“I need a shower,” I said.
“Me, too.”
“Am I staying here, or should we go back to the cabin?” I asked.
“Cabin. If I know these guys, we’ve probably just inspired an orgy.”
My mind boggled at the thought of all those men, sweaty…yeah, okay. “While that sounds hot, I want to be with only you right now.”
“Same here.”
* * * *
Saturday morning, wearing the only suit I’d kept after being laid-off from my old job, I stood next to René. He was dressed impeccably in a white linen suit and a peach-colored shirt. There was a large crowd, media of all kinds, even some notables in the world René inhabited—he pointed them out to me—who’d taken time out of their schedules to wish the franchise well.
Bryce was perfect in a gray suit and a pink shirt with a matching pocket handkerchief. He was handsome and very much in charge. I had given him my congratulations and well-wishes a few minutes ago, and now the ceremony was in progress.
René, at one point, leaned close to ask, “I want to show you where I grew up. Are you free for a few days next week?”
Shocked as I was to hear him make the offer, I replied, “I don’t have anything urgent, except working with Bryce on his house, and that’s in the early stages.”
“Good. Pack a bag. We’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Are we…flying?” I was sick of airplanes, since I’d traveled ad nauseaum in my old job.
“No, no. It’s about four hours away. I thought we’d drive. It’s a beautiful time of year to travel.”
“Okay.”
In a daze, I watched as the ceremony went off without a hitch and everyone “oohed” and “aahed” over the new place and tasted the wonderful delicacies provided for the occasion.
René had joined Bryce for photo ops and to speak with the media, so I wandered around by myself until Woody caught up with me.
“You did good, Serge,” he said, giving me a side hug.
“Thanks. It will be a place of pride for me, having my name associated with this bakery.”
“Indeed. Hey, they want to expand the school. I’m going to recommend you as a possible contractor. What do you think?”
When it rains…
“That would be sweet of you, if you would. I’m in the planning stages of a house right now, but I can fit stuff in and hire help as needed. It’s getting close to school being out, after all.”
“Yup. Keep the teenagers out of trouble.” We both snickered since we, at one point, had been those very same teenagers.
“Hey, René is taking me on a trip to where he grew up. I’ll be away for a few days.”
Woody looked at me, surprised but pleased. “Excellent! I’m glad you’ve decided to give him a chance. Life’s too short, hon, to cheat ourselves of love, especially if he’s the one.”
“I wouldn’t go that far…”
Woody raised an eyebrow. “I would. You’ll figure it out.”
* * * *
Sunday morning, René and I headed out on the road, with lots of treats, hot chocolate—coffee for him—bread, cream cheese, and music to keep us company. The drive was a pleasurable one, with René regaling me with stories of the things he and his college buddies had gotten up to when they were young and dumb. I told him about life with Woody and Rafe. It was nice, the sharing.
Hours later, we arrived in a small town that seemed faded but quaint. He drove slowly through the streets until he parked in front of small older house, with flowers all around it.
“This is where I grew up. My grandmother still lives here. She raised me from the age of five. She refuses to move, no matter how much I harangue her about it. I send her money, take care of her bills, visit when I can and have the neighbors keep an eye on her.”
I followed René through the old gate and up to the steps. He took a key from a hanging pot and unlocked the door. “Gramma!” he called as he went inside. “I’m here, and I brought someone to meet you.”
We wiped our feet on the frayed rug in the hallway and made our way into the living room. A woman that looked to be in her eighties sat on the couch, a blanket covering her lap as she watched a John Wayne western on TV. Next to her sat someone I assumed was her companion, a middle-aged woman in scrubs. Probably a nurse or caregiver of some sort.
René’s grandmother smiled hugely and held out her arms for a gentle hug from her grandson. They held each other for a long while, and the love there was beautiful to see.
“How are you, sweetie?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky but strong.
“I’m fine, Gramma.” He turned to greet the other woman in the room. “Greta, Gramma been behaving?”
Greta rolled her eyes. “Not even close. She beat me in Parcheesi not ten minutes ago, and I had to argue with her to rest and watch a movie for a while.” Her voice was fond.
“Sounds typical.” René grabbed my hand, pulling me forward. “This is Serge Zumpano, my boyfriend.”
I tried to mask my gasp with a cough, not sure if I succeeded. Since when was I his boyfriend? I greeted René’s grandmother with a handshake and a quick “hello,” but she pulled me into a strong hug, too.
“I never thought I’d see the day when this boy of mine would find someone to love.” She patted my cheek and I blushed.
“Well, I don’t know about that, ma’am,” I said, “but—”
“It’s true. I can tell. You will, too, soon enough.” I looked at René, but all he did was smile enigmatically.
We spent the next few hours together, Gramma Glass sharing stories about how naughty René had been as a boy. Greta had known him since he was little, too, and had babysat from time to time. So she could concur.
During the time his grandmother napped, René took me on a tour of the little house, showing me pictures of himself with her and all the places they’d traveled together.
“We never had much,” René said as we stood in backyard, more dirt than grass visible, “but Gramma made sure we had fun. She worked so hard for so long, it took a toll on her body. Her mind is still sharp, though, and she was my staunchest supporter when I told her I was gay, when she encouraged me to get good grades so I could get a scholarship, and when I decided to pursue pastries. I owe her so much.”
I held his hand, feeling it was the least I could do to support him. “I made assumptions about you and your background and shouldn’t have. You’re a good man, René, and I’m honored you shared this with me.”
He turned to look at me, taking my hands in his. “I wanted you to understand. Sure, I live and work in a world that has a certain gloss to it. I earn a lot of money. I’m well-known, blah-blah. At heart, though, this place, this house…this is who I am. You are a good man, too, Serge. We all had to start somewhere. Do you get that?”
I leaned in to kiss me. “I do. Thank you.”
After a few more hours, during which I helped René make dinner, then clean up, we said our goodbyes.
“It was wonderful to meet you, Gramma”—she’d ordered me to call her that now—”and I’ll do my best to keep René in line.”
She laughed. “Good luck with that, my dear. You have a safe trip and you’re welcome to visit anytime, with our without René, though I’m sure he’ll always be with you.”
I kissed her cheek. “I will. Thank you.”
I went outside to the car, leaving René to make his goodbyes in private. He joined me soon after.
“Where next?” I asked as we headed out of town.
“There’s a little bed and breakfast nearby that I hope you’ll like. It’s a way of spending time together, just us, without the madness of work, family, and friends as distractions. You game?”
I smiled and squeezed his leg. “Always.”
THE END
ABOUT J.D. WALKER
J.D. Walker likes to keep her stories short and sweet, with the occasional novel or novella. A multi-published author, she is also a musician, artist, language enthusiast (German
and Spanish), and lover of all things knit and crochet.
For more information, visit lifebyjo.com/jdwalker.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
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