In the Distance

by Eileen Griffin

  Unable to stop my hand from shaking, I picked his hand up and brought it to my lips. “I promise we’ll figure something out.”

  Tyler nodded, then laid his head on my chest where our hands had just been. We stayed like that for what felt like hours, neither of us letting the other go as I counted down the hours until the morning. Tyler’s life was in Seattle. Mine was in New York. It had always been in New York, and it was where I thought I’d live until I was old and gray. But as I held Tyler in my arms, I knew we couldn’t ignore it anymore. The weekends we spent together were incredible, but the distance would eventually tear us apart if something didn’t change.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tyler

  Following Weekend

  I walked through Bistro 30’s staff door smiling. I’d just gotten off the phone with Trevor, whose soft “I love you” as we’d hung up made the prospect of spending my birthday at work okay. After all, being busy and doing what I loved while surrounded by the people who were important to me was better than sitting at home alone. Trevor was out of town, anyhow, and everyone else was at work or the restaurant.

  I stopped short when I discovered an empty kitchen, except for Enrique, who was in street clothes, busily working on inventory.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Enrique just shrugged. “VIP in the private room.”

  I groaned. “It’s Saturday night. If the kitchen is dead and we have a private room booked, we’re screwed.”

  “Relax, kiddo. Ethan and Jamie will get it all sorted out. They’re probably both in the VIP room bitching over what kind of animal the napkins should be folded into.”

  I snorted with laughter as I followed Enrique to the dining room. During the early months when the restaurant had just opened, watching our two bosses trying to figure out their style of management had been entertaining and terrifying. “Ten bucks it’s a swan—”

  “Surprise!”

  At the shouts and cheering, I froze in the doorway. The private room was packed. Ethan and Jamie grinned at me. Claire was right beside them, a huge smile on her face. The room was full of my friends from school and the shelter, all them clapping and cheering as I stood there in disbelief.

  “Happy birthday, New Guy.” Ethan was beaming as he pulled me in for hug.

  I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat, just barely managing to croak out, “Thanks, Ethan.”

  As soon as he released me, Jamie was there with a soft, “Happy birthday, Tyler.”

  Claire smiled at me over his shoulder. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

  Overwhelmed, I murmured my thanks as the people who cared about me the most all gave hugs and congratulations.

  Chef B patted me on the back. “Happy birthday, Monsieur Mitchell.”

  “Thanks, Chef,” I managed to sputter.

  Tamara, the shelter director, smiled and set down her glass, then pulled me into a hug. “Happy birthday, Tyler.”

  I made the rounds, hugging and smiling so much that my face hurt as people I recognized from the food bank, the community garden, the shelter and the rest of the staff congratulated me.

  It was at least a couple of hours later when I finally had caught up with everyone and sat down for a moment. Someone had turned up the music on the sound system and in a makeshift cleared space, I watched Claire and Ethan do a rather amusing Uma Thurman and John Travolta impression. I pushed up my sleeves and sipped on a bottle of water Tamara had handed me as I looked around the room filled with the people who cared and loved me enough to spend my birthday with me. With a full stomach and a buzz from the drinks I’d been handed all night I felt grateful for the people around me. Even more, I was happy.

  The only person missing was Trevor.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and when I pulled it out and glanced at the screen, I smiled.

  Happy birthday, Tyler. Looking forward to helping you unwrap your present later. Love you.—T

  Content, I chatted with my friends and made family until Claire brought out a huge cake from the bakery down the street, covered in burning candles. Ethan clapped me on the shoulder and smiled as he sang “Happy Birthday” slightly off-key.

  “Make a wish, Tyler.” Surprised, I glanced up and stared as Trevor smiled at me from where he stood in the dining room door. My breath caught at how handsome he looked. He wore a simple black button-up and jeans, but I especially loved the look on his face. It wasn’t the same smile he gave everyone else, or his clients. This look was intimate. And mine. I knew the smile that spread across my face was goofy but I didn’t care.

  “You’re back.”

  “I am. You better blow out the candles before Martin sings again.”

  The group laughed and Ethan grumbled good-naturedly as I blew out the candles.

  As Claire set the cake down on the table to cut, I smiled at Trevor, who wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss that earned us a whole chorus of catcalls.

  “Hey, you. I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until next weekend.”

  “All part of the plan. I told you I was looking forward to unwrapping your present.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and I couldn’t hold back my laugh.

  “Eww, no more of that now. I want to be able to eat my fucking cake,” Ethan grumbled. Jamie just swatted his arm.

  Chef Boulanger held out his hand and Trevor shook it. “Monsieur Pratt. Good to see you again.”

  “You, too, Chef.”

  Chef B smiled and glanced around the room. “Messieurs Pratt, Martin and Lassiter organized this party, but I have an announcement that I’d like to make. If you could join me.” He gestured for Trevor to join him at the front of the group and I wondered what was going on.

