by Quinn Ward
He guided me back to the spare room, sitting down next to me on the bed. “We can talk about a lot of things later, but I don’t want you thinking Maria resents you. She doesn’t. As she got older and started coming into her own, I think she understood why it was impossible for you to stay here. When your papa laid blame for the bakery closing on you, she’s the one who defended your right to live a different life than the one he’d mapped out for you. She loves you, Peter. And she needs you. And that’s the reason I’ll give you tonight for why you should accept my offer. No strings, just a place for you to stay at night so you don’t feel like you have no options.”
He left me alone to get ready for bed. When I turned out the bathroom light, he was standing in the hall waiting for me. “Have a good night, Peter.”
“Night.” I stepped into the bedroom, but turned back, not quite ready to part ways, even for tonight. “In case I haven’t said it, thanks. For everything.”
He crossed the hall in one long step, hugging me for the second time tonight. His arms around me felt better than they should, but damn if I wasn’t going to savor it while I was here. “We’ll be okay, Peter.”
I fell into a peaceful sleep that night, Freddie’s promise echoing through my mind. Even before I got the call that Mama didn’t have long to live, I wasn’t sure when I’d slept so peacefully.
That serenity was shattered early the following morning when Sophia jumped on the bed, Maria hot on her heels. “Soph, I told you to let them sleep.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured her as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I’ll admit, it was strange having a little girl bouncing around as I tried to wake up, and I wasn’t sure why she ran in here instead into her dad’s bedroom.
“Daddy’s sleepy,” she explained. “And Maria said she used to bake with you when you were little kids. Will you bake with me? We can make Daddy a breakfast surprise. I don’t get to make him breakfast in bed because I’m too little to use the stove or the oven. And I’m never allowed to use knives because little kids can’t use sharp knives and my knives don’t cut very good.”
Good lord, I wasn’t sure she stopped anywhere in that monologue to take a breath. I dropped my feet to the floor, conceding the fact that sleep time was over. Besides, it’d been years since I baked with Maria. The last time… no, I wasn’t going to think about the times Mama used to take us into the kitchen to bake. When we were younger that was her code for “We are going to talk.”
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be down,” I told them. I grabbed my toiletries bag and headed for the bathroom, hoping a good scrub to my face would help wake me up. Glancing in the mirror, I groaned at how awful I looked. I had dark circles under my eyes, only partly due to falling asleep without washing off my makeup last night.
All the travel and fast food over the past few days hadn’t done my complexion any favors; I was blotchy and oily and gross. But, there was nothing I could do about any of that right now. I’d left the majority of my skincare products at home, foolishly thinking I’d have been back on the road by later today. No one knew that’d been my plan, because I quickly realized it would be impossible to sneak out of town as I’d hoped.
“Peter, are you coming?” Sophia whisper-yelled from the other side of the door. “Maria’s getting out the ingredients and told me to tell you she made coffee. I helped, but only with the water. She said the rest could get messy.”
After quickly running a towel over my face, I opened the door and crouched down to Sophia’s level. “I’m sure you did a great job with your part. And Maria’s right. I spill the coffee all the time and it’s a mess to clean up.”
“You do?” She stared at me with the same wonder I would expect if I just told her we were going on vacation to meet all her favorite princesses.
“Yep.”
“But you’re a big person,” she observed, wrinkling her little nose.
“Everyone makes messes sometimes.” My statement applied to far more than coffee, but she didn’t need to know that.
Sophia curled her hand around my fingers, tugging impatiently. “Come on. We need to get breakfast for Daddy before he wakes up. Then, we can take it to him in bed and everyone can watch a movie together. When I’m sad, I like watching movies with my Daddy. Maybe he’ll let us watch Return to Neverland. I was going to watch it last night, but I fell asleep and then Maria couldn’t find it on her iPad so we couldn’t watch it together.”
