by J. M. Snyder
Covering Remy’s hand with his, Lane assured him, “He won’t. You’re his father.”
Remy turned his hand over and clasped Lane’s in it. “I know, but I have to do this my way. Please. Trust me.”
Lane did. He knew Remy liked to plan things out in advance, and he agreed to go along with Remy’s plan on how and when he would be introduced to Braden. He wasn’t sure another few months would make much of a difference, but if it meant that much to Remy, he could wait.
* * * *
First and foremost, Remy was a planner. Not only in work but in every aspect of his life. Once Lane realized Remy left nothing to chance, he didn’t let it bother him. There were no spontaneous day trips to fun, quirky places, no out-of-the-blue phone calls, no unexpected surprises. Everything was mapped out and orderly, planned down to the last second. Lane wasn’t quite that organized, but he was happy to let Remy take charge. He loved the man, plain and simple.
That wasn’t to say Remy didn’t ask Lane for his input—far from it. Many times they stayed up late hashing out details. How many times Lane had listened to Remy go over and over their planned Christmas getaway, he didn’t know. But part of the fun was seeing how excited Remy could get when he had his planning hat on. They would leave Friday right after work in Lane’s Jeep Cherokee, which had been packed the evening before. They would stop for dinner halfway to the mountains at a cozy little family restaurant Remy had found on his travels. They would stop again in the last town before the foothills began and stock up on supplies at a local grocery store. Remy already had a list. Then they would drive to the cabin and spend a full two weeks away from the rest of the world. They would only have each other, and that was the part of the plan Lane liked the most.
But now it seemed as if they weren’t going to be on their own after all.
Chapter 3
According to Google Maps, Lane’s condo downtown was closer to his office than Remy’s northside apartment, but rush-hour traffic made traversing Richmond’s city streets a bear. So he spent weeknights at Remy’s house, and enjoyed a much less hectic commute than he would if he fought the traffic from his place. On Fridays after work, Remy would drive to Lane’s condo, and the two of them would spend the weekend together there. It was closer to the heart of the city; every weekend, something was going on in Richmond, races or festivals, something, and it was nice to walk to the events instead of struggling to find parking.
Remy thought sharing two abodes was the best of both worlds, but the romantic in him wanted one place to call home. A real house, not a condo or apartment or townhome. Something with a yard and a driveway, close by both his office and Lane’s, something they would own together. They talked about it from time to time, but neither man was quite ready yet to make that big a move. In Remy’s mind, he was waiting until after he introduced his son to his lover. If they got on well, he’d take the next big step.
Only now he wouldn’t have much of a say in arranging their introduction. First meetings were everything. What if Braden said or did something that turned Lane against him? What if Lane wasn’t the significant other Remy’s son thought his father should have?
It was bad enough to worry about this sort of thing and planning for it on a lazy summer weekend. But add in two full weeks trapped in a cabin in the woods, over Christmas, to boot. Holidays were already hectic enough; Remy had been planning for months to make this the perfect vacation.
And now Kate had to go and ruin it.
No, that wasn’t fair, but still. Damn it! If he had known he would be entertaining a little boy over the holiday, he would’ve planned for it. Bought sleds and snowshoes, maybe, or rented a snowmobile. As it was, the cabin didn’t even have a Christmas tree set up inside it. Remy and Lane had talked it over and decided against it. But a boy Braden’s age would expect a tree, and trimmings, and presents…Kate better have some stockpiled away for him, Remy thought ruefully as he shut down his desk computer. I don’t have time for some last minute shopping, too. I wouldn’t even know what he wanted.
He had a gift for Braden, of course. A brand-new Nintendo Wii U, which Kate had said he would love. But there wasn’t even a television at the cabin! Remy had hoped to drop off the present at Kate’s so Braden could open it Christmas Day, then spend the rest of his break off from school playing video games. Now Remy would have to give him the present at the cabin and promptly tuck it away. No television, no video games. What kind of Christmas would this turn out to be?
