by E M Lindsey
Miguel gave him a curious look, the word obviously a reference to something but it went right over his head, and he flushed when Soren laughed at him. “His name is Amit. He hangs out at the shop a lot, he’s…uh. Fuck, he’s probably the greatest person I’ve ever met. But he…” Miguel cleared his throat and went silent as they made their way up the street. Finally, when he felt like he could breathe again, he told Soren everything.
“So he went on a date with someone. A not-date,” he clarified. He gestured to a bookshop a few feet away, and Miguel nodded, following along.
“I know it wasn’t real, but it felt real at the time.”
Soren let out a small sigh. “I get it. Communication—or lacking it—can fuck you right up.”
“I know I had every right to be upset at first,” Miguel said as Soren led the way into the shop. “He should have told me.”
“Yes, he should have,” his friend confirmed. He turned away, thumbing through some of the tattoo magazines on display. “But…?”
Miguel sighed, because there was a huge but. He was upset at first. When Derek had come to him and told him what Amit was really up to, Miguel was hurt simply because Amit hadn’t felt like Miguel was worth telling. Only, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he hadn’t exactly been open with Amit either. He’d kept him out of the loop where Callie was concerned, and he hadn’t done any texting at all while he was in Texas. Slowly, his anger faded into a little guilt, and a lot of remorse, and he didn’t know how to open the door between them that was now, firmly closed. “But it’s on me, now. I could have asked for clarification instead of assuming Tony had the whole story straight. Now it’s been over a month since I talked to him. It’s too fucking late.”
“Do you really think that?” Soren asked him.
Miguel laughed. “Don’t you? I mean, what would you do?”
Soren shrugged, then looked around like he didn’t know why the hell they’d come into a book shop, and led the way out. “My ex left me. Just took my kid and bailed, and I let it happen.”
“And you regret it,” Miguel said.
“I don’t regret the divorce. He and I were not meant to be, but I regret the way I let it go, or how fucking long I took to get my shit together when it was over.” He leaned heavier on his cane. “I don’t believe it’s too late for you. But if it is, isn’t it better to find out than to keep assuming? The worst he can do is tell you it’s over.”
Miguel huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That sounds pretty fucking bad, man.”
Soren laughed. “Right now, you’re Schrodinger’s Boyfriend. You both do and don’t exist as a romantic possibility. But you can’t stay that way forever. Eventually you have to open the box and find out.”
Miguel furrowed his brow. “It feels unfair of me to just show up and ask for another chance.”
“So, woo him,” Soren said. “Buy him something pretty, and apologize, and tell him you’re willing to work on it. You’re taking control of everything else, man. Why not this?”
Why not this? That was the real question, and he knew it was fear of heartbreak that was keeping him from taking that step. But Amit did deserve better. “What about you?” he asked, because his mind was made up, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Soren rolled his eyes and elbowed him. “Nope. No, you don’t get to put shit on me right now.”
Miguel pursed his lips. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I’m too busy. I don’t fucking have time.”
Miguel didn’t think that was true. “You deserve to be happy too, you know,” he finally said.
Soren gave him a crooked grin. “Why, you offering?”
“You’re not my type,” Miguel told him sagely.
“Pity. I feel like I could fuck you real good.” By his tone and his grin, Miguel knew he was joking, but there was a grain of truth to it. In reality, Soren would probably be amazing in bed, but Miguel was forever and always wrapped up in Amit. He knew Soren wasn’t serious though—the pair of them were unlikely friends, and yet Miguel found himself grateful for it, especially now that he had decided it was time to settle down. He was finding contentment in his new life, he was just getting ready to sign on with Tony as a permanent artist, and things were looking up. He took a deep breath of winter air, then smiled to himself. “I like it here.”
Soren grinned back. “Yeah. It’s really not so bad.”
They parted ways outside of the shop, Miguel feeling weird about inviting the other man to a sex shop, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He stood outside for ten minutes trying to find the courage to go in, and was in the last few seconds two familiar faces bombarded him at the entrance.
