by DJ Jamison
No more father-son dinners. No more career security and guidance. No more home.
Avery was adrift…and Rory was really his only lifeline.
I should call Gil.
“Okay, Avery. We have some time. I’m choosing to believe you’re going to see this through, which means it’d be good for you to stay here.”
Avery nodded once. He’d made Rory a promise. He wanted to keep his word. And the futon had been less torturous than he’d expected. He could sleep on it for a few nights.
“Thanks,” he said, picking up a spring roll and crunching into it. “I appreciate it. Really.”
Rory studied him a minute. Just as Avery worried he might have sauce on his face, he said, “You know, I think you do. There might be hope for your privileged ass yet.”
It broke the lingering tension, and Avery laughed and acted mock offended. Rory turned on the television, and they finished dinner while watching old Office re-runs. Avery turned off his mind and let the oddball humor nudge him out of his dark mood.
Settling against the futon back, he let his thigh and shoulder press against Rory, warmed by their contact, thinking he could get used to this, and knowing it would never really be his.
The next morning, Avery went to work—after folding up the futon. That evening he brought home dinner, as promised—steak dinners he’d picked up at a restaurant for too much money, Rory was sure—and again watched Netflix with Rory, sitting close.
They repeated this cycle day after day. Both of them working. Taking turns picking up dinner or occasionally making a simple meal at home when Rory decided he couldn’t keep spending his cash on take-out.
Avery was laidback, making no demands on Rory. He hadn’t hit on him again. He was the perfect houseguest, picking up after himself, though his suitcase had to be reaching critical mass on dirty laundry. He was content to watch whatever Rory suggested and content to read or work on his laptop when Rory was busy.
He was just…content.
Except when Rory tried to bring up their situation. Which was beginning to concern Rory more and more. If Avery had decided to give up, then what did that mean for him? He’d already told Holly they were engaged. It was a matter of time before she told a friend, who told another friend, who posted something on social media. Even if she didn’t, Rory needed the fundraising help Avery had promised, and he really hadn’t earned it. He wouldn’t feel right taking it like this.
And then, of course, there was the matter of that legislation. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing, even if Avery could.
He needed help. Advice. Something to convince Avery this wasn’t the end of the road. As nice as it was having a handsome, surprisingly considerate roommate, he needed Avery to follow through on their plans.
So, he pulled out the big guns. He called Caleb Taylor.
“I need to inquire about booking a wedding?”
“Yes, of course, when were you—” There was a pause. Then, “Is this Rory?”
Rory laughed. “I can’t believe you recognized my voice!”
“We’ve been friends a long time,” Caleb said dryly. “Although, without the lectury tone, I almost didn’t catch it.”
He did not have a lectury tone. “Lectury is not a word.”
“Ah, yes, I hear it now,” Caleb teased him. “So, do you really need a wedding venue, or are you just pranking me out of boredom?”
“Can’t it be both?” Rory joked.
“Not unless you have a groom.”
“Yeah, I might,” Rory said. “If he doesn’t get cold feet on me, which is looking pretty likely right now. That’s why I called. I need your help.”
“You got engaged? For real?”
“No, Caleb. I got engaged, for fake. You might remember doing something similar once.”
There was a pause, then Rory flinched from the phone when Caleb bellowed, “Julien!! Come quick. Rory has LOST his mind!”
“What did you do, Avery?” Gil demanded when Avery met him at Brickhouse. He’d called earlier that day wanting explanations. Apparently, Avery’s dad had pulled him into his office at work and started asking questions about Avery’s personal life.
Avery paused in the act of unbuttoning his coat. “No ‘Hello?’ No, ‘How are you?’”
“Hello, how are you?” Gil said, humoring him. “I’m concerned about your mental health, since your father seems to believe you’re getting married to Rory Fisher!”
Avery took his seat. “You didn’t tell him…”
“That you proposed to your ex-boyfriend, embarrassing yourself in public, just to make him see he was wrong? No, Avery, I didn’t. You should give me more credit than that.”
“Right, sorry.” Gil only knew half of the story, the half where Avery was a drunken ass. Avery should have foreseen that his father might try to pump Gil for information. “What did you tell him?”
He threw up his hands. “I told him that I was uncomfortable talking about your personal life with him.”
“And he accepted that?”
“For now.” Gil narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s really going on? Because the night I was here, Rory said no. I checked your Facebook status, and I didn’t see any sign of a sudden fiancé, so is this just a big lie? Because that’s not—”
He was interrupted by the server arriving with two beers. Gil must have ordered for him while he waited for Avery to arrive. He’d had to drive in from Bell Harbor, so even though he left the bank early, Gil had beaten him to the pub.
“Will you two be eating tonight?” the server asked politely. He was a slender guy with auburn hair and a generous splash of freckles. Cute smile. Avery jerked his eyes away on instinct, then forced himself to look again. The redhead was watching him, a glimmer of interest in his eyes.
You can do this now, Avery reminded himself. You can look at a man. You’re not in the closet.
Rory’s face surfaced in his mind’s eye.
Okay, but just look. I do have a fiancé.