  Trevor squeezed my hand, then joined him.

  Chef B cleared his throat and spoke again, “If anyone deserves to have their birthday celebrated in such a special way, it is Monsieur Mitchell. This news might sound unrelated to this celebration but there is no better time than the present, as it is something that we all know Tyler is very passionate about.” He paused and removed his glasses, letting them dangle from the chain around his neck. “Monsieur Pratt approached me about helping out with expanding fundraising and donating his time for the school. After sorting out the details, I’m pleased to announce that in addition to Monsieur Pratt’s time and services, we have been able to expand the outreach program. With the monetary help from local businesses, we are creating a new program where students and teachers alike will be providing basic cooking, finance, math and restaurant management courses to homeless youth in the community.”

  At Chef Boulanger’s words, my gaze landed on Trevor. Had he done this for me?

  Chef B continued, “The shelter, managed by Madame Gibbs, will be a common facility for the lecture and math classes. The Institute will be donating classroom space, materials and equipment. Monsieur Pratt?”

  Trevor stepped forward and cleared his throat, his intense gaze focused on me as he spoke to the group. “I asked Chef Boulanger for help, but this wasn’t my idea. Tyler’s passion for volunteering and his desire to make a difference in the community was the inception for this project. I just ran with it and used the resources available to help make it a reality.”

  Hearing Trevor’s words put a lump in my throat. He had done this for me. Trevor had organized this whole thing because it was important to me.

  Trevor looked down at his feet, trying to steel himself to say something else. Trevor was always outgoing, the life of the party and could talk to everyone and anyone. He looked almost shy. Needing to be closer to him, I made my way through the crowded room until only a few feet separated us.

  “I have one more announcement. I’m basing part of this new venture in Seattle and from now on will be splitting my time between New York and Seattle.”

 
; For a moment, I blinked in confusion

  “You’re moving to Seattle?”

  Trevor closed the distance between us and reached down to take my hand in his. “I am. I’m in desperate need of getting some help with my culinary skills. Think you might have time in your schedule for a new student?”

  I tapped my chin, pretending to think about his offer. “That depends. Will you be leaving your big-ass flat screen TV in New York? Or bringing it and that gaming system you just bought to Seattle?”

  The look of shock on Trevor’s face was priceless. I was afraid I’d gone too far with my joking when he threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll bring both, plus I’ll throw in my surround sound to sweeten the deal.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, my voice low enough so only he could hear. “Just be sure to bring you. That’s all I need.”

  Epilogue

  Trevor

  Six Months Later: Thanksgiving

  As I walked into Bistro 30, my stomach growled. It’d been six hours since breakfast, but no way in hell would I wasting valuable calories and stomach space on airline food when Thanksgiving dinner was waiting for me here.

  “Hey, this looks awesome.”

  Ethan growled, “It was awesome until we realized wires got crossed and ended up with three whole turkeys. Four, if you count Claire’s tofurkey. But there’s no way in hell I’m counting that.”

  “Really, Ethan? Of all the things we’ve got going on to worry about, this is what you choose to bitch about? You know you can put down an entire turkey alone in a week with sandwiches.”

  Ethan grinned at Jamie and pulled him in for a kiss. “Yeah, and I get to gross you out when I make the waffles with the stuffing in them.”

  Jamie made a sound of disgust. “Waffles shouldn’t have stuffing in them. There’s just something fundamentally wrong with that.”

  I laughed. “As fun as this is watching you two fight over waffles, where’s Tyler?”

  “He’s in the kitchen, helping Claire finish up the deviled eggs.”

  I set down the box of pastries I’d grabbed on the way over on the table and went in search of my boyfriend. I’d been gone for a week in New York, helping with Alex’s latest publicity push, and even though I loved our phone calls and texts, I needed to see Tyler. We both worked long hours, him with the shelter and teaching with guest chefs and me managing my clients; when things were really hectic, falling into bed together at the end of the day was usually the only time I got to see him. Not that I was complaining about that part.

  I pushed open the swinging door and made a beeline for the sweet potato casserole Claire was putting the finishing touches on. From the few dishes I’d already seen in the dining room, I’d need to run ten miles alone to work it all off. But the trade-off of getting to spend my first Thanksgiving with Tyler made it all worth it.

  “Hey, Trev.” Claire smiled and pecked me on the cheek. Throughout our transition of finding a place to stay and setting things up so I could split my time between New York and Seattle, Claire had been one of our biggest supporters. Tyler hated to admit to having bad days when I wasn’t there, but Claire always seemed to know and would pound on the door to his apartment with an armful of food to drag him out of his funk.

  “How ya doin’, short stack?” I gave her a brief hug and playfully patted her head.

  “Watch it, lover boy. I might be small, but I can still kick your ass.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I’d lay odds on you kicking my personal trainer’s ass, and he’s pretty scary.” Claire was barely five-two, but any sister who’d survived growing up with Ethan Martin had to be tough.

