by Aiden Bates
“I love this song,” Chris recalled saying to Raff, when they finally found each other in the crowd. It was “Hold Me Now” by the Thompson Twins.
“Hm,” Raff said, pulling his pregnant husband close, “I think this was before my time.” He was always teasing Chris about being two whole years older.
Chris just smirked as they began to sway. Many of the adults started slow dancing as well, but the kids ran between them undeterred.
“I love it here, Raff. I think we’re going to have so much fun. So many memories. Think about it. When we come back this summer, we’ll have our baby with us. In a few years, he or she will be running around at parties just like this.”
Raff didn’t respond with more than a squeeze, but Chris already knew that he was excited. When he was a kid, he didn’t even have one place to call his home. Now he had two.
They brought a two-month-old Elizabeth to Stellar the next summer so that Chris could recuperate and bond with her in peace. Their new neighbors filled their freezer with home-cooked meals and their window sill with lovely plants and vases of flowers.
But this year . . .
Chris shut the DUI file and turned to his computer, pressing the button that woke up the monitor.
“Hey, Yo? Do you know the best place around here to buy a bike?”
She peeked her colorful head into the room. “Like for the baby? I bet I could find a tricycle in the Salvation Army for two bucks. Or do you mean a bicycle for you or Raff?”
“No, a motorcycle. I need to buy a Harley Davidson.”
Chapter Six
“I heard it’s your anniversary. Congrats.”
Raff’s face took on a puzzled grin. “Sure is. Our fourth. How’d you know that, Carl?”
Carl winked. “Li’l bird, I suppose. That’s fifty-two-fifty-five.” He had the faintest trace of a Scandinavian accent, even though he’d been in the States for decades. He was a pleasant man with a very weathered face and, sometimes when Raff came down to his little general store to buy one or two things, he ended up talking to the interesting man for ten or fifteen minutes.
Raff almost winced at the price of the bottle of wine. It should have been less than thirty dollars, but Carl knew he could take advantage of Stellar’s remote location. He charged an arm and a leg for everything, from toilet paper to olive oil.
“You take care, Carl. Thanks again. See you soon.”
Old Carl just nodded with a knowing grin.
Raff was thrilled that Carl was able to order the wine though. It was Chris’s favorite label, and it would make a nice surprise, along with the beautiful attaché case. Raff didn’t know much about business attire, but it was sharp looking and buttery, with an interesting pattern in the lather, and he knew Chris would look stylishly formidable carrying it into the courthouse.
A few days earlier, Chris asked if he could take care of dinner for a change, and that was a gift enough for Raff. As much as he enjoyed cooking, it was nice to have someone else take the kitchen reins. He hoped the wine was a good compliment for whatever Chris was making. As he approached the door to their condo, Raff wondered if he should run back downstairs and buy whatever white Carl had on hand, but then he saw a note with his name on it.
“Raff, meet me at the café. Love, Chris.”
Oh. That’s not what I expected at all.
Raff felt a little disappointed, but then he smiled and shrugged. Maybe Chris got overwhelmed, or dropped something or burned it all. He wasn’t a naturally gifted chef. And Holly’s cooking was fantastic. There were worst places for an anniversary dinner. He ducked into the condo and grabbed the wrapped gift from under the bed, then headed back to the elevator.
But when he got off on the next floor, the hallway was dark. He looked up and down the hall and saw no one. There were people who lived on this level, so it was concerning. Did a fuse blow?
The confused alpha made his way down the hall, lit only by the glowing exit signs, until he reached the closed glass door of the café. It should have been open at that time of evening. There was a flickering light from within. Raff tried to see inside, but it was mostly dark. He pushed and the door gave in.
Tucked in the back against the floor-to-ceiling window was a small, candlelit table, and seated there was Chris. No one else appeared to be in the restaurant.
“Happy Anniversary, my alpha.”
A wide smile covered Raff’s face. He reserved the entire restaurant just for us. Just like I did the night we got engaged.