“So, either you’re having a sexuality crisis,” Ruby said pointedly.
Miguel rolled his eyes. “I’m gay. Have always been gay.”
“Then you’re shopping for someone and you don’t know what to get them,” Amaranth finished for her girlfriend. Miguel had only met Basil’s sister a handful of times, but he liked her a lot, and he felt strangely at ease with them standing there.
“Amit,” he said a little sheepishly. He braced himself for a reaction, but instead Amaranth just threw her head back and laughed.
“That’ll be easy. He and Ruby used to fuck,” she said.
Miguel took a step back, his eyes flying to Ruby, desperately searching for jealousy or anger. Instead, he found a vague sort of amusement as she nodded. “It’s true. I know what he likes.”
Miguel licked his lips. “I’m not actually here for sex toys. I want…he’s…” He wasn’t quite sure how to articulate it. “He’s been getting a little braver with the things he likes.”
“I’ve seen his panty drawer,” Ruby said, and Miguel couldn’t stop a flash of irritation and possessiveness at the thought of her touching Amit. He quickly choked it back, though, reminding himself she was no threat. Hell, he didn’t even know if he had a right to be threatened. When she noticed the look on his face, she laughed and touched his arm. “He doesn’t know that I know. I found it by accident once when I was picking him up at his house.”
Miguel deflated. “I just…I know what I like, but I want to get him something he likes.”
“I think he likes to feel cute, and wanted. I don’t think it’s a bad thing if you give him something you want to see him in. Like… maybe tights and a garter belt?”
“And a skirt!” Amaranth declared, and tugged the door open, using her other hand to push at Miguel’s backside.
She immediately took off down one of the longer aisles, and Miguel realized without much shock that she had been there before. Probably a lot. Her wandering off left him with Ruby though, which he realized was still slightly uncomfortable.
“Don’t have a panic attack, babe,” she said. She reached out and squeezed his wrist. “Amit and I were never like you two. It was just…scratching an itch.”
Miguel blew out a puff of air and rubbed the back of his neck. “I like him. A lot. More than I expected to, and I kind of fucked up, so whatever we get has to be good.”
Ruby looked at him a long moment. “It won’t be what you get, then. It’ll be why, and how you give it, and also a fucking fantastic speech because Amit is a stubborn bastard.”
Miguel laughed as they moved to a row of panties that were designed for people who had dicks and balls. Some were obviously to blend and curve to give the person a smooth look. The others were cut to show off a bulge, and his mouth went a little dry. He fingered a black lace pair and shivered with want at the thought of the fabric stretching around the curve of Amit’s ass. This gift was self-serving, at least a little. If Amit decided to share it with him. But if nothing else, it was something he could take with him as he embraced himself more and more.
“Tony offered me a job,” he told her after a beat of silence. “I took it. Mat’s giving up his stall, and Luke said he’s probably taking off with Finn when Finn hits the road.”
Ruby made a curious noise
as she pulled a panty and attached garter belt off the rack. “What’s up with that Finn guy. He’s so quiet.”
Miguel shrugged. “Just the way he is, I guess. He’s not really into socializing.”
Ruby quirked a brow. “Yeah? Well I saw him getting cozy with James’ ex-priest about a week ago.”
At that, Miguel almost choked on his own tongue. “James’ ex what?”
Ruby giggled, grabbing a skirt off the rack and testing the stretch of it. “Sorry, that wasn’t what I meant. The guy’s an ex-priest, and he used to date James. Well, sort of. I never really got the details, but it was when he and Rowan broke up.”
Miguel found it almost impossible to imagine Rowan and James not being completely and totally wrapped around each other’s fingers, but he supposed stranger things had happened. And really, the information only served to remind Miguel how much he’d neglected nearly everyone in his life. Finn deserved a better friend than he was.
