Chapter Seven
“HEARD YOUwere a witness to the big crime today,” Uncle Calvin said as he stood back and let Liam through the front door.
“Not exactly a crime,” Liam replied absently. He was distracted by the house, by the familiar and unfamiliar aspects of it. Distracted by how comfortable he was, how instantly he felt at home. “You got a new sofa.”
“About ten years ago.” Calvin clappedhim on the shoulder. “Come on into the kitchen. Pour us some wine and tell me about my desperado nephew.”
“He was totally law-abiding,” Liam said. “After that one little glitch, he was fine.”
“And what about this little glitch? What happened there?”
“I don’t know,” Liam said. Easier to be ignorant than to try to explain. “Have you talked to him, or just heard about this from everyone else?He’d probably be the best one to tell you what happened.”
“I called.” Calvin grinned wolfishly as he handed two empty wineglasses over to Liam. “He told me to leave him alone and let him be a complete loser in private. I thought about inviting him over tonight without telling him you were here, just to make his humiliation complete, but… well, I can’t say I thought better of it, but I got distractedby something else, and by the time I remembered it was too late.”
“And that’s the truth? You really didn’t invite him over? Because, Calvin, he’s made itcompletelyclear on both occasions I’ve seen him that he doesn’t want anything to do with me. At all.”
“He’s made it clear to me too. But, you know—we don’t always get what we want.”
“I think in this case he should. I mean, I screwed up. Ihurt him.” Damn, even after all the years, it was still hard to admit to that last bit. Liam distracted himself for a moment with pouring wine, but forced himself to continue. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I should absolutely respect that.”
“So what the hell are you doing here?” Calvin sounded calm, curious rather than confrontational. “In North Falls, sure, but—at his uncle’s house? You thinkof that as respecting his wishes?”
“Well—I mean—I can respect his wishes without being a total martyr, can’t I? You and I used to be pretty close. Coming to a town I used to live in, dropping in on an old friend—that has to be allowed, I think.”
Calvin nodded. “Fair enough. You respect his wishes—right up to the point that they get in the way of something you want to do.” He lifted the wineglassand took a sip. “Come to think of it, that’s kind of what got you in trouble last time, wasn’t it? You saw something—someone—you wanted, and you went for it because you wanted it. Didn’t worry too much about what Ben wanted.”
Liam took a gulp of wine and wished for something stronger. Calvin still sounded calm, but obviously the words were—well. The words were true, and they were exactly whatLiam deserved. Except— “Monogamy may not be as important in gay culture as it is in straight culture. You know, we don’t have to worry about pregnancy or anything, and we’re already challenging one social expectation, so maybe it’s not that big of a deal if we challenge another. It’s really much more common for gay men to have open relationships—”
“Wait. Are you saying you and Ben had talkedabout this, and you’d agreed to an open relationship?”
“Well—no. But if we had….”
“If you’d both been goats, it would have been okay for one or both of you to go and fuck another goat. But since neither one of youisa goat, the hypothetical doesn’t apply. No need to complicate things with a bunch of ‘ifs,’ is there?” Calvin smiled easily and sprinkled some seasoning onto the steaks in frontof him. “You cheated. You hurt him. You can just leave it there, without the justifications.”
“So whyamI here? I don’t mean North Falls—although, God, if you can tell me what the hell I’m doing back in this damn town, that’d be great to hear. But I can’t really expect you to be able to figure that out when it’s got me so totally confused. But why am I in your house? I cheated on someone youlove. I hurt him. I did. So why did you invite me over for dinner?”
“It’s been fifteen years, boy. You were just a kid. You fucked up, absolutely, but you’ve paid for that, haven’t you? Yes, you hurt Ben, but you hurt yourself too. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t. You loved him as much as he loved you. You losing him?” Calvin shook his head. “Damn. That’s enough punishment. You don’t needto have me adding more on top of it, do you?”
And Jesus Christ, there were the goddamntearsagain. They were coming faster, Liam was pretty sure. There’d been absolutely no warning this time: he’d been fine, if a little tense, and then? Fuck.
He turned away and took another gulp of wine. He looked up at the ceiling because after the last ridiculous incident he’d googled ways to stop cryingand apparently looking upward was supposed to help. Made him feel like he was praying to the second floor of the house, but maybe that wasn’t completely inappropriate—he and Ben had definitely come pretty damn close to heaven up there in Ben’s narrow little bed.
“You upset?” Calvin asked. “You getting a wittle weepy about your horrible man pain?”
“Okay, you’re a man too. I think ‘man pain’ isreally only an insult when it comes from a woman.”
“It’s not an insult at all. You’re a man and you have pain. It’s legit.”
“And the ‘wittle weepy’ part?”
“Well, that was a bit much, maybe. But I’m giving you a damn fine dinner. If I want to say some stupid shit while I’m cooking, that’s just a cross you’ll have to bear.” He jerked his head toward the counter. “Grab the wine bottle and thosepotatoes. It’s time for grillin’.” He lifted the steaks and started toward the back door. “You can season our meat with your salty tears.”
The potatoes were wrapped in tinfoil, and Liam could smell the garlic as soon as he lifted the packet. His mouth watered in anticipation—great, maybe his mouth could steal some of the moisture supply that kept his eyes so ready to spill over—and he wonderedwhy he never made any of these foods for himself. It wasn’t like the recipe was tricky. But it was garlicpowder, he remembered, not fresh garlic.
It wasn’t that the recipe was too tricky—it wasn’t trickyenough. Not fancy enough for his sophisticated life. Gobs of butter, heaps of garlic powder, halved new potatoes, and tinfoil. It was food for peasants, for rural folk, for suburbanites, notfor the urban elite like him.
It was going to be so damn tasty.
