by DJ Jamison
The week following Christmas, Avery had softened his wardrobe, though he had limited options with him, with a few colorful items. He’d worn the scarf almost every day, and several times when Rory glanced at him, he saw him fingering the soft material. Just before they left, Rory’s mother pulled them both aside, kissing each of them on the cheek.
“You two are good together,” she’d told them earnestly. “But relationships are hard work. Remember that you’re a team, partners. You’re on the same side. Treat each other kindly.”
“We will,” Rory said hastily, wanting to spare Avery anymore parental lecturing.
“Thank you, Katie,” Avery said. “You guys have been great. This week with your family has been really special. It reminded me of what family is supposed to look like.”
Avery had texted his father on Christmas Day, but when he’d returned, he’d looked unhappy. Later, he told Rory that his dad had exchanged a quick “Merry Christmas” with him before saying he had to head out to the slopes. He knew Avery had hoped that with his father agreeing to his terms about pulling the legislation that he might come around on a more personal level. Their relationship hadn’t been great, but Rory got the impression that Avery’s father had been a strong presence in his life. Now, he must feel as if there was a gaping void. Rory only hoped he and his family had helped fill it.
“You’re so sweet, Avery. We all love you,” she said. “I know that you’re not having the easiest time with your father. And chances are, there will be other people in your life that don’t accept you for who you are.”
Avery looked down, nodding. His shoulders hunched a bit.
Rory glared at his mother, but she ignored him entirely.
She grabbed Avery’s chin, tipping it up. “You keep your head held high, you hear me?” she said. “When I moved here and married Tyrone, there were plenty of people around here who disapproved of a white woman marrying into a black family. They mostly glared from a distance, muttered under their breath, and occasionally tossed a rude comment our way. But I wasn’t ever going to let that stop me from having the family I loved. Now, I know it’s different for you. But don’t give up the things you love: yourself, my Rory, or the life you deserve. All right?”
Avery blinked hard, his voice choked when he said, “All right.”
He hugged Rory’s mom tight, and Rory felt his own eyes burn as he watched Avery find the kind of love and acceptance he should have had from his own father. It wasn’t the same, perhaps, but Rory was more than happy to lend his mother to Avery anytime he needed her.
After exchanging one more goodbye, hugging the girls, and shaking hands with Tyrone, they returned to their car and headed home.
Like Bliss Island, this Vermont farm had been an escape from their daily life. A little safe bubble for Avery to be himself. Rory only hoped that, this time, Avery would see it wasn’t a geographical location, but Rory, who offered him a safe place to be himself.
Life went back to normal, more or less.
Avery went to work at the bank, and since his attire was business suits there, it wasn’t much different from before. He had no plans to challenge the corporate culture. But when he came home, it was another story. He slipped into something more comfortable. Sometimes that meant a fuzzy, off-the-shoulder sweater, and sometimes that meant a gauzy robe and lip gloss. For the first time in his life, Avery felt free to express whatever mood struck him.
Rory was incredibly supportive. Avery was worried he’d feel pressured to dress a certain way—that he might go from one person who wouldn’t approve of his desire to occasionally wear more feminine things to a person who expected him to always want him to put himself out there—but that hadn’t happened. One day after work, he’d changed into boxers and a T-shirt, in the mood to veg with a pizza and not think about anything, and Rory had accepted that without question.
Avery checked in with his father in mid-January, only to hear he was still working on converting a few supporters away from the bill. The holidays had delayed him, and many of the legislators traveled, so it was believable enough, but he also couldn’t forget Rory’s skepticism that Avery’s father would be true to his word.
His father was nothing if not politically motivated, however. Avery had cornered his dad with a threat to his reputation. He had good reason to comply. So, Avery turned his attention to gala planning. The Kinkaid Foundation and Rory were working together to line up caterers and entertainment—Caleb had thankfully come through with a venue thanks to a wedding cancellation—so Avery applied himself to marketing and networking to increase their ticket sales beyond the invitations that went out to the Foundation donors.
