Forever & Ever

by Tere Michaels

  “She has to make her own mistakes. Or maybe, just maybe, she knows herself and knows this is the right choice.”

  “And if Caro came home—” Jim started to say.

  Griffin held up his hand. “If Caroline comes home with police academy brochures, you are more than welcome to bring up this moment. But until then, you can’t use hypotheticals to get yourself out of this. She’s an adult. You and Evan raised her—do you doubt she’s capable of making important decisions? Could you just slow down and let her live her life?”

  Matt turned to Jim, waving his phone in his face. “I recorded it. You know, for future reference.”

  And that’s when Matt found himself buying Jim, Griffin, and Caro dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town.

  He was sorry to miss Danny. They exchanged a flurry of texts throughout the evening, partially about the Yankees’ opening-day center fielder and a bit about school. The talked to Dad about Elizabeth. Have fun with that made Matt wish he could have a beer or six with dinner.

  Settling for one out of the fridge, Matt sat on the couch, SportsCenter volume low.

  Non-black-and-white ethical dilemmas were not Matt’s forte. So far everyone presented logical counterarguments to whatever fears kicked around his gut. He might even give the same advice if it wasn’t his kid.

  For some reason he harkened back to Katie’s wedding and all his fears and concerns, Katie’s worries she wouldn’t be a good stepmother when anyone with a brain knew she would be.

  Except Katie.

  Matt took a long swig of beer.

  Undertaking (step)parenting proved to be the biggest challenge of his life. Unprepared and unsuited, Matt bumbled about, trying to forget the lessons of his childhood, which hadn’t prepared him for fatherhood. Or giving and receiving love. Hell, Evan’s childhood was shit too. And yet four incredible adults had come out of their home with their heads screwed on straight.

  “Goddamn it,” he muttered. He hated when Griffin was right.

  “Matt?”

  The stairs creaked as Evan walked down. He sounded too awake to have just woken up, which meant they were avoiding sleep together.

  “Hey, sorry about that. Was the TV too loud?”

  “No, couldn’t sleep.”

  Matt waved the beer around. “Just sayin’.”

  “Nah.” Evan sat next to Matt, leaning against him with a sigh. “How was dinner?”

  “Expensive.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Eh. Griffin turned out to be right about stuff, so you know, there will be no living that down.”

  “We’ll babysit for a weekend and all will be forgiven.”

  They sat in silence, sharing warmth and contemplation as Matt felt himself relax.

  “Danny and I talked about Elizabeth,” Evan said finally. “He had some good points.”

  “So did Jim. And Griffin. Caro has no opinion on the matter, just for the record.”

  Evan chuckled. “I envy her ability to remain neutral.”

  “Which we can’t do.”

  “No. I think we have to share our feelings, but in the end….”

  “It’s up to her.”

  They sighed in unison.

  A MONTH later they moved her out of the dorm at Stony Brook so she could spend the summer at home. St. John’s had another week, so this delightful chore would be repeated in seven steamy days for Danny.

  Evan stacked another bin of linens into Matt’s arms, then turned him toward the door. They were down toward the end, only a few more bins and boxes of books to load into the car. Elizabeth darted in and out, taking something to the car, then being distracted by friends who wanted to say goodbye.

  The line of girls and guys who poked their head into the room stayed steady for the entire two hours they were there.

  “Sorry!” Elizabeth called, over and over, before disappearing into the hallway for hugs and squeals.

  Her voice carried into the room, full of excited chatter and laughter.

  “See you soon!”

  “Carrie’s party—no, definitely!”

  “Oh my God, have fun in Barbados!”

  And on and on.

  Matt came back, red-faced and sweating. “Is Princess Popular going to grace us with her presence?”

  “I feel like this is Katie 2.0,” Evan mused, unplugging the floor lamp near the desk. “Remember? I didn’t think we’d get out of there without twenty kids hanging on to the back bumper.”

  “She had like four friends in high school,” Matt said, sitting down on the edge of the narrow bed.

