Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hayes, Lane

  Miles sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, but I’m worried.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know if I can keep my promise,” he whispered.

  A tendril of unease skittered along my spine. If I didn’t know him so well, I might have pretended I didn’t understand. But I knew what he meant. I also knew it was too late for me. I’d broken my promise not to fall in love with him months ago. And now, I was hopelessly head over heels for him.

  Chapter 13

  The rest of the week passed in a blur. We started the behind the scenes campaign for Stockton, so we’d be prepared to jump into action once the contract was signed and the press release was published. I wanted to be sure everyone at Kostas Realty knew their role moving forward. We’d need to hire additional realtors and a few freelance designers to stage the units we’d set aside to show homebuyers. There were advertising and promotional considerations and on top of it, we had a nice inventory of exclusive homes already in our pipeline to sell. Good problems for sure. But it made for long, stressful days. By Friday afternoon I was exhausted.

  I finished my final conference call of the day and stared blankly at my computer screen. Fuck. I was done. Addresses and asking prices all looked the same to me. I had to quit and try again tomorrow. I swiveled in my chair and glanced out the window. Miles said he was working from the city today. EN Tech’s office was within walking distance of mine. Maybe I could talk him into an early dinner.

  So much had changed in a few short days. Not just at work. Miles and I were different. We both felt it. I knew he wasn’t exactly “mine,” but I was going to fix that this weekend. I frowned as I dug my cell from my pocket. I didn’t know what to say or do exactly, but I’d figure it out, I mused as I gazed at the screen.

  Two missed calls from Miles. Huh. I furrowed my brow at the five missed text messages too. Three of those were from Talia. Weird.

  I was about to scroll through them when a big booming voice from the next room startled me. I darted my gaze toward the wall dividing my office from Talia’s and the reception area beyond and went still. Maybe I was so tired I was hearing things. But no. I knew that deep baritone well. I glanced at the display as a new message came in.

  Are you off your call? Your mom is with Miles and your dad just walked in. Help.

  Fuck. I should have known my father wouldn’t wait for a signed contract. His ego insisted he was present for the occasion, so he could tell himself he’d helped influence the outcome. Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair but dammit, I wished he’d called. And Miles was with my mom? What the hell did that mean?

  I typed a quick message to Miles then jumped up to greet my father when my office door swung open unceremoniously a moment later.

  “Gio!”

  He kissed my cheeks, one then the other, and then pulled me into a fierce embrace. He spoke in rapid-fire Greek as he rocked me from side to side. I didn’t understand everything, but the gist was, “You done good, kid.” He thumped my back then held me at arm’s length and gave me a thorough once-over like he was really seeing me for the first time. The sheen of moisture in his eyes alarmed me, though it shouldn’t have. Big emotional displays were the norm in my family. Well, for everyone but me. I was the oddball who kept everything inside. The rest of the Kostas didn’t hold back. Ever. My father was a perfect example. If he was happy, sad, mildly pissed off, or extremely angry, we all knew. And so did our neighbors.

  I smiled tentatively as I perched on the corner of my desk, folding my arms over my chest protectively.

  “You’re here,” I said unnecessarily.

  “I always come to say hello to the office. These people are our family.”

  “Literally, I know. But I meant to San Francisco. Did I know you were coming?”

  He shrugged his shoulders theatrically. “I told you I would be here to watch the ink dry on the contract. My timing is perfect. I think we’ll have it done by Monday. I called Stockton after I dropped your mother off at your house. It’s all set. We’ll join you and your new friend tomorrow at dinner. Pleasant conversation and a bottle or two of wine is always good. And we have someone in common now. Even better! Are you done for the day? Mama is making dinner. All your favorites. Your friend with the hair is helping her.”

  I chuckled when he made a circular motion over his head as though he didn’t have the adjective he needed to describe something he didn’t understand. “Who? Josh?”

  “No. The one with the red hair. Your new roommate, eh? He’s a nice boy. He helped with the luggage.” My dad patted my shoulder and moved toward the door. “You know…I think we should have a family party Sunday. The boy with the red hair can come. I’ll talk to Talia about it while you finish up.”