From where he sat in the cushioned seat on the other side of Remy’s desk, Lane leaned his elbows on the arm rest and steepled his fingers under his chin. “You’re mad,” he said.
“I’m not mad,” Remy corrected. “I’m…a little put out, that’s all.”
One of Lane’s signature smiles spread across his face. “Come on, what’s the big deal? You said it yourself, you wanted me to meet Braden one day.”
“One day, yes,” Remy emphasized. Opening his day planner for next year, he flipped to the page for May and pointed at a date that already had something written on it. “May tenth, one o’clock, I take Braden out for ice cream at Bruster’s and you stop by to say hi. I had it all planned out.”
“So move your plans up a little,” Lane countered. “Think about it. We’re going to a log cabin in the mountains. There’s a lake, and deer, and a huge fireplace for Santa to come down—”
“And no TV,” Remy pointed out. “No internet, no wi-fi, no nothing for a kid used to waking up and turning on cartoons while he checks his friends’ Facebook updates. He’s going to be bored shitless.”
Lane shook his head. “It’ll be fun. We might even get a little snow. It’ll be nice, relaxing—”
“You don’t know my son.”
Lane said, “Then tell me about him.”
Remy straightened the papers on his desk. He talked about Braden a lot, he knew, but somehow nothing he had ever told Lane really managed to capture the essence of the boy. “He’s…I don’t know. Sensitive. Set in his ways. He doesn’t really like change.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Lane teased.
Remy shook his head. “No, really. It’ll probably make him mad that he isn’t going to be home with all his stuff. He’ll have his heart set on Christmas with his mother, and when he finds out he’ll have to stay with me, it’ll piss him off.”
“Like father, like son,” Lane said.
Remy stacked the papers he’d been reading into a neat pile and tucked them into his Inbox. “No, you aren’t listening to me. He—”
“He’s like you.” Lane reached across the desk and placed a hand on Remy’s wrist, stilling it. “Look at me.”
After a long moment, Remy did. What he saw in his lover’s eyes was a deeper understanding than he could’ve imagined existed. In that one instant, with Lane’s hand covering his, Remy thought simply, I love him. I do. The thought came unbidden, so raw and fresh, that he knew it was the truth.
“You’re upset, I know,” Lane said softly, “but you’re projecting your own feelings onto your son. This wasn’t your plan, and I’m sorry. But sometimes you have to give a little bit, Remy. Sometimes you have to roll with the punches.”
Remy sighed. “It’s going to be a disaster.”
“Don’t think like that,” Lane chastised. “Think of it as an adventure.”
Yeah, Remy thought. A disastrous one.
* * * *
Thursday evening, they had stopped by Lane’s condo to pack. Lane was only going to bring two small overnight bags until Remy pointed out the cabin didn’t have laundry facilities. “Well, we can always go into town,” Lane suggested.
“Or you can pack fourteen pairs of underwear, your pick,” Remy said. “What if we get snowed in?”
“This is Virginia,” Lane reminded him. “We don’t get snow.”
“The mountains do,” Remy pointed out.
In the end, Lane packed a third bag, but refused to bring any more. “We still need to fit your stuff in the J
eep.”
Afterward, they returned to Remy’s apartment. He had two large duffle bags ready to fill with all sorts of winter clothing—jeans and longjohns, flannel shirts, thick woolen socks. In the bottom of one bag, he added a pair of shorts and a couple T-shirts because, after all, this was Virginia, and they had had mild winters before. Before they left for work Friday morning, they packed all their bags in the cargo hold of Lane’s SUV. Remy added a Keurig coffee maker—he was a bear without at least two cups to start his day—and a bag for what he simply called “toiletries.” Shampoo, soap, shaving supplies…he emptied out most of the bathroom into the bag, then followed Lane into the bedroom when his lover told him to hold on a minute. From the bedside table, Lane added bottles of lubrication and boxes of condoms, right on top of their toothbrushes. “Now we’re all set,” he declared.
