Socks for an Otter

by Posy Roberts

  Then Louis set the plate aside and leaned back for his impromptu concert.

  Sebastian couldn’t help but smile. This was one of those dreams he’d never allowed to blossom, yet it was happening. He was playing for a man first thing in the morning after sleeping the whole night in his bed. And it just so happened to be Christmas morning.

  And who knew he had a hand-feeding kink? But he did, and so did Louis, so all was well in the world.

  “You’re good,” Louis proclaimed as he played the last few notes. “Like, really good. I could get used to listening to that. Like, all the frickin’ time!”

  “You like?”

  He nodded. “Will you sing for me? Not carols.”

  Sebastian quirked a brow. “Maybe someday.”

  “The day you sing for me will be a good day.”

  Sebastian set the ukulele aside and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Thank you, Louis. For all the gifts you’ve given me over the last few weeks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Louis said on his way in for a kiss.

  “Now you. I’ll buy you much better gifts in the future. Promise. But I need a few paychecks under my belt first.”

  “Stop talking your gift down, will ya?”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes and watched as Louis popped the lid off the box to reveal Sebastian’s gold ring. “I want you to wear it. After all, I’m still wearing yours.” He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers.

  When Louis looked up, he had tears in his eyes. “Thank you. I’ve felt naked without it.”

  Sebastian took Louis’s hand in his own and thumbed over his knuckles, then twisted the ring. He swallowed down the lump in his throat that had formed the second he realized he was going to voice this.

  A nod. A breath.

  “I like what it means, us wearing each other’s rings.”

  “What’s it mean?” Louis whispered.

  “It means we’re sharing the burdens of our pasts. I’ll carry yours and you’ll carry mine. And that way we’re never alone.”

  Tears streamed down Louis’s cheeks and he pulled Sebastian to his chest. He let out a sob, and Sebastian climbed into his lap, needing to be closer.

  “Not too sappy?” Sebastian asked.

  “Not at all. Thank you, Sebastian.” Louis pulled back and looked into Sebastian’s eyes, smiling as his lips trembled like he was ready to sob again. Instead he took a breath and muttered, “Fuck it.”

  “Fuck what?”

  “What the world has to say. What matters right now is what I want to say. It might be too fast, but fuck, Sebastian. I’ve never felt this way before, and there’s only one word that can describe it.”

  Sebastian drew in a quavering breath.

  “I love you, Sebastian Elliot Lewis. And I’m more than happy to help you bear your burdens.”

  Sebastian pressed his forehead to Louis’s and sighed. “Oh, thank God I’m not the only one.” He chuckled. “I’m fucking crazy about you, but I’ve never been in love, and I doubted everything I was feeling, but there’s no denying it. I love you, Louis Drake. Louis . . . What’s your middle name?”

  “Oh no you don’t?”

  “What is it?”

  “Nah-uh.”

  “Come on, Louis. I told you mine.”

  “No you didn’t. Your ring told me your middle name.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes and growled. “I meant my first name.”

  “Not the same thing.”

  “Louis . . .” Sebastian put his hands on his hips for effect.

  Nothing.

  Quirked a brow.

  Nothing.

  “Please?” he whined.

  Louis squeezed his ass cheeks and hummed, rocking them back and forth. “Come on, don’t ruin this romantic moment with such trivia. Let’s run a bath, soak, and I’ll read to you from whatever romance you’re in the middle of.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Sebastian said as he headed toward the bathroom. “Promise this will become a thing, reading in the tub. A Christmas Day ritual.”

  “Anything you want.”

  “Your middle name?”

  “Anything but that.”

  30

  Always

  New Year’s Eve

  Blanche’s house had transformed into party central. You’d never know a desk usually sat in the middle of this room now filled with a buffet table nearly buckling under the weight of all the food and drinks piled high.

  Sebastian felt at home here. He’d been putting in long hours training, but he loved the work, and he was passionate about it, something he never thought he’d feel about a job.

