by Rowan Shaw
The news about Enrique's dad bummed me out, though.
"Brandon and I will come and help. What time are you going there?"
"Jean-François will be upset I told you."
I rolled my eyes. "Did he really think he could keep this from me for life? Besides, it's not like Brandon arrived yesterday. We can spare a few minutes to help."
"We're meeting at one P.M.," he signed reluctantly, his lips turning into a moue. "I'll miss him."
"Yeah."
Spain wasn't the US, but I hated that so many things were changing so fast. I hated watching my best friend leave right when my boyfriend was finally back.
"He doesn't even speak Spanish." I knew that for a fact. He'd taken English and German in school.
Enzo shrugged. "He'll learn."
Yeah, right. He was as bad at languages as I was. But then, if I could go to the US and understand half of what people said, then so could he when it came to Spanish.
"It's not like he needs to speak the language to do his job," Enzo joked.
"True."
"There's something else," Enzo signed, biting his lower lip.
"Ugh, what now?"
"It's good news, actually."
"I'm all ears." I'd had my share of bad shit for the day.
He looked to the ground then back at me. "Florian and I want to adopt."
My eyes nearly bulged. "No shit!"
"We've been talking about it for a while."
"You don't want to tie the knot first?" I asked. "I mean, I don't think it matters either way, but I'm thinking adoption might be easier if you're married."
He shook his head. "Not if we want to adopt from overseas."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Some countries won't let queers adopt. It's really hard to adopt a baby from France because a lot of straight couples want one already."
"So how would that work, exactly?" I raked my hair back when it fell in my eyes and grabbed the glass of water Enzo had left for me on his coffee table an hour ago.
"We would fill the paperwork in my name but not as a couple."
"Is that even legal?" I asked, taking a lukewarm sip.
"I don't care." He grabbed his glass and downed it all in one gulp.
"Okay. I didn't mean to offend you."
"Florian and I really want to do this," he signed with one hand, nearly slamming the glass down. His face was taut with anxiety. I hated seeing him like this.
"So you could adopt the child as a single parent, but not as a gay couple."
He pursed his lips. "Florian's not gay."
I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Yes, I know, but semantics matter."
I flicked my hand at him. "What if they find out you've been lying?"
His eyes filled with fear and concern. "We might not have a choice."
"I see. And you're sure you're ready for this? It sounds like a lot of trouble."
"Children are no trouble, Patrick."
Gee, he sure was in a pissy mood.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Not really, but I'll need all the moral support I can get."
So much for it being good news. He was somber now, his bad temper affecting mine.
"There might be times when the people from the adoption agency want to come to our place to check it out. I might need Florian to stay at your place then. His stuff too, like all those pictures of us and all that." He gestured at his living room as he said it, leading my gaze to trail over the various framed photographs of him and his boyfriend laughing, feeding each other like two lovebirds, and doing other gushy stuff that would make anyone's stomach turn.
"What about your mom?" I asked. "I mean, I don't mind helping. It's just—"
"Mom has offered to help, but she's a bit upset I have to go through all this hassle to become a parent. She had set her mind on us using a surrogate mother."
"Okayyy."
"Why would I want to give my sperm when there are so many kids out there who need a loving home?"
"I agree."
"Anyway, so it might be difficult, but I still think it's good news. Well, it will be when the baby's here."
"Does it need to be a baby?" I signed.
He shook his head. "Oh no, a baby, a child, a teenager. We just want a kid of our own, really."
His smile spread to his eyes, his scar digging deeper into his skin.
"I wish you the best, mon lapin. You truly deserve it."
Out of everyone I knew, Enzo was by far the one most deserving of everything life had to offer. Though he said I couldn't help, I would climb mountains and move the earth to make sure he had his own little family. I gave him a smile and tilted my head toward the door behind me.
"I can barely breathe from the heat in your apartment. Let's go take a walk."
"It's not any better outside," he signed.
"Maybe, but I can always hope for some wind."
"Good luck with that." He stood to his feet anyway and preceded me toward the entrance.
Epilogue
PATRICK - A YEAR LATER
"Papa," Wei called, dripping wet from swimming, her lips turning blue as she shivered in spite of the scorching heat.
"Oui, ma puce."
"Can I buy some caramelized peanuts?" she asked, pointing at the guy who was walking along the beach shouting, "Chouchous, beignets... Qui veut un chouchou?"
I always felt bad for the poor souls burning under the sun to do that job, but Wei loved the whole concept. I grabbed my pants covered in sand and pulled out my wallet to hand her a couple of euros. She beamed at me and leaned in for a hug coupled with a kiss to my cheek before dashing away toward the guy.
"You're lucky. You always get the hugs," Brandon commented by my side, propped on his hands, his arms outstretched behind him.
"You're jealous?"
"No. But I can tell who's her favorite, that's all."
I let out a laugh and shook my head. "Want to go for a swim before we leave? We can keep an eye on her from there. Our towels are rather close."
"I think I'm good for today." His eyes geared toward my crotch. "Did you really have to wear a Speedo at the beach? I've seen more than one guy checking you out."
