by Chris Scully
Peter gaped, unable to believe what he was hearing. His pop was on his side?
So it wasn’t complete acceptance, but it was a start and far more than he’d hoped for.
“Don’t sell the restaurant,” he blurted. Even though the idea was still forming in his head, he knew in his gut what he wanted to do. It felt right. “Give me a year to run it—and then we can decide.”
“You are sure? You want this?”
“I want this. But it has to be my way this time. No interference.”
His father’s drawn face filled with pleasure. His eyes shone with tears. But Peter could see how much this visit was tiring him out. He stood. “You need to rest. We can talk about this later, when you’re feeling better.”
“You’ll return later?”
Peter gripped his hand tight. “Yeah, Pop. I’ll be back.”
FOURTEEN
“PETER. WHAT are you doing here?” Louie still couldn’t quite process the fact Peter was at his door, even though he’d been the one to buzz him in to the building only minutes earlier. His heart slammed against his rib cage so hard he thought Peter had to hear it.
“I’m making you dinner,” he replied as he boldly stepped into the apartment and headed straight for the kitchen. He set down two canvas grocery bags on the counter and withdrew a large casserole dish from one. “Well, actually it’s already made—I just need to heat it up. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
It took Louie a second to respond. He’d thought he’d never see Peter again and, after moping around his new apartment for a couple of days, come to the conclusion it was for the best. He’d had a whole list of reasons at the time, but somehow they all escaped him now. “I’ve only got in from work.”
Peter turned and fiddled with one of the many knobs on the stove Louie had yet to use. He’d lived on takeout this past week; in fact he generally avoided spending much time in the kitchen because it reminded him too much of Peter’s enthusiastic response when they’d toured the place.
It was the same in the bathroom; under the luxurious rain shower, he envisioned Peter there with him, which in turn led to thoughts of all the things they could do in a shower that big.
How was it possible to become so attached to someone so quickly?
“How did you know I wouldn’t have company?” he challenged as he took a step closer and surreptitiously slid the stack of takeout menus off the counter and into the top drawer.
Peter flashed a grin. “I took a chance. Here. Open the wine.” He pulled a bottle from his bag and handed it to Louie.
Wine. Yes! He needed that.
Louie grabbed the wineglasses and corkscrew—he’d located those on the first night—as Peter tucked the casserole dish into the oven. His earlier jitters began to fade, replaced by hot indignation. Was Peter seriously going to pretend nothing had changed? As if he hadn’t lied and deceived and broken Louie’s heart?
Screw that. He wasn’t going to be a pushover again. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, this time with a little more force.
Guilt blanketed Peter’s features. “I see you got moved in okay.”
Louie blinked at the change of topic. “Yeah, I—there wasn’t much. Demetra helped out.”
“I’m sorry—I promised to help and let you down.” He rubbed the top of his head self-consciously. “I’m sorry for a lot of things.”
“Peter, I can’t—”
“Hey, Zelda’s happy to see me,” Peter exclaimed as Zelda came to investigate and wound in and out between his legs, rubbing her cheek on his pant leg in welcome.
“She’s happy to see anyone who pays her attention.”
Peter crouched to pet her, and Zelda immediately flopped down and rolled onto her back, purring up a storm. Princess Zelda was right. She’d ignored Louie all week as punishment for being packed in the carrier during the move, and now she threw herself at the first person to walk through his door.
Louie sighed. Peter clearly wasn’t going to leave, so he might as well relax. “Aren’t you working tonight?” he asked.
“I promoted Annie to assistant manager—at least until she goes back to school—so I have time to run back and forth to the hospital. She’s got things covered.”
“Oh.” Louie sipped his wine. “Demetra says your dad is doing better.”
“He is. They moved him out of intensive care, and he’ll be able to come home next week.”
“That’s great.”
Peter’s hand stilled on Zelda’s belly. “Demetra and I talked.”
“I know.”
“Looks like I’m officially single again. Have you met Andre yet?”