It required Avery to don a familiar mask: that of wealthy, successful businessman. It involved a lot of bullshitting about the size of his car engine, yacht, portfolio; it really didn’t matter what, it was all a dick measuring contest. Avery had to prove his dick was big enough to suck, essentially.
Never before had the mask felt so uncomfortable, though. Avery had gotten used to being himself more often, and swaggering around talking about cars and sports and other acceptable, masculine interests exhausted him. Even though he wasn’t closeted anymore, most of these guys didn’t know he was gay—or pretended not to know—and Avery humored them.
For the sake of the gala. For the sake of Rory.
But he’d no longer do it for the sake of his father or the sake of business. He was through with the charade. The warmth that he’d found in the Lewis household had gone a long way to helping Avery look at himself without shame. For the first time, he’d felt acceptance, not just from a lover—though that was a first too—but from a family.
Katie had kept in touch, texting him to check in and sharing tidbits about Tyrone and the girls, and Avery was smitten. He was in love in Rory, without a doubt. And he was in awe of Rory’s family.
For a long time, whenever Avery tried to picture his future, he couldn’t imagine a life where he was himself and he had a family. It was like a big blank spot. But now, thanks to Rory’s family, he could see a different picture forming: a warm, loving life with a husband, a family to spend the holidays with, maybe even one day a child of his own.
The weeks went by, only solidifying the image in Avery’s mind, until it was February and he’d still had no news from his father.
Worry niggled at the edges of Avery’s mind, but he pushed it down. He’d gotten so good at suppressing things. What was one more? He felt like acknowledging the worry would only give it power, so he focused on Rory, and the gala, and his newfound happiness.
And that beautiful picture of the life he wanted, the life that was nearly within his grasp.
Rory spent a hectic day meeting with clients, then took another call from his boss regarding their fundraising goals. He’d mostly assured Carol that the gala would be the answer to all their prayers, but now the woman was endlessly interested in the planning process. She also hadn’t failed to see the news stories about his engagement to Avery or the fact that the Kinkaid Foundation was bankrolling the event, and she’d assured him she was watching the proceedings with a close eye.
Rory knew that Carol was only concerned about the Equal Justice League’s reputation. If the gala went off without a hitch, she wouldn’t care one bit that Rory had managed it because of his fiancé. But if someone were to find out the truth about them…
But what was the truth, anyway? Their engagement was a sham, a political tool. But their relationship was very much real. Rory felt the love between them growing stronger and steadier every day. Since they’d returned from Christmas, it had taken on new levels of intimacy and trust.
But the lack of news about Avery’s father and the legislation was making Rory uneasy. He’d tried not to push Avery too much. He knew that Avery’s feelings about his father were complicated. He didn’t always expect much from the man, but he endlessly hoped for better. Rory hated to be the asshole who told him his hope was misplaced. But as January drifted into February withou
t any changes, Rory knew he had to confront the issue.
That evening, he picked up Italian on the way home, making sure to order the brisket Bolognese that Avery loved and enough breadsticks to increase Rory’s ass by two sizes. Not that it would hurt. He envied Avery’s peach of a butt. Rory was all narrow hips and narrow rear. Thankfully, Avery seemed to like his looks well enough. Rory still marveled that such a beautiful man could look at him with so much desire, but chemistry had never been their problem.
Avery’s father: he had always stood between them.
Rory could only hope that one day they could exorcise his spirit from their relationship entirely. But it wouldn’t be tonight. Tonight, Rory had to make Avery face his demons.
He arrived home first and plated their meals, opening a bottle of wine to serve with it. Avery preferred whiskey when he set out to get drunk, but he didn’t mind a glass of wine with a meal, Rory had discovered. Which was good because that was the only thing he stocked in the house. He had a feeling before the night was over, they’d both need a little alcohol to soothe their frayed nerves.
