by Brandon Witt
There was a barely perceptible laugh on the other end of the line. “Holy shit. He made a move on you finally. Didn’t he?”
Steven looked at the phone again, stupidly trying to see Topher’s expression. He shook his head at his insane behavior and returned the phone to his ear again. “Excuse me?”
Another laugh, this one sounding almost relieved. “Ryan’s had a thing for you since the first time he saw you. I never thought he’d get the balls to make a move. Much less ask you out on a date.”
“Well, we didn’t actually go on a date yet. He just came over and we—”
“Whoa!” All sleep was gone from Topher’s voice. “Stop right there! I do not want to know. Do. Not. Want to know. Ever.”
What was wrong with him? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that he and I—”
“Oh God, Uncle Steven. Stop. Okay. Just stop.” There was another laugh, this time muffled, and then a whisper. Probably telling Carla. Then he was back. “Tell you what. You promise to never give me any details, and I’ll text you Ryan’s info right now. Okay?”
Hope sprang again. Ridiculous, but true. Then he realized what his nephew was saying. “Topher?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re okay with this? It’s not grossing you out?”
“Hell yeah, it’s grossing me out! I don’t want to think of you or Mom having ever had sex. Much less having it right now. But I’ll just try to forget that part of it.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “So you’re not mad, or whatever, that I’m trying to date your friend?”
There was a slight hesitation. “Sure, it’s a little weird. But I’m not mad. Plus, you’ve never acted as old as you are. And you’re great. I love you. Ryan’s like the nicest guy I’ve ever known, and he’s had it bad for you forever. I don’t know if you’re thinking of dating or….” His voice trailed off, then came back in a rush. “And I don’t wanna know. I’m just glad for him that he’s finally getting what he wants. I never thought he’d have a shot. And you. You could do a hell of a lot worse than Ryan.”
“Wow. Okay.”
“Okay.” He sounded relieved to have the conversation over. “I’ll send you his info.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Topher…?”
Wariness this time. “Yeah?”
“You cannot tell your mother.”
CHAPTER SIX
Ryan Fuller
Ryan scanned the menu. The waiter had said the restaurant was tapas-style and that both of them should order several things to share. Many of the tapas were nearly as expensive as a regular entrée elsewhere. He did a quick game of mental math and tried not to be staggered at what Steven was going to end up paying for this date.
Maybe he should offer to pay half of the bill. Or maybe he’d misjudged Steven. Perhaps the sparseness of his apartment didn’t indicate a lack of funds.
He’d order the more inexpensive items.
Or would that be too obvious and offensive?
He was probably overthinking.
That had been the theme of the past two days since waking up to Steven’s voicemail asking him to dinner. He’d overthought everything. Even the Christmas-themed wedding he’d overseen the night before. Weddings were easy. They were nothing more than beauty, class, and romance. If you nailed those three things, the clients would be happy. And those things came easy to Ryan. But as he put the finishing touches around the cathedral, everything he did was wrong. The flowers weren’t the right shade of white. There were too many sparkling lights. The candles melted too fast. The mercury glass ornaments were garish.
Betsy had told him he was insane, that it was his most beautiful wedding design yet.
The bride had burst into tears of joy when she took a sneak peek and then had to have her makeup touched up.
But he had a date with Steven Conley. A date. After all these years.
There was no way he could focus on anything else, and he was certain the wedding had suffered for it.
But a date.
In the weeks since they’d hooked up, Ryan had actually come to terms with what had happened. It made sense. Even in his fantasies, he hadn’t been able to picture anything more from Steven than orgasms, of Steven meeting whatever sexual needs he had. Ryan hadn’t allowed himself to picture anything more than that happening. At least, not much.
The emotions he’d felt during their time together had only come as sort of a surprise to Ryan. He’d been lusting after Steven for so long, it only made sense that he’d feel more than he had for any other man when and if the two of them ever got together. However, Steven had felt the same; at least it had seemed that way. Like the earth had moved for him as well.
