The kisses stopped, and Nate, now serious, framed my face between his hands. “You’ve been talking about buying your own place when you have enough for a down payment. And I’ve been planning on doing some renovations. So why not use that down payment and put it toward the reno? I have no patience or talent for that stuff, and I know from seeing your store and your apartment that you do. So I’ll give you full rein.”
“But…it still wouldn’t be enough. The house is worth millions.” And yet as I spoke, there was nothing I wanted more than to live with Nate and create a life for us. Mine had been on hold for so long, I was ready to take that step. But I wouldn’t allow him to keep me or buy me. “I can’t just live off you.”
A flash of impatience crossed his face. “You wouldn’t—okay.” Those ice-blue eyes narrowed, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “How about this? Contribute the same rent you pay for your apartment. And you can still use whatever you’ve saved for a new place to do renovations. Kitchen, bathroom…whatever you want, to put your stamp on the house.”
The idea no longer seemed so crazy, not with the temptation of spending all my nights and mornings with Nate.
“Are you sure you want to do this? We haven’t really known each other that long, and moving in together is a huge step.”
“As my mother pointed out so kindly,” Nate said with a grimace, “I’m not getting any younger. And while maybe physically we haven’t been together that long, we sure as hell have put ourselves through the emotional wringer while we were together. I know what I want, and that’s you.”
I’d waited years to hear those words, but from the wrong man. Now here was Nate laying his heart out before me, and I hesitated. I could listen to his words all day long, but with reality smacking me in the face, I took the brunt of it head-on and didn’t turn the other cheek. Was that the future I saw in his eyes? Was there hope in his kiss? Or was I only hearing what I wanted to hear? Why was I having this loss of faith in myself and in Nate? I thought I’d pieced together what Jared had left so broken, but maybe it wasn’t about Nate being ready at all. Maybe it was always me.
But as I gazed into his hopeful eyes, something finally clicked. Love wasn’t about being right or wrong all the time. It wasn’t clean, sharp edges and perfect Hallmark moments. Those moments when the person you love most in the world gives you the choice in your lives, or takes your hand, not because you asked, but because he senses you need him, made it all worthwhile. And I wondered why I hesitated.
“Okay. Yes.”
“Really? You will?” Eyes shining, he hugged me close.
“Unless you already changed your mind.” I laughed, feeling his heart pounding against my chest.
“Not a chance.” He kissed me, slow and gentle and yet with so much passion, the last thread of doubt clinging to me vanished. “I’m not that much of a fool.”
Epilogue
Six months later
Our usual Thursday night meeting for the Lost in New York support group had seen some changes. Leo, the widower, was now dating his neighbor, though he still suffered some remnants of guilt we were helping him conquer. The two sisters had left the group, as had the woman whose daughter had returned home. Several new faces joined us, and Presley and I greeted Carole, a woman who’d lost her husband unexpectedly to a heart attack, and a twenty-five-year-old young man, Beckett, whose lover had committed suicide. At his first meeting he sat unspeaking, haunted gaze fixed to the floor, so I tried again.
“Hey, Beckett. How are you?”
This meeting proved no different, and he merely shrugged and stared at his sneakers.
Presley put his hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Give him time. You didn’t want to talk to anyone your first few meetings.”
I took my seat next to him. “You’re right. It’s easy for me to forget now.”
A warm light kindled in Presley’s eyes. “I remember. Only because the transformation is kind of amazing.”
I stretched my arm across the back of his chair. “It seems like a hundred years ago, yet only a moment.”
“I know. They’ve been the best months. At least for me.”
And there it was. The qualifier Presley almost always interjected whenever we talked about our relationship. That needed to change.
Monroe called the meeting to order, and Shane spoke about the memorial he planned for his son. “I invited the members of the local LGBTQ community center. I wanted to show him I cared.” He wiped his eyes with a swipe of his hand.
Shane and I talked often at these meetings about loss and grief.
“Why didn’t I tell him on the phone that I loved him? Now he’ll never know.” The guilt he lived with ate him up, and I wondered if my father had ever experienced that emotion. I hated that I struggled still with the anger and pain, but Presley never let me forget how much I was loved.
“He knew. The fact that he was on his way to see you proves that.”
“You’re right, Nate. Great observation.” Monroe gave me a nod of approval, but his easygoing smile had vanished, along with the mysterious man who’d never returned after he’d walked out.
“It took me an awfully long time to come to the realization that some things in life might never get their rightful conclusion. Like my relationship with my father.” I paused for a moment, bracing myself for the pain, but it didn’t hit me like a punch in the gut. More like the ache of a healing wound. “I was never going to get his approval. He was never going to see that I was just as good as everyone else. He wanted to define me by my sexuality, which I didn’t understand because people are people; we are who we are because of or despite who we love. We can be loving and kind or mean and hurtful and still be gay or straight. My sexuality might define me legally, but I’m a fucking good person and that’s all anyone needs to know.” Breathing hard, I stopped, a bit embarrassed at the circle of faces gazing back at me. Even Beckett had forsaken the floor to give me a thoughtful look.
“That was a long time coming, wasn’t it?” Monroe’s eyes shone, a smile curving his lips.