  The good part about the long hours was that if Louis got antsy and hopped on the Metro to see Sebastian sooner, they could ride back to his place. On the commute, they’d talk about their day until they ran out of work stuff to process. Then they’d flirt, talk about what they wanted to cook that night. And by the time they got to Louis’s house, it felt like they’d already been on a date.

  At home, they’d start a second date. They’d eat and read a few chapters aloud to each other, sometimes in Sebastian’s book and other times in Louis’s. Sebastian took advantage of Louis’s bathroom and showered there. It was easier than using the cramped, shared shower back at the boarding house.

  Every night after Sebastian’s hair was dry, Louis walked him back to the Metro station and waved him goodbye. The boarding house had a curfew, and if he wasn’t inside before midnight, he’d be locked out until morning.

  So, to say the sexual tension was high . . . yeah. It was. Nothing Sebastian couldn’t handle, though.

  But tonight they were together, and Sebastian was going home with Louis after the party. He didn’t have to work tomorrow, neither did Louis, and they had plans to sleep in late and see where the day took them.

  As they mingled, hands always joined, Louis introduced Sebastian to several people who told them how much Blanche had been talking about him. She was clearly singing his praises in public places.

  A few people connected him back to his father, asking if he was by any chance related to Gabriel Lewis. Apparently some low rumblings had spread back and forth between the DC and Upper East Side gossip underground. It wasn’t anything blatant, but the way people looked at him, Sebastian knew.

  So when his father and mother walked through the front door, Sebastian’s heart stuttered.

  “What’s he doing here?” he asked Louis under his breath. “You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

  Blanche swooped in and gave Sebastian’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got this under control.”

  “Thank God.”

  Oscar said, “If he does a thing to hurt you, Sebastian, I might punch him.”

  Louis snorted a laugh. “Gee, Oscar. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “And neither does he.” He gestured toward Gabriel and raised a threatening brow. “But once Sebastian is interviewed about his struggles with homelessness in front of the whole House and the entire country, aired live on C-SPAN, he’ll know better.”

  Louis stared agape at Sebastian. “You’re doing that?”

  “Behind closed doors,” Sebastian hissed. “You said it would be behind closed doors with a small committee.”

  Oscar raised a brow and folded his arms across his broad chest. “We’ll see how Gabriel behaves tonight.”

  “Put on your game face,” Louis said. He took a long sip of his wine and an even longer breath, something Sebastian now knew was the way Louis calmed himself.

  He slammed his forehead into Louis’s shoulder and muttered, “Why can’t we just go home and fuck? We don’t need to be here. Take me home. Fuck me.”

  Louis’s eyes went wide. “Home?”

  Before Sebastian could react to Louis’s surprise over his use of home, his mom spotted him. He waited to see if she even recognized him with the beard.

  She did.

  Her eyes went watery, and she held her arms out, nearly knocking p
eople over as she crossed from two rooms away to get to him, talking the entire time and drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Sebby, my Sebby. Gabriel said you might be here, but I’d lost all hope after learning you weren’t staying at Antoine’s bachelor loft. My sweet baby, I barely recognize you with the beard, but who could forget those eyes.”

  “Who indeed?” Louis whispered.

  Sebastian took a few steps forward to pull her into a hug before she tripped on Blanche’s cat. She smelled the same, like Chanel No. 5, cinnamon gum, and witch hazel hairspray. “Mom, I missed you.”

  She squeezed him so tight it was hard to breathe, but he wasn’t about to let her go. “Your father can be a stupid man at times. He insisted you were having a temper tantrum like when you ran away and lived with the Astors for that summer.”

  “It was more than that . . . this time.”

  She finally pulled away and cupped his face to get a good look at him. “You look older, and if what I’ve heard is true, there’s no wonder.” She shot an evil look behind her. “I can’t believe him. I make no apologies for his behavior; that’s up to him. I can only apologize for taking him at his word and not listening to my gut when I hadn’t heard your voice for so long. I got your emails, but you never said much in them.”