Avery arrived while he was placing the plates on the breakfast bar. Rory’s little house had no dining room, and though they often ate on the futon while watching TV, he wanted Avery’s full attention this evening.
“Hey, let me get changed and I’ll join you,” Avery said, smacking a quick kiss to Rory’s lips. He was already loosening his tie as he headed to toward the bedroom, talking as he went. “I cannot tell you how sick I am of this schmoozing bullshit. Fucking exhausting!”
Rory heard the sound of dresser drawers opening and closing and wondered what Avery would change into. It had become a fun game with himself to try to guess based on Avery’s mood. He seemed frazzled but content tonight, so Rory guessed he might just dress down to boxers and call it a day, but when he came out, he dispelled that theory. Avery had thrown on his pretty, gauzy gown over silky briefs.
He approached Rory, kissing him deeply. “Hope you don’t mind if I eat half naked,” he teased. “I have plans for dessert.”
Rory swallowed hard, affected as he always was by Avery’s beautiful, strong body draped in delicate fabric. It was going to be even harder to say what needed to be said. Perhaps it could wait until after the mind-blowing sex? But no. Rory would be floating on an orgasm high, and he wouldn’t want to ruin it.
Another day would pass, then another. He’d let too much time slip past as it was.
“We need to talk,” Rory said.
Avery’s cheeky smile dimmed. “Oh.” He pulled his robe closed over his chest, crossing his arms. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”
“No, of course not.” Rory pushed Avery’s arms down, opening his robe, and placing a hand over his heart. “You know I love you.”
“Should I change?”
Rory hesitated, but he shook his head. He didn’t want Avery to feel naked during this conversation, but he also didn’t want to give him any reason to think Rory couldn’t take him seriously no matter what he chose to wear.
“Sit down. Let’s eat.”
Avery took a seat on the stool beside him, picking up his wineglass for a sip. He watched Rory warily, as if waiting for a bomb to drop. Rory figured he might as well get on with it. The suspense had built more than enough.
“It’s February,” he said. “The gala is next month. The Kinkaid Foundation has come through on that with flying colors, so thank you.”
Avery nodded. “I did promise.”
Rory placed a hand on Avery’s leg, feeling the tightness of his muscles. “Everything has come together beautifully.”
“But?” Avery said tensely.
“I think you know,” he said as gently as he could. “Your father.”
Avery tipped back his wineglass, downing the rest of it in two big swallows, then attacked his Bolognese. Rory let him stall. If he needed a few minutes to decide how to respond, he could at least give him that much.
“He assured me he was working on it,” Avery said after a few bites.
Rory sighed. “I know you want to believe that—”
“And you don’t?” Avery said sharply.
Rory squeezed his leg gently. “No, of course I want to believe it. But too much time has gone by, Avery. He’s had more than a month. I’m worried he’s just stringing you along. And if he is, we’re losing the time we need to raise awareness and get the news out about it. You know?”
Avery picked up the wine bottle, refilling his glass. That didn’t seem like a great sign.
“I know,” he said quietly. “You’ve always had your doubts about this, about my ability to convince him.”
“This is not about my faith in you.” Avery picked up his wineglass, but Rory placed a hand over his to stop him. “Please, just…look at me.”
Avery set the glass down with a clunk, turning a pained expression on him that made Rory’s heart ache. Rory met his eyes, even though it was hard as hell. “I think you’ve given your father every chance to make this right. I think you gave him a lot of slack, Avery. But at some point, you have to make him show his hand. Otherwise…”
“You think he’s bluffing.” Avery blew out a sigh. “I could call him again, but what good would that do? If he’s deceiving me, he’ll only lie again.”
“Do you have any other contacts in the capitol?” Rory asked.
Avery faltered. “Yes. I don’t know why I didn’t consider it before.” He looked down at his plate, pushing the food around. “I guess I wanted to believe my father wouldn’t let me down again. Stupid, right?”
“No.” Rory tried to keep his voice gentle. “No, of course it’s not stupid. You want to believe in him. He’s your father. It’s not stupid at all.”
