* * *
The dancing part of the evening was getting on its way.
About an hour ago Priya stood up and announced it was time to make space for dancing, and people started moving furniture to clear the area. It was a trip to see all these grown ass people excitedly moving furniture so they could dance at a house party. At the moment, Sanjay, who was the official DJ and took his role so seriously it was hysterical, was playing some soft merengue from the little booth he’d set up for himself by the bar.
Ayako and I were standing on the periphery of the designated dance area people watching and sipping from wineglasses when she leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Thanks for inviting me today, friend.”
I gave her some side-eye and teased her a little. “I didn’t send Henock after you. You can take full credit for that.”
She laughed and waved me off, but I could see a flush creeping across her cheeks. “That was just playing, and stop it, let me express my gratitude on this day of thanks, asshole. Today has been amazing and special. So, thank you.”
“Fine, you’re welcome.” I grumbled.
“You’re such an ass.” Her amusement at my crankiness was a sign that she was either tipsy or really having a good time. When her face went all soft, I braced for it. “It’s also been incredible to see you and Tom together. You look so happy with him, Milo, and the way he looks at you.” She actually clutched at her chest, she was so corny. “I’m so happy for you. No one deserves it more.”
Ayako’s words made me emotional again. No matter how much I griped, it had been special to spend the day around the family Tom had made for himself since he’d come to the States. The life he’d built.
It was a life to be proud of.
He was a man to be proud of, and being a part of it made me feel so fortunate. Still I had to pivot this conversation or tears were going to happen. “Calm your tits, woman. We’ve barely been dating for six weeks, ain’t nobody getting married.”
She rolled her eyes at me and took another sip of her wine. “Whatever, but if I’m not a bridesmaid, there will be blood.”
I stuck my tongue out at her as I looked around, hoping Tom was not within earshot of this conversation. “You’re ridiculous.”
She was about to say something when Juanpa strolled up, holding a drink in his hand with a huge grin on his face. He’s shown up a half hour ago after sending like ten texts saying he needed an excuse to get out of his parents’ house.
He was tricked out in his BX best tonight. Huge studs on his ears, a black sweatshirt which looked totally regular, but probably cost three hundred dollars, and tight camo pants with brand new black Tims on his feet. All topped with the ever present fitted Yankees hat on his head.
Who cared we were inside and it was dark out?
“Yoooo, your man’s the GOAT.” He took a sip of whatever he was holding and smacked his lips like a total jackass. “They’re pouring Zacapa Centenario like it’s water at the bar.” He gave me a playful grin, leaned down to fake whisper by my head, “If you’re having second thoughts about what you got going on here, let me know, son. Because I will hit that.” He paused for emphasis in between each of the last four words.
Instead of answering I just narrowed my eyes and stretched my hand to pinch him hard on the arm. He yelped and jumped back.
“Ow, damn. Why you so aggressive, Camilo?”
I just rolled my eyes at him. So fucking extra. “Like anyone who has access to all this,” I said, running my hands over the front of my very well fitting sweater, “would fuck with your whiny ass, Juan Pablo.”
Juanpa just glared at us while he switched the glass to his other hand so he could keep drinking and rub where I’d pinched him at the same time.
I could barely control my laughter, and Ayako was literally clutching her side behind J.
Suddenly I felt arms wrap around my waist from behind. Tom kissed my ear and I could feel the smile on his face, pressing against it.
He looked up at Juanpa and shook his head. “Sorry, man.” He tightened his arms, as he spoke. “I got all I need right here.”
Juan Pablo’s face softened at that and he lifted his glass to Tom before taking another sip of his Zacapa.
All he needed.
My heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Camilo
How was this my life? It was the Saturday morning after Thanksgiving and I was in Tom’s bed still panting from what had been the most epic morning sex of my life and waiting for him to bring me breakfast.
After Thanksgiving I’d just...stayed. We’d spent Friday eating leftovers, watching movies, talking and making love. We’d ventured out in the afternoon and gone down to Central Park for a walk, but mostly we’d been content in our cocoon. I felt so utterly and completely happy, it scared me.
I sat there wondering when the other shoe would drop, because I knew it was a matter of time before one of us fucked up somehow. Nothing could be this perfect. I didn’t want to be pessimistic or dramatic, but I had enough of a frame of reference to know this wouldn’t last. And it was terrifying, because I knew losing Tom would hurt more than anything had before.
I tried to shake my negative thoughts off and enjoy the fact I was in this incredibly huge and comfortable bed, freshly fucked and waiting for my millionaire boyfriend to bring me coffee, but the anxiousness still crept in.
I was still fretting when Tom walked in with a tray laden with coffee mugs and toast, like the embodiment of fucking perfection. I started to get up so I could help, but he shook his head.
“No, corazón, don’t get up.” He was calling me his heart now. Low-key like, he was calling me his heart. I wasn’t going to make a thing out of it and swoon or anything, but I almost wanted to take out my phone and record him.
