Matt spun around at the sound of his name and saw Anton and Henri rushing toward him.
“It’s my fault, Matt, I couldn’t find my swim trunks,” Henri said.
How could Matt be mad at a kid? A kid who after tomorrow would be his step-son.
“No worries, but we must run to catch our train.”
The three of them, rolling luggage trailing after them, waded their way through the crowds, finally reaching the platform and finding their passenger car. This was the best part of what Matt loved about European train service, assigned seats. It guaranteed you traveled together, and wasn’t that what this entire weekend was about? The three of them being together?
They settled into First Class, taking up four seats, two pair that faced each other. A minute later the doors closed and the train took off, pulling out of the station and beginning its journey out of Paris and into the rolling green countryside of France. Matt leaned his head back, his heart no longer racing from worry. He wiped at his brow, smiling at Anton as his future husband took the seat opposite him; he’d just secured their luggage in the rack above them.
“Papa, may I go look through the front window and watch the tracks?”
“Of course, Henri. Just don’t get in the way of the conductor.”
“I won’t, Papa!”
An eager Henri went dashing forward to the front window, where he took up residence as the train clacked its way south. It would be five hours to Nice, a leisurely ride with an energetic nine-year-old. For now, though, Matt and Anton had a few moments to themselves. Anton leaned forward, taking Matt’s hand in his. He rubbed a finger against the ring on Matt’s hand.
“Can you believe, 48 hours from now…no, sooner…we will be one.”
“All three of us,” Matt said.
“It stirs my heart that you include Henri in your life like that.”
“I never thought I’d be a parent.”
“Gilly will always be his mother, and I his Papa. You will be…”
“Whatever Henri wishes to call me. We will work on that. I don’t take it personally.”
“He’s an amazing kid. He has no issues with the fact his father will marry a man.”
Anton kissed him on the lips, a soft exchange that spoke volumes. It held the promise of what awaited them when they were alone. Matt grinned at just the idea of it.
“So, your friends, you have heard from them?”
Matt nodded. “I spoke to Freddie just a few days ago. He and Santo are already in Tuscany and will arrive later this afternoon. They are driving up along the Italian coast; in fact, they were supposed to leave yesterday. Freddie said they staying overnight in Monte Carlo.”
“How romantic. I look forward to finally meeting them,” he said. “And Jake?”
“Jake…remains a mystery. It’s been a week since I heard from him. He said he’d booked his flight. But since then…all quiet. But he’ll be there. He has to be. This is all his fault.”
“Fault? Our wedding is someone’s fault?”
“It’s just an expression, Anton. I think you’ve been away from the states too long. Without Jake, none of this would have happened. We wouldn’t have happened.”
“So Jake, we are to be forever grateful to him?”
It was an odd statement, but Matt let it go.
They shared another kiss, and then settled back into their seats, alternatively staring out the window at the pastoral beauty of France and staring at each other. No matter what stole their minds, beauty and promise swirled around them. Soon, Anton got up and found his way to the dining cart, where he bought back an Orangina drink for Henri, and a two splits of champagne for him and Matt. Henri came running back to his seat at the sight of the sweet beverage. But he waited until the bubbly had been uncorked, smiling as he got to join his two fathers in a toast to the upcoming weekend.
“Papa, do as they do in movies,” Henri said.
“Which is what, my son?”
“Link your arms, then drink,” he said.
Matt laughed aloud, and Anton acquiesced. The two men entwined their arms, their glasses, and then they drank, and then, since Henri had referenced the movies, wasn’t every romantic scene better when sealed with a kiss? Matt and Anton kissed again, Matt placing his hand upon Anton’s patchy beard, rubbing it and wishing he could do so much more with him. But he pulled back, his face flush.
“You’re blushing!” Henri said.
“It’s the champagne,” Matt replied.
“I don’t think so.”
“Henri, go check on our progress. We should be coming up on Aix-en-Provence.”
Henri rolled his eyes, knowing he was being dismissed, but his energy for train travel won out, and he went running back to the front window, joining another boy his age who seemed just as anxious to chart their progress.
