floor behind me.

  An uncomfortable hush fell over the already quiet restaurant. My skin prickled with heat, a sure sign I probably resembled a boiled lobster. I sucked in a deep breath and whispered an apology to the neighboring tables before bending to lift the chair. Finn beat me to it.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  I would have given anything for a superhero power just then. The ability to move at the speed of light or transport myself across town would have come in handy when faced with extremely embarrassing circumstances. I gave Finn a shaky, lopsided smile.

  “I honestly don’t know. Just…pretend you didn’t see me,” I pleaded before scrambling away to find my father before he invited his lover to join us.

  “Josh!”

  I bolted through the narrow row of elegantly appointed tables toward the entrance like a robber racing from the scene of a crime. If they caught me, they’d demand I undo my oversized shirt to prove I wasn’t hiding anything suspicious in the excess material. Then they’d demand I put it back on to cut the glare of my pale skin. It was hard to put a positive spin on a desperate situation when it came at you in stereo.

  The bar was packed. I cast a quick look around and spotted my dad on his cell standing near the door. He opened it with a smile, tilting his head to invite me to go ahead of him. I stepped outside and gasped for air.

  “…he’s here and I believe that’s our driver waiting at the corner. We’ll see you in a few minutes. I love you too.”

  He loved him? So soon? No. I must have misunderstood. He probably said he loved tutus or Fruit Loops. I undid another button on my shirt, licked my dry lips, and raked my hand through my hair again. I almost laughed at my reflection in the glass. I looked like a madman.

  Dad shoved his phone into his pocket and pointed at a nondescript car idling at the curb. “Our ride is here. Come meet Lars.”

  I shook my head and backed up a step. “No. I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t. I—I’m not ready. I’m”—I bit my lip against the wall of emotion threatening to pull me under—“I’m happy for you, but I need a little time. That’s all.”

  He studied me for a moment then nodded slowly. “I’m messing this up, aren’t I? I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t know how to handle this and I—do you have any questions?”

  “About a million,” I admitted. “I just need to sort through them first.”

  “You know, nothing changes between us, right? You’re still my number one guy. You’ll always come first and—”

  “Dad.” I held up my hand to stop him then turned to clandestinely wipe at the moisture in my eyes. “It’s okay. I’m fine, but…give me a couple of days. I’ll call you. I promise.”

  “All right.” He held his arms open in invitation. I went to him, allowing myself to sink into the feeling of being held, though I knew I’d feel m
ore desolate than ever when he pulled away. “I love you, son.”

  “I love you too.”

  I watched him walk toward the waiting vehicle with my heart in my throat. I was tempted to jump in that car with him and go wherever he led because fuck, that man was my hero. He was my original Batman and Superman rolled into one amazing, spider-crushing, baseball-throwing, monster-chasing dad. I’d come here tonight expecting to reassure him that in spite of mom’s trepidation, I was entirely supportive of him dating again. But I hadn’t expected this.

  So there I was, wearing someone else’s clothes, battling shame and fear as I fought to find a slice of humor in this weird-ass scenario. When a large group exited the restaurant, I stepped behind a giant topiary. I pulled out my cell and pondered my next move. I could go back to Eric and Zane’s or head to—

  “Do not move. Stay there. I’ll be back for you in one minute. Do you understand me?”

  “Uh…”

  “Say yes,” Finn growled.

  “Yes,” I repeated automatically. I gave myself a couple of seconds for my pulse to slow down before glancing at his retreating back.

  No fucking way.

  Chapter 4

  I couldn’t deal with my Dad’s news and the former lover I still had a crush on and shouldn’t. Especially not now. I was a wreck. I ordered a ride from my cell, making sure to keep my distance while I eavesdropped from behind the spherical-shaped topiary. Finn was chatting amicably with the pretty woman. They weren’t holding hands now or even standing particularly close. They looked friendly but not intimate. Whatever. Not my worry. Not my business.

  “…they leave first thing in the morning. You’re off the hook now,” his friend said. “Thank you.”

  I forgot her name. Samantha maybe, or Sarah. No, it was something like Charlotte or harlot, I thought as I moved toward the gray Prius that my phone app indicated was my ride home. The driver lowered the window and sized me up with a bored once-over.

  “You Josh Shannon?”

  “Close enough. Sheehan,” I corrected as I hopped inside and closed the door.