4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Martin

L ater that evening, Jesse arrives home from his office and we order dinner before heading out for our beach walk. It's become something of an evening ritual for us, one I've started to look forward to every day. Tonight, though, I'm quiet, lost in my thoughts as we descend the steep, wooden staircase leading down to the beach. We kick off our shoes, and I curl my toes into the sand, my feet instinctively seeking out the last of the sun's warmth that hides underneath that top layer. The crashing waves usually bring me peace, but tonight they seem distant and uninviting. The sky is painted vibrant hues of pink, orange, and purple, but my mind is too jumbled to fully appreciate it.

Jesse looks at me as we make our way slowly along the waterline, his brow furrowed. "Is everything okay? You're awfully quiet tonight."

I hesitate, my throat tight. Part of me wants to brush it off, but Jesse's concerned gaze holds me.

"It's… it's Richard's birthday today," I finally admit, staring out at the ocean but not really seeing it.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This must be a hard day for you." His eyes are full of empathy.

I shrug. "He's been gone a long time, so it's familiar, at least. But some years are harder than others."

He nods before reaching out to grab my hand, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze.

"Grief isn't a linear process," he says. "I know getting over a divorce isn't the same kind of grief as losing someone you love, but I know about the good days and the bad days."

I shoot him a grateful smile. We continue along for a few more minutes before he says in a quiet voice, "Does it help to talk about him? I'd love to know more about Richard."

I raise my brows in surprise. "You would?"

"Absolutely. Anyone you loved that much must have been special." Jesse smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, reminding me a little of Richard's, and it suddenly occurs to me Jesse is about the same age as Richard was when he died. I don't know what that means, or if it's contributing to my mixed-up feelings around Jesse, but I can't worry about it right now.

I allow myself to relax as memories of my funny, charming, brilliant partner wash over me. "Richard was a force of nature. He was a lawyer. A fierce one. But he was great fun as well. Always knew how to make me laugh, and he made everyone around him comfortable. He was from Montreal, part of a big, tight-knit, French Canadian family." I let out a soft laugh, remembering the fun we used to have on our visits to Quebec. "His twin sister, Celeste, still lives there. I rang her earlier to wish her happy birthday."

"Oh, that's great. How did you two meet?" he asks.

"He was one of the first Americans I ever met—or at least, I thought he was American at the time." I chuckle. "I was twenty, freshly arrived from Ireland. I got the boot when I came out to my family at eighteen, so after a couple of years kicking around Dublin, I took a chance and made my way to America."

Some of the color drains out of Jesse's face, and he swallows hard. "Oh, Martin, I didn't realize your family had kicked you out. I'm so sorry."

I shrug. "It was so long ago it's almost like it happened to someone else. Coming to America was the best decision I ever made."

He nods in response.

"Anyway, I started volunteering at a queer community center right after I got to New York. He volunteered there too, providing pro bono legal advice and services to the community."

It's been a long time since I've allowed myself to play with my memories from those early days in New York. They've taken on an almost antique feeling in my head. Like old photos that have turned yellow with age.

"Oh, right! And there was a movie about you two, right? That's how Penn found you?"

I chuckle. "That sounds a lot more glamorous than it was. But yes, a few years ago, a young, queer filmmaker made a documentary about us. Penn caught it on TV one day, and that's how I ended up at The Open Door. "

"That's amazing." Jesse shakes his head. "You two did so much good work together."

"I learned so much from him. There was a big age gap between us, almost seventeen years, but we were soul mates in every way I know of."

"How long were you together?"

"I had him almost nine years. We lost him in 1998. He was quite sick for that last year though. By then, we had moved to Philadelphia to start a gay-friendly shelter and community center there."

"Oh, yes, Penn told me that." He pauses for a moment, chewing on his lip before he speaks again. "Do you… Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course. Anything," I answer.

"Richard passed away from AIDS, right?"

"I nod. Yes. It was actually an AIDS-related form of pneumonia called PCP."

Jesse nods, still chewing on his lip. "So, can I ask… how did you avoid getting the virus?"

"Well, like I said, Richard had a few years on me. Obviously, we'd both been with other people before we met, but he'd been out there longer. He was a young, gorgeous, relatively wealthy gay man living in Greenwich Village in the '70s and '80s. He was popular and lived his life to the fullest. When we met, because we were both volunteering at the Center, we knew things were risky, and we decided from the start that we were going to always practice safe sex. We were careful from the very beginning."

"Oh, wow. Even though you were exclusive?" he asks.

"We decided to be exclusive pretty quickly after we got together. We figure he probably contracted it sometime in the late 1980s. But he didn't show any symptoms until about 1995. He was officially diagnosed in 1996."

"So the fact that you decided to use condoms all the time…"

"Likely saved my life," I finish for him. "Or at least stopped me from becoming infected."

"Holy shit," he breathes. "Thank god you made that decision."

"Aye. And that was all him. He insisted on it. I would have ditched the condoms a few years after we were exclusive. We fought about it several times, actually. But it was an issue he would never budge on. He said he would never want to put me at risk." I swallow hard.

"Oh, Martin," Jesse whispers. "I'm so sorry you lost him too soon. He sounds like he was a special person." I turn to look at him, and his eyes are shiny. God. This man is so sweet. He's so full of goodness and empathy.

