Forever & Ever

by Tere Michaels

  “Close the door,” he said to his assistant, pressing the green dot on his phone to connect the call. He’d deal with everyone thinking he was an abrupt asshole later.

  “Hey, how are you holding up?” he asked gently.

  “Thank God for Xanax,” Helena muttered. He heard a rustle of clothing. “Vic is sleeping. So far so good. They’ll evaluate him again in the morning.”

  Evan felt light-headed in relief. “That’s great to hear.” He quickly put the phone on speaker so he could text Matt. “Your mom?”

  Helena grunted. More rustling of clothes, and then a door slammed. “She’s, uh, had a little white pill, and that is why we are both alive.”

  “Sounds like you might need something.”

  “I have a tumbler of scotch, thank you for knowing me.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “I love my mother like crazy, but holy Christ, she does not handle stress very well.”

  Matt texted back his relief on the hopeful prognosis for Vic and sent his love to Helena, which Evan passed along.

  “Are you going to be able to handle her?” Because Helena did not want to be coddled right now, that much he knew.

  “For a little while. I told Shane fuck the schedule—if he wanted me home sane and whole, he needed to be down here.” Helena’s voice wavered. “Because I can’t….”

  Evan let her breathe through the line, get herself under control. In fifteen years of knowing her, this part of Helena’s life had flared every year or so, when her mother’s demons spilled up and over into her relationship with her daughter.

  “Concentrate on Vic, talking to the doctors. When Shane gets down there, he can take some of the load.” Evan said a silent apology to his friend; when this was all over, he would buy his friend a giant steak and all the scotch he wanted. “Matt and Jim are in New Orleans. Do you want me to reroute them?”

  “Oh God.” Helena started laughing, real and hearty. “I… wait. Is that a real possibility? Seriously, don’t tease me.”

  He should really check his joking tone.

  “Let me text. Matt might be available—Jim has a kid to get home to.”

  “Matt has you.”

  “Eh, I kind of enjoy having control of the remote.”

  Evan could hear Helena’s mood plunge suddenly. Shallow breathing, a little hiccup. Her trying to keep control of herself and of the situation. It wasn’t difficult for him to imagine himself in her position; they were truly two peas in a pod.

  He texted Shane quickly: Call your wife, right now, and tell her when you are flying down there.

  Shit. Okay came the response.

  “Listen. I want you to take a deep breath and just try to—”

  “What’s going to happen? If Vic lives, or if….” Her voice trailed off. “They can’t live down here without anyone to help out. She can’t be down here if he dies.” Her tone grew more frantic.

  “Okay, okay. Helena? You can’t make that decision based on the current situation. You have to get through this part, and then you talk to them. You talk to your mother and convince her to move back here.”

  Helena moaned. “Fuck.”

  “Too much for right now.”

  “No shit.”

  Evan heard the buzzing through the speaker and felt no small measure of relief when Helena said, “That’s Shane.”

  “Call me later.”

  “Okay,” she said, distracted, and disconnected the call.

  Evan got up in search of more coffee. Today was the ideal day to perfect his growing ulcer.

  AFTER A day of wining, dining, and contract negotiation, Matt and Jim returned to Matt’s room with a six-pack and containers heaped with red beans and rice, and shrimp po’boys. Well, a po’boy for Matt and steamed shrimp for Jim.

  “I was afraid that family in the elevator was going to jump us for our food,” Jim said, tossing his jacket on the second bed. “They were drooling.”

  “I’m glad they were able to maintain their composure. I don’t make a habit of punching grandmothers.” Matt kicked off his shoes, grateful to be free from their prison until their next business meeting. “You having a beer?” he asked, laying out the food on the room’s small table before divesting himself of his jacket and tie.

  “Subtle.” Jim was already rolling up his shirtsleeves. “And no.”

  “Start talking, James. I want to know what’s going on.”