“I’m glad he won’t be alone on the road,” he said. Amaranth turned up with the fishnets, and Miguel had settled on the skirt Ruby found that looked like it was close to Amit’s size. He had one more gift after that—the watercolor, which wasn’t up to his standards, but it was something Amit had asked for, and Miguel meant to hold himself to that promise. It was imperfect—like him, like Amit. Like all of them, really. Which made it great.
“Happy?” Ruby asked as she stared at the things in Miguel’s arms.
Miguel shrugged, then eyed the counter which had no line. “Getting there. Now all I need is for him to forgive me.”
Ruby snorted. “We’ll be praying for you, babe. But for what it’s worth, I think he knows you deserve more than one chance.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Miguel stood outside of Amit’s house, knowing he was the only one in. His hand held a large box, his nerves on edge because he wasn’t sure this was the right way to go. He’d stood outside of the sex shop for nearly ten minutes before Ruby—who had been across the street having coffee with Amaranth, had taken pity on him. The two women dragged him inside and helped him pick out a variety of things that made his own toes curl, but he wasn’t sure it was the right way to go.
“Should have started with flowers,” he muttered to himself. He had three things to give. The box, his apology, and the promise that he was going to make Amit a priority. Step one was taking private ASL lessons with Amaranth who assured him she could easily modify the language for his limitations, and he had promised her that even if Amit turned him away, he’d keep going.
But it seemed both over the top and not enough, and he spent five minutes hovering before he walked up and rang the bell. He waited a minute, and when nothing happened, he rang it again. It only occurred to him before he pushed it a third time that it was likely Amit couldn’t hear it.
Digging his phone out of his pocket, he took a breath and went for it.
Miguel: I’m outside of your house right now. I just need a minute. Please.
* * *
Amit: (read)
Another two minutes passed, and just when he was certain that was his answer, the door cracked open. Amit’s face appeared in the space, his brows furrowed, going even deeper when his gaze zeroed in on the box tucked under Miguel’s arm.
“What do you want?” Amit demanded.
Miguel took a breath. “I came to say sorry,” he circled his right fist over his chest. “I came to give you a couple of things.”
“You,” Amit said, then sighed and stepped back, opening the door all the way. “You can’t stay long, my mom will be back any minute.”
Miguel gave him a look as he waited for Amit to close the door and turn back to face him. “I know that’s not true. She’s in Colorado Springs with your sister and her in-laws for the next two says. I did my homework. On purpose.”
Amit’s eyes narrowed. “Stalking me now?”
“More like hoping to take advantage of some free time so I can beg forgiveness,” Miguel admitted. If it wasn’t for Alexis, he might not have had the strength to flay himself open like this, but he was used to it now, and it felt good to see the way Amit’s guard dropped, even if it was just a little. “I was going through a lot, but I shouldn’t have assumed about that woman.”
Amit shook his head. “That’s so not what I’m mad about. Fuck’s sake. I just…I tried to explain, and you blocked my number!”
“I didn’t,” Miguel promised. “I deleted the texts, which is just as bad, but I wasn’t trying to cut you off. I was in such a bad place, and I didn’t know how to deal with any of it. Derek gave me the name to his therapist, and she’s helped. She’s why I’m here today.”
Amit licked his lips, then his gaze darted toward the stairs before motioning him along. “You okay to make it up that far?”
Miguel nodded. “I’m good.” He was slower than Amit, his perpetually stiff hip always a hindrance, but it was always more tight than painful, and he made the journey without any real problem. His heart was going a little fast at the thought that he was about to see Amit’s space—his room, his home—and he knew if he was thrown out after, he’d never forget it.
Amit’s room wasn’t anything like Miguel had expected it to be. He expected gauzy bed curtains and soft colors and twinkle lights. He expected vanities and clothes and makeup on display. Instead, it was utilitarian—grey bed spread, plain walls, a dresser with a small mirror, a desk holding a laptop and two framed pictures of Amit with his family. There was none of the bright, colorful, intense person he’d had in his arms, in his bed, in his heart.
“What?” Amit asked when he caught Miguel’s look.
