by Hayes, Lane
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” Finn stood slowly and gave me a tentative smile.
“I’m here,” I said lamely.
“So you are. I brought you something.”
I looked down at the small wrapped canvas in his hand then at him. “Um, thanks.”
“Will you let me in?”
Oh. Right. I moved to his side to unlock the door, aware of my trembling fingers and suddenly dry mouth. He smelled amazing and just standing next to him made me dizzy. My anxiety went through the roof when I realized he seemed equally skittish. That could only mean one thing. This was it. He’d come to say good-bye for good. And he even brought a parting gift.
I pushed open the door and gave him a weak upward curl of the lips before heading down the hall to the great room. My positive vibes from my afternoon with Dad and Lars dissipated. The mood swing was epic by anyone’s standards. It overwhelmed me to a near speechless state. I skirted the island and made a beeline to the coffee machine. I was cold and fuck knew I needed to keep myself busy.
Finn leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. I noted the way he worried his bottom lip as he fixated on my hands.
“How are you?” His beautiful lilting voice made me weak in the knees. It struck me as ironic that eight days ago I’d been dancing around his kitchen making a freaking mess and now we were back in mine where I’d no doubt make another one.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “How was Chicago?”
I set two mugs on the island and then looked at him expectantly when he didn’t answer.
“All right.” He glanced out the window and raked his hand through his hair. “I didn’t stay long.”
“Oh. Have you been here?” I didn’t know why I asked. If he said yes, I’d be crushed. Then again, if the dagger was coming for me anyway, I might as well get through the first cut.
“No. I went home. To Ireland,” he added.
I frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” he said with a humorless half chuckle. “Nothing is okay.”
I poured coffee into the mugs and pushed one toward him. Then I picked mine up and cradled it between my hands, letting the warmth seep inside me and hopefully calm my frayed nerves. He seemed to be looking for me to guide us but I was equally lost. On the other hand, we couldn’t stand here sipping coffee and staring at each other all night.
“What happened, Finn?”
“I came out. Officially, that is. I figured it was something best done in person. I got off the plane in Chicago and hopped the next flight to Dublin.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. Guilt and shame have ruled my life since the first day I looked at a man and realized I wasn’t like other boys. In my head, I separated my gay self from my outside self and have done my best not to let them touch.” He let out a humorless huff and shook his head. “The lines have blurred over time. Instead of the wife I thought I’d have, I have a beard who passes for one when the occasion arises. I live a lie and…I can’t keep it up. So, I decided to go back to the place where I should have been honest from the start. I planned my speech the whole way home and ultimately blabbed my news over tea. It went something like, ‘Pass a biscuit, please and hang on to your hats. I’ve got something wild to tell you.’ ”
I nodded as though I understood. “How did they take it?”
“About as well as expected. My sister was supportive. My da…not so much. There was name calling, yelling, and general ugliness I don’t want to repeat. Some might say it was a pointless and futile exercise. But to me, it was necessary.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”
He set his cup down and shrugged. “In a way, it went beautifully. Some people can say a metaphorical good-bye, but I needed to say it in person. Now I can start over.”
“Right. In Chicago.” I thought I was pretty damn brave to throw that last line in, but my voice hitched and gave me away. He was killing me slowly. Just standing next to him hurt.
“Here. This is for you.” He closed the distance between us and slipped the cup from my hands, replacing it with the wrapped canvas. “Open it.”
I swallowed hard but nodded in acquiescence before carefully wedging my finger under the tape at the corner. I pulled the thick paper off and slid the canvas free and turned it over. It was painted a solid shade of sky blue.
My brow creased in confusion as I glanced up at him. “What is it?”
He pointed to the lower right-hand corner and cocked his head shyly as though hoping I’d understand the gesture without explanation.
“This is us.”
The first letters in our names were entwined and painted in black. They should have stood out on the blue canvas but the writing was small and unobtrusive. The way it would be on any work of art. I ran my fingers over the letters then glanced up at him.
“What are you telling me? You need to speak clearly. I can’t guess anymore. I—”
“I’m not going anywhere, Josh.”
I narrowed my gaze, unsure I’d heard him correctly. “Wh-why not?”
“Because this is where I belong. This is my story. It begins here.”
“But—”
Finn slipped the canvas from my hand and set it on the counter. “Remember when I said you were the color blue and the signature in the corner? What I was trying to say is…you’re the most beautiful man I know and I can’t live without you. I want the things I told myself I couldn’t have. I’m tired of running. This is my home now. I’m staying here. With you.”
“You shouldn’t stay because I can’t go,” I said feebly.
“That isn’t why.”
“Then why?”
“I love you,” he said simply. Finn lifted my chin and stared into my eyes. “I love you, Josh. I fell for you at a party full of strangers two years ago. But I wasn’t brave. I thought I could keep things light and have the best parts of a relationship without exposing myself, but it wasn’t possible. I let you walk away once but I can’t do it again.”