Now, navigating Lane’s Jeep Cherokee through rush-hour traffic to reach his ex-wife’s house, Remy wondered if they would even get a chance to use the rubbers. With Braden in the very next room? What if his son overheard them making love? What if he walked in on them?
His hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly; in the wash of street lights they passed, his knuckles looked white. Lane clapped a hand on Remy’s thigh and rubbed. “Can I tell you something?” he asked softly.
Without looking away from the road, Remy tilted his head toward Lane. “What’s that?”
The hand on his thigh squeezed. “I’m a little nervous to finally meet him.” He laughed and shook his head. “No, I am. I feel as if I’m…I don’t know, meeting your parents for the first time, or something. What if he doesn’t like me?”
Remy relaxed his grip on the wheel and dropped one hand to cover Lane’s. “How can he not? You’re great. Better than Mike.” At Lane’s quizzical look, he added, “Kate’s new boyfriend. You should see him.”
“A real looker?” Lane asked.
Remy rolled his eyes. “He’s perfect for her, really he is, and as long as she’s happy, then fine. I’m not the one sleeping with him, you know? I’m not the one who has to see his pasty body in a pair of swim trunks on a cruise ship next week.”
“My body’s pretty pasty this time of year,” Lane reminded him. “And I could point out your white ass rivals the moon most nights.”
Wrapping his fingers around Lane’s, Remy raised his lover’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “Ah, but see, I’m sexy. Mike isn’t.”
“Yeah, but Kate’s already had the best,” Lane joked. “Now you’re mine, and she just has to settle for something else.”
* * * *
When Remy realized he and Lane were getting serious, he introduced his lover to his ex-wife. They met for lunch downtown, not far from the building that housed the accounting firm for which Kate worked. Braden was in school at the time, and Remy hadn’t been ready to take that step yet. In fact, he still wasn’t. But it seemed he was no longer calling the shots.
Kate and Lane got along great—the three of them laughed and joked like old friends, and afterward, the two men walked her back to her office. Lane waited at the curb, a respectful distance away, while Remy saw her to the door. As he held it open for her, she turned and, rising on her toes, planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “You did good,” she said simply.
Remy felt his whole face burn. “You really think so?”
“He’s a keeper,” Kate replied, “and don’t you forget it. Or I’m likely to come after him myself. Why can’t I find a guy like him?”
Because a guy like Lane would be gay, he wanted to point out, but didn’t. She was being nice, and he could afford to do the same. “You will one day,” he assured her, touching her shoulder lightly. “There’s another awesome guy out there for you. I just know it.”
“Another one?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Remy tried to keep a straight face when he answered, “Well, you know, you were married to me…”
Kate punched him playfully in the arm. “Yeah, and I’m still surprised I’m not turned off from men entirely.”
Remy started to protest. “Hey!”
Tugging on the front of his jacket, she grinned up at him. “Keep that one, you hear? He’s good for you.”
Remy didn’t need her to tell him that—even though they hadn’t been together too long at that point, he already knew Lane was the man of his dreams. Everything about Lane, Remy loved. Those pale eyes, that carefree hair, the way he smiled unconsciously when he saw Remy, whether it was at work or home or in bed. The first thing that greeted Remy in the morning was Lane’s smile, and he always made sure it was the last thing he saw before turning out the lights.
* * * *
Kate lived in Richmond’s West End, in the home she and Remy had shared together. She agreed to shoulder the mortgage on her own as part of the divorce settlement, which suited him just fine. The apartment he had now had plenty of room, even after Lane began staying over. Plus, it cut his daily commute by a good twenty minutes. With Lane in his life, Remy now spent that extra time snuggling up to his lover in bed, or getting fresh in the shower, or fooling around on the couch…
Truth be told, if he wasn’t his own boss, he’d probably be fired. Most days, it was a chore to part from his lover. Lane’s office opened a half hour after Remy’s, so he was almost always late. It even became a bit of a joke among his staff, who probably abused the fact that he didn’t come in at eight on the dot every morning. But what could he say? He didn’t follow his own rules himself.