  Matt leaned against the desk, arms folded over his chest. The entire day was an exercise in self-control: he wanted to fly to Florida for Vic and Helena; he wanted to shake his best friend and business partner until the truth fell out. Instead he talked security with hotel owners, joked and laughed and tried not to let the ugly oily rumble of his stomach be noticeable.

  Jim sat on the edge of the bed, clasping his hands between his knees. “So a few months ago….”

  Matt made a sound of frustration. Months?

  “A few months ago,” Jim repeated, his gaze unwavering, “I had a physical because my husband is secretly paranoid about me being so much older than he is, and because I like his brain unscrambled by stress, I went.”

  “They found something?”

  “They found… an inherited thing. Basically a dangerous spike in my cholesterol, which increases the chances of a heart attack. Familial hypercholesterolemia, if you’re going to google.”

  “You’re the healthiest person I know,” Matt said, shifting his weight. He didn’t quite know where to put his worry and concern. Clearly they’d caught it in time. Jim was taking drugs; he seemed okay.

  He’d just never thought too much about the age differences between the people in their circle. Yeah, Griffin and Daisy were babies; Bennett, Shane, and Helena were a few years younger. Evan had a few years on them—and Matt a few more years than that. But Jim—Jim was older than them all. No one noticed because he could also fight a moose and win.

  “Weird, right? I work my ass off to stay healthy and find out my father’s genetics put a time bomb in my body.” He laughed. “There’s a metaphor in there, I think.”

  “How the hell is Griffin functioning after that news? I mean, Jesus, I’m about to make you lie down with a cold rag over your eyes. He let you leave his sight?” A thought popped into Matt’s head, and he squinted at his best friend, his frown deepening. “Wait—you told him, right?”

  That got a rise out of Jim. He sat up straighter, a snarl of anger on his upper lip. “You think I’d keep something like this from him?”

  “I think you’re taking little pills and dealing with something fucking scary, and yet you are also sitting in a hotel room a few thousand miles away from home. If I had a fucking head cold, Evan wouldn’t let me leave the house.” Matt’s voice kept rising.

  “Griffin is not the kind of person—”

  “Oh my God! No, don’t even. Don’t try to bullshit me.” He threw his hands in the air. “Griffin is exactly the kind of person to threaten to cut off your balls over something like this.”

  All the fight seemed to whoosh out of Jim, his shoulders sagging as his head dropped.

  “He knows,” Jim said quietly when he finally spoke. Matt struggled to hear him over the buzz of the air conditioner. “We, uh, have a deal. I do everything the doctors say, I get tested every few weeks. The tiniest change and I’m grounded.”

  “No more traveling,” Matt said, though he knew in his gut it was more than that.

  “No more work.” Jim took a deep breath and leaned back on his hands. He still didn’t meet Matt’s gaze. “I retire to the couch and let Griffin run my life.”

  “Jim.”

  “He’s scared. And mad. Come to think of it, so am I.”

  Matt couldn’t think of anything to say.

  EVAN STAYED late at the office. He’d texted Matt a few times but got no response. A call went to voicemail. It didn’t worry him—he knew they were working. He knew that Matt and Jim on a business trip involved a healthy amount of beers, steaks, and cigars.

  Once upon a time, the gr
een-eyed monster would be sitting on his shoulder, whispering innuendo and worries.

  He clearly remembered the anger he’d felt toward Jim, the jealousy sitting deep in his stomach every time his name was mentioned. But it had been a long time—a long time for him and Matt to be together and steady and good. Years of Jim and Griffin being more family than friends. For Evan, a man without siblings, Caroline was the closest thing to a niece he could imagine.

  So no, nothing worried him about the silence.

  Unfortunately it left him with an empty house.

  And worries about Vic. Concern for Helena.

  Weirdly, though, the main course in his dinner—besides take-out meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and string beans—was Chris’s comment about retirement.

  He had the time in to get his full pension.

  He hated sitting behind the desk.

