by DJ Jamison
Rory forgave him for that, especially knowing his situation better, but he couldn’t forget. He’d been the one to walk away, but Avery had left him little choice.
You could have fought for him, Rory’s voice of reason piped up. You ran away. You were a coward, too.
Not this time. Rory wouldn’t run. He’d see it to the bittersweet end. He’d hold on to Avery as long as Avery allowed. But first, he had to get him past this one last fear of his. Rory almost dreaded the moment Avery was one hundred percent free of his hang-ups, because that would be the day he no longer needed Rory.
But the journey would be worth it. Avery deserved to cast off his father’s influence once and for all. He deserved to be free of shame and guilt. If nothing else, Rory would do everything in his power to give him that.
“Your mom won’t mind if I’m, you know,” Avery said again. “Too…femme?”
Rory chose his words carefully. He knew Avery struggled with this. “Is there something wrong with being femme?”
Avery swallowed. “Not for some guys.”
“But for you?”
Avery shrugged, casting his eyes to the floor. “I just…I’m not a twink or anything.”
“No, you’re not,” Rory agreed. “You’re way too old.”
Avery’s head jerked up, eyes flaring with indignation. Rory’s lips twitched, but he held back his smile with effort. He wanted to jolt Avery into thinking about something besides the holy grail of masculine ideals.
“Avery,” he said gently. “You’re incredibly sexy.”
Avery blushed, as he always did when Rory called attention to that. It was so strange. Avery had been such a conceited teenager once. He flirted effortlessly. He’d hit on Rory at that gala without missing a beat. But now that Rory had stripped him of some of his reservations, been inside his body, he’d discovered that Avery was actually quite modest. A little bashful about his appeal.
The conceited boy, the brash and bold man at the gala, those had been an act, nothing but a mask Avery presented to the world. This was the real Avery. Uncertain, sweet, vulnerable. Sexy but humble.
Rory continued. “In lace, in silk, or in blue jeans, you’re gorgeous. I want you, no matter what. I—” Rory stopped short. He’d nearly proclaimed his love right then. He didn’t want to say it now, in this conversation. He swallowed. “My mother has never met you. My stepdad and my stepsisters have no expectations. Be whoever you want to be. Pack whatever you want to pack. But please,” he urged, “don’t doubt yourself. No matter what you wear, you’re beautiful to me and I want you.”
Avery responded by grasping Rory’s face and kissing him again. This time, Rory didn’t stop him until they were both sweaty and tingling from the great sex. Avery had been passionate, getting more vocal about what he wanted all the time, and Rory loved hearing him beg for his cock.
“I’ll pack after we shower,” Avery promised.
Rory rolled toward him, placing his head on Avery’s shoulder. “You can come naked, if you want.”
Avery shook a little, laughing silently. “And what would your mother think of that?”
“She’d congratulate me on a job well done,” Rory said solemnly.
They both dissolved into laugher, even as Avery turned red once more. Rory brushed a finger over his cheek. “Such pretty blushes.”
“Shut up,” Avery said, but without any heat. “You torment me just to see me turn red.”
“Mm. I do like it. It means you’re not conceited.”
“Does it?” Avery shot him a look. “You never blush.”
Rory smiled smugly. “I can’t help it if I know I’m sexy.”
They teased each other all through the shower, keeping up the banter and the laughter, until they were dressed in underwear and Avery tugged out his suitcase, setting it on the bed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for…dressing up,” he admitted. “Especially for the first time meeting your family. On Bliss Island, Julien was there, and even though he doesn’t do the same thing, it felt…”
“Safe,” Rory said.
Avery met his gaze. “It was separate from my life, and Julien was so gorgeous. I just wanted to feel half as confident as he looked.”
“I want you to feel that confident,” Rory said. “You deserve that.”
Avery looked down, a small smile on his face. “One day, maybe.”
“Dress however you want,” Rory said. “No pressure. I just want you to know that you’ll be accepted no matter what.”