  “Yeah.”

  Elizabeth bounded into the room, long hair swinging. “I’m sorry, I swear, that’s it. I’ll help you finish,” she said, giggling as she threw herself on the bed next to Matt. “We’re going to see each other in, like, a week, I don’t know what the issue is.”

  Evan blinked and blinked, as if his vision was clearing and he could see Elizabeth for the first time.

  “They’re going to miss you,” Matt said as Evan floundered. “We, on the other hand, will quickly grow tired of your niceness and cleanliness.”

  “I’m going to start leaving my laundry on the floor!”

  Matt stared at her. She stared back. Then they both started to laugh.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You’d need to tranquilize me.” Elizabeth knocked shoulders with Matt. “Oh hey, you know who called me the other day? Uncle Jim!”

  “Oh really?” Matt asked, suspiciously casual.

  “Yeah. He had some really great advice for stuff I could study next year to prepare for the academy. And he told me to email his friend Terry, who does Crisis Management, which totally sounds so interesting.”

  Matt and Evan shared a look.

  “That’s fantastic,” Evan said finally, busying his hands as he picked up the lamp. “I’m really proud of all the work you’re doing, you know. Figuring out what you want.”

  Elizabeth’s smile beamed brightly. “It’s a lot of information, but I figure I have you and Matt and Jim and Helena to give me good advice.”

  “Always.” Evan started to walk the lamp out of the room but paused to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Whatever you need, you just ask. We’ve got your back.”

  “Well, I need to get all my stuff into the car so we can get home.”

  Matt nudged her shoulder. “Hot date?” he teased.

  Then Elizabeth flushed a shade of red Evan had never seen before, and the world tilted again.

  6: Decisions, Decisions

  EVAN’S CELL phone rang at six thirty in the morning, as he was pouring coffee into his travel mug. Having two pregnant daughters and two kids living away at college—not to mention a traveling husband—meant that thing was never more than six inches from his hand.

  But it was none of those people. The number was Helena’s.

  “Hey, good morning. What’s up?” he asked his former partner as he screwed the top of the mug on with his other hand.

  Evan had known Helena for going on fifteen years. Her uneven breathing scared the living crap out of him.

  “What?”

  “Vic had a stroke. I’m in a car to the airport. My mom is freaking out,” she said in a rush. “I already called the office—”

  “If they have any questions, they can call me,” he said firmly. His stomach roiled with tension. “What do you need?” Their old captain was a special person in both their lives—but he was also her stepfather.

  “I… I don’t know. I’m just—I’ll know more when I get down there and talk to the doctors. Mom isn’t….” She sighed. “You know Mom.”

  He felt her burden as an only child used to being the adult, and purposely made his voice as soothing as possible. “She’s scared and upset. I’m sure once you get down there—”

  “I’ll take over and it’ll be fine,” Helena cut him off, her tone weary. “Just—can you keep an eye on Shane? He wanted to come with me, but they have to get these rewrites
done or the whole schedule is fucked.”

  “Soon as I’m off the phone with you I’ll call Matt. Putting my very best man on it.”

  “Thanks.” She laughed halfheartedly. “Just—thanks. Soon as I know something more.”

  “Call when you can or when you need something. If I can manage it from my phone, it’ll be done.”

  “Thanks.”

  He chose his next words to be carefully gentle. Helena didn’t like being handled. “And if you need me on a plane, just ask.”

  “Only if… you know. I’ll call,” she said again. The noise in the background got louder. “We’re at the terminal. I’m going to go.”

  “Okay. Be safe.”

  Her thank-you was lost in the flurry of speaking to the driver and opening the door. Evan disconnected the call, a heavy weight in his stomach.

  After Sherri died, Vic and Helena in particular kept him alive and afloat until he found his footing again. Until he met Matt. And after that, when he was stupid and reactionary and wrong, they stood by him. Kicked him in the ass as appropriate. Fed him. Fed his kids. Vic’s compassion and his quiet acceptance of Evan and Matt as a couple were invaluable.