I obediently stayed in bed as he handed me a cup of steaming coffee. I took a sip then groaned because it was delicious. “Is there anything you don’t do perfectly?”
He grimaced as he grabbed his own cup. “Too many to name.”
He got in bed and reached over for the plate full of buttered toast he’d brought up. I took a piece and shook my head before taking a bite.
“I don’t believe it, give me one example.”
“Well since we’ve already had our first fight, I know you’re very aware of some of my shortcomings.” I nodded once, conceding him the point, but didn’t interrupt. “I also don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to relationships. I am divorced.”
I picked at my toast as I answered him. “Neither do I. My relationships tend to have very disappointing endings.”
He stared at me in genuine disbelief. “I can’t imagine you disappointing anyone.”
I wasn’t going to swoon.
“You’re just riding the high from the blow job I just gave you.” I went for levity, because I knew we were about to get deep, and I had to pace myself on this before I confessed every single one of my many, many feelings for him. “I mean I know I have mad skills, but I’m not that good.”
His response was a gentle bite on my shoulder. When he was done, he licked the spot where his teeth had been. I shivered so hard I had to hold out my coffee so I didn’t spill it. We just sat there in silence, waiting for the heat of the last few seconds to diffuse.
Tom eventually broke the silence. “I beg to differ. But what I mean is you’re so honest and real, Camilo.” He turned so we were facing each other, and I almost wanted to hide from the awe in his voice. “You don’t hide what you feel or say something you don’t mean. You’re so open. When I’m with you I feel known. Like you see all of me.” He shook his head like he was getting his thoughts in order, while I drank my coffee worried I was nowhere ready for where this conversation seemed to be going.
“I don’t mean Maxwell didn’t know me, he did. In some ways.” He pushed a knee against his chest a
s he talked, his eyes full of whatever he was remembering. “Maxwell’s parents are wealthy. Even though they’re great people, their perception of the world is still filtered through all of that.” His face got serious, obviously still struggling to articulate his thoughts. “I look like them,” he said lifting a shoulder. “I walked in and I was this person who belonged to their world. But I didn’t, not really, and instead of saying that, of letting them know who I was, I just went with it. For them I was just Tom Hughes—no Gomez.” He pursed his lips and I could feel the frustration coming off him.
“I don’t think I’m explaining myself very well.”
I took our coffee mugs and put them on the table by the bed, then moved so I was sitting up and he had his back against me. He was so big, his torso covered me completely and it felt perfect.
I ran my hands over his chest as I spoke. “I get what you’re saying. They only knew the part of you they could see.”
He dipped his head to kiss my hand. “I think that’s part of the reason I pulled away from Maxwell in the end. I lost myself in those years. I was so immersed in the business, and so much of that world required I be this guy. It was exhausting and when I came home, the mask had to stay on for Maxwell too. That’s why the ease I feel with you means so much. You make me want to stop compromising and just be.”
I turned his face so I could kiss him and thought of all the ways in which I’d tried so hard to be someone else in my relationships. In college the guys would tease me and say I did this “oasis” thing whenever I was into a guy, let him only see the parts that I thought would go over well, and then hid everything else. I tried to refrain from ever making waves. Never giving my opinion to the person I was dating to avoid conflict, to the point where I was almost an inanimate object. It was horrible and I ended up hating myself and everyone I dated the entire four years.
“That’s the funny thing with you, Tom. You’re the first guy I’ve ever really been me with. I always try to smooth my edges, not be so intense all the time.” I grimaced, thinking of some of those relationships and how hard I tried to please people who weren’t worth it. “I had a guy tell me once I would be the perfect boyfriend if I kept my answers to just yes or no.”
Tom just shook his head then muttered, “Asshole.”
I chuckled, kissing the top of his head. “Thanks. But to be fair, I am too much sometimes, too opinionated. I get worked up and angry about things I feel are unfair, and I need to be okay with not everyone being the same level of outraged as me all the time. It’s not fair to expect that.”
The expression on his face when he looked up at me was one of genuine confusion. “I get that, but it doesn’t mean you need to repress who you are. I love hearing you fired up and pissed. Other than Libe, I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone in my life who made me want to try and be better to myself, so I could be good for them.”
That was the moment. Those were the words.
I felt my heart in my temples from the swell of emotion. From the minute Tom and I had started this, I’d wondered what could I possibly do or add to this man’s life. He seemed to have everything, what value could I add to someone who already had so much? And now I knew.
I gave him what he gave me, the freedom to be seen exactly as I was and be loved for it, not in spite of it.
I moved again so that I could sit in front of him, be face-to-face. “I never thought it would be being myself.” He looked at me like he couldn’t understand what I was saying and I laughed. “I’m too abrasive, even with my best friends, who love me unconditionally, who would do anything for me.”
He shook his head like that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard and I loved him so much for it. “You don’t need to do anything, mi vida, just keep being you, that’s all I need.”
The look on his face in that moment was everything.
I moved closer. He ended up sitting with his back to the headboard, legs spread open under the sheets. We were in our underwear, but I could see he was starting to harden, and as I ran a hand over my cock he licked his lips, very much on the same page.