Avery nodded once. “Thank you.”
He turned to the dresser, pulling out a couple of pairs of jeans. Rory left him to the packing, heading to the kitchen to make them a snack. Maybe if he wasn’t watching, Avery would include a few things just in case. He didn’t want to watch over his shoulder and make him uncomfortable. Even if he brought nothing but jeans and sweaters, Rory would be thrilled to have him by his side and in his bed.
Now, he just had to decide what to buy him for Christmas. And just how sentimental he should be. They were in a fake relationship, but also a kind of real one. But where was the line between the two?
The drive up to Vermont was beautiful, full of evergreen trees frosted with earlier snowfall on a bright, crisp December day. They were fortunate that the weather was mild. A five-plus-hour drive in a snowstorm wasn’t on Avery’s wish list. He’d almost offered to buy them plane tickets, but then he’d weighed five hours alone with Rory in a car vs. three hours on a plane full of people—and there was no contest.
Rory’s mom lived in a small town, set against the backdrop of mountains, with a handful of houses intermingled with bed-and-breakfasts and a quaint shopping district. Avery made note of it in case he got the chance to do some shopping. He had a gift for Rory, of sorts, but he didn’t know if it was the right choice. It felt daring, but also a bit selfish. He wasn’t entirely sure whether the gift was for him or Rory.
Rory noticed him looking at the shops. “There are some cute boutiques and art galleries. I’ll need to do some shopping for my family. I picked up a few things back in Portland, but I didn’t get everything I needed.”
Avery nodded. “Oh, right. I should get them something…”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll write on the tags that the gifts are from both of us.”
“Oh. That’s…”
“We’re engaged, remember? I told Mom the truth, but she decided not to tell the girls. Didn’t want them having the pressure of a secret. It will barely faze them if my engagement ends later.”
“Right,” Avery said, heart sinking. Rory still talked about their relationship like something with an expiration date. Would he want to end everything once the charade was up? Avery had wasted so much time letting his fears hold him back. The gala was coming up in two months. If that’s all he had with Rory, Avery wanted to make the most of it.
The Lewis family lived outside town in a restored farmhouse. Rory’s mother had remarried while he was in college, he’d told Avery. The two-story house was a creamy white, with a wide front porch supported by columns. A screened-in sunroom jutted out from one side of the blocky house. There was no garage, but a faded red barn could be seen a few hundred yards from the house.
“This looks nice,” Avery said. With the backdrop of the mountains fronted by evergreens and the rolling farmland, complete with pond, the view was beautiful. Avery imagined it was a peaceful place to live. He wouldn’t mind retreating from city life with Rory to a quiet space with the privacy to do whatever they wanted.
“It always feels strange, coming here,” Rory said as he parked the car and cut the engine.
“Why’s that?”
He shrugged. “It was just me and Mom growing up, except when she had a boyfriend. Only one of those lasted very long. We lived in an apartment in Portland, so all this”—he swept his arm toward the windshield to indicate the view—“doesn’t really feel like home.”
“I can understand that.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Rory said, turning
toward him. “Mom, Tyrone, and the girls? They’re family. I love coming here to see them. It just feels more like a vacation than a trip home. Know what I mean?”
Avery nodded, heart aching at the flash of memory that came to him. Christmas in their large living room, a massive tree trimmed in shiny ornaments and lights, his mother smiling as she handed him a present. His early childhood was peppered with memories of home and family. But at some point, his mother and father grew apart, distant, and his home’s large spaces only magnified the silence between them. It had lost its warmth, its happiness, by the time Avery was sent to boarding school.
His father often waxed poetic about what Avery’s mom would want, about her legacy. But the truth was that they’d been on the brink of divorce before she’d died. She was a convenient political currency, just like Avery. Who didn’t sympathize with a single, widowed father?