It didn’t matter that Rory felt nothing for him or that their engagement was a sham. Avery was in a relationship, and he couldn’t hook up with the waiter now, anymore than he could have before. Oddly enough, being constrained by monogamy—or at least the appearance of monogamy—didn’t make him feel panicky or smothered the way that hiding his sexuality did.
“No food,” Gil said.
Avery straightened. “Actually, yes. Bring a menu. I need to get something to go.” He swallowed. “For my fiancé.”
The waiter’s smile dimmed. “Of course.”
He backed away from the table, and Gil leveled Avery with a look. “Your fiancé? Surely Rory didn’t reconsider your asinine proposal.”
Avery felt a flash of offense. “Is that so impossible?”
Gil tilted his head, studying Avery for a minute. Then he shook his head. “Nothing’s impossible when it comes to the Kinkaid charm. Fuck’s sake, Avery, tell me you’re not stringing this poor guy along on a lie.”
“I’m not lying to him.”
Gil raised his eyebrows. “You’re really going to marry someone to spite your father?”
When he put it like that, it sounded bad. But Gil didn’t know the whole story. Taking a bracing swallow of beer, Avery proceeded to fill him in. It had crossed his mind that it was a risk, telling Gil his plan when he worked in Senator Kinkaid’s office. Avery’s father might have respected Gil’s wishes not to discuss Avery’s personal life this time, but he never gave up that easily.
But Gil was his most loyal friend. He’d never betray his trust, and Avery owed him an explanation.
The server had dropped off a menu, and while Gil processed Avery’s story—including the confrontation with his father and the disappointing results—Avery texted Rory to get his dinner order.
“Are you really going through with this?” Gil asked at last. “You know that it’s not going to change your dad’s view. But doing this…I mean, it’s crazy.”
Avery picked up his beer mug, onl
y to frown when he realized it was empty. The waiter approached. “Another?”
Avery decided against it, even though he’d like another drink. He had to drive home, er, to Rory’s place, and he hadn’t eaten yet. Instead, he placed the to-go order.
“Wow,” Gil said as the server walked away. “You really are buying dinner for Rory?”
“Yeah.” Avery could feel heat climbing his neck. He rubbed at his skin, trying to dissipate the feeling. “I’m staying with him.”
Gil’s eyes widened. “Staying, as in living with him?”
“Well, I couldn’t continue to live with my father.”
Gil bit his lip. “No, of course. That makes sense.” He sighed. “Avery, you know how I feel about you and your dad, and this fucked up closeting that’s been going on. But doing this…it might ruin your relationship for good.”
Gil wasn’t really saying anything he hadn’t thought about. He’d been on the verge of calling the whole thing off more than once. Rory had certainly given him opportunities to admit he wasn’t capable of seeing it through. But something always stopped him.
Learning that his dad tried to grill Gil—knowing he was looking for some leverage to force Avery to do what he wanted—made him angry all over again. His father could have called Avery at any time to ask more about his relationship, to attempt to mend fences. Instead he was questioning Gil, looking to manipulate the situation.
Like he always did.
“What relationship?” Avery said. “He controls me. He doesn’t care what I want or need. There is no relationship to ruin.”
“I’m sorry,” Gil said. “I didn’t mean to… You’re right. If your relationship is only on his terms, it’s not right. I just don’t know if this is the right way to handle the situation.”
Avery smiled grimly. “I know I could do this differently. I could gently come out, let the news report that Senator Kinkaid has a gay son, let my father spin the story to look like a supportive father. But then I’d be forced to play that part, to let everyone think my father supported me when he didn’t. And to continue to be ‘discreet,’ as defined by him. I’m tired of that role, Gil. I’d rather play a besotted fiancé to a man I respect than the dutiful son to a man who’s let me down.”
8
Rory waited for his moment, after hashing out a plan with Caleb. He didn’t want to give Avery too much time to stew over a decision, so for the next few days it was business as usual. They had breakfast together—coffee and toast for Rory; coffee and grapefruit for Avery—and they went to their respective jobs. At some point in each day, Rory texted Avery or Avery texted Rory to make dinner plans. They shared a meal, watched some Netflix, and went to bed.
Separately, of course.
Wednesday morning, over coffee and toast, Rory interrupted that routine to casually ask, “Can you knock off early today?”
Avery glanced up. “Probably. Why?”
Rory weighed how much to tell him. He wanted to take Avery to Bliss Island so he could speak with Caleb and Julien about what was needed to get this fake fiancé plan off the ground. But Avery was still dragging his feet, and Rory had avoided pushing him on the issue up till now. If Avery dug in, he might refuse to go.
“I’d like to go to Bliss Island,” Rory said. He decided to go with a half truth. “I’m close with Caleb. Haven’t seen him in a while. Plus, I think getting away and finding some peace of mind could be good.”
Avery’s eyebrow inched up. “Just peace of mind?”
Rory frowned. “No, of course not. We have a lot to talk about. And before you refuse, please hear me out. We can’t just—”
“I’ll go.”
Rory stopped midsentence. It took him a minute to process that Avery wasn’t making another excuse. “You will?”
Avery smiled. “Sure. I could use some fresh air.”
