Where the Heart Chooses
Page 35
I stretched and smiled. “Good morning, Gregor, and a happy President’s Day to you too.” It was wonderful to see him so happy, to be so happy myself. I pushed myself up on the bed, and he balanced on his knee, leaned forward, and kissed me.
Not Nigel, nothing like Nigel, but he was a good man in his own right, and his kisses were sweet. I kissed him back.
“Breakfast for milady.” He raised the covers of the dishes on the tray to reveal bacon and eggs, fresh fruit, and toast, along with steaming cups of coffee.
My cell phone rang, and since Gregor was closest to it, he picked it up and glanced at the screen. “Who’s Vanessa Wood?”
“An old friend.” I took the phone from him. “Yes?”
“Your son and his friend have been very busy.”
“Oh? Are they all right?”
“They’re fine. However, that’s more than I can say for someone else. There should be something about it in today’s newspaper. The political section.”
“Can you hold on?” The Post was folded up in the side pocket of the tray.
“No, I must go. I’m meeting a…friend.”
“Enjoy. But tell your friend if he hurts you—”
“She.”
“She,” I corrected, “will meet me, and she won’t be happy about it.”
“No, but I will. Thank you, my dearest Portia.” Could I ever do anything less than see she was treated with the care and consideration she deserved? “Perhaps in another lifetime we’ll have a life together.”
That was an interesting thought. I disconnected the call and handed my phone to Gregor, who set it back on the night table.
“What was that about?” Gregor asked as he broke a piece of bacon in two and offered half to me.
“I don’t know. Thank you.” I accepted the bacon and chewed thoughtfully before I took out the newspaper and opened it to the article Folana had mentioned. I scanned it quickly, and then read it aloud. “Long-time Senator Richard Wexler is in guarded condition after apparently suffering a stroke while driving and losing control of his car. This has been an unfortunate few months for Mr. Wexler, who lost his seat in the Senate…” I looked up at Gregor and smiled. “I guess what they say is true. What goes around comes around.”
“And no one deserves it more. Is this going to come back and bite Quinn in the ass?”
“Why would it? He and Mark are in Costa Rica.” Quinton had called the day before to let us know they’d be back in time for Mark’s birthday on the twenty-fifth. Gregor had grudgingly gone shopping with me to pick up a gift for Mark. In the end he’d chosen a golf towel and had Mark’s name embroidered on it in fuchsia.
He was a wicked, wicked man, and I made sure he saw my pleasure in him.
“I don’t suppose we can just send Vincent the presents and let it go at that?” he asked now, hopefully.
“And disappoint Quinton?”
He looked torn, but then he surrendered. And he did that so well. “No, you’re right. Although I worry more about disappointing you.”
I rested my palm against his cheek and brought his mouth to mine. “Never, Gregor.” He tasted of coffee, and I felt almost dizzy when he finally drew back.
“I know it’s Monday, and we always go to the range on Monday, but…” He took the breakfast tray and set it aside. “Would you mind if today we didn’t?”
“Not in the least, my dear one. Oh, not at all in the least!”
THE END
* * * *
ABOUT TINNEAN
Tinnean has been writing since the 3rd grade, where she was inspired to try her hand at epic poetry. Fortunately, that epic poem didn’t survive the passage of time; however, her love of writing not only survived but thrived, and in high school she became a member of the magazine staff, where she contributed a number of stories.
Starting a family resulted in the writing being set aside, although throughout those years Tinnean did continue to keep a journal. Once the kids were old enough to do their own thing, she was able to dabble in writing again. It was with the advent of the family’s second computer—the first intimidated everyone—that her writing took off, enhanced in part by fan fiction, but mostly by the wonder that is copy and paste.
While involved in fandom, she was nominated for both Rerun and Light My Fire Awards. Now she concentrates on her original characters and has been published by Nazca Plains, Dreamspinner, and JMS Books.
Tinnean is what you might call a hopeful romantic, and if you see her name on a story, it will have a happy ending.
Her signature line, a quote by Ernest Hemingway, says it all: “Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it.”
A New Yorker at heart, she resides in southwest Florida with her husband and two computers.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small electronic press specializing in gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender fiction (including erotica, romance, and young adult), as well as popular and literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. While our preference is for GLBT stories, we accept stories containing any and all sexualities, as well as general fiction without a romantic subplot. Visit our site at jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!