  I swiped my hand over my face in frustration. Holy crap. This was going to be…interesting.

  Talia pulled me aside while my dad chatted with my cousins. She cast a panicky glance behind her when the volume rose then fixed me with a serious look. “Okay, here’s what I know. They showed up at your place just as Miles was getting home from work. He was very cordial and kind and is currently in your kitchen helping Aunt Delia make the marinade for souvlaki. If you can get that recipe, please do. Whatever he said or did made them fall in love. You have nothing to worry about. Just enjoy the accolades this weekend, sign the contract Monday, and life will go back to normal Tuesday. If you need me, you know where to find me. You got this, Cuz.”

  Talia’s simplified version of my weekend sounded too good to be true. I could handle an out-of-the-blue family visit. I could even handle the meddling in a major business deal. But I wasn’t so sure I could handle two major pieces of my personal life converging in my home. Miles and my dad couldn’t have been more different. But they were whirlwinds who commanded attention in any room they occupied. Their reasons and methods were nothing alike, but they both knew how to use the force of personality to make things happen. I stupidly assumed I’d have time to prepare for this. No. That wasn’t true. I didn’t know what I was doing when it came to Miles. I took it one day at a time and savored every second while balancing a stressful job on the side. I hadn’t wanted to worry about my lover meeting my parents. So I didn’t.

  And now I had no choice.

  My father filled me in on the latest family news from Toronto on the drive from the Financial District to the Castro. He bragged about my sisters’ kids like a proud grandpa. I smiled at his story about my nephew’s recent hockey game.

  “He got three hat tricks. Three!”

  “You mean he made three goals. A hat trick is three of something,” I corrected him.

  “I know what it is. He got three of them,” he insisted.

  “That would mean he scored nine points.”

  “Hmph. All I know was it was a lot. He’s a good athlete. Like you.”

  I scoffed then turned to look at him when I stopped at a red light. “I played hockey for one season, Dad. I was terrible.”

  “You were? I don’t remember that. You liked to skate.”

  “Yeah, but I was slow. I couldn’t make it down the ice fast enough to help my team.”

  “I liked watching you. I thought you were very good.”

  “Why would you think that? I was obviously terrible. The coach never played me,” I argued.

  “What did he know? You should have listened to me. Don’t listen to people who say you’re no good. They don’t know you. Oh, look at this picture.” He shoved his phone in my face and just as the light turned green.

  “Papa! Geez, show me later. That’s dangerous.”

  He snickered beside me and continued flipping through his photos, making small talk as we neared my neighborhood. “We’re very proud of him. He thinks a lot the way you do and gets angry when he doesn’t do well. I say, ‘You’re just like your uncle, Gio.’ I could never understand why you’d get so angry at yourself.”

  I knit my brow as I pulled into my driveway, unsure how to respond to that. When I finally opened my mouth, h
e patted my cheek and inclined his head toward the house. “Let’s go inside. Your mother wants to see you.”

  The house smelled amazing. Like the best parts of my childhood in aromatic form. The instant sense of déjà vu was strong enough that I did a double take, checking my reflection in the mirror in the entry before following my dad into the great room. This was my house, not my parents’ home. I was a grown man now, not a kid.

  I halted in the doorway and tried to make sense of the tranquil, domestic scene unfolding in my kitchen. My father grabbing a beer from the fridge. My mom and my lover, side-by-side at the island, surrounded by a mess of flour and eggs. There was a weird harmony here I didn’t trust. As I moved forward to greet them, I knew it was because there was something missing. Words left unsaid. Lies of omission to protect…what? A harmony based on complacency. And no one noticed but me.

  “Hello there, handsome,” Miles enthused in the campy tone he used to lighten awkward situations. Ironically, it was the same one that had made me wary around him until a few months ago when I realized it was just a defense mechanism, right up there with my own tendency to hide or fade into the background when things felt complicated.

  Fight or flight. Miles fought, I flew. But there was no flying now.