“Sort of. It wasn’t under the best circumstances.”
“He sounds like a saint.”
“Well, he’d have to be, wouldn’t he? To put up with Demetra? I mean no offense to your ex-girlfriend.”
Peter grinned up at him. He gave Zelda a final rub, and rose to his feet. Louie couldn’t take it anymore. “Seriously, why are you here?” he burst out. “I thought I made myself clear at the hospital.”
A twist of Peter’s lips. “Oh you were pretty clear.”
Louie suppressed a twinge of guilt for laying all that on Peter while his dad was in the ER. But he deserved it. Didn’t he?
Louie gulped his wine. “So is this your plan? Pretend like nothing happened?”
“Actually, I’m kind of winging it right now. I figured you wouldn’t kick me out if I brought food.”
Louie had to laugh. “You figured correctly.” Already, the apartment was filling with a delicious aroma that was making his stomach growl. The wine was relaxing him, and he was quickly remembering how much he liked Peter’s company. Even the scent of his cologne was welcome—simply because it was him. Maybe they could salvage a friendship out of this. His other feelings would fade eventually. Right?
Yeah, he could do this. Be friends.
“How do you feel about weddings?” Peter asked abruptly.
“Mine? Or weddings in general?”
Peter snickered, but all of a sudden he looked nervous. “Joe’s sister is getting married on Saturday. I thought… you might want to come with me.”
“I don’t even know Joe’s sister.”
“You know me. And Joe. And Adam.”
“And let me guess, now that you and Demetra have ended your make-believe relationship, you need a plus-one.”
“I’ve never wanted to take Demetra. I want to take you. As my date,” he added with a hopeful glance.
Louie stared. That’s all he could do because the connection between his brain and his heart seemed to be short-circuiting. He carefully set down his wineglass so he wouldn’t drop it.
“Louie?”
“I don’t understand. What about your family?”
A look of pain creased Peter’s face. “As soon as Pop’s well enough, they’re going back to Greece for a while.”
“Oh, Peter, I’m sorry.”
“I’m taking over the restaurant—for real this time. I’ve got some big plans.” Peter took a deep breath. “They know. About you. They’re not exactly thrilled with me right now. But I think this might be worth it.” He curled his fingers in the front of Louie’s shirt and tugged him closer. Louie went, letting his hands fall to Peter’s hips. He might be a fool, but it felt so good to be able to touch Peter again, to be close.
“You told your family?”
Peter nodded. “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But I’m not him, Louie. I’m not. I wasn’t hiding, not exactly. I’m not ‘confused,’ or experimenting, or going through a phase. None of this is a surprise to me—there was just never anyone who mattered enough to take that final step for. So I’m here. And I’m asking you to go on a date with me. Out in the open. Like anyone else,” he teased.
“Why?” Louie dared to ask. He needed to know that Peter was sure, that he wouldn’t be cast aside when things got complicated.
“Why?” Peter seemed genuinely amused. “Because I want t
o prove you wrong. I’m choosing you, Louie.”
For now. The words echoed in Louie’s head but not as strongly as they once had. In fact, there was a new flare of hope in his belly that hadn’t been there before. Peter had already demonstrated his commitment in so many ways. What more could he ask of him?
“So maybe we won’t work out,” Peter continued. “Maybe your snoring will drive me crazy. Or you’ll get tired of picking my socks up off the floor—”
“I don’t snore.”
“My point is, if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. It’ll be because of us, not because it’s somehow more complicated—which is crazy by the way. But most of all, I don’t want it to be because I didn’t even try in the first place. There’s something really good here. Right? I’m not just imagining it?”
Louie’s heart leapt. He shook his head, earning a soft smile from Peter. “Is that yes or no? Help me out here because I’m not so good at reading signals.”
“Yes,” Louie replied hoarsely, “there’s something good.” His vision blurred a bit and he had to blink to clear it.