“Then don’t. I mean…stay. Stay with me. Always. I love you too and—”
My breath caught in my lungs when he tenderly lowered his lips over mine and then pulled me hard against his chest, smothering me in a hearty embrace. He covered my face with sweet kisses then released me and reached for my hand.
“You should know I’ve been head over heels for you for a long time.”
“How long?” I asked, loving the wicked twinkle in his eye.
“Years. I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You’re strong, smart, and when you love…you love fiercely. Your friends, your family. You give and you give and you never stop to ask what’s in it for you. I might not be worthy, but I have to take a chance.” He kissed my hand then released it. “Can I tell you a story?”
“Now?”
“It’s a short one.” He smoothed his thumbs along my cheekbones then rubbed his scruffy chin against mine. “Once upon a time, a boy fell for another boy and lost him. But he never stopped thinking about him. He used to wander the museum where the boy worked, hoping for a glimpse of his wild hair and twinkling eyes. Sometimes he’d see him chatting with a friend or staring at the art he loves so much.”
“You used to spy on me?” I asked with a laugh as I wound my arms around his neck.
“Aye. I thought that was enough…or at least I thought it was all I deserved. The truth is you frighten me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I can’t breathe or think straight around you sometimes. You scare the hell out of me. I’ve never felt anything like this before. No one has come close. Ever. I wouldn’t let them in. I didn’t want to be touched. But I can’t deny you. You make me want things I thought were off limits. You make me think I could possibly make a difference if I tried a little harder. I never understand when you say you’re lacking direction because you always seem to know what to do when it matters most.”
“Ha. I d
on’t know about that but—”
“Shh. This is my story.”
“I thought it was ours.”
“It is ours. I want to weave our words together so you can’t tell one from the other. I want a life together and everything that comes with it. I want to wake up next to you every morning and talk about art and fight over whose turn it is to make coffee while we get ready to take our kids to the park. I want to have a life painted with a gentle brushstroke in a brilliant shade of blue with your name infused in it. I want you. All of you.”
“You do?” I choked around the emotion in my voice and hoped like hell this wasn’t a dream.
“Yes. You were right. The past is done and gone. I’m ready to begin again.”
Finn brushed his thumb over my bottom lip then sealed his mouth over mine in a kiss that truly felt like coming home. There was no room for doubt here. I could feel what I couldn’t see and I knew he felt the same way. This was not an in-between place. This was true and right. There was nothing to fear if we leaned into touch.
Epilogue
“You cannot touch love…but you can feel the sweetness it pours into everything.”—Helen Keller
The cool breeze through the open window was a nice contrast to the stiflingly warm bedroom. It was too small for two grown men to hang out in for hours. Fine. It had only been forty-five minutes, but I was ready to throw in the towel and hire a handyman or call my dad and Lars to put this thing together. An expert would have to make sure it was kid-safe anyway. I loved my man, but he was no Bob the Builder.
I perched on the edge of the pink-and-white striped cushion of the rocking chair and leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees before taking a look around the fairy-inspired nursery. The walls were decorated with tasteful drawings of woodland sprites and painted a pale shade of pink that offset the light-gray furnishings, including the changing table, built-in bookshelves, and yes…the crib. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung in the alcove, separating the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom. Finn had commissioned some fancy designer to create a whimsical yet tasteful haven for the baby we expected to arrive in roughly two weeks or by the end of April at the latest. Our daughter would live a few blocks away with her moms, but when she stayed with her dads, she’d have a suite worthy of a princess.
“Finn, let’s take a break and grab something to eat,” I suggested in a breezy tone I hoped hid my frustration.
“I’ve almost got it. I just need to fasten this piece to the bottom of the bassinette and—hand me the screwdriver, love.” He wiggled his fingers expectantly but kept his gaze glued to the fine print on the instruction sheet.
I sighed heavily as I reached for the tool then flopped onto the floor beside him to inspect his progress. It looked okay but I wasn’t sure it was safe. Then again, I knew as much as he did about assembling shit. Zero.
“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe we should call Lars. He builds things for a living, and he already said he’d be happy to help.”
Finn glanced up from his project with a scowl. “You’re givin’ up on me then?”
His melodic lilt made me smile though I did my best to school my features when I replied. “Never. But the thing is…sometimes you gotta know when to delegate. This is one of those times. The baby will never know her daddy didn’t put her bassinette together ’cause her other daddy is never going to tell. I promise.” I held out my pinky finger and gave him an over-the-top serious look to make him laugh.
“You’re using your teacher voice on me,” he observed with an amused huff.
“I have to practice.” I chuckled then pushed him backward and climbed over him, straddling his stomach.
“On me?”
“Of course! Everything starts at home.”
It had been a busy few months. I’d moved into Finn’s place before the holidays and gone back to school part-time in January to get my master’s. I decided to get my teaching credential at the same time to be sure I wasn’t making a huge mistake. My first few substitute teaching gigs were relatively painless. They were more or less glorified “babysitting” jobs for kids ranging from ages six to thirteen. Some days were better than others, but I liked being around young minds. I loved the potential I saw there. And the challenge. If I could survive a day with a posse of junior high students, something told me I could take on a class of serious college-age art history aficionados with no problem.