  My gaze strayed to Tyler and Lily, the restaurant’s wine and booze distributor, who gestured wildly as she recounted her latest adventures.

  “You should have Pratt bring you there. I mean, the dumplings? Jesus Christ, they’re so good I swear you’ll want to bang the guy who makes them. But he’s got to be pushing ninety, so maybe not.”

  Tyler smiled when he saw me but continued to follow her conversation. I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter until I couldn’t stand it anymore and butted in. “Sorry, Lily. I haven’t seen Tyler in a week. I’m sure you can bug him after.”

  She grumbled at me as I tugged him away into Ethan and Jamie’s office and closed the door. I could still hear her protests as I reached out to lock it and shoved Tyler against the door. He moaned and went boneless as I tried to put every single minute of missing him into one kiss.

  When we finally broke apart, Tyler smiled at me. “That’s some hello.”

  I pulled him closer and leaned my forehead against his. “Six months later and I still never get tired of seeing you after I’ve gotten back from traveling.”

  He smiled and joked, “You must really love me, huh?”

  “I must.”

  I leaned down for another kiss when loud banging stopped me inches from Tyler’s lips. Frustrated, I called over my shoulder, “Can we help you with something?”

  The door muffled Ethan’s voice, but his growl was unmistakably clear. “I have a key and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  Tyler buried his face in my neck as we both shook with laughter. “I promise we haven’t defiled your desk, Ethan. Although Tyler does look incredibly delectable in his new black button-down, so the jury is still out.”

  “Pratt,” Ethan growled through the door.

  Tyler pulled away and opened the door to find a scowling Ethan with his fist raised, ready to bang on the door again.

  “Sorry, Chef. I’ll be leaving now. I think Claire might need help getting things ready.”

  I’d barely made it two steps to the door when Ethan stopped me.

  “Hold your horses, Pratt.”

  “Honestly, Martin. We didn’t even touch your desk. God only knows how many times it’s seen action from you and Jamie.” I shuddered at the thought.

  Ethan smirked. “It’s a sturdy desk.”

  “TMI, Martin. Shit, that was a mental image I definitely didn’t need.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t want to talk about the desk, though. In fact, I wanted to thank you.”

  Wait. What?

  “For not defiling your desk?”

  Ethan leaned against the doorframe and turned his head back toward the kitchen. I followed his gaze and found Tyler laughing with Nick while Claire waved a spatula at them.

  “For making him happy. Not many kids who end up on the streets get a second chance like this.”

  I still had a hard time hearing about that time in Tyler’s life. Over the past six months, he’d shared little pieces of it with me. A story here, a memory there. But some of it was still too painful to talk about, so I never pushed. He could have ended up on drugs and selling his body to the first available john. He could have been killed.

  “Shouldn’t I be thanking you? You’re the one who found him behind Cal’s place and gave him a job.”

  Ethan turned back to look at me, his scowl long gone and replaced by something I only ever saw when he looked at Jamie. Complete adoration.

  “Yeah, but you made him whole. We’re his family and love him, but I don’t think he ever really thought he deserved that love until you came along. So as much as I want to kick your ass most days—”

  “Days ending in Y?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, those. As much as I want to kick your ass every day, I’m grateful he’s happy. He’s like the—”

  “Son?”

  Ethan’s scowl returned. “I was going to say little brother Jamie and I never had.”

  I laughed and looked back at Tyler, my heart already speeding up at the thought of three weeks at home with him in Seattle before I had to head back to New York for another publicity junket.

  “Hey, Ethan? Can I ask you a question
before we join up with everyone for dinner?”

  “Yes, today is one of those days that ends in Y. Next question.”

  My laughter caused Tyler, Nick and Claire to turn in our directions. I waved and started to walk through the door, but paused long enough to ask, “You and Jamie don’t, by any chance, have any plans to have a baby of your own someday, do you? Because I was talking to my mom and she told me of a great place in New York to get baby slings. I figured a black one for you and a pin-striped one for Jamie. What do you think?”

  “Trustfund.”

  Tyler

  “Tyler? A message just came through for you.”

  A message? Here at Bistro 30? On Thanksgiving?

  Theresa, one of the hostesses, handed me the phone and pressed the button for replaying messages. “Um, hi. I’m not sure this is the right restaurant, but if Tyler Mitchell works there, can you tell him his sister, Megan, called. I’ve called every other restaurant that has bistro in its name.” Her voice got softer, as if she was talking to herself. “At least that’s what I thought Mom and Dad said.” There was a pause, then her voice got stronger, “Anyway, if Tyler works there, can you tell him I really want to talk to him? He can’t call me at home, but I have a cell number he can reach me at. Tell him I miss him and Happy Thanksgiving. My number is...”

  With shaky hands, I replayed the message several times, writing down the phone number she left at the end of the message and double-checking it before handing the phone back to Theresa.

  “Thanks, Theresa.”