Avery met his gaze, but Rory could see the mask sliding into place. How he hated that mask of Avery’s. It was as if all the progress he’d made to be his true self was slipping away. But maybe he needed that mask to deal with his father, to protect his heart. Rory couldn’t judge him for that.
“I’ll call Gil after dinner. He’ll tell me the truth.”
“Your friend from the pub?”
Avery nodded once. “He works in my father’s office. He…he’ll know what my father’s been doing.”
Rory’s mind reeled when he realized that Avery’s close friend who’d witnessed that calamitous proposal worked so closely to the senator. Did he know the truth of their engagement? From what he’d witnessed that night it would have seemed odd they were suddenly engaged at the very least.
He couldn’t question Avery about it now. He had enough to deal with. Rory only hoped it didn’t come back to haunt them.
Avery pulled his robe tighter across his body, wishing he was wearing something more shielding. He felt naked when he called Gil to check in about his father. Part of him already knew what Gil would say, but the tiny, weak, childish part of him couldn’t extinguish the hope that his father was trying. Rory could be wrong.
But he’s never been wrong yet. About anything. How annoying.
Avery left the half-eaten pasta and Rory at the breakfast bar, walking back into the bedroom. He couldn’t do this with Rory watching his face.
He scrolled through his call list, hesitating when he reached the entry labeled Dad. He wanted to give him one last chance to come clean.
The phone rang twice, three times, four. “Come on,” he muttered.
He hung up and called again, and finally his father, sounding harassed, answered, “What’s wrong, Avery?”
Avery tugged the robe a little tighter. Maybe he should have changed into different clothing. He always felt as if his father would know by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t the son he was supposed to be.
Resisting the urge to climb into bed and hide under the covers, Avery forced his grip to relax and let the robe fall open. He took a careful breath.
“Are you actually working on killing that bill?”
There was a beat of silence. A beat too long. Drake Kinkaid was
nothing if not quick on his feet. “I said I was.”
“It’s February.”
“You know the statehouse. We don’t move at the speed of light, or even medium traffic. I’m working on it, Avery. You just have to trust me.”
Avery felt himself nod agreement, then rolled his eyes at himself. Was he really going to give in that easily? Drake Kinkaid says jump, and Avery’s internal little boy says, How high?
“I don’t trust you, though.”
For a moment, Avery couldn’t believe the words that slipped out of his mouth.
“Excuse me?” His father sounded angry now.
“Why would I trust you?” Avery asked. “You’ve lied to me for years.”
Oh, God. It was like he couldn’t stop. The gates were open. The day he was in his father’s office, he’d felt so empowered speaking up for himself. But it’d been guarded, strategic. Today, it was like word vomit. “You’ve made me feel like I can’t be myself. For so long, I’ve tried to fight it.”
“I have no idea what you mean, Avery. You told me you were gay, and I was fine with it. Christ. What do you people expect?”
You people? Was that what he was to his father?
He could try to explain to his dad that he’d known Avery was gay, but he’d never let him be gay. He had to pretend, be discreet. But it would be a wasted effort. Swallowing hard, he let his father’s words fly by.
“Just tell me the truth. About the legislation.”
“I’m working on it,” his father growled. “You’ll just have to be more patient.”
He hung up without a goodbye, and Avery felt his heart contract painfully in his chest. He didn’t trust him. What he’d said was true. His father was the king of stringing him along. Avery had thought it was different because this time he had political leverage. But what if his dad was only keeping him in check long enough to do what he wanted? Like he’d done a million times before?
Avery always asked for permission. Can I come out, will you accept my fiancé, will you please change this legislation? Doing that interview with Mal was the first time he’d acted without running it by his father first. Maybe Drake Kinkaid was taking it for granted that with a dangling carrot, Avery wouldn’t act again. That he could manipulate him until it was too late to be newsworthy. Whatever the case, he was wrong.