  “Because I thought you and Dad were on the same page. I emailed you because I didn’t want you to worry. And I was okay. Safe, at least. I have no clue how a rumor got started that I was staying with Antoine.”

  “He’s gallivanting around the nightclubs with someone easily mistaken as you, or so the grapevine whispers in recent days.”

  “Of course.” Like a wave, his old life crashed over him, and nothing about it fit. The people, the gossip, the clubbing . . . That just proved this was a life he never wanted to even dip a toe back in.

  “Louis Drake.” Louis extended his hand. “I’m Sebastian’s boyfriend.”

  “Oh, so good to meet you,” she said. “You’re the one who helped Gabriel see the errors of his ways.”

  “Yes. I guess I did.”

  This was about to get good, and Sebastian couldn’t wait to hear what his mom would say about the demise of Gabriel Lewis. But the pocket doors between the dining room and the parlor slid shut with a thud.

  His father.

  Sebastian looked to Louis, but he was leading his mother into the living room where the rest of the partygoers gathered, sliding another pocket door closed.

  “Wha—”

  “Sebastian, if I could have a minute of your time.” His dad stepped closer, arms wide in supplication. “Please?”

  “You’ve never asked for permission before. You’ve always just taken my time.”

  “And now I’m trying to learn from my mistakes. Blanche has spent a lot of time telling me about her work and about the bright new hire she’s been so excited about. She finally told me it was my own son.”

  “How do you know Blanche?” He couldn’t keep the prickliness from rising to the surface.

  “We grew up together, at least in the summers.”

  “She’s never mentioned that to me.” Sebastian picked up a red napkin and folded it into a triangle.

  “Why would she? We’ve barely spoken in the last thirty years. Went our separate ways. She was helping waifs and orphans, and what I did offended her.”

  “Making money no matter who you hurt?”

  His father nodded. “Yes. But she reminded me of who I used to be. She reached out to me earlier in the year when she started this new project of hers. She told me I may not have heart enough to work in a soup kitchen, but the boy she grew up with would’ve never let a friend go hungry or sleep on the streets. And apparently my money can help these people.” He took a breath. “People like you. My son.” He had tears in his eyes, and Sebastian was . . . shocked.

  “Money does help, and so do people like Louis who volunteer their time. People like Louis make more of a difference every single day by making connections.” Sebastian paused to lick his lips. They were so dry. His whole mouth was dry. “He’s the familiar face who greets us with a smile and tells us, ‘It’s good to see you again,’ and asks us, ‘How’s the foot doing? Did you get a new pair of shoes yet?’” The tears just came. There was no stopping them because so many people had been a Louis to him. Marvin was his Louis. And who knew how many other people like Louis there were out in the world touching hearts?

  “Sounds like he’s a good man.”

  “I’m moving in with him. He doesn’t know that yet because I had to prove to myself that I could be a success with no help. Get a job, find a place to live, pay for my own food. Make it on my own.”

  “I’m glad you’ve done that.”

  “But I haven’t, Dad,” he said with a watery smile as he folded his napkin again. “No one does. Not really. And as often as you’ve said you were self-made—because you refused to touch your inheritance until you made your first million—it’s a lie. You had people helping you all along the way. You had teachers and neighbors and friends holding ladders you didn’t even know you were standing on. And then you had money, which opened more doors and set up a labyrinth of ladders.” He let out a soft chuckle. “You thought you were climbing alone, but you never were. Just ask Mom. Ask her who helped you succeed. I bet she has a list as long as both your arms. And that’s not even considering the money. The money that made more money that made more money just by sitting there or by being moved here. There. Oh no, back over here.”

  His father made the smart choice to keep his mouth shut as Sebastian set down the origami heart he’d folded and dug into his front pocket. He slipped a coin out and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. It glinted in the light.

