The Music of Love

by Sandine Tomas

  “Julian,” Zachary said before wrapping his arms around him so tight, it knocked the breath out of him.

  “Oof,” he eked out before reaching up and grabbing back and, well, losing it.

  It’s not that Julian had never cried in front of Zachary before. After all, they watched movies together, and well, some of them were meant to manipulate the audience’s emotions.

  But Julian had never bawled in front of Zachary before. And even as he was doing it, dripping tears like a rusty faucet and not quite sobbing but making small inhaling noises that usually only small children managed…. This, he thought. If nothing else, then this alone would be enough for Zachary to be sick of him and want him out of his life and oh God please don’t leave me please please please.

  He blinked and realized they were on the sofa. Julian practically in Zachary’s lap, nose buried against his neck.

  He moved farther away. There was clingy, and then there was pathetic. He wondered what followed that. Must be a word, because clearly, he’d passed pathetic some time back. Pitiable, perhaps? Wretched. Useless.

  “You said you wanted to talk,” Julian said. His throat was practically closed, so it came out like a croak. Like he’d turned into a toad. A wet, clammy, ugly toad. Fuck.

  “I did want to talk—I’d wanted to ask you something today. But now you’re all upset. And it’s my fault.”

  “It’s okay. Please say what you want to say. Best to get this over with and not drag it out.”

  “Get what over with?” Zachary looked at him, confused.

  Julian stood. He tested his legs. Seemed to be holding. So far so good. This was torture. He wondered if he should just take the first step. Wondered if condemned men felt like this. Like it was easier to just put your foot out yourself before walking down that last corridor, rather than have the guard pull you along.

  Julian forced the words out. “It’s okay. It’s not working for you. I get it. I just can’t do this anymore.” His voice broke.

  Zachary stared at him. His mouth opened, then closed. He seemed speechless. “You can’t do this? You mean us? Jules. Are you breaking up with me?”

  “What?” Julian blurted. Zachary sat still and deathly silent. Face blanched. He looked… didn’t look like Zachary. “What do you mean—am I? I thought—aren’t you? You said you were moving home, back to Texas.”

  Zachary stood up shakily and came closer, breathing fast. His eyes were wet. “God, Jules, you can’t really think—I am so sorry. I was frustrated we didn’t go to trial. By the time I’d called Gabe I’d been drinking—Oh shit, is that why he—No, it’s not like that. I was tired, we’d worked so hard, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around not bringing the bastards to trial. I let my idealism get the better of me and I acted out like a child. I would never, ever just move away. Not unless you came with me.” He raked his hands through his hair as his jaw muscle pulsed with frustration. “Fuck, I thought last night was just nerves about today. Although now I get Gabe’s anger—I know I shouldn’t have said what I said. But how could you think we mean so little? That I really would just leave you like that?”

  Julian stiffened. “I’m not the one who walked away in a huff saying he hated this town and everything about it and was heading home. You said I was ‘a waste of your time’!”

  “I didn’t mean you. God, you couldn’t possibly think—I didn’t even really mean this town. Sure there are things about Washington that grate, but overall I’ve made good friends. The job is good. Even with disappointments like the settlement, I just have to balance my expectations. Be realistic. More like you. I should have spoken with you instead of sulking. I’m sorry about that. But the thing is, I’m not leaving you.”

  Julian battled over what to think because no matter what Zachary said now, yesterday he had said he’d wanted to leave town, leave Julian.

  “Momma was the one that finally straightened out my insane thoughts. Reminded me of one of Gramp’s old sayings, ‘Fairness isn’t black-and-white.’ You got it right away, that it was about the families and the immediate good that money could do. She said compromise isn’t a dirty thing. You work at making things right as much as you can. And sometimes, the practical outcome is just as important as being right.

  “But Jules, despite what I said, and maybe, for a moment there, I admit I felt like quitting. But I never meant we were through. Never. I was just spouting off like an idiot. How could you talk about us splitting?” Zachary begged into the silence. “Did I do something wrong? I mean something else wrong? ’Cause I can’t even think about us ending while you…. I think maybe you want us to break up.”