"I don't know many French men who don't go to the beach wearing a moule-bite, mon chou."
"Please don't use that word in front of Wei."
I pointed at her in the distance. "I'm pretty sure she can't hear me from over there."
"Still."
"Les moule-bites ont toujours été en vogue ici, mon lapin."
"Stop calling it that," he exclaimed, mad I was calling my swimsuit a dick mold. "And en vogue or not, they're gross."
I laughed at his outrage. "You don't say that when you get to strip me down."
"I should cover you so those guys over there stop ogling your dick."
I shot them a quick glance. I hadn't even noticed them until now. One of them was definitely gaping at me. I wriggled my fingers at him, and he turned his head away.
"I'll cover my junk when women cover their breasts. You think I haven't noticed you checking them out?"
"I have not," Brandon exclaimed.
"Oh please. Especially that blonde chick over there. Your eyes keep wandering that way. She sure has big boobs, but still."
He sighed and pursed his lips. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep teasing him because Wei returned, wincing with every step she took over the burning sand.
"Where are your flip-flops, mon cœur?" I asked.
"I left them in the car."
"Why?"
She shrugged, let herself drop onto her towel, and opened her bag of caramelized peanuts. I extended my hand, knowing full well she hated sharing her food, and she gave me two peanuts reluctantly.
"Can you help me make a sandcastle?" she asked, her mouth full.
"We need to leave in a few, actually," Brandon said.
I looked at my watch. "Right. Wouldn't w
ant you to miss your game of pétanque. The octogenarians back at the campsite would be disappointed that you're not there."
He tapped my arm. "There are other guys playing bocce ball who are our age too."
I leaned into him so our daughter couldn't hear. "Right. Is that why you're so anxious to go? The other guys playing?"
"Pfff." He pushed me back playfully and rolled his eyes.
I asked Wei for more peanuts before I stood and slid my shorts on.
"I don't wanna go," she complained.
"You can play with your friends when we get to the campground."
"Béatrice won't be there. She's visiting some museum or something."
"You've got other friends. Come on, let's go." I patted her head. She hated when I did that too and pulled back as she always did, then flattened her hair down.
She stuffed more peanuts in her mouth and stood to get dressed, sliding her shorts and shirt on over her wet bathing suit. Brandon took care of the beach umbrella that he folded and held under his arm along with his towel. When our spot was clean, we left.
"That guy is staring at you again," he hissed under his breath.
"Who cares, mon chou? We'll never see him again."
We reached our car and dropped everything in the trunk before I took the wheel and drove us through the streets of Juan-les-pins. The air was suffocating, and my Peugeot had no air conditioning.
"Open a window," I told Brandon as I rolled mine down. The breeze freshened the inside of our vehicle, but barely.
Thankfully, the campground wasn't far from the beach, and our trailer was by the entrance gate. I parked the car right next to our metal table and grill. Forgetting I had the keys to the trailer, Wei rushed out of the vehicle and ran straight to the door only to find it locked. I gave her a tiny smirk as I rejoined her and let her in.
"I'm calling the shower," she shouted and made a beeline for it before we could even protest.
I shook my head and went to sit at the table outside, where I stretched my legs and pressed my hands behind my head. The camp smelled of pine trees and grilled meat, the needles of the trees covering the entire ground. The people in the trailer facing ours were out cooking and chatting even though it was only four in the afternoon. They waved at me when they saw me lounging there, then asked Brandon how he was when he pulled everything out of the trunk to hang our towels on the clotheslines.
"Will you play checkers with me?" Wei asked when she was done showering.
"Whatever you want, mon poussin. But I need to wash up first. How about you get it ready while I shower?" The sand in my Speedo was killing me.
Our trailer was barely high enough for me to stand at my full height. I entered the narrow shower and got rid of all the sand, relishing the scent of lemon soap on my skin before drying myself and getting into some fresh clothes, bending over to get out. By the time I returned, Wei was already playing with Brandon, but he won the turn almost too quickly and left to clean up.
Wei gathered all her pawns and set them back on the board as I sat down facing her. We played for an hour before she needed a change of scenery. I took her out for a stroll through the camp and returned just in time to cook some marinated pork chops over the grill—the only meal I knew how to make—then I set the table with some tomato salad and the remains from our morning baguette. As soon as Brandon returned from his game of bocce ball, we ate our food without a word. Wei gobbled it all down as fast as she could.
"Why the rush?" Brandon asked.
"I want to see if Béatrice is back."
"I'm sure her family is eating now."
"I know."
"You can't disturb people when they're eating. That's rude," he said.
"They always have rhubarb pie for dessert," she exclaimed.
I looked at her for a second. "We can get rhubarb pie if you want some. Why didn't you say anything?"
She shrugged, making me wonder if there was more to the story than she was telling us. I didn't solve that puzzle until the evening came and we went to one of the parties the camp organized every night under the white tent past the pool.
