“I’m fine. No more blocked chi.”
Henry snorted. “I’ll bet nothing’s blocked anymore.”
Henry bit into his fruit tart and chewed with gusto, unable to keep that shit-eating grin off his face.
“Shut up, Henry.”
A quiet snort of laughter came from Zach’s direction, and Sam nudged his thigh. “What? You too? You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am.” Zach bit his lip, but Sam saw the struggle it took for him to keep his laughter under control. “This reminds me of Marcus, Julian, and me at breakfast. Marcus always baiting Julian, and Juli telling him to shut up.” A wistful expression crossed Zach’s face. “I miss them. We haven’t had a chance to get together for a while.”
“Julian and Nick are busy planning their wedding; I’m sure once everything settles down, things will get back to normal.” He nudged Zach’s knee with his and returned Zach’s grateful smile of understanding.
“I know; you’re right. And that’ll give us a chance to prepare for your mother’s visit.”
“What?” Henry choked. “Barbara’s coming to New York?” He swallowed a gulp of his cappuccino. “When? Sign me up for a ringside seat. This is one not to be missed.”
Death by cannoli. Sounded like the perfect name for a murder mystery, although there’d be no mystery as to who would kill Henry. Once he told his story, Sam believed no jury would convict.
It was impossible to even fake a smile without looking like Death’s head. “Zach invited her. I had no idea she was coming.” All his earlier good will disintegrated; he no longer had confidence he’d be seeing his mother later than sooner. “When is she arriving? Please don’t say tonight.” He needed at least a week to prepare himself. Henry and Heather sat across from them, their gazes ping-ponging between him and Zach.
“No, of course not.”
Thank God.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Kill me now.”
“I don’t know why you’re so worried. Everything’s going to be fine.”
They’d spent the entire morning cleaning his apartment in preparation for his mother’s visit, and Sam was grouchy and tired. All he wanted was a beer, the sofa, and Zach.
To his credit, Zach had taken care of everything; he’d thrown out all the mysterious items that had taken up residence in the refrigerator and scrubbed out the bathroom. They’d taken a trip to the city and bought new sheets and a comforter for the bed and new towels.
It had been something he’d meant to do since Andy had left but hadn’t bothered, since house things didn’t matter to him. Too many nights in the past he’d fallen asleep on the sofa, watching whatever he found mildly interesting and never made it to the bed. He hated sleeping alone anyway.
But he understood Zach’s discomfort, waking up in a bed Sam had shared with another man, drying himself off with towels that man had used. Though Sam had no attachment to anything, he knew Zach was more sensitive and aware of things like that.
And Sam discovered he liked shopping with Zach. He didn’t throw things in the cart, but rather took the time to think about things like colors and textures, asking Sam’s opinion on the softness of sheets. It made it seem as though they were beginning a new life—together.
And Sam liked that as well.
His mother’s plane wasn’t due in until nine that evening, and Zach had ordered a car to pick her up at the airport. They returned home, the trunk of the taxi stuffed full with their bags, and Sam lugged some of them inside, while Zach paid the driver. His hands laden with the rest of the bags, Zach trudged up the steps, following him into the apartment. They stood in the small entranceway, the mountainous pile surrounding them.
“Damn, we bought a lot of stuff.”
“You needed a lot of stuff,” said Zach, pulling open the first bag and taking out a set of dishtowels. “Not only hadn’t this place been cleaned in ages, but you don’t have a single fork and spoon that match.” He opened a box full of cutlery. “Now we can eat like adults, not frat boys who stole all their utensils from a fast-food restaurant.”
“Hey,” said Sam, enjoying the sight of Zach arranging his kitchen. “It’s not like I had dinner parties or anything. It was only me.”
“Well, now it’s us.” Zach returned to kiss him, and Sam held him close, deepening the kiss. Zach burrowed into him, and Sam walked him backward until Zach’s back rested flat up against the wall.
“Us, huh?”
“Yeah, us. You and me, right?”
Truth blazed from Zach’s eyes. This wasn’t the same man Sam met those months ago in Atlantic City at the beginning of the summer. Back then, a fog of uncertainty coupled with acute dejection had hung over Zach. He’d looked like a man who’d been kicked down by life hard.