A woman emerged from the front door, her hair a brown color similar to Rory’s but shot through with caramel highlights. She wore jeans and a pretty silver sweater. Behind her, two girls followed, one close to five feet tall and somewhere around fifteen or sixteen and the other a couple of feet shorter, closer to ten. They were black, with dark hair and eyes. Rory had briefly mentioned his family was interracial, so he wasn’t surprised.
“Those are the stepsisters?”
“Yeah, Keisha and Monique,” Rory said. He shot Avery a grin. “They’re so sweet.”
They got out of the car, and Rory popped the trunk. By the time they’d retrieved their bags and headed toward the house, the youngest girl had flown down the steps and across the yard. “Rorrrryyy!” she squealed, launching herself at him.
Rory had to drop his bags to catch her in a hug. He swung her up and in a circle before letting her down again. “Wow, look at you, Monique! I love the hair.”
She beamed, patting a hand to her head. She had two long braids on each side, with another braid crisscrossing between them over the top of her head. Avery couldn’t begin to imagine how that worked or how much time it took. “Katie did it.”
“Well, it looks great.”
She began telling them all about the process of doing her hair, step by step, as they crossed the yard to where Rory’s mom, Katie, was waiting with a smile on her face. Monique clung to one of Rory’s hands the whole way.
“Hey, Mom,” Rory said. He lifted his gaze to the porch where the older girl lingered. “Keisha. I want you guys to meet Avery…he’s my fiancé.”
“Fiancé?” Monique said, sounding puzzled.
“I’m going to marry him,” Rory explained.
Avery’s heart jumped in his chest, even though he knew it wasn’t really going to happen. He realized he wanted it to.
To his surprise, Rory’s mother hugged him first. “We’re so happy to have you joining us, Avery.”
“Thank you.”
She turned, smacking Rory on the shoulder. “And you! It’s been too long between visits.”
“Ow! Abuse!” Rory cried dramatically, making the girls giggle. “Watch out, Avery, she’s full of hugs now, but just you wait…”
She snorted. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Monique piped up, “Rory, can I do your hair? It’s gotten so long!”
“I did promise to grow it out more for you.”
“So, can I?” she repeated. “Dad got me some new makeup too. We can put on a fashion show!”
Keisha rolled her eyes, turning to open the door as they all came up onto the porch and headed inside. “Give them a chance to breathe, ’Nique. They barely got here. I doubt they want to play with you.”
Monique huffed. “It’s not playing; I’m going to be a hairdresser like Katie!”
“Mm-hmm. Right after you become a beautician,” her sister said skeptically. “And last week, you were going to be a massage therapist.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Rory, saying in a stage whisper, “Don’t let those claws near your shoulders. Trust me.”
“Katie!” Monique squawked. “Keisha’s being mean again.”
“All right, all right, girls. Let’s go inside so Rory and Avery can drop these bags and get settled. We want Avery to get comfortable before we show him all our bickering.”
She flashed a grin and a wink at him. “Before you know it, you’ll be joining in.”
Avery chuckled, not so certain. They all seemed so comfortable with one another. Rory snagged Keisha’s arm and drew her into a sideways hug, whispering something that made her smile and nod, and then he grasped Avery’s hand, drawing him across a living space with a gray sectional with a chaise lounge on one end and a leather recliner across from it, near a fireplace surrounded by brick that extended all the way to the ceiling. A low, round table made of wood and painted a faded white sat in front of the sofa. All of it rested on top of a large, colorful rug with geometric patterns.
Katie led the girls to the kitchen while Rory and Avery continued down a hall. Rory pointed. “Guest bathroom. It’s small. Tyrone and Katie have a master suite, and the girls have a shared bathroom between their bedrooms. This one should be all ours. And this”—Rory pushed open a door directly across from the bathroom, on his left—“is our room.”
Our room. Avery liked the sound of that. He hadn’t been entirely sure that they’d be rooming together since Katie knew the true story, or most of it. Rory had told her they were faking their engagement. Had he also told her they were not faking everything else?