“Happy Anniversary, my omega.”
“It’s just us tonight. Denise has the baby. And Holly is making us pasta diavolo.”
“And I’ve got a bottle of petite sirah.”
“You remembered!”
“So did you, apparently. This is,” Raff sighed, “perfect.”
Chris grinned. “I hope you aren’t disappointed that I didn’t cook. I figured you wouldn’t want Hamburger Helper and an iceberg salad on our special night.”
Raff laughed. “Honestly, I was kind of looking forward to it. But now my mouth is watering. I haven’t had pasta diavolo in forever.”
As if she heard them, Holly came out of the kitchen. Instead of her usual retro diner uniform, she wore a sleek black dress, and she moved quickly and quietly with a smile. Raff was used to her Southern charm, friendly gossip and loud laugh, so it was an unexpected change, but he appreciated it. She placed a loaf of fresh garlic bread and a bowl of mussels marinara before them, opened and poured the wine, and was gone just as quickly as she arrived.
“Okay, mussels?” Raff said, impressed. “This is a new addition to our tradition, and I thoroughly approve.”
As the men ate, they talked and laughed. They had reached an unspoken understanding a few weeks earlier, after Raff saw the bears and Chris realized that his work was taking up more and more of his life and their time. They began to reach out to each other more and, even though Chris still had to work, they were able to connect better. Every night after Elizabeth went to bed, they made an effort to turn off the television and spent time together, even just for half an hour. Slowly but surely, it was getting better. And tonight, they were at ease as they caught each other up on their respective days.
At the end of the meal, Holly brought out homemade tiramisu and cappuccino. As she turned to leave, Raff gently caught her by the wrist.
“Wait, Holly, I just have to say . . . this is incredible. You went through a great deal of effort for us. Thank you so much.”
“Oh, now, it was my pleasure, sweetheart. Y’all are the sweetest couple and you deserve a night out.”
“I didn’t even realize that you cooked Italian food. You’re menu is very, well, American!” It was true; Holly’s specialties were chicken pot pie, meat loaf and, sure enough, apple pie. Raff was surprised.
She giggled. “Would y’all believe that my mama was Italian? But my daddy was pure Southern. So mama cooked fried chicken and cornbread for him, but she also taught me to make food from the old country. She even combined them sometimes. She made a lovely cornbread pizza crust.” She looked proud as she spoke about her heritage.
“Thank you again, Holly,” Chris said softly, and reached out to squeeze her hand.
“My pleasure. And I’m gonna tell you what. Y’all take your time and enjoy the view and your wine. I’m going to clean up and head out. Just turn the lock before you leave, okay? And Happy Anniversary!”
The older woman turned and went back to work. Chris raised his brows in surprise.
“Small town, eh?”
“For sure,” Raff replied. “That would never happen in Hell’s Kitchen.”
The restaurant’s view was that of the harbor and the water was dark blue except for the bobbing boats and twinkling lights. The sun set very late in the Alaskan summer, and the stars were just barely starting so show. The sunset was hot pink, vivid orange and violet. It was like their own personal work of art, painted just for them.
After a few minutes of comfortable s
ilence, the dessert was gone and Raff reached under the table. “I’ve got something for you. Happy Anniversary, darlin’.”
“Now what is this? You shouldn’t have.”
“Of course I should have. It’s a special occasion. Open it.”
Chris ran his hands over the paper, matte blue and rich with a simple gold ribbon. He slid his fingers under the seam, in a way that normally drove Raff crazy (“Just rip it open!” he cried on more than one occasion), and then slipped the paper off like a sleeve.
“Oh, Raff,” Chris breathed. He held the black briefcase on his lap and let his fingers rove over the textured leather. “This . . . Is this . . . ?” He opened it up and saw the label. “A Goyard? Oh, Raff.” His voice was soft and awed. “How . . . this is . . . this is too much.”
“Nonsense. You deserve it. And more. Every time you walk into a courtroom with this thing, the opposing counsel is going to be intimidated as hell. Rightfully.”