  “This quarter. I’ve had this quarter in my pocket since the day you kicked me out and wrote me off. It’s still worth only twenty-five cents.” He flipped it, sending it flying high before it fell and landed in his outstretched palm. “It didn’t blossom into a dollar or two hundred and fifty dollars like some of your money has. And yeah, I know I didn’t stick it in a trust or the stock market or real estate or anything you dabble in. Because I didn’t have that privilege. I couldn’t even put it in a bank because out here, I was a nobody who couldn’t open a bank account. On paper, I’m invisible. I have nothing, not even credit because— What was it you used to tell me?” The sneer couldn’t be contained.

  His father closed his eyes as if it hurt and whispered, “You don’t need to worry about credit. You’re a Lewis. Your name is your credit. You’ll be able to pay for everything in cash.”

  Sebastian nodded, taking in deep breaths through his nose. “But then I wasn’t a Lewis. And I had no cash. And even the pittance I made scrubbing toilets and scraping gum off the bottom of—”

  His father scowled and then looked utterly defeated.

  “Yeah. I did those things. I made enough to eat and buy a new pair of decent socks.” He stabbed himself in the chest with a thumb. “I started at the bottom. I’m making something from nothing. And along the way, I’ve rebuilt myself.”

  Louis appeared over his father’s shoulder, a welcome sight, but his questioning eyes wanted to know if he should come to the rescue.

  “I’ve got this,” Sebastian reassured Louis as he tucked his quarter back in his pocket.

  His father spun, surprised to see an audience. Louis opened the sliding door wider and let Sebastian’s mother, a head shorter, stand in front of him.

  “I was wrong,” his father started, staring at the floor. “I was wrong about so many things. I didn’t want you to grow up spoiled so you wouldn’t understand the value of a day’s work.”

  “But that’s exactly how I grew up, and you guys were fine with that. Up until the moment you weren’t. Until I was twenty-two and useless.”

  Louis went to speak, but Sebastian stopped him with a raised hand.

  “Louis hates when I say I’m useless. I’m not useless. Never was. But I never had someone help me figure out where my strength
s were. Until him. And Blanche. And my friend Javon.” He finished with a shrug. Everything he’d ever dreamed of saying to his father was hovering between them. He took a deep breath, and it went in so easily. He felt like he could float.

  His father reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. “I came tonight to deliver these along with my apology and an explanation. But you clearly understand far better than I ever did. You’re smart, Sebby. You always were. Quick-witted, fast on your feet, but with a wicked temper and impulsiveness I thought I could tame.”

  Louis chuckled. “Oh, he still has a wicked temper. It’s tamed most of the time, but the night I met him, that temper was directed my way. Made me so flustered I invited him back to my place so I could cook for him.”

  His mother smiled. “Sounds like our Sebby.”

  Sebastian took the envelope his father passed his way. “What is this?”

  “All the paperwork for bank accounts, your trust, and the title for your Jeep.”

  “What? You mean I have money?”

  “Quite a lot, actually. I was afraid you’d blow it on gay escorts or buying an island or setting up a porn studio in your wing of the penthouse.”

  Sebastian snorted out a laugh. “Not really my thing. None of those.”

  “Well, whatever your thing is, I trust you to make the best decisions for yourself.”

  “You trust me?”

  His father nodded and swallowed thickly. “Yeah, Seb. I trust you. I love you. And I don’t think you’re useless.”

  Sebastian couldn’t help it. He needed a fucking hug; he needed it right then. And the way his father held him, tight yet tender, he’d been craving this for ages too.

  Finally they were alone, in Louis’s bed, and naked. Louis was actually hovering over Sebastian, smiling down at him as he thrust, filling him so perfectly.

  It was surreal.

  The way this last year had gone, Sebastian never expected any of his dreams to come true. Hell, just a few weeks ago, he’d been too afraid to dream. It took this kind man with a penchant for colorful shoelaces, crazy socks, and a heart of gold to go out on a limb and say, “Hey, little otter, take my hand. Let me feed your heart and soul.”