Wei scurried toward her friend but stopped in her tracks when Benjamin, Béatrice's older brother, showed up. Wei blushed all over her face and paused before joining them. She was making an obvious effort to avoid him, as if being distant ever drew a guy's attention. Benjamin had to be a couple of years older than her, maybe fourteen. Even when he tried to engage her in conversation, she barely responded.
"Spying on our daughter?" Brandon whispered in my ear.
"We need to have a serious talk. She seems to think being standoffish is how you catch guys."
"It sure worked for me," he laughed.
"Oh mon chou, who are you kidding? You dropped to your knees the first night we met. I hardly call that resisting."
I remembered how awkward he was the first time he gave me head. I couldn't believe that was two years ago. It felt like yesterday. Time with him had flown by so quickly, I could barely grasp it.
He pulled me to him when the DJ played a slow song, and he wrapped his arms around my neck, his forehead pressed against mine. "I feel like I should thank you."
"For what?" I asked.
"This year was one of the best years of my life, and it was all thanks to you."
I smiled against his lips and gave him a soft kiss.
"Wei adores you, and you're just wonderful with her. I couldn't have asked for more."
"Well, she is a wonderful kid," I said, giving her a quick glance, noticing she was actually dancing with Benjamin. "I should probably thank you too. You gave my mother the one thing she'd always hoped for."
"And what is that?"
"I wasn't fifteen yet when she was already lamenting how she was never gonna have grandchildren because I'm gay."
Brandon laughed against my chest. "You have a sister who's straight."
"Margaux made it clear very early in life she was never going to have kids, and it seems her husband agrees."
"Your mom is great with Wei."
"She thinks that kid fell from the sky or something."
"I can tell you she didn't. I was there when she was born. It was far from pretty. I thought Ling was going to kill the nurse and everyone in that delivery room."
I chuckled against him. "If it weren't for Wei, my mom would never leave us be. Especially now that Enzo has a baby too and Jean-François and Enrique tied the knot."
"I'm glad his father recovered."
"Me too."
Brandon tilted his head to the side. "What if I gifted your mom the chance to walk her son down the aisle?"
I pulled away just a bit so I could look at him. "What are you saying exactly?"
"I think you know."
"If this is a proposal, you're gonna have to redo it, mon lapin. I was expecting the whole nine yards, with roses on my bed and you on your knees."
Brandon rolled his eyes. "So what do you say?"
"I'm saying 'yes.'"
"You are?"
"Why are you acting so shocked? Did you ask hoping I would say 'no?' Do I need to change my mind?"
"No, no. Of course not. It's just I wasn't sure you'd say 'yes,' and now you're making my fears feel so useless."
"Mon amour, ninety percent of the time, your fears are useless."
Brandon swatted my arm but didn't deny my words.
"Would you want me to take your last name?" I asked. "I can't even pronounce it correctly, but for you, I could try."
"No. It comes from my genitor. I'd rather get rid of it. Even Wei doesn't carry that name. We gave her Ling's."
"Do you want to take mine, then?" I grinned against the skin of his neck and whispered in his ear, "Monsieur Brandon Lefèvre. I like it."
He shivered in my arms when I nibbled on his jaw. "I do too."
I leaned into him and parted his lips with my tongue, kissing him languidly. "I love you."
"I love you more."
Chapter 1
ADRIEN
It'd been three years since I first met my boyfriend, Raphaël. Three years of bliss that began the day he knocked on my front door. Opening my art gallery turned out to be the best decision of my life, too. My sales were high and steady. Creating art was the most freeing job I could ever imagine. After I acquired international clients a little over a year ago, my business grew beyond all expectations. I almost made as much dough now as I did with my previous job.
I was still traveling more than I liked, but Raphaël and I always managed to find time for each other—precious time that we refused to let anything or anyone disturb. We'd settled down like an old couple, content with our regular routines. I cooked for him every evening I was home before he grabbed a book and joined me in bed, along with our Siamese cat, Ila, and our French bulldog, Opale.
We still lived in the same apartment in the fourteenth arrondissement of Paris. The walls of our forty-square-meter living room still harbored my colorful paintings and erotic charcoals, but the room that used to be my studio now served as a library for all of Raphaël's books, and his old bedroom was now the guest room.
Sunday was finally here. I was lying in bed, wearing nothing but a shirt and some briefs as I petted Ila's soft fur and kept flipping through the channels on our flat screen TV.
Raphaël dropped his book in his lap with a sideways glance at me. "Are you done yet?"
"What?"
His beautiful hazel eyes creased. "You've been flipping through the channels for ten minutes. Just choose something already, or I can read to you if you want."
I gave a smile and turned the TV off. "What are you reading?"
I scooted closer, but my moves startled Opale, who jumped to her feet at the edge of the bed, then directly on my stomach, knocking the living breath out of me. Curled up against my side, Ila hissed and glared at the dog, ready to mutilate her. Opale had no survival instincts. She hopped back and forth between Raphaël and me, snorting in disregard to our cat's death stare. Annoyed, Ila left the bed, which was exactly what Opale wanted. The dog settled between my lover and me and made the weirdest noises. I never knew dogs could sound like piglets, but apparently, French bulldogs did.