Plus, I figured teaching would help ease me into my role of ‘new dad.’ Finn made it clear to Scarlet, Keisha, and anyone who asked, that we were a family now and that we’d both be part of the baby’s life. We were in this together. Every part of us touched. Nothing was divided. We shared a home and a life together. My family was his family now, and our friends accepted us and constantly asked when we were finally going to make this thing legal.
Soon, I mused as he flipped me over, clutching my hands above my head to keep me still.
“What are you making for lunch, Joshy?”
“Pizza?” I offered, licking his stubbled jaw. “I’ll order it and invite Dad and Lars to come—” I broke into hysterical laughter when he tickled me mercilessly. “Stop! I won’t call them. I’ll get the number for Handymen ’R Us instead.”
Finn snickered. “Where’s the fun in that? At least you get a laugh out of watching me hack my way through something that should have taken ten minutes.”
I threw my arms over his shoulders and kissed his lips. “I wouldn’t laugh at you. I love you and I love that you want to do this, but you can always teach her how to ride a bike.”
“Ha-ha. I want extra pepperoni, please, and tell your da to bring a screwdriver. There must be something wrong with this one.”
“That must be it,” I agreed with a wink. “Look at us…we’re good at this teamwork stuff, aren’t we?”
“We’re amazing together. I love you, Joshy.” Finn’s eyes lit with a gorgeous grin I loved knowing was all mine—then they sparked with mischief when he added, “Extra cheese, please.”
I returned his silly smile and pulled him close. He could have whatever the hell he wanted. I already had more than I ever dreamed possible.
We were amazing together. We’d come a long way in a short time. This slow dance of sexual attraction to friendship led to a combination of the two that was bigger than both of us. We’d evolved and changed into something I wouldn’t have recognized a year ago, embarked on a new story of our own. There were no secrets, no doubts, and no in-between places to hide. And we vowed to keep it that way, leaning on each other and leaning into touch.
Leaning Into a New Start
A Leaning Into Short Story
This short features Jeff and Lars from Leaning Into Touch. Originally, this was written as a weekly “extra” for my reader’s group. Everyone loved Josh’s sweet-natured, affable dad, Jeff, so much that I decided to include the edited version in this collection. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”― William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing
The life of an accountant was nonstop excitement. Random strangers pulled me aside at parties to ask how I’d gotten started on my thrilling ride wheeling and dealing with spreadsheets and budgets. The mere mention of the word “audit” had them racing to my side, begging me to speak slowly so they could take in every bit of the undoubtedly riveting tale of my career of ruthless mathematician behind a calculator. Wait. Exaggerate? Me? Well, maybe a touch. I smiled at my ridiculous musings as I pulled open the door to the office of GDC, Green Design Construction, my newest victim. Excuse me…client.
My grin froze when I caught my reflection in the glass. I patted down a wayward lock of my salt-and-pepper hair and straightened my red-and-blue tie. Red wasn’t my color, but one of my son’s friends had insisted it was a power color. Grant knew fashion better than Josh or me, so I figured his suggestion to go with my charcoal suit and a bold striped tie was a sound one. He’d said I’d “kick ass
and look like a boss.”
Frankly, I had my doubts. I was more nervous about meeting the CEO of this firm than I should have been. First of all, I rarely met with anyone that far up the chain. Presidents and CEOs always pushed off pesky meetings with auditors to their Chief Financial Officer. Apparently, the CFO had recently been dismissed, and rather than handing the meeting off to his Vice President, Lars Olsen had decided to take it upon himself to deal with me directly. Great.
I stepped inside the elevator, carefully avoiding any other reflective surfaces. If my hair was a mess, so be it. I wasn’t looking for a date. This was a business call. I had to be professional, concise, and ideally not get distracted by my posh surroundings. It was all about the numbers. Fuck. I had to think about something else quick, or my handshake would be pure slime.
Slime…hmm. That reminded me of Josh. He loved that shit when he was a kid, I thought with a half chuckle. I wondered how his date went last night. I’d give him a call later and offer to take him out for dinner sometime soon. From what I could tell, I might be stationed at GDC’s San Francisco headquarters for a while.
When the doors slid open, I adjusted my briefcase and strode purposefully toward the pretty blonde receptionist seated behind the sleek wood-and-steel desk and cleared my throat.
“Hi, my name is Jeff Sheehan. I’m here to see Mr. Olsen regarding the—”
“Hello, there. I’m Lars. And you’re…the accountant.”
I whirled around at the sound of the big booming voice with my hand outstretched but stopped in my tracks, my mouth wide open.
Holy crap. Lars Olsen was a big dude. Not overly tall but still impressive. He was the kind of man you noticed the moment he walked into a room.