“No way, don’t you start with that,” Nate interjects. “You’ve been on your own healing journey, and I’m so damn proud of you for that. I swear I’m okay. But I’ve always wanted to live in Manhattan, and with all the other big changes going on, it just felt like the right time. I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly, but my real estate agent out here found me a killer deal on a place, and I had to move fast on it. This past week has been insane, I’m telling you.”
“That sounds amazing though, congrats!” I’m bummed I won’t get to see him tonight, but I understand. “I’m so happy for you, man. When do I get to come visit?”
“The sooner the better, actually.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s gearing up to make a pitch. “All my clients out in LA are going to need videographers. I’ll travel back and forth as much as I can, but I really want to focus more on establishing a solid client base here first. So…how would you feel about going into business together?”
I blink and sit back up so abruptly that Aggie startles and comes over to check on me. “Business like…you mean you want me to pick up your clients out here? Like, film them?”
“You were the first person I thought of,” Nate confirms. “I know you’ve been feeling burnt out being in front of the camera for a while now, and I’ve seen enough of your camera work and your eye for detail in your editing that I think you’d be just as great behind the camera as you are in front of it. You could come out here whenever you want, and I could teach you some of the finer details, but there’s honestly not much you’d need to learn from me. You have such a great natural eye.”
My mind is racing with possibilities. First, Jess tells me that I can quit collabing, and now Nate is offering me this partnership? I could keep a steady income and stay in the industry, but only the parts I actually enjoy. There’s a weight to this moment that feels like it was meant to be. Written in the stars.
“You don’t have to decide anything right this second, of course.” I’ve been quiet too long, because Nate’s voice is a little hesitant now.
“No, I want to,” I interject quickly. “I mean, I should probably take a few days to think it over and talk to my therapist and Jess, but I think this sounds awesome.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nod vigorously, even though he can’t see it. “I love the idea. And it would be awesome to be business partners.”
“I think so too,” Nate agrees, a smile in his voice. “We’ll talk more about it soon, promise. For now, go enjoy your dinner, birthday boy! Really wish I could make it.”
“No you don’t,” I laugh. “You’re gonna go hit up the NYC nightlife.”
“Guilty,” he chuckles. “But Idowish I could be there to celebrate you. I’m really proud of you, bud. It’s been a crazy year, but you’ve come out the other side better for it.”
My eyes well up a little at that. I swear to God, I’ve cried more in this past year than my whole previous forty years combined since starting therapy.
Hanging up with Nathan, I check the clock and swear under my breath. I need to get a move on, or I’m going to be late to my own birthday dinner. And the shaving cream is starting to itch as it dries onto my face.
I look back down at my phone to the picture of Riley and the burrito. If I’m going into a new year, with a new job on the horizon and less emotional baggage…why not go aftereverythingI want?
But if he’s happy without me, I don’t want to ruin that.
I chew my lip, considering. An idea strikes, and I know exactly who would be able to give me advice on this.
Scrolling to the very top of my contacts, I find Amanda’s name and send a text.
35
RILEY
Today must be my lucky day, because not only is my bag the very first one off the carousel in baggage claim, but Scott’s is within the first dozen off as well.
“Home sweet home,” he sighs. Although, it comes out sounding more like, “Ho’swee’ho” with the hair tie between his teeth as he finishes wrangling his long, dirty-blond hair into a messy bun. “Say what you will about the Tulsa airport, but it’s always easy in and easy out.”
“That’s what she said,” I deadpan, scrolling through notifications on my phone while Scott digs through his backpack for his car keys. For someone who travels as often as we do, I’m continuously amazed at how unorganized he can be.
Scott’s stomach grumbles loudly as he locates his keys and we head across the street to the long-term parking garage. “You want to grab a late dinner before I drop you off?”
Tempting as that is, since I’m sure there’s not much food in my apartment after a week away, I’m kind of ready to get home. Scott and I had a blast covering Pride this weekend in New York City, but the more I travel, the more I appreciate being alone in my own space. This trip also reminded me of last year whenLuke and I were supposed to volunteer at WeHo Pride together, and it’s got me feeling some type of way that I would rather sleep off than look too closely at. “If it’s cool, I think I’d rather just head home,” I admit. “All those crowds and people for three days straight kinda took it out of me, and I think I need to go home and crash for a couple days.”
“Getting soft in your old age, Cunningham,” Scott snorts, tossing our bags into the trunk of his car.
I roll my eyes at that. “Whatever. We’re the same age, and you’re the one who wanted to go back to the hotel before midnight last night.”
To be fair, I didn’t mind—I love a good gay event as much as the next guy, especially at Pride, and especially in New York City, but the party scene has never done much for me. And unfortunately, because events in the gay scene tend to revolve around drugs and alcohol. I learned pretty quickly that if you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all, and it’s no fun being the only sober one in the crowd after midnight.
“Hey, you’re the one who booked a 10 a.m. flight out of JFK!” Scott argues.