“And jealous.”
Raff was pleased with the reaction. Caroline insisted that Chris would be impressed, but Raff wasn’t sure if he would see the name Goyard and know what it meant . . . or how much the thing cost—apparently he did.
“It’s stunning. Wow.” Chris kept running his hands over the case, as if his eyes weren’t good enough on their own. It needed to be felt. “Thank you.” He leaned over to kiss Raff, but the case got in the way. He started to set it on the floor, then changed his mind and put it on the table next to them before leaning in again.
Raff loved that taste, of wine and food on his lover’s lips. Even though he hadn’t had a drink in years, he loved knowing that his precious omega was being indulged.
“And now I’ve got something for you,” Chris said. “But you’ll have to come downstairs, and maybe close your eyes for a minute.”
“I’m intrigued.”
A chorus of crickets and a wave of heat greeted them as soon as they walked out the front door of Stellar Landing. Chris grabbed Raff’s hand and pulled him toward their garage unit, but then paused before he opened the door.
“Now, it’s sort of a weird gift.”
Raff laughed. “Okay?”
“Well, it’s a gift that may appear to be more for me than for you. But . . . I hope that you understand what I mean when you see it. So first, close your eyes.” He pulled the door opener out of his pocket and pressed the button. When the garage door stopped moving, Chris told him to open his eyes.
There, next to their car and the empty spot where Raff often parked his bike, was a motorcycle. It was a newer model than Raff’s, used but obviously well-taken care of.
“What—what’s this?” Raff was truly confused. Did Chris know Raff sold his Harley?
“It’s my new bike. I—Raff, I quit my job. I quit the firm. I’m going to do my own thing—and—and—we’ll connect and my folks will watch Bizzy.” His eyes met Raff’s and he looked almost as crazy as he sounded. “I mean, I want to go riding with you. I bought it because I want to work less and spend more time with you and Elizabeth. And I want to go on romantic bike trips to spas and all of that stuff. I want to do all that and more with you.”
It took a full ten seconds before Raff truly comprehended what was going on. First he smiled, then a little laugh came out in tiny breaths through his nostrils, then his shoulders started to shake. Before Chris could say anything, Raff was holding himself up on the hood of the car and laughing out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Chris smiled, but now he was the one who was confused.
“I—I sold—I sold the Harley!”
“But why?”
Raff giggled for another minute, wiped his eyes and sat on the hood of the car to catch his breath. Grabbing Chris by the waist, he pulled him between his knees. He adored his omega, and he secretly loved that Chris was smaller than himself. He loved to feel like he was protecting Chris when he wrapped his arms around him.
“Darlin’, don’t hate me. I wanted to do something special for you; to show you how much I value your hard work and your career, so I sold my bike on Craigslist to afford the attaché case.”
Chris’s look was amused but slightly embarrassed. “And I quit the career you valued so that I could ride motorcycles with you.”
“It’s like that story.”
Chris gasped. “The Gift of the Magi! I loved that short story. We are a living version of it.”
Anyone driving by would have wondered why two men were laughing so hard in their garage that they had to hold each other up. It felt good to laugh so hard it hurt.
“But you loved that bike, Raff. I can’t believe you sold it.”
Raff nodded. “Yeah, but it wasn’t the bike so much as what it represented. My younger days, and freedom. I can find that again, if I want to. And I still have my bike in New York.”
“Let’s try to get it back. Or buy another one for here.”
“Well. That might be hard, since you’re unemployed.”
“Not unemployed, exactly.” Chris looked a little sheepish. “I’ve already established a name for myself in Fairbanks. There are enough clients to go around, believe me. I spoke to the leasing office about a smaller unit. However, I’m only going to work three days a week. That’s my goal.”
“What about in New York? A lot more competition there, right?”