“So this conversation has been incredible and I totally want to get back to it, but I really want to fuck. Like now.”
Tom’s hand was already pushing down my briefs and I was working my way up his neck with my tongue when he panted, “But I thought we were making heartfelt confessions on how we’re perfect for each other.”
I nodded frantically as I tried very hard to come up with an answer. “Yes we were, and I’m very moved and really restraining myself from saying all kinds of shit that’s entirely too early to say. For now, just know I am very grateful to be here with you.”
He didn’t answer, just held me tight as we sank down onto his bed, tangled in each other.
Tom
“M’ijo?” I smiled at my mom’s question and everything she could say in one word.
“Is everything okay? Where’s Libe? This is a surprise.”
“Everything’s good, Ma. I got you on Bluetooth. I just dropped off Libe at Max’s for the weekend.”
She clicked her tongue before answering. “Ay, Tommy, why didn’t you call me when my baby was in the car?”
I grinned at her reproachful tone. Libe was the only grandchild on both sides and she was a hot commodity for her abuelos.
“Sorry, Mami. We’ll give you a call on Sunday night when she’s back home.” I cleared my throat then, a little stumped on how to proceed. It would be Christmas in two weeks and since I’d been going home to the DR religiously for the past ten years I figured I needed to actually give my mother a call to let her know that was not happening this year.
“¿Que pasa, Tommy? Are you sure everything’s okay?”
I needed to get it out, because she was one more awkward silence away from freaking out on me.
“Everything’s good, Mami,” I said placatingly. “Actually that’s why I’m calling.” I smiled, thinking of Camilo’s face when I told him I wasn’t going to the DR for Christmas and tried to act like it was no big deal. He pinned me with those gorgeous gray eyes and said, “I did tell you my best friend’s Dominican, right? I know for a fact they start planning the trip to the DR for next Christmas on the plane home in January. So get off that ‘no big’ bullshit you’re on, Thomas Caonabo.”
After I’d grabbed him and kissed the saltiness out of him, I’d had to ’fess up to the fact that I wanted to be here with him. He didn’t fawn all over me for it, but I did notice a lot of secret smiles coming my way for the rest of that day.
“Tommy.” My mom’s genuinely confused tone finally got me out of my daydreaming and I blurted it out.
“Libe and I won’t make it this Navidad. We’re going to spend it here in New York.”
My mother almost said something then stopped. When she finally spoke, it was straight to the point. “So things are going well with your new man, then?” I could hear the smile in her voice and I shook my head, because my mother never changed. She wanted her children “fairy-tale happy”—nothing less would do.
“Things are very good, Mami, and I’d like to be here for the holidays so I can spend time with him.”
She made an “mmhm” sound, like she had my number. “Well you’ve been holding that card close to your chest, querido. Then again I can’t remember you ever calling me to tell me about someone. You usually just fall into things and let us know after the fact.” Her tone wasn’t even disapproving, just matter of fact. And she was right, in my relationships things happened almost by osmosis. Not Camilo, he demanded my attention at every step. There was no playbook for him, he was like no one else and he wasn’t trying to be.
When my mother spoke again her tone told me that she knew I was in unknown territory. “I’m happy that you’ve finally met someone you’re willing to do things differently for.”
That was an interesting choice of words and ve
ry similar to the lecture I’d gotten from Priya and the guys.
“He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever been with.”
She laughed then and it was that sound that usually came before a loving but firm “I told you so.”
“Well some people come to your life to change it, baby. Just ask that gringo I’ve had on the right side of my bed for forty-two years.”
I shook my head at that and grinned as I answered. “When you’re right, you’re right, Mami.”
“Of course, I’m right.” The “as always” went unsaid. “So tell me, when can I meet him?”
This time the throat clearing was legitimate. “Most likely when you come and see the shelter renovation. He’s um, he’s with the agency we decided on.”
“Ay m’ijo, this man must really be something because you never mix business with your personal life. What’s his name?”
“Camilo.” Even I could hear the adoration in my voice.
“Tommy, Tommy, te agarro el Camilo,” she said brimming with humor. “I think you finally got caught, son.”
“I know I did.” There wasn’t a hint of reservation or trepidation in that answer.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Camilo
I ended the call with my mom feeling real worry for the first time since she’d started this rough patch with her depression. I was at Tom’s, and it was early afternoon on Christmas Eve. I’d stopped in to hang out with him and Libe before I went to pick her up. We had plans to be at Juanpa’s place for Nochebuena dinner, but when I’d called her to let her know I was heading to her place, she said she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to stay home.
As I sat there thinking about what to do, Tom walked into the living room from putting Libe down for a nap.
“Something wrong with Dinorah?”
I glanced up at him, smiling despite my worry. Tom never resented my checking on my mom, or the time I spent with her. On the contrary, he told me again and again how much he loved how close we were. By now, he also knew me well enough to realize if there was anything amiss.
American Fairytale (Dreamers) Page 20