It was a little after six when he pulled into Kate’s driveway. The porch light was on, and as Remy approached the house, the garage door began to rise. It rattled noisily—she still hadn’t bothered to oil it, he noticed—and Kate was standing in the lit interior. She was a few years younger than Remy, and still a very attractive woman. Her chestnut hair was cropped short and permed, the same way she always kept it. At the moment, it fluffed around her head like a halo, lit by the overhead light in the garage. She wore a pair of light blue jeans and an oversized sweater to ward off the cold. Her arms were crossed in front of her, and for one crazy moment, Remy almost felt as if they were still married and he was coming home late after a night out, only to find her waiting for him, ready to ream him out.
That was unfair, of course. They had never had difficulties like that when married. They didn’t annoy or frustrate each other, and the divorce was neither of their fault. They just hadn’t been right for each other, and when they finally realized it, the decision to part had been amicable.
And a relief. God, was he glad that part of his life was behind him.
As Remy slowed down, his headlights splashed her and she motioned him to keep driving forward.
He did. Inside the garage, he rolled down the driver’s side window and hollered, “We can’t stay long!”
Coming up to his window, Kate peered around him and smiled. “Hi Lane. I’m really sorry if I’m inconveniencing you—”
“Not at all,” Lane assured her. He leaned forward and grinned past Remy. “I can’t wait to meet your son. I’ve heard so much about him.”
“He’s inside,” Kate said. Then, seeing the perturbed look on Remy’s face, she asked, “What?”
“Why here?” he wanted to know.
“Pop the hatch,” Kate told him. “I have Braden’s Santa gifts in my trunk. We’ll stick them in the back and just tell him to bring his bags with him in the middle seat.”
Remy cut off the engine and unbuckled his seat belt, relieved he wouldn’t have to scrounge around for presents after all. “One of them doesn’t happen to be a TV, does it?” he joked as he got out of the car.
“He doesn’t need a TV,” Kate told him. “Actually, I’m glad you guys are roughing it for a few days. Braden needs to get out more.”
Remy wondered how his son felt about that, but he didn’t argue.
Kate popped the trunk of her car and Remy trailed behind her. He heard Lane exit the Jeep, and turned to give his lover a quick kiss when Lane joined the
m. “Will you look at the haul Braden’s getting this year?” Remy joked.
The trunk of Kate’s car was filled with large, black garbage bags bulging with presents. Remy pulled open the ties of one to look inside. “Please tell me they’re wrapped already,” he said, peering in.
Kate closed the bag and tightened the ties holding it shut. “Nope. That’s part of your fun this year, mister.”
“I’ll help,” Lane offered. Kate took one bag and Lane grabbed another, following her to the Jeep. Slapping the back window, he said, “Remy? Can you open it, please?”
Remy thumbed the key fob in his pocket. The sound of the lock disengaging was loud in the well-lit garage. As Lane and Kate packed the bags into the cargo hold, Remy reached into her trunk for another. There were five bags in all, but some seemed packed more full than others. The one he lifted felt as if it contained video games or CDs; he heard the packages rattle together and wondered when he’d ever find the time alone to wrap everything. He hadn’t even wrapped the gift for Lane, which he’d stashed in the console between the two front seats of the Jeep so his lover wouldn’t see it. Lane never bothered looking in there—the space was filled with empty CD cases and an old iPod Shuffle, and cords and cables to charge most anything in the cigarette lighter. Remy kept a handful of change in the console, too, even though Lane’s car sported the ubiquitous SmarTag everyone in Richmond seemed to use on the toll roads.
And, tucked under all that stuff, was a tiny, black, box made of velvet. Inside was a ring that had cost more than the one he once bought Kate. A simple gold band with a single, triangle-shaped diamond on it. Gorgeous. He had seen it in a catalog and showed Lane, who had told him, “If you get any wild ideas about proposing to me, Rem, I want that ring on my finger or it’s a no.”
The ring and the question Remy hoped to ask with it was supposed to be the climax of their two weeks together. How was he going to find a chance to share such a special moment with his lover now that his son would be along for the ride?
