by Amy Aislin
"Have you met his family?" his mom asked now, stacking dishes in the dishwasher.
"His parents are both deceased, and his sister lives in Vancouver." It still hurt Ty to think about how alone Elias was.
"It's lucky he has you then," she said.
That was nice to hear, but…
"Why do you say that?" Putting away the sour cream and salsa, he got containers for the leftover chicken and veggies.
"You always see the best in people, Ty, and because of that you bring out the best in them, too. I think Elias needs that, needs someone who sees him for who he is and not the person he shows the world."
Ty blinked at her as she closed the dishwasher and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Were they even talking about the same thing here?
"Tyler, that chicken's not going to regrow its feet and put itself away."
His mother was not a complimenter. She criticized, she complained, she disapproved. Ty and his siblings knew she loved them all, but nothing ever quite lived up to her expectations. To have her say something so nice to him…
"Are you dying?"
Admittedly, it was a stupid question. She'd outlive them all.
"Not until I'm old and grey," she said. "And all of my children have given me grandbabies, including you and Maddison."
Definitely outliving them all.
"Sue, take a look at this," Ty's dad called from the living room. He and Elias were looking at one of Elias's photographs. It hung on the wall between a couple of windows. "We've been here," his dad said to Elias. It was a shot of the Colosseum in Rome, taken from afar and upwards at an angle at night, with the clouds and the moon in the background. It had the same kind of ethereally serene quality his other ones in his second bedroom-cum-office had.
"Oh, yes, I remember." His mom walked over to stand next to his dad. "You and me, no kids."
Ty made a disgusted face behind her back at the image she drew with those five simple words. Elias saw and cleared his throat to cover a laugh.
"I keep telling Ty he should go," his dad said. "He'd love it."
"I'll take him," Elias said.
The way he said it, like it was a given that they'd travel together, like of course he'd take Ty… Ty grinned so widely, his cheeks hurt. It meant Elias was thinking long term. They hadn't talked about the future or their relationship, not since that brief conservation on Ty's birthday about going at their own pace. Both of them too afraid to rock the boat, to jinx the good they had going on right now.
"I actually think he might like this better, though," Elias said. He gestured to an image Ty'd fallen in love with when he'd first seen it: a forest in the fall, taken from above, mist dipping between the mountain peaks, the sun bursting through the clouds, painting the green and orange and red treetops in pale yellow light.
His dad grunted. "You're right. He would like that better."
"This is beautiful," his mom breathed. Ty almost fainted at her second compliment of the day. "Where was this taken?"
"Bohemia National Park," Elias replied.
"I'll admit, I don't know where that is. Why don't you work full time for a travel magazine? Your pictures are some of the best I've ever seen."
Ty threw his hands in the air. Hallelujah! Somebody agreed with him. Elias noticed his theatrics and rolled his eyes. Likely he was sick and tired of Ty not-so-subtly trying to convince him that he should take more commissions or become a freelance photographer full time. But swear to God, if Elias mentioned the competitiveness in the photography industry or said, "Seven years at Top Line," one more time, Ty was going to throttle him.
During dessert Ty's mom spent ten minutes telling Elias about the daughter of a friend's cousin whose photography business had crashed because she didn't have a marketing plan. Did Elias have a marketing plan? Did he want the friend's cousin's daughter's phone number so he could talk to her, make sure he didn't make the same mistakes?
"No, thank you," Elias politely declined. "I do pretty well for myself."
They left twenty minutes later with a promise from Ty and Elias that they'd get to one of Maddie's hockey games in the next couple of weeks.
Ty closed to the door behind his parents and leaned back against it, letting out a hard breath.
"Your mom…" Elias said, rubbing his jaw with one hand, brow furrowed.
Ty pointed at him. "Don't blame me! You invited them."
"I was going to say she wasn't that bad tonight."
"She was worse," Ty mumbled, walking himself straight into Elias's arms. Prolonged interaction with his mom always exhausted him, and he nosed his way underneath Elias's collar, breathing in his scent, hoping to banish the fragrance of his mother's perfume from his nostrils. "'Tyler, that chicken's not going to regrow its feet and put itself away,'" he mimicked in his mom's voice.
Elias laughed. "I didn't know your mom was funny."
Ty groaned. "Oh no, I've created a monster."
Elias laughed harder. Ty clung to him tighter, the vibrations of Elias's chest against his as he laughed soothing and comforting.
"Would you really take me to Rome?" Ty asked, pulling back a touch to commit Elias’s smile to memory.
"I'd take you anywhere you want."
"Can we start with the bedroom?" Ty asked, mouth millimeters away from Elias's.
Elias's eyes heated, hands tightening on Ty's lower back. "We can definitely start with the bedroom."
If you've been in a slump lately, Capricorn, don't worry—this week's an excellent one to start making those changes you've secretly been dreaming about.
"You!"
As Elias had expected, Rachel strode into his office Monday morning before he'd even booted up his computer.
"I have a bone to pick with you. I can't believe you didn't tell me you have a boyfriend."
Yup, almost word-for-word what'd he expected her to say.