I wasn’t sure how Freddie did it. Faced with incessant rambling before coffee, no matter how cute she was, would drive me up the damn wall. It was hard to stay irritated though, because Sophia was trying so hard to make sure Maria and I weren’t sad. Maria would take longer, but I was better than I’d expected. Today, I woke up with hope that, despite the circumstances, Freddie and I might be on our way to clearing the air like we should’ve done long ago.
My first goal, after coffee, would be figuring out how to get out of watching Return to Neverland. In bed. With Freddie. We might’ve talked a bit last night, but that didn’t mean it was time for a cuddle pile in his bed. Not to mention I could go my entire life without watching any of the Peter Pan movies. Ugh.
In the kitchen, Maria had all the ingredients out on the counter and was working on measuring everything into small bowls, just like Mama used to do to make it easier for us to help without setting us up to fail by measuring wrong. Sophia tugged a small apron off the hook, put it on, and turned her back to me. “Can you tie me? I’m not good at that part yet.”
“Absolutely.” Once her outfit was protected, the three of us got to work. There was no recipe in sight, but it was apparent Maria didn’t need written directions to make Mama’s muffins. They were a staple of our childhood, a basic recipe changed only by the fruit folded in at the end.
The three of us worked together mixing the batter, laughing as if we didn’t have a care in the world. And for that short time, we didn’t. Even Maria seemed more relaxed than she had been since I arrived in town. The sweet scent of cinnamon and apples filled the house a short time later and we started cleaning the kitchen.
“Something smells delicious down here.” All three of us turned to see Freddie leaning against the banister.
“Daddy! You’re supposed to stay in bed so we can surprise you!” Sophia scolded him, pushing against his thighs as he tried to join us. He looked to me for help and I shrugged. What was I supposed to do if he couldn’t stand up to his own kid? “Go upstairs. We made coffee and everything.”
“You did?” He took Sophia in his arms and swung her around the room. “You didn’t do it all by yourself, did you?”
“No, Maria said coffee’s messy, so she only let me do the water. And Peter said that even big people make messes sometimes. I like having them here.”
“So do I, Squirt.” The way he looked directly at me as he said those words did something funky to my insides. He seemed sincere, and that made my chest ache for what would happen when I eventually had to get back to my real life.
“Daddy, I told you I hate that name. When will you remember?” she whined.
“I’m sorry, Tinkerbell.” She rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek. “As much as I appreciate you wanting to bring me breakfast in bed, don’t you think it’d be better if we stay downstairs? I don’t think Peter and Maria would be comfortable in the bed with us and we need to be good hosts.”
She seemed to think about that for a bit. “Okay. Then you go to the living room. I’ll ask Peter to bring you coffee because it’s hot and I might spill it.”
“I can do that,” I said, already making my way to the cupboard where I’d found coffee mugs earlier. “How do you take your coffee, Freddie?”
This was the type of detail I should know about my friend and not having the answer without asking twisted my gut. It was another reminder that I hadn’t been around, and it was partly my fault because it’d been easier for me to run than confront him about his reaction. I’d spent years telling myself Freddie would never a
ccept me as I was, but last night, I’d gotten the impression he actually liked what he saw.
“Sweet and light,” he told me. “There’s a bottle of flavored creamer on the top shelf of the fridge.”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a playful salute. I was not expecting the way Freddie’s eyes widened or the visible tense of his body. Holy shit. Maria cleared her throat and giggled. It seemed my sister wasn’t as sweet or innocent as I’d like to believe, and she knew damn well that I’d been having some very inappropriate thoughts in front of everyone. I turned away from the room and adjusted my swelling dick. Maybe I should’ve gotten dressed; jeans would’ve hidden this little problem much better than knit lounge pants.
“On second thought, I’ll take Sophia to the park and give you boys some time to catch up,” Maria offered.
“But the muffins will burn,” Sophia protested. “Can we go after breakfast? The park down the street has a new playground. It’s really cool. They even have swings big enough that you can play, too! Daddy swings with me sometimes.”