Ryan had imagined that part. Projected his own emotions. The past two weeks had been painful, but not unexpected. He’d actually gotten more than he’d thought possible. In a strange way, after the initial sting of it, he’d been grateful.
Then the message from Steven. Sounding hopeful and nervous. Sounding like he was afraid Ryan was going to turn him down. As if.
“Does the menu not look good to you? We can go somewhere else.”
Ryan glanced past his menu, and his heart lurched.
He wasn’t dreaming or imagining things. There was Steven Conley, his dark hair swept back, slick with the grooves of the comb catching the light, his chestnut beard slightly trimmed. Looking rugged, handsome, and utterly out of place in the fancy restaurant.
Ryan couldn’t hold back his smile. He’d been smiling for two days straight, in spite of the nerves. “No, it looks amazing. The Vietnamese turf and surf sounds out of this world.” He glanced back at the menu. Shit. He’d just rattled off the last thing he’d been looking at. Thirty-five bucks. Shit. Well, it did sound amazing. He looked back up at Steven. “I’m surprised you picked Linger. Everything I’ve ever had here has always been good. But I wouldn’t have thought it was your kind of restaurant.”
“Oh.” Steven winced. “You’ve been here before.”
“Yeah.” Dammit. He should’ve kept that to himself.
Steven pushed on, though his smile looked a little forced, and tapped the wall of windows that looked over snow-laden, sparkling downtown Denver. “I know stuff has built up around here, but I heard the view was still pretty good, if you managed to get the right table.” He chuckled a little. “And really, once I remembered it used to be a mortuary, I didn’t think there could be a better place for my first date with a mortician.”
His first date with a mortician? As in, he already wanted a second date or he’d never dated a mortician before? There Ryan went again, overthinking things and…. “Wait a minute. Your first date with a mortician? You think I’m a mortician?” Ryan couldn’t hold back a shudder.
Confusion flitted over Steven’s face. “Well, yeah. You work at the funeral home. Am I not choosing the right word?”
They didn’t know each other much. Well, Steven didn’t know him at all. How Ryan could forget that was insane. He’d been lusting after Steven for well over a decade. Steven didn’t even remember who he was. Those feelings when they’d held each other couldn’t have been real.
A moment of sadness and regret flashed through him. He shoved them away.
They were here. Together right then. They could get to know each other. “I only work at the funeral home to make some money on the side. I’m trying to get my business up and running. It’s only been a couple of years. It’s getting there, but money is still a little tight at times.”
Steven perked up. “Boy, do I get that. Getting Mary’s started, especially after the move and remodel, has been harder than I ever imagined. I had no idea you owned a business.” He scoffed. “Of course I didn’t. How would I? What’s your business? You look pretty…. Uhm, I mean, like the type to be in finance or something.”
That was odd. “No, I own an event planning business. Just up the street from here, actually. Confetti. We plan weddings, parties, gallery openings, that kind of thing.”
Steven cocked hi
s head, his eyes narrowing. Ryan almost thought he looked relieved somehow. “Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed. That’s pretty cool.”
Their waiter returned with the beer and wine they’d ordered when they’d sat down. “Here we go, gentlemen.” Ryan noticed his gaze flick to Steven, and he was pretty sure he was staring at the chest hair visible in the V of Steven’s shirt. The waiter had good taste. “Are we ready to order?”
Steven glanced down at the menu, looking nervous. “Well, I know we want the Vietnamese surf and turf and then, maybe….”
“That’s actually one of our main course tapas. Perhaps you’d like to start with a variety of bao buns or shishito peppers?”
God, so much money. Why the hell had he rattled off the surf and turf? “You know, I’m not very hungry. I bet the surf and turf will cover it for both of us.”
For a second, it looked like Steven was going to protest. A slight pink rose to his cheeks, visible even in the dim light, and he nodded. “Yeah. I bet you’re right.”
The waiter was about to protest as well but then gave a forced smile. “Very well. I’ll put that order in for you right now.”