She stood there in dark pants and a purple blouse, hands fisted on her hips with a look on her face that could only be described as an annoyed glower. An annoyed glower that quickly turned into a pout.
"I thought we were friends," she said, dropping into his visitor's chair.
Were they? Were they friends? He'd always considered them work friends, the type who only chatted within office confines and didn't really tell each other anything about themselves except inconsequential surface stuff like what area of the city they lived in, where'd they'd gone to school, and where they were from, figuring Rachel wouldn't want to be friends with him outside of work.
Had he made a mistake? They did text on the weekends after all, though those conversations were strictly about his horoscope. Yet she had mentioned double dating.
"Tell me everything," Rachel said. "Have you met his family? Are they good people? What's Ty like? Do you have a lot in common? What does he do?"
Elias's head swam from all the questions, and for some reason, the only one he could really focus on was that last one.
"Uh, he works for the city," he dodged.
"Like in politics?"
Shit, that was so far from the truth, it was laughable. "No, he works in waste management."
"Cool, doing what?"
He didn't want to tell her that Ty was a garbage man. He also didn't want to reflect too deeply on why he didn't want to tell her, certain he'd come out the other end of that looking like a self-absorbed douchebag who was embarrassed of his own boyfriend. Because he didn't want to analyze himself anymore—and Rachel was still waiting for an answer—he said, "I can't remember exactly."
"I can't wait to get to know him!"
Rachel and Ty? Oh God, they'd get into all sorts of trouble. The thought scared him a little, so he blurted, "Change."
Rachel blinked at him. "Huh?"
Elias cleared his throat. "Uh, my daily horoscope?"
"Oh!" she said, as if she'd forgotten about the conversation they'd been having every morning for the past eight months, ever since Rachel started studying what she called "spiritual stuff": horoscope
s and moon phases and guardian angels and crystals and tarot and reiki—whatever reiki was.
"What did it say?" she asked.
"Just that this is a good week for change."
"Huh. And do you want anything to change?"
He looked away but not before he saw her crinkled brow and narrowed eyes. She was peering at him as though she was only just realizing that she didn't really know him, and she’d be right. And that was mostly his fault, wasn't it? He’d known Ty for four weeks and he could say with confidence that Ty knew him better than anybody else on the planet even though he and Rachel had been working together for the past three years.
What did that say about him? Kevin—his best friend in Ireland—often told him that he was guarded and aloof to the point of unfriendliness, but Ty… Something about him, about the way they were so in sync with each other, had Elias letting him in much faster than anyone else who came before him.
Sometimes he missed the simplicity of those first few days with Ty, when he could ply Ty with I'm-sorry beverages and pastries and not have to make himself vulnerable to another person. But what they had now was much more than a hook-up, more than dating… It was a full-fledged relationship with all the bells and whistles that came with it, including dinner with the—dare he say it—in-laws.
And he wanted to keep Ty, forever if Ty would have him. Maybe it was too soon to be thinking that way after, but he didn't care. They'd decided to go at their own pace, and if Elias's pace was firmly set to recklessly-fast, then sue him. Besides he had a feeling that Ty was in the same place.
He was saved from having to answer Rachel when his phone pinged. Picking it up, he glanced at the email notification before waving the phone at her.
"I need to answer this."
"Sure."
She rose slowly, eyes still narrowed, like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. He sighed when she finally took herself out of his office, but his relief was short-lived. She poked her head back in.
"You should invite Ty to Julie's retirement party next Friday," she said.
He didn't even want to go to Julie's retirement party, never mind subjecting Ty to it. The only reason he was going was because Julie was the current VP and a Top Line lifer. They'd worked closely together for the past seven years, and it was her job Elias was angling for. Although maybe if he invited Ty, he wouldn't be so damn bored and ill at ease.
"Yeah, maybe," he said, but Rachel was already gone.
Double-tapping the email notification on his phone, he brought up the message—a personal one, not work-related like he'd led Rachel to believe. Shit. It'd been three weeks since the HR reps at CanadaTravels had emailed him about their open Director of Photography position, and he'd completely forgotten to respond.
Dear Mr. Hood,
I hope this email finds you well. I'm following up on my last email dated 15 January. As previously mentioned, we'd love to speak with you about the open position of Director of Photography at CanadaTravels. Martha Lloyd speaks very highly of you and your work. Please see the attached document for a description of the position and salary. I hope to hear from you at your earliest convenience.
Man. They still hadn’t filled that role? There had to be hundreds of people equally qualified as him.
Elias hit reply, but his fingers wouldn't type out the message he'd composed in his head, one that sounded vaguely like “Thank you for the offer, but I'm very happy at my current place of employment.” That “very happy” didn't sound genuine even to him. And he could hear Ty's words in his head, picking at him like a hungry bird, telling him how talented he was and that he was wasting his time at Top Line, sitting on his ass as he waited for his life to start.
Okay, in fairness to Ty, he’d never told Elias that he was wasting his time. That thought was all Elias, who in some tiny, dark corner of his mind had trouble acknowledging that Ty was right. Maybe he should take more commissions. Maybe he should go freelance full time… But that prospect had the breath backing up in his lungs. No steady income? Hell no.