“So, am I convincing you? I had this whole speech—”
“Peter,” Louie exclaimed with a nervous laugh. “You can stop now.” He clasped Peter’s face between his hands and planted a kiss on his lips.
Peter kissed him back—eagerly, with passion, as if it had been a month they’d been apart instead of a week. Their tongues wrestled. And for a while there was no more talking.
When Louie finally drew back, he was breathless. And hard. Peter’s hands were up under his shirt, on his chest, and he wondered if he could feel the way his heart was racing. “How long until dinner is ready?”
“Um, forty minutes. Why?” Peter’s eyes flashed as Louie tucked his fingers in his waistband and tugged him in the direction of the bedroom. “Are we going to have makeup sex?”
He sounded so excited, Louie laughed. “Unless you’d rather watch TV.”
Peter’s hands flew to the buttons on his shirt. He only managed half before whipping it over his head and dropping it to the floor behind him as they moved into the bedroom. “Did I mention I brought dessert?”
NINE MONTHS LATER
PETER WOKE with a smile on his face and a warm body snuggled up behind him. The cock wedged up against his asscheeks was a bonus. What could be better?
This was his favorite time of day. The intimacy of sleeping with the person he loved and waking up next to him. Now that the restaurant was busier, Louie was often in bed asleep by the time he made it home. Home—another thing he loved—the way it sounded when he said it. Over the past few months he’d spent so much time at Louie’s that he’d finally given up pretending he didn’t want to be there permanently.
Mornings had become their time; Louie was an early riser anyway and didn’t start work until ten, so there was nothing Peter liked more than being woken up to make love, and then drifting back off to sleep when Louie went to work.
This morning, in that hazy, dreamy moment before fully awakening, with the room brightening by the minute and the sounds of the city waking up tugging at his consciousness, Peter only knew he didn’t want to move. Ever. He belonged here.
Instinctively, he shifted his hips back a fraction, seeking firmer contact with the body behind him. The slow heat building in his groin flared to life, like a spark catching fire. His own penis stiffened.
The tightening of Louie’s arm around his waist and the subtle hitch in his breathing told Peter he too was awake. His fingers began lightly combing through the hair on Peter’s chest. Louie’s palm lazily stroked across his nipples, his stomach. Every sensation seemed heightened—the brush of Louie’s beard across his ear made his skin burst into gooseflesh, the soft scrub of Louie’s hairy leg rubbing against his made Peter’s cock leak. A minor adjustment of position, and then Louie’s length was between his legs, nudging up against his balls.
Peter tightened his thighs as Louie slowly began to thrust. Fireworks went off in his brain. He imagined Louie fucking him like this, filling him. His excitement rocketed up another notch. “Enough with the teasing,” he mumbled.
“Just making sure you’re awake.”
“Seriously? The day I sleep through this, just put me out of my misery.”
It was always like this with Louie—the dizzying rush of happiness, the laughter bubbling in his chest. He turned his head for a kiss, but in their current position, Louie’s lips only landed at the corner of his mouth. Peter groaned in frustration, twisted his torso until he found a better angle, and then sighed when their mouths met fully. He reached one arm behind to hold Louie’s head in place; with the other, he gripped his own cock, occasionally stroking but wanting to stave off his orgasm as long as possible.
“Are you going to make me do all the work?” Louie teased.
“That was the plan.” Peter didn’t even open his eyes.
“You are such a lazy bastard.” The bed jostled as Louie bolted upright. “Shit. It’s nearly eight o’clock, Peter. Didn’t you set the alarm clock?” Louie slapped his chest. “Get up. We have to be there in an hour.”
“What?” Peter asked, still clinging to sleep.
“The wedding?”
“Who gets married at 9:00 a.m. on a weekday?” He groaned as Louie pulled back the curtains and daylight filled the room.
“People trying to work around your schedule, that’s who. Oh, and wear the blue shirt with the paisley tie. That always looks good on you.” Peter bit back his smile as Louie flitted around the bedroom. He’d become awfully bossy, but Peter didn’t mind a bit.