  Zachary stared. Julian had been on the other end of Zachary’s intense gaze before, but this time it felt unbearable. Raw. He tracked a tear down the hard planes of Zachary’s face.

  Oh. Something clicked, like a veil lifting, leaving the crystal lake of Zachary’s eyes, exposing vulnerability like a note held to breaking. Julian threw himself tight around Zachary’s rigid body.

  “Nobody’s breaking up,” he whispered, and felt the release of tension in Zachary’s whole being as he leaned up to kiss him. They inhaled each other, lips and tongues and breaths mashing at once, sucking and biting and wanting. Needing. Long, slow swipes against each other. Kissing Zachary was like nothing else. It was the best and it was everything and it wasn’t enough, because really he wanted to climb into him and never let go, and he had come so close to fucking it up because he was an idiot.

  They landed back on the sofa in a heap, and Zachary laughed in his mouth with an almost hysterical edge. “God. Never, ever scare me like that again.”

  “I won’t,” Julian promised. But it wasn’t really Zachary he was promising this to.

  Eventually Zachary broke the silence. “I booked this room earlier in the week,” he confessed softly. “I know you didn’t want anything special for our anniversary but I thought—there really was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  It seemed to Julian that the sheer fact that those words weren’t causing any level of panic was a sign of progress. He shifted a little to give them breathing space and met Zachary’s eyes with nothing but open curiosity.

  “A few weeks ago, I spoke with your mom,” Zachary began softly, his eyes traveling over Julian’s face in that way that made Julian melt inside.

  “Mm.” This was nothing new. Julian’s parents liked Zachary. Probably more than they liked Julian. Made sense, most people did. Julian was a pain; Zachary was a delight. If he could choose between them, it would be a no-brainer.

  “I asked her how she’d feel about a son-in-law. That,” Zachary said in a voice so full it spoke straight to Julian’s heart, “is what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s why I booked the room.”

  “You want to—?”

  Zachary nodded. “If you do.”

  Julian stared. “You asked my mom? Like for her blessing?”

  “Hey. I’m a Texas boy. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Julian’s lips twitched. “Did she give you her permission?”

  “Oh yeah. We are parentally blessed.” His face turned serious again. “Both sides. My folks too.”

  “If they had….”

  “Wouldn’t matter. The only person who can say no is you.”

  “I’m not saying no.”

  “You’re saying yes?” Zachary looked at him with a bemused grin. Julian smiled back, got lost in the golden glimmers of Zachary’s gaze.

  “Jules?”

  “You will never know how much I love you,” Julian whispered.

  Zachary’s dimples came into view. “I may have a slight idea.”

  Really. He didn’t. But that’s okay. Julian figured he could spend the rest of his life trying to show how much. “Yes,” he said.

  Zachary plunged back into Julian’s mouth before the word was even out. Julian tasted salt and realized his incredibly perfect and perfectly sappy boyfriend was crying, and refused to consider that any of that saltiness had anyt
hing to do with his own damn leaky eyes.

  “Fuck,” he murmured as the kiss grew hotter and wetter and longer.

  “Absolutely,” Zachary murmured back.

  “Mmm….” Lickbitegaspnip. “Not here.”

  “Bedroom?” Zachary whispered into his ear.

  “Tub.” Julian pulled up for air. “I wanna know if you’ll fit in it.”

  Zachary’s eyes went dark. “If we’ll fit in it, you mean.”

  “Yeah. We. Wanna lean back against you and have you wrap your legs around me.”

  “Oh.” Zachary paused, considering. “Leaning up against me, eh?”

  “Yeah.” His voice dropped to a purr. “Make it easy to ride you.”

  Zachary laughed deeply. “So bossy.”

  “Hey. You’ll get your turn.”

  Zachary’s smile was blinding.

  “I can’t believe you did all this. Booked this room.”

  Zachary looked a little sheepish. “Yeah. But you didn’t want a big deal today. I know I can get a little pushy.”