The room was tidy, with a queen-sized bed covered in a quilt with yellow and blue wildflowers. The walls were a pale green. It felt like a calm place, but not terribly personal. Avery supposed since Rory didn’t grow up here, he couldn’t expect to get a peek into his teenage life. But he’d seen plenty of Rory’s room at boarding school—and now his home as an adult—to feel that he knew him. Some early childhood toys might have been a nice touch, but perhaps Katie would pull out some photo albums if he asked nicely.
Rory hefted his suitcase onto the bed. “Might as well unpack. We’ll be here a few days.”
Avery hesitated. He had some things in his bag he wasn’t ready to share. “I’ll do it later,” he said as he sat his suitcase in a corner. “If that’s all right?”
Rory glanced at him, forehead creased, and Avery kissed him to distract him. He felt Rory sigh against his mouth, sinking into the kiss without resistance. Avery loved that he could touch Rory this way, that he could just take what he needed without permission or reserve. Warmth filled him as Rory’s hands combed gently through his hair.
“You nervous?” Rory asked.
“A little.”
Rory slid his arms around Avery’s neck, smiling up at him. “None of them bite, not even Tyrone,” he said. “Although you might wish he did once you see him.”
“Rory,” Avery gasped with a laugh. “That’s your mom’s husband.”
Rory grinned. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate her taste, just like she appreciates mine.”
Avery rolled his eyes, face heating, as he remembered Rory’s joke about him showing up naked. Of course, naked thoughts led to naked thoughts, which were never far away where Rory was concerned. Avery lowered his head for another kiss.
A high-pitched voice, full of impatience, interrupted them. “Rory, come on!”
They jolted apart. Rory turned toward her, saying mildly, “Monique, how about you knock next time?”
She crossed her arms, one hip cocking to the side. A note of sass crept into her tone. “How about you close the door next time?”
Rory laughed, looking chagrinned.
“She got you there,” Avery said.
“She did.”
“Please, can we do hair now? I have the best idea! Besides, Dad wants to meet your boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” Keisha corrected as she came down the hall. “Stop bugging them to play with you. They’re not little kids.”
“That’s okay,” Avery said. “I’m looking forward to seeing Rory’s new hairstyle.”
Rory smi
rked. “If you think you’re escaping a turn on the hot seat, you can forget it.”
Monique bounced on her toes. “Come on! My salon is this way! Dinner will be ready at six, and beauty can’t be rushed.”
Rory grinned over his shoulder. “You heard the girl, Avery. Let’s get beautiful.”
Avery shook his head, smiling, charmed by Monique’s enthusiasm and obviously close bond with Rory. What would it be like to have a family like this, full of life and laughter? Avery couldn’t remember his home, even in the earliest, more happy days, ever feeling like this. Even Keisha’s annoyed, big sister comments were tempered with love.
But what about their father, he wondered. What did Tyrone think of Rory being gay and playing beauty salon with his daughter? He supposed he’d soon find out. Rory didn’t seem concerned about it, but then Rory had always courageously charged forward, unapologetically himself, whether someone liked it or not. Avery could easily see Rory challenging his stepfather’s discomfort, rather than fearing it.
God, how Avery wished he could be like that. Rory was something else. Something more than he deserved, surely.
Monique led them just a short way down the hall toward a bedroom. She flung open the door without knocking.
“Come to the vanity. I do my best work there,” she said in an adorably dramatic voice.
It was obvious this was not her bedroom. A large, king-sized bed covered in a gold comforter anchored the center of the room. An armchair sat in the corner, stacked with laundry. A large dresser sat against another wall, with a collection of pretty, antique perfume bottles arranged on top. Monique went directly to the vanity, complete with three mirrors positioned at different angles and a velour-covered stool.
“Sit, Rory!”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Just as Rory took his seat like an obedient guinea pig, a man stepped out of the closet, startling the hell out of Avery. He was tall, broad, and as close to a doppelganger for Idris Elba as Avery had ever seen.