Miguel set the box on the bed, then approached him. “I didn’t know how bad it was for you. I should have, but I didn’t pay close enough attention.”
Amit’s brow furrowed, then his eyes widened when he realized what Miguel was saying. “It’s not…I mean, it was. For a while. But it’s been a lot better. My mom knows about me—not everything, but enough. I don’t think she’d stroke out if she saw me paint my nails or wear a skirt. I’ve just been going through some shit.”
“Because of me,” Miguel said.
At that, Amit laughed, and the sound was a little sharp. “Not everything is about you, sweetheart.” He stopped then, looking apologetic. “I’m not trying to be mean. My sister pointed out that I’ve wasted a lot of time making excuses for why I never did anything else with my life.”
“You told me what happened after your dad died,” Miguel reminded him. “Anyone would make the same choices.”
“But I let it go on for too long.” He backed away, then walked to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside sat three, fat white envelopes bearing official looking seals in the return address section. “I got into a couple of grad school programs.”
Miguel’s heart soared, then sank, but he couldn’t stop the rush of pride for the beautiful man standing right in front of him. “You deserve it. What are you going in for?”
“Psychiatry,” Amit said, then laughed. “It’s always the fucked-up ones, right?”
“You’re not fucked up.” Miguel couldn’t help the fierce tone, but he hated Amit thinking he was anything less than amazing. Miguel had spent the last month fighting his own demons, coming to terms with his own self-worth, and he didn’t want to think about Amit suffering the same way.
“I am, in my own way. We all are. I’m not ashamed of it, and I’m not talking about my femme side, or being gay, or Deaf. None of that. I’m talking about my conditioning, my fear of saying no, my fear of losing people close to me.” He took a breath, his shoulders sinking with it. “But it means that when I help people—when people come to me—I’ll understand more than someone who read it out of a book.”
Miguel took a moment to look at him—to truly look at him and see the man standing in front of him. Amit was subdued, in jeans and a loose t-shirt, his hair freshly cleaned but without product. Make-up enhanced his beauty, but he didn’t need it to be one of the most gorgeous p
eople Miguel had ever laid eyes on. His hearing aids nestled in his hair, below a couple of small gold hoops in his earlobes, and Miguel fought the urge to step forward and take one of the rings between his teeth and pull.
“I’m proud of you,” he finally said. “Estoy orgulloso de tí. I know we have way more to talk about than you going back to school, but I need you to know that.”
Amit looked at him, then his mouth curved into the smallest grin. “Thanks.”
“I also need you to know that I have a lot going on. More than I really considered. When I thought you,” he stopped, his voice cracking a little, and he hated himself for looking so goddamn weak. But if he couldn’t be his most vulnerable with the man he was falling in love with, then he had far more work to do on himself than he thought.
“I’m sorry,” Amit started, but Miguel lifted his hand.
“We both fucked up with communicating. But in a way, you helped me. I hit a place that scared the shit out of me, and I reached out for help. I got it, and I’m…hell, I’m not better. I don’t know if I’ll ever be better, but I’m okay.”
Amit took a step forward and reached for him, and there was no way in hell Miguel could do anything else except lean into Amit’s hands. “I was determined never to speak to you again, but you have a way of thwarting all my plans.”
Miguel laughed, the sound a little wet and heavy. “Yeah?”
Amit nodded. He dragged both hands to Miguel’s face, cupping his cheeks, caressing him with his thumbs. “I missed you.”
“Mi cielo,” Miguel murmured, his hands automatically moving to Miguel’s waist. “Me hicistes falta, también. Perdóname.”
“What…”
“I missed you too. Forgive me,” he repeated.
“I do,” Amit said. “Of course I do.”
“And you’re really not…this girl, she isn’t your…”
Amit’s laugh cut him off. “No, babe. She isn’t anything other than a girl in a bad situation that I wanted to help out. You were it for me. I think I knew that the second I sat down in your chair at the shop. It just took me a while to figure it out.”