“That sounds like a great idea!”
While the muffins finished baking, Freddie pulled out a few containers of fruit and tasked Sophia with washing while he sliced everything, telling Maria to take a break from kid duty and me to go upstairs and take a hot shower. It was so domestic it made me shudder, but the discomfort quickly gave way to serenity. I liked this. Could get used to it. And that was a scary thought.
5
Freddie
As promised, the girls took off shortly after breakfast, leaving me alone–completely alone–with Peter. That was dangerous, because I’d spent half the night tossing and turning in my bed, wishing things were different and he was next to me. Feelings I’d spent a decade suppressing were bubbling back to the surface, and I doubted Peter would be willing to take part in my little experiment. Even if he was, I wasn’t sure I could go through with the things I’d been dreaming about doing.
“You want another cup of coffee?” Peter asked, already on his way to the kitchen with my mug in-hand. He filled it, adding the perfect amount of creamer, and set it on the end table next to me.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that,” I told him. Back in the days of Angela, I’d given up on asking her to refill my mug even if she was getting more for herself because she always acted like it was a huge hardship, even though I never hesitated to do the same for her.
I’d gained a lot of clarity in the months since she left, realized that we were doomed from the start. And I couldn’t wish we’d split up before Sophia was born, because then she’d be stuck with an irresponsible mother who wanted nothing to do with her.
“I never do anything I don’t want to do,” Peter told me. I watched as he gracefully tucked his long legs beneath him on the couch. I was far too aware of the way he moved and looked. “It’s nice to have someone to take care of for a change.”
“I take it you live alone?” I asked, wanting to know everything he’d share about the life he’d built since he left.
“I wish!” Peter threw his head back and laughed. “If you think it’s expensive to live here, you should try making it in New York. I love my job, but I couldn’t afford a rat-infested studio apartment on what I made when I first started out. No, I have four roommates, but we rarely see one another and they’re not really the type of people I’d want to hang out with.”
“That sounds miserable.” There were luxuries I’d like that I did without so I could make the bills every month, but I couldn’t imagine the life Peter laid out.
“It’s not so bad most of the time,” he responded. As he stared out at the sleepy street in front of my townhome, he twirled a tendril of hair around his finger. “I work a lot, so it’s probably better this way. The last guy I dated got jealous of all the time I spent working and filled the hours we couldn’t be together fucking some nasty little twink he met at a strip joint.”
“Not bad isn’t the same as good,” I pointed out. I knew, because I’d lived a not bad life for too many years. In the end, it left me bitter and cold-hearted. I didn’t consider myself a violent person, but my mind filled with visions of hunting down Peter’s nameless, faceless ex and beating him into a pulp for hurting Peter. If he’d been unhappy, he easily could’ve left without cheating, not that that was much easier to deal with.
“True.”
Silence filled the room, both of us seemingly uncertain of where to start talking about things that mattered. I wrung my hands, willing breakfast to quit sloshing in my stomach. The words I needed to say that would make Peter understand my reaction felt like a monster trying to claw its way out of my chest.
I moved to the couch, hoping that closing the physical distance between us would ease my fears. That was a mistake, because now I was close enough to see the gold flecks in Peter’s eyes, could smell my soap on his skin. And dammit, something as simple as soap should not turn me on the way it did.
“I really fucked us up when I caught you that day, didn’t I?” My palms itched with the urge to reach out to him. I’d never been a nurturer, but I wanted to find a way to take away the pain I’d caused him.
“It hurt, Freddie,” he admitted, turning his gaze back to the window. “You were my best friend, and then you were just gone. What was I supposed to do with that? My own family wouldn’t accept me, but I’d been trying to find a way to come out to you, because I knew you wouldn’t abandon me. And then you did.”
