I rise, and she follows. Her arms flinch at her sides, like maybe she’s considering reaching out for a hug. Before she can, I toss the liquid dirt—and her—into the trash, then dart out of the café.
I pop into Bubbe’s Nosh Pit for a quart of chicken noodle soup on the way home. With a wink, Mark throws in extra black-and-white cookies and tells me to share with Ezra. It was only a matter of time before he found out about us.
If there is an us.
I need to think long and hard about what I’m doing with my life. Who am I if I’m not performing? I’m finding the idea of saying goodbye to the theater difficult. But if I’m always on the road, could our relationship survive? Does he really want a partner who’s never home? He wants a wife and 2.5 kids and a picket fence. And a dog. Or maybe he’s a cat person?
As I head toward my building, my phone rings, dousing the fears pummeling me from all sides. I dig in my purse and blindly answer the phone. “Sorry I forgot to call you back, Jo. I?—”
“Millie?”
I frown in response to the unexpected masculine voice. “Ezra, hi. What’s up?”
“It’s about Kane,” he says, his tone dripping with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“He didn’t come home from summer school.”
“Have you checked the location of his phone?”
“Shit. I didn’t think about setting that up. And I teach middle school. Dammit.” Poor guy, he’s beating himself up.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I work to maintain a soothing tone. “Just stay home. I’m sure he’ll show up. I’m walking into my building now. Do you want me to come over?”
“No, it’s okay. Maybe?” He groans. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do. How long do I wait before I call the police?”
“I think it’s at least a few hours.” As I turn down my hall, I come to an abrupt stop. “Ezra?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s here.”
“What?”
“Kane’s here. At my apartment. I’ll call you back.” I hang upand squat beside Kane, who’s sitting on the floor with his knees tucked into his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
He pulls his hands away from his face, revealing blotchy skin, but he keeps his head lowered.
I rest a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze. “Did something happen at school today?”
He nods, sucking in air on a sob, and slumps against me.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” I wrap an arm around him and rest my chin on his head. “Wait. How do you know where I live?”
“Ezra put everyone’s contact info in my phone just in case.” He sniffles before he continues. “I thought New York would be better. More inclusive. It was just Pride Month.”
My body tenses. Dammit. I see exactly where this is going.
“Oh, love, what happened?”
He shakes his head like the words are too painful to say aloud, but when he finally looks up at me, I gasp. One eye is nearly swollen shut, and his cheekbone is already dark purple and angry crimson. He lets me examine it, yet he flinches at my delicate touch.
“C’mon.” I stand.
He follows obediently. I swear he’s grown since I met him; he’s nearly as tall as his brother.