  His gratitude felt inadequate.

  Evan didn’t know his father, and he’d never had a quality relationship with his late mother. His in-laws were both dead, and his interactions with them after Sherri died had been contentious at best. Vic was at once friend and father figure, a guiding hand offering wisdom and advice, correcting him when Evan’s stubbornness bred more panic.

  How many nights had he sat in Vic’s office, distraught and sure his life was over? A decade later, he couldn’t have predicted how his life would reinvent itself again.

  Evan finished his morning tasks, heading out the door a few minutes later than usual. He sent a message ahead to his second-in-command, then dictated an email about Helena’s family emergency to the chief’s office.

  As he eased into the bridge traffic, he ordered his phone to call Matt, hoping he was awake.

  “Live from New Orleans” were Matt’s first words, gravelly and grumpy as he was first thing in the morning. “Is this about babies?”

  “No. Helena called me this morning—Vic had a stroke.”

  Evan heard the change in Matt’s demeanor through the line. “Shit. Shit.”

  “She’s on her way to Florida. Soon as she gets there we’ll have an update.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Goddammit.”

  Evan let Matt process it. Last year his former partner and their sweet best man, Abe Klein, passed from cancer, and Matt took it very badly. With Katie and Miranda being pregnant and the younger two away at school, it upped his protectiveness off the charts.

  “She wants us to keep an eye on Shane.”

  “He didn’t go—oh right. I don’t even fucking know what rewrites are, but I am completely aware of their schedule at this point.”

  “Can you let Jim know?”

  “Yeah. We’ve got breakfast with the clients at eight thirty. He’s at the gym now because he’s insane,” Matt grumbled. “You want me to call Shane?”

  A smile played on Evan’s lips. He was glad Matt couldn’t see him. “Would you mind?”

  “No problem. And I’ll text Griffin a heads-up so he knows what he’s walking into.” Evan heard the covers and pillows scattering off the bed. Matt was a tornado in the morning. “Probably should let Daisy and Bennett know…. I’ll do that too.”

  “Thanks. Don’t want to bug you while you’re out on business, but you’re better at this stuff.”

  “Sending texts? Oh wow, I’m blushing.” A pillow hit the wall.

  “Tip the maid extra,” Evan said as he moved forward another inch in the traffic. He knew what that room looked like, and it wasn’t pretty.

  “I always do.” Matt yawned loudly. “Unless you want to take this call into the john and ruin all sexy illusions.”

  “Too late. Bye.”

  MATT WAS only five minutes late to the meeting, which meant he was fifteen minutes early. Jim’s military clock—set permanently at uptight—kept them on schedule and made everyone else apologize when they arrived, which made them spend more on security.

  Something psychological at work, clearly.

  “Griffin’s leaving early so he can pick Shane up on the way to the office” was how Jim greeted him at their table in the hotel restaurant. Somewhere out there in New Orleans there existed delicious wonderfulness, but here they were, doing the hotel breakfast buffet for twenty-five bucks.

  “Thanks for taking care of that. Shane sounded like shit when I talked to him.”

  “Doubt they’ll get any work done today—he should have just gone.” Jim unfolded the white napkin and dropped it into his lap. Sometimes his rich-boy fancy-pants manners came out, making Matt feel like a slobbering caveman. Not that he did anything to change it.

  “Then he would feel guilty because of the rewrites.” Matt air quoted the last word as he sat down. The latest project for Griffin and Shane, for Bennett’s production company, was hush-hush, not that Matt pushed too hard for details. It was a play he’d be forced to see and probably not understand, just like all the others.

  A server dropped by with coffee for Matt and a large ice water for Jim; his name tag said Trevor, and he had a smooth demeanor that Matt felt guaranteed that unobtrusive refills throughout the meeting would be swift.

  Matt poured two sugars into his coffee, because Evan wasn’t here, and risked a glare from Jim…

  Who wasn’t paying attention as he emptied five pills, in various sizes, out of a tiny pill holder into his palm.