“I know.” My voice hitched, every emotion I’d felt back then bubbling up to the surface, only now there was an added layer of fear knowing what I was about to do. I took a deep breath before I began. “I wish there was a way for me to prove to you how sorry I am I reacted the way I did. That was never my intention. This is one of those cases of it wasn’t you, it was totally me. Looking back, I wish I could’ve been half as strong as you were.”
“Yeah, because look how well that turned out,” he scoffed.
This time, I did move closer and take his hand in mine, expecting him to pull away. When he didn’t, I traced my thumb over his skin. “Peter, you were strong, even if you didn’t see it. You said coming out to yourself was one of the hardest steps you had to take. That’s what makes you strong. Unlike me, who always had these thoughts and feelings but thought if I ignored them long enough, they’d go away. By the time I could admit to myself that I was attracted to men, I was married with a kid.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Freddie. I don’t need you trying to make this better for me.” He tried pulling his hand away, but I wouldn’t let him. Not now. Maybe it was for his comfort, possibly my own; I wasn’t sure and didn’t care. “Next you’re going to tell me your marriage failed because you were sick of living a lie, even if you couldn’t tell the world you’re gay.”
“I’m not gay,” I corrected him. “I’m pretty sure I’m probably bi, but it took me a long time to even be able to think the word, much less say it.” Holy shit. I actually said it out loud to someone and the world didn’t collapse around me. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh, feeling like a weight had been lifted off my chest now that my secret was out to someone.
Peter slid close enough that our bodies pressed together. He draped his arms around my shoulders, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “Please tell me you’re not playing some unfunny joke here.” I shook my head, unable to find my words. “Have you talked to anyone else about this?” I shook my head again. There was a lump in my throat making it almost impossible to breathe. “Maybe you should start from the beginning and tell me your version of what happened that day, because I’m pretty sure I got a few things wrong.”
And so, I did.
Mrs. Agnelli held the door open for me as I dropped my knapsack on the floor. I knew we weren’t leaving until late afternoon, but I’d been looking forward to our youth retreat ever since the first day of summer. This wasn’t the camp most of the little kids attended, it was only for older teens, our church’s way of preparing us for life beyond high schoo
l.
“Peter’s still upstairs packing. Would you like to wait in the kitchen? I just finished baking some cookies for you boys to take with you,” she offered. As much as I loved Mrs. Agnelli’s cookies fresh out of the oven, I’d much rather chill with Peter in his room. Plus, I knew she’d send a plate upstairs with me.
“Thank you, but I’m going to see if Peter needs help.” As expected, she slid four cookies directly from the baking pan onto a small plate and handed it to me. “Thank you, Mrs. A.”
She patted my cheek. It’d never crossed my mind to shy away from her affection. It was ingrained in her DNA as much as it was in Mama’s. Peter was the same way. “Go on now. I’m going to make a late lunch so you boys aren’t starving by the time you get settled.”
As I ascended the staircase, cheesy pop music filled the air. I thought it was Lucia playing her music loud enough Mrs. A would soon come up to lecture her about the entire family not wanting to listen to that noise, but it wasn’t. My ears were assaulted with noise when I opened the door to Peter’s room.
It was because of the music that he didn’t hear me enter the room. Didn’t see the way I froze when I caught a glimpse of him through the crack where he hadn’t completely closed his bathroom door. Peter had no clue I was watching his slender hips sway in time with the beat. And holy hell, he was wearing a pair of skimpy royal blue underwear that shimmered in the light. They looked–oh shit, they were women’s lingerie.
I swallowed hard, knowing I should back out of the room and knock so he’d have time to cover himself, but I couldn’t move. I was terrified that if I did, I’d close the distance between us and press my erection into the crease of his ass. It wasn’t the first time I’d had thoughts about Peter, but it was the closest I’d ever been to acting on them. Normally, I used memories of the nights we spent sleeping in the bed next to one another as a springboard for my fantasies. I’d imagine him rolling over, offering to take care of my arousal for me. But somehow I’d convinced myself he’d never be into it.