Chris waved his hand nonchalantly. “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I’ll be knee-deep in new cases within a month. Besides, I’m thinking of doing solely estate planning. It’s so much more pleasant than defense. Lots of old-money Manhattanites willing to pay to keep their old money safe. I won’t have to rub elbows with the likes of art thieves.”
Raff laughed and kissed him lightly before saying, “I like that. I’d hate for you to meet another hot criminal on the job.”
Chris grinned. “Raff, I feel so good about this.”
“Me too, darlin’. There’s no one else I’d rather be broke with.”
“And there’s no one else I’d rather break my leg with.”
“That’s right. You’ve never actually driven a bike before, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“Don’t worry. I’m an excellent teacher.”
Chris leaned into him, resting his body against Raff’s larger, stronger one and they kissed again, slowly and tenderly. That feeling of his omega leaning into him, melting into him, filled Raff with desire.
“Let’s go home, my omega,” Raff whispered against his lips. “I need to be inside of you for hours.”
Chapter Seven
“She’s going to break your back soon, Raff. She’s growing like a weed.”
“Don’t I know it, Tommy. She’s a chunky monkey.”
“But a cute li’l chunky monkey. Yes you are! Yes you are!”
It was weird to hear Tommy talk in such a high, sugary tone, but Raff was used to it. He was wearing Elizabeth in the backpack carrier, and the patients of the rehab center loved to talk to the tot whenever Raff brought her to work.
Tommy was a former heroin addict. Even though he’d only been clean and sober for sixty days, Raff insisted on emphasizing that Tommy and the other patients were former and not current addicts. He felt that it gave them power over their addiction. Tommy still looked the worse for wear—scrawny, with dark circles under his eyes—but he had put on a few pounds and no longer had scabs on his face. It was a difficult process, and Raff respected Tommy’s determination.
Elizabeth giggled at the young man when he told her that he “got her nose”, so Raff stood still for a moment. It was good for Elizabeth’s social development to meet new people and good for Tommy to enjoy the simple pleasure of interacting with a child. It was also good for Raff to stand still for a moment. The rehab center was constantly busy and he needed to take a deep breath.
Raff wasn’t a therapist or a doctor, of course, so he didn’t counsel the patients. Instead, he worked with the doctors, therapists and patients to create a comfortable place for healing. If the patients couldn’t sle
ep, it was not because the mattresses were thin or lumpy. If the patients lost weight, it was not because the food wasn’t good, and if they gained weight, it was not because they didn’t have access to a gym or the outdoors. Every dorm had memory foam mattresses and cotton sheets. There was an actual executive chef in charge of the kitchen. And the gym had state of the art machines as well as yoga and kickboxing classes. It wasn’t the fanciest or most expensive facility in the States, but it was well-regarded by medical professionals and patients alike.
Of course, Raff knew these things were important because he had been addicted at one time. It wasn’t heroin, however, it was alcohol, and alcohol was easier to kick than heroin.
“But if I needed help for alcohol, you need even more support for what you’re going through,” he told each new patient. “I admire your strength.” He truly did.
Thus, he held frequent meetings with both the staff and the patients to make sure everyone was happy and to see if there were suggestions for improvements. Most recently, they began bringing in a few massage therapists to do ten-minute chair massages, a small meditation garden was planted, and the chef was working on implementing a daily vegan option for the evening meal.
When Tommy and Elizabeth were done catching up, Raff brought the baby with him to the meeting room. She had a playpen set up in the back, with a variety of books and toys, and she almost seemed to look forward to the one-hour sessions that she spent here playing quietly. This was where recovery meetings took place, and Raff sat here as a former alcoholic and not as the rehab director. He was the same as all of the other men and women who were gathered together to share their stories and their struggles.
Around the circle, they each introduced themselves. I’m so-and-so, and I’m a former addict. I’ve been clean for sixteen years, or thirty days, or one day. Some in the group looked scared, while others looked hopeful, and a few even just looked bored. But Raff liked to start his work days off like this. It reminded him of the struggle and to be thankful that he had found a way out of addiction.