Rory sucked in a breath to tell him the trip wasn’t about fresh air before swallowing down the words. “Okay then.”
Whatever got Avery to Bliss Island was good by him. They’d talk to Caleb and Julien, and Avery would either find the strength to keep going or he’d realize he couldn’t. They could end the limbo they were living in.
His heart squeezed at the thought. If Avery noped out of their plan, it would be the end of everything. No more breakfast or dinner together; no more sitting close on the couch and watching television. Avery would pack up and move on, and Rory would have to deal with just how much he’d enjoyed not living alone. He still had Ricardo, at least. He’d have to call Holly and make sure she could check in on the cat while they were gone.
“What time should I be ready?” Avery asked.
Rory pushed aside uncomfortable revelations. “How about four? We’ll spend the night, so take off tomorrow too.”
Avery’s lips quirked. “I’ll clear the rest of the week. How’s that sound?”
“Must be nice to be your own boss.”
Avery chuckled. “That it is. But how is a workaholic like you managing this early weekend?”
Rory wrinkled his nose. “Not easily. I might have to go back to the office over the weekend to catch up.” At Avery’s concerned frown, he waved a hand. “It’ll be worth it. I could use a break.”
“Not sure it’s actually a break if you make up the hours, Ror.”
Rory ducked his head, laughing lightly. He was embarrassed to be so effectively called out. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’ll still be worth it.”
“Okay, then. It’s a plan.”
“Pack something nice,” Rory said, “in addition to casual clothes. Just in case they have an event under way.”
Avery nodded, picking up his plate to rinse it in the sink. “Good idea.”
Rory knew for a fact there was not an event until Saturday—and they’d probably leave before then—but if Avery agreed, Julien was a wedding photographer, and there was no better setting for engagement photos.
Rory bit his lip, watching Avery gather his things to leave.
Am I getting in too deep already? Why do I want him to agree so badly?
It was for the Equal Justice League. His clients. His job.
Nothing else, he reminded himself. This is just business.
Avery took a deep breath of salty air and released it. Then another. Ahead of them, the shoreline of Bliss Island neared. It looked much like any other small New England island, with a rocky shoreline, a small strip of beach, and land thick with evergreens. Maine was known as the Pine Tree State for a reason.
Inhale. Exhale.
He was nervous, but it was anticipation, not fear. He’d known after his conversation with Gil that he couldn’t just step down and let his father have his way again. He’d taken a stand, and he’d been kicked down. He’d felt defeated. But the battle wasn’t over. Like he’d told Gil, there was no relationship to lose if control and manipulation were the only things between him and his father.
Avery had lost his home, and the day might yet come that he would lose his job if his father got angry enough, but he could handle that.
The man beside him, though? He wasn’t so sure he could handle disappointing him.
Rory stood in a long wool coat, chin tucked down into his collar to shelter from the cold. His hair streamed behind him, the wind whipping it around enough that Avery had to duck away more than once to avoid a slap to the face. Even bundled up and near to freezing, Rory was so beautiful he made Avery’s heart ache.
He’d thought he missed the Rory from boarding school. The challenging know-it-all with lips that gave Avery all the wrong ideas. Whether he was smiling or sneering, Avery had wanted him. But that boy had nothing on this Rory. This grown man who knew himself, knew the world he wanted to live in, and fought to make that world a reality.
He admired Rory so fucking much. He was brave in a way Avery never had been. He wanted to find even an ounce of that bravery inside himself. Until he could, he knew he could count on Rory.
Avery might have the broader shoulders, but Rory was the s
trong one. Avery shivered, but not from the cold. Thinking about Rory’s strength, he wondered, What would he be like in bed?
Which was a ridiculous thought because he knew, didn’t he? He’d exchanged hot make-out sessions with Rory, he’d touched his cock, sucked it, tasted his cum. He might have been closeted, but he hadn’t been in denial.
But that Rory wasn’t this Rory. Surely he’d changed and evolved over the years. Avery definitely wasn’t the same. He’d been hiding a part of himself even then. He’d played a role—the popular jock, the masculine guy who gave as good as he got. No, what he really wanted to know was, how would he be in bed with Rory if he dared to let down those carefully built shields.
He fidgeted, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts. Rory wasn’t likely to tumble into bed with him now. Avery had his chance when he was too young to know how precious it was.
“You okay?” Rory asked. “Seasick?”
Avery took a deep breath of salty air and shook away the thoughts. He straightened his posture, squared his shoulders. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Put on a performance. You don’t have to stand tall and stoic. If you feel sick, it’s okay to show it.”
“I don’t feel sick.”
“Avery—”
“I don’t,” he repeated. “I’m just nervous.”
And regretful. But no need to tell him that.
Rory smiled tentatively, laying a hand on Avery’s arm. “We’re here to talk it out, but I’m not going to force your hand.”
“I promised you a gala.”
Rory nodded. “You did, and you’ll deliver.” Uncertainty leaked into his tone “We agreed no matter what happened, you’d follow through on that.”
“I will.” Avery moistened his lips. “But that legislation is still out there.”
“It is.”
The water taxi drew up to the pier. Rory was quiet, letting Avery think as the boat came into dock.