  Evan dipped a forkful of potatoes in a puddle of gravy.

  If money wasn’t an issue, his next concern fell to mental health, because he’d been working full-time with very little time off since the age of eighteen. What would fill his hours after he let the police force go?

  Two sonograms sat tacked on the front of the fridge, in plain view. The new babies, Josiah living so close—did Evan have the fortitude to spend his time spoiling grandchildren?

  “Seen the Visa bill?” Evan muttered to himself, stabbing some green beans. Maybe he could convince Matt to take only local clients. Or he could join the security firm; him, Matt, and Jim traipsing all over the country, making money and being charming and—no.

  God no. Retirement meant burning his suits.

  Evan sent another text to Matt before getting into the shower. Good night. I love you. Don’t smoke too many cigars.

  MATT LAY in the hotel bed, wide-awake and feeling waves of guilt.

  He’d texted back only an I love you to Evan, not wanting to engage his husband at this moment, when he felt so unbelievably raw. It was only when he got under the covers, tossing and turning, that he realized he hadn’t asked about Vic.

  Goddammit.

  They’d sat and eaten in silence, he and Jim, then watched ESPN until Jim got up to go to his room. Words sat in Matt’s throat—some angry, some emotional—but all he managed was good night.

  Two more days in New Orleans, three meetings, a dinner, and a tour of the facility they were bidding on. Professionalism and charm got Matt far in life; he depended on those two things to work him out of situations dramatic and dangerous. Working while sad was an entirely different prospect.

  There was a luxury in having his husband behind a desk and his best friend pushing paper. All the years of friendships being tainted with the undercurrent of “I hope you don’t get killed” had faded into the mist. No one carried except Evan. Once in a while, he and Jim went to the range for some good old-fashioned dick measuring. Life and death seemed to be held in reserve for that third drink, when reminiscing felt called for.

  All the danger was behind them, or so Matt had thought.

  Love came to Matt later in life, and it brought along with it friendship at a level he hadn’t known possible. The thought of not having his best friend in his life was fucking terrifying.

  He should have called Evan and told him, instead of lying there with his throat clogged and his heart beating way too fast.

  EVAN WOKE to a phone full of texts, both mundane—joint baby shower planning—and profound. As in his husband loved him and Vic seemed on the road to recovery.

  He leaned against a stack of pillows, answering each message with a sense of odd contentment. At first he attributed it to the roll call of “everyone’s okay” that settled any panicky vestiges of not having eyes on his loved ones. But then it crept into Evan’s brain that he’d made a decision, somewhere between his shower and falling asleep to MSNBC.

  Retirement.

  He took a deep breath, let the certainty fill his lungs. There would be resistance from the commissioner. Evan could expect a call from the mayor’s office. Chris might give him shit for getting out before she did. He’d want to have some input on his replacement; his precinct deserved the best. Or at least someone slightly less grumpy.

  Tossing the phone onto the covers, Evan kept one eye on the clock as he let himself sink into the mattress. Such a confluence of events to make this decision for him, without his usual forty days and forty nights of self-flagellating inner turmoil.

  Maybe he was growing as a person or something.

  BREAKFAST WAS just the two of them, Jim and Matt, sitting silently at the hotel restaurant, poking at their biscuits and gravy. Or rather Matt poked at a plate of cholesterol while Jim had a bowl of oatmeal and a plate of melon.

  “We just paid twenty-five bucks for oatmeal,” he groused as Jim continued to eat.

  “You’ve had about forty dollars’ worth of coffee, so I think we’re coming out on top,” Jim said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “You’re going to be vibrating all day. Don’t want the clients to think you’re a coke freak or anything.”

  “I’ll tell them I’m stress drinking.” Matt glared as he flagged down their waitperson.