  “Hi.” I smiled at him then turned my focus to my mother who raced to greet me with her arms outstretched.

  She swayed as she chanted my name over and over. Then she pulled back to hold me at arm’s length. “My beautiful, beautiful boy.”

  I was glad she spoke Greek. She’d been calling me her “beautiful boy” since birth, and it never failed to embarrass me no matter how many people understood.

  “Hello, Mama.” My gaze traveled from her dimpled cheeks to the cross around her neck she’d worn for decades to—oh. Shit. I gulped and shot a panicked look at Miles who stood behind her with his lips pursed. No doubt to keep from bursting into laughter.

  “I’ve been teaching Miles to cook,” she said in a thick accent before turning back to the stove. “He’s a very good student.”

  “I’m sure he is,” I agreed as I clandestinely backed him into the corner by the sink.

  “I whisk eggs like nobody’s business,” Miles gushed with a wink.

  “I bet,” I replied before lowering my voice to an aggravated hiss. “What the hell is she wearing?”

  “Are you referring to the pearls or Tom of Finland apron?” he whispered conspiratorially.

  “It’s not funny, Mi. There are penises all over that thing!”

  He huffed in amusement. “Doing the nasty, no less. Relax. She has no idea. She thinks it’s a pretty toile print, and she insisted on wearing it because it’s the only one you own with color. And heads up, she loves my new pillows, but she’s not happy her knickknacks and rugs disappeared. You can blame it on me if you want, but wait until after dinner. I’m having too much fun.”

  I pinched his arm and scowled. “Just behave.”

  Miles fluttered his lashes in a show of faux innocence. “I always do. I’m on your side, honey. By the by, I haven’t had a chance to clean up in the bedroom. I put their suitcases in the master suite because she said that was where they go. I stripped the bed, but there’s a good chance my jock is still on the lampshade after you flung it this morning, and the lube is probably still out. I’m not sure about the butt plugs.”

  “Butt—oh, my God.” I raked my fingers through my hair and shot a harried glance over my shoulder to be sure my mom was occupied. She and my father were involved in their own hushed conversation at the island. No doubt that was something to worry about. One thing at a time, I cautioned myself.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll take care of everything now that you’re home to distract them. You can count on me, Gio.” He winked again before slinking out of my grasp and announcing that he had a quick phone call to make.

  I watched him move out of the room, wishing I could go too. But I couldn’t, and I had pressing things to deal with—like getting the porny apron off my mom before she or my father recognized the phallic theme. I pulled open a drawer and sifted through the contents, sighing with relief when I found one of her favorite multi-colored aprons she’d left here on a previous visit.

  “Mama, let me help you with this.” I yanked the string on the Tom of Finland apron and slipped it over her head before she could protest, immediately replacing it with hers. “All better. This one is…um. It belongs to a friend.”

  She swatted my hands away and tied the strings then inclined her head toward the dining table in the adjacent room. “Add another place setting for Miles. I think he’ll want to stay for dinner.”

  “He doesn’t need to stay,” my father said testily. “We’re going to be discussing business.”

  They shared a look that hinted at a private communication I wasn’t privy to. I might have asked what they were up to under normal circumstances, but I couldn’t think straight. I had too many balls in the air, and I wasn’t in control of any of them. Setting the table was as good a diversion as any, I mused. I opened the cupboard and retrieved an extra plate then moved to the table and froze.

  “There are already four places set. We don’t need this one.”

  “It’s for our guest. We want to meet your friend,” my father replied.

  “What friend? You met Miles and—what’s going on?” I frowned and cast a wary glance between my parents.

  My mom smiled kindly and handed me a piece of cookie dough. “Try this, Gio. It’s your favorite.”

  I took the dough automatically and waited for my dad to respond. Papa gave an uncharacteristically awkward shrug then opened his arms wide in a gesture that encompassed the kitchen and the table. Unbelievably, I knew what he meant. Food did a lot of communicating in my family. Depending on the circumstance, it could be used to soothe, comfort, celebrate, encourage, entice and sometimes even manipulate. Regardless of the occasion, any meal placed on the family table was served with love. In other words, I might not like what he was about to say, but I should know he had my best interest at heart.