They watched him walk away. Finally Steven cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I think I messed up. I had the impression you probably like really fancy places.”
He did. There wasn’t one Michelin-star restaurant his mother hadn’t dragged him and his father to in New York. And God help him if he didn’t love them just as much as she did. “No, you didn’t mess up. I just know what it’s like to start a business. Unless I’m with my folks, I don’t do fancy restaurants very often. All the money goes to the business.”
“Yeah, but I want to do something extra special for….” Steven’s words trailed off, and his brows creased, then his gaze darted up to Ryan’s and held. “Hold on. I just remembered something. I’d not made the connection before. Fuller. I’d forgotten Pat used to talk about your family. You’re Mike and Susan Fuller’s son.”
Shit. From Steven’s expression, that was going to be an issue. Most of the gay folks in Denver knew his family. Not just because of their wealth, but also because of his parents’ lavish donations and support of One Colorado and other LGBTQ activist groups.
Might as well get it over with. “Yeah, I am.”
Steven gave a little snort. “No wonder I thought you looked fancy. And here I was really going all out. This is nothing, huh?”
The insecurity that radiated off Steven was both a little painful to watch and somewhat off-putting. He’d always seemed so masculine and in charge. Like he owned the world and was never afraid. At the moment, though, he looked like he felt inferior to Ryan. There’d been many boyfriends who’d acted weird or freaked out once they learned who Ryan’s parents were or saw their home. He hadn’t expected such a reaction from Steven.
“I’m not my parents, Steven. I don’t have their money. Or influence.”
Steven’s expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed in what looked like accusation. “Wait a second. This is all coming back to me now. Pat really did talk about you quite a bit. She was so mad when Topher decided to drop out of college and get married while his best friend went to Yale or Harvard or something.”
“Princeton.” Even to his own ears, Ryan sounded defeated.
“Sure, right. Princeton.” Another scoff. “Princeton. I don’t even remember where that is. But you’re out on a date with an old man who owns a restaurant and is barely making ends meet. And you just had to pretend to not be hungry so the bill wouldn’t get so high I couldn’t afford to pay it.” Steven had gone from sounding ashamed to angry. “Don’t pretend that isn’t what just happened.”
This was so not the fantasy. Not how it was supposed to go—wine and food, then kisses, skin, hair, cocks, sweat, and so much passion Ryan wouldn’t question the love he’d felt the other night. Not this. The anger. The insecurity.
This was the man he’d been lusting after for so long?
Ryan wasn’t sure whether he was more disappointed or angry.
A dish of steak and shrimp appeared before them. Followed by a plate with some sort of pastry. He and Steven both looked up at the server, who smiled down at them. “Your dinner, gentlemen.” He motioned to the pastry. “I thought I’d give you one of our more popular and exotic items on the menu, just to spice things up. It’s on the house. A cricket and cassava empanada. Don’t be freaked-out by it. It’s amazing, I swear. My favorite thing on the menu.” Another smile and a glance at Steven’s glass. “I’ll get you another beer. Be back shortly.” He walked away.
Their gazes met over the table. The anger that had been building behind Steven’s eyes was gone. “Did he just say cricket? As in those chirpy little insect bastards?”
“Yeah. I noticed that on the menu earlier. I couldn’t figure out what cassava was, though.”
“Who cares? It’s alongside crickets.” The corner of Steven’s lips curved into a smile. “I’ll take the cassava shit. You can have the crickets.”
Ryan laughed and felt a bit relieved. There was the man he’d always seen. Playful, sexy.
There were obviously other sides to Steven Conley besides the aspects that fueled Ryan’s adolescent lust. And they weren’t necessarily pretty.
Despite Steven’s momentary playfulness, silence fell between them.
They ate. Shrimp and steak, slowly cut and chewed. Crickets cooling in their dumpling shell.
The waiter brought Steven’s beer and an unrequested second wine for Ryan. Thank God. He was halfway through the new glass before irritation grew again and got the better of him. No, not irritation. Anger. He’d fantasized about Steven for way too long for the man to finally ask him out, after a night of the best sex Ryan had ever had, to fuck it up now.