  Julian turned on the water and watched the huge tub start to slowly fill before noticing Zachary already undressing. Anything he might have been thinking vanished like vapor into a cloud. Zachary’s shoulders appeared first, biceps that wouldn’t quit, forearms rippling down to large hands and long sensuous fingers. Followed by his chest, and those pecs, an expanse of smooth strength. Then his abdomen, tight and ripped and fucking perfect. Long endless legs. Hard, thick, gorgeous….

  “Jules? You gonna bathe with your clothes on?”

  This broke through. So he started to strip, and it worked until Zachary started looking.

  Eventually, they made it into the tub. And Zachary did fit.

  Chapter 5

  JULIAN WANTED to marry Zachary. He did. He loved Zachary more than… well, more than anything. Julian just didn’t want a wedding right now. Weddings were scary, full of expectations and families and friends mixing and, well, he didn’t know what else, just that the possibility for disaster loomed large. Of course, Zachary’s exuberance had taken him into overdrive since the proposal, calling, it seemed, literally everyone he’d ever met to share the good news. Julian was surprised that Zachary hadn’t put out a full-page ad in the Washington Post announcing the nuptials.

  Not that Julian hadn’t shared the news. He’d immediately phoned his parents and siblings. And he’d surprised Gabe and Nick at the end of their club gig. Gabe was wary for a moment but then reverted to his old self.

  “Mazel tov.” Gabe’s Grandpappy Bernard was no longer with them, but Julian had fond memories of Passover meals. “Julie, you’re going to make a lovely bride.”

  “Shut it, Gabriel,” Julian had snarked back.

  Ignoring Gabe’s teasing, Nick had pulled him into a heartfelt hug. “I had a feeling about this one.”

  Nodding, Julian said, “Zach. Is perfect.”

  Gabe stretched and popped his back, waving to the bartender for another round for the three of them. “Perfect. So, no problems, right?”

  It was these moments that had Julian wondering if everyone on the planet had mind-reading abilities except him. “Why would you ask that?”

  The knowing gaze Gabe threw at him was pretty much answer enough, although Gabe did elaborate. “How long we know each other? You have that rabbit look like you’re churning weird thoughts around and not in a songwriting way.”

  Nick asked earnestly, “Are you still upset about when he said he was moving to Texas?”

  “No, I understood that. If it hadn’t been for the timing, I wouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I mean, part of me knew he’d just been blowing off steam. It’s just—”

  “What then, Zach’s too ‘perfect’?” Gabe let the sarcasm color his tone.

  “What? No. That would be. Ridiculous. It’s just that he’s Zachary and I’m… me.”

  Gabe downed his second beer. “Look, he knows all of it by now. From your cleaning fits to the squirrel-chasing-a-dog conclusions you come up with when you have too much time to think. Still wants you. No figuring for taste—but there you go. It’s the epic gay love story of the century. Go with it.”

  When Gabe said it, Julian knew his worries were ridiculous. “It’s just. Yeah, we’ve been dating a year, but we’ve been living together for less than six months. That’s still like a honeymoon period, isn’t it?”

  “Depends. You still fucking?”

  “Gabe….”

  He was met with a chuckle. “I’m happy for you, Jules. You deserve this. You’ve had some assholes in your past. But Zach, he’s good for you. The sickening way you two stare at each other…. I’ve known you forever and I’ve never seen you like you are with him. Let yourself be happy.”

  “I don’t do change well.”

  Nick met his eyes then, warm and confident. “Yeah, we know. But maybe it’s time you started.”

  The following evening Julian and Zachary were home alone. Julian had meticulously planned a steak dinner, which, if he said so himself, had come out delicious. For a couple of weeks, they’d been able to leave work at a reasonable hour—but that was ending soon because Harrison had taken on another case with high stakes. Marcia Stuart was suing her employer, the lobbying firm Bennigan and Associates, for sexual discrimination, claiming she’d been overlooked for promotions in favor of younger, less qualified men. Zachary’s fairness antenna went into overdrive over this one.