But this Director of Photography position… Except for the decrease in salary, it hit all of his buttons. Taking pictures? Check. Getting to use his under-utilized creative skills? Check. Working for a company he admired? Check. In a capacity he was comfortable and semi-experienced in? Check. A little bit of travelling? Check. A close-knit working environment? Check. Finally putting his minor in photography to good use? Check.
Elias's forehead hit his desk. He couldn't do it, couldn't write that thank-you-but-no-thank-you email. What had his horoscope said again, about making changes secretly dreamt about? And yet the thought of leaving Top Line and starting something new knotted his chest.
Fuck, he was a mess.
It was an accident. Ty didn't mean to snoop, but when the ping sounded, he checked the phones on Elias's kitchen island to see who'd received the email. Wasn’t him, so he checked Elias's phone to make sure it wasn't anything urgent.
And holy jumping cheese crackers, Batman! He gasped at the subject line and almost choked on his Shreddies—dinner of champions. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! It was from someone named Martha Lloyd.
Subject: Director of Photography
Hey Elias,
Would you have time this week to meet with me so we can discuss the Director of Photography position with…
That was it. Stupid tiny notification box. With who, damn it? Who was the position with? Gritting his teeth against the urge to double-tap and bring up the full email, he stuffed his face with his last bite of cereal and flipped the phone upside down on the countertop to curb temptation. But as he washed his bowl and spoon, he kept one eye on the phone as if it would give up its secrets by virtue of him staring metaphorical daggers at it.
"You ready?" Elias came into the kitchen dressed down in dark jeans and a long-sleeved Henley. Why did he always have to look like a damn fashion model? Ty's own jeans, loose T, and flannel shirt were clean and comfy, but he looked like a chump in comparison to Elias. Ah well. He was who he was.
"Should I change?" Elias asked, gaze raking Ty up and down. Ty couldn't deny that Elias's dark brown elevator look—starting at Ty's thick-socked feet and travelling upward to his chest then roaming back down again—made his dick stir in his pants, even though the look was more information-gathering and less sexy-playtime.
"I should change," Elias answered his own question. "I'm too fancy for a hockey game."
"You're fine," Ty said. He cleared his throat to get rid of the gravel. "Better than fine, in fact. Definitely don't change."
Elias was smirking at him—yeah, the man knew he was hot, and he knew Ty thought he was off-the-charts sexy. Ty rolled his eyes, brushed Elias's cheek with a quick kiss and walked out of the kitchen.
"Just gotta brush my teeth," he called over his shoulder. "Your phone's on the island."
Maybe Elias would look at it and see the email. Maybe he'd see it and read it. Maybe he'd read it and then tell Ty all about it. Director of Photography? Ty didn't really know what that entailed exactly, but it sounded right up Elias's alley.
He couldn't stop grinning as he brushed his teeth, which, it turned out, made it doubly hard to brush said teeth. He was still grinning when he headed back to Elias, waiting in the front entrance, clad in his wool coat and winter boots. Ty bit his lip to hide a grin. It didn't work, if Elias's bewildered smile was anything to go by.
"What are you smiling at?"
I saw the email from Martha Lloyd, and I can't believe you applied for a photography position and didn't tell me about it! But I don't even care about that because OH MY GOD! Director of Photography!
Things not to say because one, it would steal Elias's thunder, and two, Elias would know he'd been snooping. Inadvertently snooping, but it was still snooping.
Instead Ty said, "Nothing. Just thinking you should be in front of the camera instead of behind it."
Elias snorted and held Ty's jacket out to him. "Not in this lifetime.”
&nb
sp; They were halfway out the door when Ty said, "You got your phone?"
"Yeah." Elias drew the word out, stretching it to five syllables, eyes narrowed on Ty. Likely because Ty was always on him about how much time he spent on his phone, answering work emails—like many corporate nine-to-fivers, Elias brought his work home and Ty hated it—and was now probably wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.
"In case we get separated," Ty hastily explained and headed for the elevators.
Elias didn't mention anything about the email on the walk to the building's parking garage. He didn't mention it on the drive to the Larry Grossman Memorial Arena in Toronto's Forest Hill neighbourhood. Nothing during the brief walk from the parking lot to the arena.
But okay, that was fine. It probably meant that Elias had yet to check his phone, which made no sense. Elias was annoyingly glued to the damn thing, but it was a possibility. Or Elias had read the email, but he was still processing its contents. That particular scenario was much more likely. Elias was a thinker. He'd have to mull over what the email said and how he felt about it and whether or not he wanted to act on it and how it would affect him if he did and build out a mental pros and cons list. Basically, he'd analyze it to death before mentioning it to Ty, but that was fine. Elias could analyze to his heart’s content as long as he took the damn job. He'd tell Ty eventually. Ty just needed to be patient.
"Are you okay?" Elias asked as they walked through the arena doors.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You were very fidgety on the drive here."
Crap. His giddiness at Elias's maybe new job was showing. "I'm fine," he insisted.
"Maybe no more Shreddies for dinner," Elias suggested.
Ty laughed and laughed, even though he had no idea why he found that so funny. He was just in a damn good mood.
