Chapter 6
“We don’t have to have dinner with your parents tonight,” Thomas said, although it had been years since he’d eaten homemade chicken and dumplings.
He wondered if Viv used strips of pastry dough or if she made drop dumplings instead. Either way, he was looking forward to it. He’d even dressed up a little to make up for the fact he’d met Viv while still in his pajamas, choosing a pair of beige pants and a lightweight navy-blue sweater that made his eyes pop.
“I’d like you to meet my dad without a lot of other family around,” Rhys said as they walked the four blocks from Rhys’s house to his parents’ house. He was wearing jeans and a plain black long-sleeved shirt, and he kept twisting his fingers together, which Thomas recognized as one of his nervous habits.
Thomas reached over and tapped the back of Rhys’s hand. Rhys glanced down, saw what he was doing, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Is there a reason you’re worried about me meeting your dad?” Thomas asked. “Your mom seems to like me, so I’m sure she gave him a good report.”
“My dad served in the Army,” Rhys said. “I don’t know what he did exactly because either he couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about it. All I know is it gave him the ability to smell bullshit from five miles away. If anyone can figure out we’re faking it, it’s him.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t figure it out.” Thomas clasped Rhys’s hand and twined their fingers, and he smiled innocently when Rhys glanced down at him with a startled look. “Starting with first impressions.”
“I guess.” Rhys sounded dubious, but he didn’t pull his hand free, not even when they reached his parents’ house, which was a quaint two-story house complete with a wide front porch and a white picket fence.
Rhys didn’t bother knocking or ringing the doorbell; he opened the front door and held it for Thomas, who tightened his grip on Rhys’s hand as he stepped into entrance hall, the hardwood floor creaking beneath his feet. Despite his brave words, he was a little apprehensive about meeting the rest of Rhys’s family, and he hoped he didn’t do anything to ruin the illusion. He wanted to help Rhys, not make his life more difficult by getting him in trouble with his family.
“Rhys, honey, is that you?” Viv’s voice came from the back of the house. “Did you bring Thomas? I made two chocolate pies for dessert.”
“I’m here, Viv,” Thomas called back. “Thanks for making a whole pie just for me!”
Viv poked her head out of a room at the end of the hall, laughing. “Rhys has a sweet tooth, as I’m sure you know. It’s one of the few ways he takes after me.”
Thomas had indeed noticed that Rhys loved sweets, especially anything with dark chocolate. He’d given Rhys a box filled with dark chocolate candy bars in different flavors — ginger, sea salt, chili, mint — for his last birthday, and Thomas could have sworn Rhys almost kissed him for it.
“Good, that makes Christmas shopping easy for both of you,” he said, smiling playfully at Viv, who flapped her hand at him.
“Go on into the living room,” she said. “Charles is watching football, but it’s not a Blue Devils game, so he won’t mind if you interrupt. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
Rhys led Thomas into the first room on the left, which was a spacious living room. Charles Sutton was stretched out in a faux leather recliner, facing a sixty-inch TV that was wall-mounted over the mantle above a gas log fireplace. He picked up the remote and hit the mute button when he noticed them enter the room.
“You must be Thomas,” Charles said as he lowered the footrest on his chair so he could get up. Once he was on his feet, he wasn’t quite as tall as Rhys, but only due to the stoop of age. Thomas could tell he must have been as tall or maybe even a little taller than Rhys in his prime, and he was still fit and trim with silver hair cut in a high and tight and lines around his eyes. Looking at Charles made Thomas feel like he was getting a glimpse into the future and seeing what Rhys would look like in thirty or so years.
“Come on, Dad. Don’t pretend you don’t watch the show,” Rhys said, giving Charles an aggrieved look. “You know who Thomas is.”
“But we haven’t been introduced.” Charles looked Thomas up and down, and Thomas inexplicably felt like he was being flayed open and his secrets harvested by Charles Sutton’s intense gaze. “You’re a little fella, aren’t you.”
“I’m big enough to get the job done,” Thomas said, releasing Rhys’s hand at last so he could approach Charles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, offering his hand, and Charles clasped it in a firm grip with no trace of alpha male posturing.
“He’s got a mouth on him.” Charles grinned at Rhys, which Thomas took as a sign of approval. “Good. You need someone like that to bring you back to the land of the living.”
“Dad…” Rhys groaned and covered his face with one hand.
“It’s true,” Charles said, seeming unrepentant. “Why don’t you go help your mama in the kitchen?”
“So you can grill Thomas?” Rhys asked dryly.
“Of course.” Charles cuffed Rhys’s shoulder hard enough to rock his balance. “Go on now.”
Rhys obeyed, although he practically dragged his feet, and he cast a last worried look at Thomas before he exited the room, leaving Thomas alone with Charles. But Thomas was used to being around bigger, brawnier men, and he wasn’t intimidated. He looked up and met Charles’s gaze evenly.
“Are you really going to grill me?”
“Naw, I just enjoy yanking Rhys’s chain.” Charles patted Thomas’s shoulder with much more gentleness than he showed Rhys. “Viv likes you. That’s enough of an endorsement for me. All either of us want is for Rhys to be happy again. He’s had a helluva time these past five years.”
“That’s what I want too,” Thomas said, and he didn’t need to call on his acting skills to sound sincere.