  Meal cleanup complete, they snuggled together on the sofa, and Zachary returned to his favorite subject outside of the law—their nuptials.

  “There’s no reason to wait, right? So I figure let’s get married now.” Zachary pulled Julian closer, lips grazing Julian’s temple. Julian reached over the back of the sofa and pulled a light throw blanket over their legs.

  He didn’t reply, although if he did he’d say there were a million reasons to wait. Come to think of it, Julian being a neurotic mess was kinda reasons one through five. But he couldn’t say that. “It’s quick, though, don’t you think? I mean, you just asked me.”

  “It’s been a year. Actually, a year and one week now,” Zachary said with a self-satisfied squeeze. After a pause he added, “And it’s not gonna happen.”

  Julian gave his cuddly, gorgeous fiancé a shocked look. “What?”

  “What what?”

  “What’s not going to happen?” Because really, Julian would have thought the engagement would go at least two weeks before Zachary realized what a dumb move it was to ask.

  “I’m not changing my mind.”

  Oh. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

  “You can’t lie worth a damn, Jules.”

  Julian studied Zachary’s flawless bronze skin. There truly had to be something wrong with Julian. Maybe he was pathologically incapable of just being happy. After all, this was the happily ever after part, right?

  “Jules, really, I need you to trust me. I… I hate it when I think you don’t.”

  “I do trust you.” It was never really about Zachary. Zachary was perfect. Julian was the basket case. “C’mere.”

  Julian snuggled into Zachary’s hug. He could tell his boyfriend, fiancé, was caving. Zachary inhaled deeply. Maybe he was smelling Julian; he did that sometimes. Which was a little gross. Except. Nothing Zachary did was gross. “Let’s start making some plans.”

  So much for caving.

  THE NEXT morning, Julian sat in his cubicle, reading up on the specifics of their new case when his phone rang.

  “Julian, Mr. Harrison wants to see you.”

  Julian’s heart went into overdrive. Harrison was the law firm’s managing partner. His name was first on the letterhead. Fuck. What had he done? Had to be awful, a mistake of epic proportions. Dammit, he needed this job. Economy still sucked. And this was a decent gig. Sure, as a paralegal, they worked him hard and there was barely any time left over for his music. But Zachary worked here, a huge plus, and the money was good.

  He wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks as he ent
ered Harrison’s huge corner office.

  The other man rose quickly. He was a slight man in his forties. Almost completely bald, with sharp brown eyes and a shrewd smile. “Good to see you, Julian. Take a seat.”

  He dropped Harrison’s hand and sat in the guest seat opposite the large desk. He felt oddly big again. Hanging around Zachary had Julian forgetting that at six foot one, he really was a respectable height.

  “How long you been with us, Julian?”

  Julian fought the squeak in his voice. “About two years, sir.”

  “Now, Jules, we’re family here. No formalities. Call me Tim.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Timothy’s tone was butter smooth. “Brian can’t stop speaking well of you. He insisted on you for Stuart v. Bennigan. You and Fierro.” The man’s grin grew deeper. “And, I hear there are some congratulations in order.”

  Julian’s face heated. Cripes. Did everyone know? “Um. Yes, sir—Tim. We… that is… one day. We’d like to get married.”

  “Yes. That’s great! First office romance to go all the way.” He colored slightly as if realizing what he said. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to discuss your future, Julian.”

  Organ music of doom played in Julian’s skull. He quickly calculated his savings: Would they last a few months, and maybe they’d offer some severance?

  “You’re very smart and dedicated. I’d like to make you manager in charge of the paralegal team. How’s that sound?”

  “What?”

  Timothy beamed at him. “Brian and I felt that you were due a promotion. There’d be a raise, of course, to go with the extra responsibility, and we’ll be moving you into an office. You’ll be reporting directly to Brian. What do you say?”

  “That’s…. Wow. Really?”

  Timothy chuckled. “Yes. Really. We believe the office will benefit. I’ll be making an official announcement later this afternoon about it if you accept the position.”