  “Vitamins?” Matt asked casually, even as he knew that wasn’t what they were.

  “No.” Jim tossed the pills into his mouth, then drank half the glass of water.

  “You going to tell me what they’re for?” Matt’s chest tightened.

  “No.” Jim’s steel-blue gaze pinned him into place. A wordless moment passed over them, two stubborn men facing off until Jim’s gaze fell away. “Later, okay?”

  Before Matt could protest, Trevor the server was bringing their clients to the table, and business took over.

  EVAN KEPT his phone muted but in his line of vision for the entire day.

  He considering calling Helena during lunch but refrained, even as his finger hovered over her number. She was probably still traveling, in a car speeding toward the hospital somewhere in Orlando. Maybe traffic, maybe delays. Evan’s chest felt tight, his hands twitching every second they didn’t hold a pen or cup of coffee. Even after all this time, the memory of rushing to Sherri’s side came back in vivid color.

  The twin distractions—potentially losing Vic and, oh God, the guilt for not visiting, and worrying about Helena—kept him off-balance all day. He fielded a dozen calls from One Police Plaza about a fundraising event they wanted to trot him out for, but he kept putting them off with a growing sense of annoyance.

  Yes, he was the first out police captain in the city, but he was no longer the only one. His old friend Chris had taken over a precinct on the Upper West Side, and Norman Bell—black and gay, “PR Bingo,” he would say dryly—was downtown. They’d moved past this, right? Taken pictures of him and Chris and Norman at a “summit” with the chief and the mayor, discussing both sides of the aisle. LGBT officers. LGBT community policing. Things that mattered.

  And with every snap of a camera, every comment or line in an article, Evan felt a cringe of guilt.

  The road Chris and Norman took to get their captainships was infinitely more difficult than Evan’s. They fought being out and gay on the force, discrimination at every turn, fellow officers and perps alike throwing hate in their direction. They’d earned these positions.

  Evan had just fit a scripted package they needed as a placeholder.

  His office phone buzzed, pulling him out of his inner monologue.

  “Captain Callas for Captain Cerelli.” Chris’s thick Queens accent
came through the line, as if he’d summoned her.

  “Weird. I was just dodging the mayor’s office. Are you calling to make me go to this stupid reception?”

  “God, no. Montgomery has a chest cold, so I gave him ten bucks to breathe on me. Maybe I can get pneumonia and they’ll give me a pass.” She cracked up at her own joke. “Those grandkids born yet?”

  “No, we’re a few weeks out.”

  “If at least one of them can time it to around the shindig, you might be able to skip it.”

  “Your mouth, God’s in-box.” Evan switched ears, fiddling with a pencil to divert some of his pent-up anxiety. “What can I do for you, Chris?”

  “The grapevine got ahold of the news about Vic. Just wanted to check and see if you had updates.”

  “No, no word yet.” He checked his phone just to make sure. “Helena’ll call me when she can.”

  Chris gave a heavy sigh. “I hope he pulls through. Good guy.”

  “The best.”

  “When you talk to H, give her my love. She needs anything, you give me a call.”

  “I will, Chris. Thank you.”

  They chatted a bit more about the reception they both wanted to skip, the new crime stats, and a neighborhood initiative with some good ideas and about half the funding it needed.

  “I swear, Evan, sometimes retirement can’t come soon enough,” Chris said before they said their goodbyes and hung up.

  The comment hovered in the back of his mind for the rest of the morning.

  HELENA DIDN’T call until almost five, but the lining of Evan’s stomach remained mostly intact thanks to a text from Shane.

  Vic’s stable. They were waiting on test results. Serena was medicated thanks to Helena’s persuasive personality. She’ll call when they get back to the town house.

  When his phone went off, Evan was just wrapping up a meeting with the second shift, discussing open cases and the potential problems a local hotel strike might cause. Picketers, tourists, and theatergoers were a bad combination when it came to shared sidewalks. Seeing it was Helena, he finished his thought, then waved them out of the office.