Louie vanished into the bathroom and Peter heard the shower turn on. He’d miss that giant shower when the lease was up in two weeks. It sure had seen some good times. Their new place—the apartment above the restaurant, which his pop was renting to them at a discount—only had an old, narrow tub. He grinned. Then again, that could be fun too.
“Are you coming?” Louie called. “Or do I have to shower by myself?”
Peter needed no urging. “When you put it that way….”
THEY MADE it with time to spare after all. Peter noted his surroundings as they navigated their way through city hall to the room where marriages were performed. He might be here again one day, when the time was right. He chuckled under his breath at the notion—a year ago the thought would have sent him into a panic, but today it only filled him with optimism. Sometimes he had trouble believing he was the same person.
“There you are,” Joe exclaimed as they rounded the corner. He looked supremely sexy in a lightweight beige suit. “Nice of you both to finally make an appearance. It’s not as if it’s my wedding day or anything.”
“Don’t mind him,” Adam interjected. He was similarly attired but far more relaxed. “He’s been like this all morning.”
Joe’s parents, Vito and Lucia, greeted them warmly. Joe’s mom already appeared on the verge of tears as she straightened her son’s tie and then went to fuss with Adam’s boutonniere. There was a twinge of bittersweet envy in Peter’s chest but he pushed it aside. Would he ever have that? Would Louie? Only time would tell.
Louie struck up a conversation with Vito, leaving Peter to watch in amusement as Joe paced restlessly up and down the corridor as they waited their turn. “I’ve never seen you so nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m impatient. I feel like I’ve waited forever for this.” Joe turned and pointed at the closed door. “And this guy is two minutes behind schedule.”
Peter laughed. “I can’t believe you guys are even here. I thought for sure you’d have a big Italian wedding like Maria.”
Joe shrugged. “It’s called compromise, Petey. I get the big party, but Adam wanted this part to be just for us.”
Peter couldn’t blame him. He thought that’s how he’d want it, too—if he were to get married. Something small and intimate, with only the people who mattered most. For now though, things were good. Really good. “Your sisters are going to kill you for e
xcluding them.”
Joe grinned wickedly. “Probably. They think the bash on Saturday is for Adam’s birthday. Even Ma’s managed to keep the secret.” His gaze turned thoughtful as he studied Peter. “You look happy,” he observed.
“I am.” Their eyes locked and he recalled fondly the brief moment they had shared a decade ago.
“I’m glad. No regrets?” Joe asked.
Peter automatically searched for Louie. As if he felt the weight of the stare, Louie turned his head and smiled back. Peter’s heart fluttered. “None,” he replied. “Absolutely none.”
More from Chris Scully
He’s approaching forty, alone, and in a dead-end job. Eric Somers’s life has been defined by a single unfortunate decision made decades ago, when he turned his back on shy outcast Jake Lockwood, afraid of his feelings for the boy and what they meant. The tragic consequences of Jake’s isolation have haunted Eric ever since. Now, through a magical encounter with his old football coach, Eric finds himself back in 1991 with a chance at redemption. Can Eric find a way to redeem his long ago sins and reclaim a better future?
After a car accident, Adam wakes up in a hospital room with no memory and a man named Joe, who acts like his boyfriend. So when Joe says Adam is straight—and Joe’s not—and they’re just best friends and roommates, Adam is more than a little confused. But as Adam starts to fill in the gaps, the one thing that becomes apparent is that Joe is the missing piece that can’t be replaced.
Sequel to Inseparable
Nine and a half weeks ago, Joe Massone got the surprise of his life when his straight best friend and secret crush, Adam, kissed him. At the time, Adam was recovering from an accident that left him with temporary amnesia and broken ribs, so Joe isn’t sure if he should take it seriously. Is Adam really gay? Or was the blow to his head to blame? Having secretly loved Adam since they were teenagers, Joe doesn’t want to get his hopes up and have his heart broken.