An hour passed, another one did. Anton slept, and Matt watched him, surprised at how easy sleep came to him during the day. Was that life as an artist? You caught sleep when you could? Because what if at three in the morning inspiration struck and you had to get up and start painting right away? Content only when finished. It was a rare sight to see Anton so sedentary in the middle of the day. Usually he was out selling his wares, or at night he was hunched over a blank canvas awaiting the fleeting image in his brain to come to life. Matt knew they were in love, but he never realized just how different they were: he so practical, Anton such a dreamer. He supposed that’s what made them work. Together they grabbed hold of challenges and turned them to success.
What he ultimately realized that after this weekend, their lives really wouldn’t change that much. They already shared a home, a business, and they had to continue to forge ahead in raising Henri. It also meant, when returning, dealing with Stone: not just his art show, but the way he’d nearly destroyed what Anton and Matt shared. If not for loyalty to Sheeba—and hers to Stone—Matt might have canceled plans for the self-satisfied artist’s show. But business had to turn a blind eye sometimes.
At last, Nice was near. The TGV train was pulling into Cannes, and Matt looked out at the busy upper reaches of the small city. It wasn’t the most attractive of places, the downtown area, but as he’d witnessed on his last visit, further down along the Croisette, Cannes was as lovely as advertised, with golden stretches of beaches, exclusive hotels and high-end shops. Perhaps he and Anton would stop here on their way back to Paris and spend a couple of days. But of course they had Henri with them, so maybe a romantic honeymoon would have to wait.
Soon the train departed Cannes, and less than thirty minutes later they had reached their stop. Henri gave up his post at the front of the train, helped with the luggage, and soon the three of them departed the train, immediately feeling the shift in the weather. The air was warm, dry, and the late afternoon sun created a glow around them. As they made their way outside, they saw a shiny black limo parked among a row of taxi cabs. An Asian man in a black suit stood at attention, nodding familiarly to Matt. He remembered him from his last visit: Colton’s driver.
“Mr. Donovan, very nice to see you again,” he said.
“Thank you….”
“Ti-Wuan,” he said. “And you must be Mr. Anton, and of course the best man, young Mr. Henri. If you would,” he said, holding open the rear door, “Mr. Colton is expecting you. And he’s told me to say he has champagne on ice and surprise guests awaiting you. Now, shall we? It’s just a short trip up to the Cap.”
“I’ve never been in a real limo before,” Henri said.
“Why don’t you sit up front with me, help with the directions?”
Henri didn’t need to be told twice, Anton mouthing “thank you” while he and Matt scrambled into the back seat. Soon they were off, the darkened windows keeping them locked inside their own world, oblivious to the gorgeous scenery that unfolded before them. Sparking blue water, a streak of sun to rival Apollo’s chariot ride, rocky hills and bluffs, none of it mattered because for the first time today Matt and Anton were locked in
together. They held hands, and exchanged a tender kiss. Matt’s hand wandered further down, where he stroked a growing erection. Anton allowed a small laugh.
“While that would be the sexiest thing imaginable, not with Henri so nearby.”
“You’re such a tease, Anton. Later, when we get settled into our room.”
“We will have plenty of time this weekend—and beyond—to share ourselves.”
They kissed again, just as the limo veered off the highway and began to climb up the hills of Cap Ferrat. They took a turn, then another, winding their way up a road that narrowed as it gave off views of the French Alps, their majestic crests rising up one last time, only to slide effortlessly into the sea. Matt recalled the view from the room he’d stayed in, the jagged mountains descending into the Mediterranean as though they sought to swim alongside Pegasus.
Soon the limo pulled into the driveway beside a villa painted yellow, with white trim, one that rose up two stories atop the bluff. Matt had shown pictures to Anton, but nothing served the grounds better than seeing it up close and personal, and as they stepped out on the blacktop, Matt spread open his arms and smiled.
“Did I say this was beautiful?”
“Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe it,” Anton said, gazing about at the foliage that grew all around the house. It was green and leafy, carefully tendered but not obsessively so. Nature was given its chance to bloom, and Matt felt a sense of pride at being able to show his love the house in which they would be married. Actually, it was the grounds out back where they would actually exchange vows. Matt took Anton’s hand in his, walking him toward the edge of the driveway.
“Oh my God, it’s stunning,” Anton said.
Below was an Olympic size pool, with a patio that surrounded it edges, and included a spot where you could sun bathe, relax, swim laps, or, given the privacy afforded the fences and plentiful bougainvillea, other matters, those of body and soul. Matt had himself shared such delicious nights here at the villa with Colton, always knowing what transpired between them was temporary, a simple escape. Colton was an elusive man, one whose personality preferred limited entanglements, physical contact that came without binding intimacy. For an innocent, romantic like Matt, it was an enticing, enigmatic mixture. He’d enjoyed himself here, but now with Anton on his arm, it was all the better, all the more celebratory.
“Welcome, welcome,” came a voice from behind them.
Matt, with Anton and Henri at his side, turned and watched as Colton emerged from the cool interior of the house. He was dressed smartly, casual slacks and an open-necked shirt, a thick tuft of his chest hair curling up over the undone buttons. He also wore a happy, gregarious smile; he was in host mode, and he would be all weekend. Having opened up his home to Matt, he’d wound up inviting a houseful of strangers into his close-knit world. Matt couldn’t have been more grateful, and he went and hugged his host, Anton following suit.
“It’s amazing, Colton. Really. You’ve outdone yourself,” Anton said.
“You’re here a minute, and already filled with high praise. I can only imagine the response I’ll get when it comes time for your vows. Ah yes, a most memorable weekend awaits us. And that includes you, my young lad. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”
“I’m Henri, and I am very pleased to meet you.”
“Haha, a delight. Come my boy, let me get you a beverage while these men get settled.”
Colton took Henri’s hand and led him inside, Ti-Wuan directing Matt and Anton to follow him upstairs. They were escorted to the same room Matt had stayed in before. The door was opened with a flourish, sunlight bathing in through tall, open windows. A light breeze filtered in. The room was yellow in color, and the sun only heightened the glow inside what would be their honeymoon suite. Ti-Wuan excused himself, leaving their luggage just inside the room.
“Well?” Matt said.
Anton had dashed over to the window, where he saw what Matt had earlier described, with the jutting Alps sliding into the sea. He turned back, waved Matt toward him. Matt acquiesced, and then he felt himself being drawn into his lover’s arms. They kissed. Anton, though, had other ideas…more ideas, and he led him to the bed. After the five-hour train ride, and after resisting their temptations in the rear of the limo, both men came at each other as though they had been denied each other’s touch for years.
Clothes fell away, naked bodies linked together. Anton pulled Matt to the bed.
In no time, Anton slid himself inside Matt, and he thrust at him with hungry desire.
“Oh, my love, my love…I’ve waited for this all my life.”
“Wait until tomorrow night, when we will make love until the dawn rises,” Anton said.
That sounded like magic, but right now wasn’t a moment he wanted to see disappear any time soon. He dug his nails into the muscled flesh of his lover, urging him on harder, harder, feeling the contours of his hard cock inside him until a rush of heat bathed them both and they reached their wondrous, pent-up climaxes. Moments later they lay together, with Matt absently running his hand along the coating of dark chest hair Anton sported. He leaned over, kissed his chest, tasted a nipple.
“Do we have time for another round?” Matt asked.
“I think we should honor our host, and see about those special guests he spoke of. We don’t want to leave them all hanging.”
“Then we’ll wait,” Matt said, tightening his hold on Anton briefly.
“We have a lifetime of love. Let us enjoy our friends.”
That last word sparked an idea in Matt’s mind, and he wondered, with a sudden burst of energy that had him bounding out of bed: had Freddie or Jake arrived already? If his heart hadn’t already been beating from the intense love-making of moments ago, it might have skipped a beat in thinking of his long-awaited, upcoming reunion. It had been more than a year in the making, and so finally, the time had come for the three friends to meet face to face once again.