  “Matt, I’m not doing this for the rest of the trip. I’m fine for now. It’s under control.” Jim managed not to raise his voice, but Matt had no problem imagining that heavy white mug at his fingertips smacking him in the side of the head. “Trust me, okay? I wouldn’t be here if things were critical. I’m not in any hurry to be dead,” he snapped.

  The only thing Matt could manage after that was, “Can we get the check, please?”

  “THEY’RE MOVING back to the city,” Helena told Evan as he stood in line at the deli, waiting for his breakfast sandwich and coffee.

  “That didn’t take long.”

  “Shane is very persuasive.” She sounded exhausted, raspy like she got when days went on too long and sleep eluded her because of work. “I told him since he’s her favorite, he can handle the moving details and figuring out where they’re living.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t invite them to come live with you,” Evan said lightly.

  Helena coughed out a laugh. “My husband knows the chances of him ever seeing me naked again would drop to negative a million if those words came out of his mouth. I’d move in with you and he could live with my mother all by himself.”

  “Sounds like a play he’d write.” Evan gave a nod to the counter guy as he took his bag and coffee, the phone balanced between his shoulder and chin.

  “Let’s not mention that idea to him.” She sighed. “The issue now is the transition. Vic’s going to be in the hospital for at least two weeks; then he’ll go to rehab for a month or two. After that, we’ll have to get them up here.”

  “Doesn’t give you a lot of time to find a place.” Evan held the door open for a few customers, then ducked onto the sidewalk. “Or sell their house.”

  Helena groaned. “And pack them up. And a billion other things. How the hell am I supposed to work and take care of all of this? From hundreds of miles away!”

  He winced in advance of her reaction to his next words. “I think you might want to consider a leave of absence.”

  “If you were next to me, I’d punch you in the freaking face.”

  “Helena—”

  “I already called my boss,” she cut him off. “Three months in Florida as I try not to lose my mind, while my husband has to go back to New York tomorrow morning because goddamn rewrites.” Helena’s voice caught on her words. “I literally hate everything right now.”

  Evan dodged commuters and tourists who were trying to get a head start on the day. He wanted to help Helena, be there for her—hell, just give her some good advice—but nothing good seemed to be making itself known. Just random pops of “you need some help” but nothing concrete to add beyond the obvious.

  “Hey, it’s Florida—we’ll all want to come visit you!” was the best he could come up with.

  “You should start booking plane fares now,” she said darkly. “I’m n
ot even joking.”

  “Soon as Matt gets home. We want to see Vic, and we can run a little interference.” He reached the precinct, nodding to several detectives as they hurried past him. The decision about retiring came back in a rush as suddenly a countdown timer appeared in his mind as he stepped through the front doors. “I’ll make it happen, I promise.”

  EVAN NO sooner hung up with Helena than his phone buzzed again.

  Matt.

  “Hey, everything okay? I missed you last night. Just talked to Helena—looks like Vic is going to be okay.” Evan got in the elevator with two people with visitor’s passes, each holding a stack of manila folders. He prayed they weren’t headed for his office.

  The long pause pricked Evan’s radar.

  “That’s great to hear about Vic,” Matt said finally.

  Evan felt his grip on the bag tighten, palms sweaty. “You all right?” The elevator jolted to a stop; then the doors slid open. “Are you two okay?”

  Matt took a deep breath and let it out slowly through the line. “I’m fine,” he said finally, the emphasis on I’m very clear. “I’ll… I’ll call you tonight. At nine your time. We can talk then.”

  “I think I can work you into my very busy ESPN schedule,” Evan said lightly as he walked to his office, nodding at every person whose gaze met his. Clearly the mental line outside his office had been forming since dawn.

  “Nine o’clock,” Matt repeated.

  A heavy pause gave Evan a moment to take a deep breath. “Impress the hell out of them today,” he murmured, purposely adding a tender lilt to his voice. He stepped into his office, a sanctuary at the moment. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Evan let Matt breathe through the line for a moment, then heard the call disconnect.

  The phone felt heavy in his hand.