He lowered his fork, the bite of steak forgotten, and leveled a glare at Steven. “You know what, let me tell you why Topher is my best friend. Even though we hardly see each other anymore.”
Steven grimaced. “You don’t need to. It’s weird enough knowing you’re the same age. I don’t need to know—”
“Tough shit. I want you to.” What the hell was he doing? And why couldn’t he keep the anger out of his voice?
Steven flinched but shut his mouth.
“Despite my mother’s wishes, Dad wanted me to have a ‘normal’ childhood. So I went to public school until my sophomore year. School was hell. I was the rich kid. The rich, gay kid. And I know, believe me, I know. Poor, poor little rich kid. You think I wasn’t aware that I shouldn’t be complaining?”
Steven looked like he was about to speak, but Ryan kept going.
“You know who always had my back? Topher. He didn’t even waver when I came out to him in sixth grade. Never walked away when people started teasing him for being gay because of me. And when Mom finally got her way and sent me to the private art school, he didn’t treat me any different. I still slept over at his house. Still snuck in beer and cigarettes when our parents weren’t looking. None of it ever mattered to Topher. I was his friend. Period.”
Ryan held up his finger, stopping whatever Steven had started to say.
“I’m almost done. Hold on.” He took a swig of wine, then continued. “Yeah, I went to Princeton. And yeah, I was on the track to stardom in the art world. My paintings were getting five figures. And I know you probably weren’t aware of that part, but might as well get it out of the way. Guess who was the only person who didn’t treat me like I was crazy when I said I was miserable in that world. When I decided I wanted to walk away from it all and open a party-planning business. That was too normal, even for my father. But Topher? Not one judgmental word or action. He even made time to come check out the space in Highlands Square before I put an offer down.”
Ryan stopped speaking abruptly and realized he was breathing heavy.
Steven studied him for a moment, as if expecting him to launch into another speech. When it was clear Ryan was done, Steven sighed and opened his hands in a nondefensive manner. “That sounds like
Topher. Is it Topher you have feelings for? Because I’m not him.”
“No.” Ryan cringed and wondered how Steven had gotten to that. Though he supposed the whole spiel had been about Topher. “No. Actually, I’ve never had feelings like that for Topher. He’s like my brother. My feelings have always been about you. At least who I thought you were.”
A flinch, and Steven’s expression fell. “And who was that?”
“This gorgeous, sexy man who walked into a room and the entire world seemed to turn and stare at him. A man who was full of confidence and knew he was gorgeous. Knew he could have anything he wanted. A man who my best friend worshiped because he was so kind to him and his brothers. A man who was openly gay and not afraid, when I was so terrified all the time.”
The sadness in Steven’s gaze was nearly palpable as he reached across the table and placed his hand over Ryan’s. “I love my nephew, and I’m not ashamed of being gay, never have been. And I know I’m not ugly. But you’ve built me up to be something I wasn’t. That I’m not.” He let go of Ryan and pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry I took advantage of that the other night. I didn’t realize. I thought…. Well, I don’t know what I thought, but I for sure didn’t understand it was only misplaced hero worship.”
Panic pushed away Ryan’s anger. He could see Steven shutting down, literally closing doors and locking him out. And suddenly, none of the details mattered. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it the other night.”
Steven met his gaze again but didn’t speak.
Maybe Steven hadn’t felt it and Ryan was just making a fool of himself. “You can’t honestly say that you didn’t feel it between us. Maybe not love. It’s too soon, and we don’t know each other, obviously. Not really. But it felt like it. Or like it could soon be love. Like our bodies had always needed to be together. You felt that. I know you did.”
Did he?
Steven stared for a long time, then gave a defeated nod. “Yeah. I did. At least I thought I did. But it wasn’t real. You were living out some fantasy you dreamed up about me, and I went along for the ride. And it was….” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and then continued. “It was something I’ll never forget. And maybe never have again. But it wasn’t real.”