"That he was. Losing him was the worst thing I've ever had to live through, but even knowing what I know now, I wouldn't change anything. My time with him made me who I am."

I pause, unsure if I should say the next thing that comes to mind. Ah, feck it. "You know, Jesse… You remind me of him in some ways. You're both eternally optimistic, always looking for the good in people. You have the same ability to find joy in the little things, to be silly and have fun. It's… nice."

It's Jesse's turn to blink at me, and his Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard. "Thank you," he whispers, his eyes soft. "I'm glad I can remind you of those happy times."

Friday of the following week, I'm up earlier than normal, since I've a busy day planned. Jesse and I are meeting with a Realtor to check out a possible site for the shelter, but before that I've got several scheduled meetings. I'm not exactly at my best in the mornings, but I manage to make it to the kitchen before Jesse for once. I'm settling into my seat at the breakfast bar clutching my coffee mug like the lifeline it is, when Jesse strolls in, looking far too chipper for this ungodly hour.

"Top o' the morning to ya, Marty," he chirps. I grunt in response, not nearly caffeinated enough for his enthusiasm and his terrible attempt at an Irish accent.

"So," he says, leaning against the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye, "I need you to pack an overnight bag before our meeting with the Realtor today. I'll swing by here to pick you up and we can head out there together."

I blink owlishly at him, not understanding. "Come again?"

"An overnight bag," he repeats, grinning like the cat that got the cream. "You know, clothes, toothbrush, clean undies."

"And why, pray tell, would I need an overnight bag for a meeting with a Realtor?"

Jesse's grin widens. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

I narrow my eyes at him, and he barks out a laugh that makes my heart flip in my chest. God, he's adorable.

"Just trust me, okay?" His smile is wicked, and it's stupidly endearing.

I try to tamp down the flutter of anticipation in my stomach. "Fine," I grumble, unsuccessfully trying to sound as if I'm put out.

"Great," he grins. "I know we've both got busy mornings planned, but I'll be back here just after ten to pick you up."

I spend the rest of the morning curious as hell about what he's got planned. It's been years since anyone's surprised me like this, and I'm looking forward to it so much it makes me feel a bit sad. While my lifestyle since losing Richard has certainly been heartache-free, I realize now that it's been missing these little joyful moments. The kind you can only experience when you let someone get close. But before I go too far down that particular rabbit hole, I force myself to focus on gathering what I'll need for tonight.

A few hours later, come back downstairs, bag in hand, to find Jesse waiting by the door, practically bouncing on his toes. "Ready?" he asks, eyes sparkling.

"As I'll ever be," I reply, unable to keep the smile off my face. "Lead on, mystery man."

An hour later, we pull up to a dilapidated building that's seen better days. Graffiti covers the walls, and weeds poke through cracks in the concrete. But there's potential here. I can see it.

As we step out of the car, a young man approaches us with a million-dollar smile. "Mr. Greenwood? Mr. Benoit? I'm Cassidy, your Realtor."

Christ on a bike. Cassidy looks like he stepped out of a fashion magazine—tall and lithe, with sun-kissed skin and perfectly tousled blond hair. His crisp white shirt and tailored slacks hug his body in all the right places, and his bright blue eyes sparkle with charm. He's exactly my type. Normally, I'd be eyeing him for a night of fun. No strings, no complications, just pure physical pleasure. But strangely, there's not even a flicker of interest from below my belt.

He extends his hand, and I shake it with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Cassidy."

"The pleasure's all mine," he purrs, his eyes roaming over me in a way that leaves little doubt about his interest.

I clear my throat, acutely aware of Jesse standing beside me. "So, shall we take a look?"

"Of course," Cassidy says, flashing us another mega-watt smile. "Right this way, gentlemen."

As Cassidy leads us through the building, I can't help but notice the way he moves, all fluid grace and subtle invitation. Normally, a guy like this would have my full attention. I'd be plotting how to get him alone, maybe suggest grabbing a drink after the tour. But today? Nothing. Nada. Not even a whisper of interest.

Instead, my eyes keep drifting to Jesse. He's examining the space with intense focus, that adorable little crease forming between his brows as he considers the potential of this run-down building. When he turns to Cassidy with a question about the property's zoning, I'm struck by the warmth in his soulful brown eyes.

As we continue the tour, Cassidy's flirting shifts into overdrive. He constantly touching me—a hand on my arm as he points out a feature, fingers brushing mine as he hands over some paperwork. It's blatant and unmistakable, but to my surprise, my body isn't responding at all. No quickening pulse, no flush of heat. Nothing.

I sneak a glance at Jesse, who seems uncharacteristically quiet. His jaw is set, and there's a tightness around his eyes that wasn't there before. Is he… jealous?

Before I can ponder that question further, Jesse's phone rings. He frowns at the screen. "Sorry, I need to take this. It's the office." He steps away, leaving me alone with the attractive, young Realtor.

The moment Jesse's out of earshot, Cassidy's flirting hits a new high. He steps closer, invading my personal space. "So, Martin," he purrs, his voice low and sultry. "I would love to take you for a drink sometime. I live in Hillcrest, and there's an amazing new place right in my neighborhood that just opened up, that I'm dying to try."

His hand trails down my arm as he licks his lips suggestively.

I'm about to firmly shut him down when I hear footsteps approaching. Jesse rounds the corner, his expression darkening when he sees us.