  And there went my appetite.

  I set the wad of cookie dough on the island and crossed my arms. “Well?”

  “I thought he would have mentioned it himself but…I invited the artist to dinner. He’ll be here in thirty minutes,” my father announced.

  “The artist,” I repeated in bewilderment. “Painter? Designer? Writer? Madonna? Cher? Who did you—?”

  “Tom. Your friend. I know we’ll meet again tomorrow at dinner but that’s business and…we want to meet him as family. To welcome him.”

  “Welcome him to what?” I asked, swallowing around the bile in my throat.

  My father’s brow creased theatrically. “The family.”

  “Oh, Papa.” I closed my eyes and prayed I’d find the words and the will to navigate out of this one. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a business associate. I barely know the guy.”

  “But…Stockton invited him because you’re”—he made a circular motion with his hands before continuing—“together. Like a couple.”

  “No. He only thinks that because you suggested it was a good way to solidify the deal. But it isn’t true. Tom isn’t my lover. Geez, I’ve never even kissed him!”

  “You must be kissing someone. I saw…things,” he said cryptically.

  “What kind of things? What are you talking about?” I licked my lips and paced from the dining table to the island and back again. “Whatever it is, can you say it fast? I can’t even begin to tell you how uncomfortable this conversation is making me.”

  He widened his eyes comically. “How do you think I feel? And your mother? She found the underwear in the sofa, Gio. Do you have a girlfriend or…is it yours?”

  “No, I don’t have a girlfriend and no, it’s not mine. But it belongs to the person I’m really…seeing.”

  “ ‘Seeing’ means boyfriend, yes? So it must belong to the artist. Artists wear things like that. I think. I don’t know.” He scratched his he
ad and sighed in exasperation. “What grown man wears lace underwear?”

  “Guilty.” Miles entered the room with his hand in the air and his tote bag slung over his shoulder.

  My parents turned to him with matching looks of shock and disbelief. Then they glanced at me as if waiting for me to confirm or deny his claim. But of course, no one was talking about underwear anymore. Miles was the last to catch on and when he did, the flush of pink to his cheeks was instantaneous.

  The four of us stood in a surreal sort of standoff, unsure what to say or who should go first. Unfortunately, I had a feeling it was up to me to set things right. I just didn’t know how. The truth was complicated.

  “I don’t understand. Are you friends or…more than friends? This isn’t what you told us. Or what you told Stockton. We’re going to lose this deal and—”

  “Papa, calm down. We’re not going to lose the deal,” I said irritably.

  “Calm? How can I be calm? You lied. There’s no integrity in a liar. You can’t tell people one thing and do something else. This isn’t just your reputation on the line. It’s mine too. And your mother’s and your sisters and cousins. This is family. Family comes first, Gio. Family!”

  “You’re getting worked up about nothing.”

  My father threw his hands in the air incredulously. “How can you say this? We discussed this months ago. You are who you are and that’s okay. But you still have to make wise decisions. Is he even Greek?”

  I couldn’t say why that was the question that tipped me over the edge, but it did. I saw red. My brain felt too big for my skull, and my hands shook when I pointed my finger at him.

  “I don’t care if he’s Greek! And I didn’t lie. If I’m guilty of anything, it was letting you believe what you wanted to. But in my defense, that’s what you’ve always wanted. Who cares what the truth is if the lie is easier to swallow? Miles”—I gestured wildly at my flabbergasted lover then back at my father—“is important to me. He’s my—”

  “Roommate,” Miles intercepted. “We’re just roommates and friends. You have nothing to worry about. I’m not going to jeopardize your deal or get in anyone’s way. There’s no reason to be angry with each other. It’s my fault for not making that clear. That and the underwear. I was careless with my unmentionables, and for that I do apologize. I’m going to scoot out of the way now. You’re going to love the real boyfriend. He’s…nice. Enjoy your visit, Mr. and Mrs. Kostas. It was a pleasure meeting you.”