***
Except, as it turned out it would only be two friends taking part in the reunion.
Matt and Anton returned downstairs an hour later, refreshed, showered, dressed not unlike the rest of the guests who were assembled on the back patio in shorts and casual shirts. They slid open the glass door off the kitchen, emerging into the early evening warmth hanging over the South of France. Having a wedding in late April, the weather could have been unpredictable, but the forecast—so Matt had checked—was for the more of the same all weekend long. As he and Anton made their entrance, a small group turned around and began clapping. Henri leading the pack, and at his side, definitely a surprise.
“Gilly, you came…?” Anton said, stepping forward to kiss his ex-wife on each cheek.
“It’s not every day you get to attend your ex-husband’s wedding to another man.”
“It is rather unconventional,” he said. “Henri, did you know your mama was coming?”
He was standing beside her, and his grin, which ran from ear to ear, gave him away. “She insisted I train down with you and Matt.”
“Well, of course. I wouldn’t have had it any other way, and besides, it would have spoiled the surprise! Well played, my very smart son.”
Henri beamed. Gilly then took another step forward, clasping Matt’s hand.
“And Matt, you look great,” Gilly said. She’d always welcomed him to their family. He too kissed both cheeks, feeling ever-so continental.
The three of them ensured the peace all for young Henri, wanting for him as normal an upbringing at you could get under the circumstances. Matt accepted her embrace, then shook hands with her own boyfriend, a guy in his twenties with long dark hair and tattoos on his exposed arms.
“Biker, nice of you to join us as well.”
“We’ll bring Henri home,” he offered. “Give you two some alone time.”
Other congratulations were offered, the rest of the gang part of Matt’s circle. Of course the troupe was led by Simone, looking as stylish as ever with a wide-brim
med red hat and equally red lips; Sheeba and Amanda; Gavin Simon was in attendance, too and he was gracious, thanking Matt and Anton for allowing him to be part of the celebration. He was his usual tan self, dressed in tan slacks and a button down shirt that was barely buttoned, his voluminous chest hair exposed. At his side, and again, another surprise, was Stone.
“Hope you don’t mind, Matt…Anton, Gavin invited me…”
I’m sure he did, Matt thought. A weekend getaway to the Cote d’Azur, Gavin would need a fuck buddy, and as he’d proven before, Stone was a ripe piece of Texas charm and hot body. At least he wouldn’t be a distraction to them on their special weekend; Stone could keep Gavin well occupied, and vice versa. He wondered if they were sharing a room.
“I hope you enjoy yourself,” Matt said.
At that point Colton came over, where he escorted a smart-looking lady of impeccable looks and taste; she looked like she had stepped out of a fashion magazine. Matt noted how jealous Simone had looked. Simone was style for sure, but she was all attitude, whereas this lady was pure refinement.
“May I introduce my sister, Lady Patricia Viognier,” Colton said.
“If you remember, Colton, I met Lady Viognier on my last visit to Cap Ferrat,” Matt said.
“Oh course, we dined at the Grand-Hotel du Cap-Ferrat. A lovely lunch poolside.”
“A pool which pours directly into the ocean, why it could just sweep you away,” Patsy said. “And speaking of which, I do believe I’ve just been swept away by this handsome artist of a future husband. Anton Marcel, you know I’ve heard of you.”
“You have?” Anton said, surprise in his voice. “I doubt we travel in similar circles, Lady Voignier.”
She gazed about the villa and its lush foliage, smiled nicely, and answered with, “I believe we do now, my dear. I insist you both must call me Patsy. None of this Lady stuff this weekend. I just want to put my feet up, drink, and celebrate.”
“A fine transition, Patsy, dear. We are here to drink and to cheer and witness the exchange of vows between our two friends,” Colton said, “So, we have a pitcher of martinis, or if you prefer, there is always champagne, and plenty of it. The cellar is well-stocked. And of course fruit punch for those of a younger vintage.”
American Hunks Page 14
