The Final Piece of the Puzzle

“AUNT NAN?” Trey asked when the phone picked up. “I thought I’d get Caitlyn.”

“Nope,” Nan said crisply. “I had to fire the girl. She…. God. I can’t even tell you how many vendors she’s pissed off. I’ll be lucky if I have a business left at all.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said sincerely. It had been a big deal to get her to accept help anyway. He wasn’t sure how he, Debra, and Pete would get her to interview another assistant for her gallery.

“Not your fault, honey. Unless you know an art history major you’ve been hiding from me.”

It wasn’t quite like fireworks going off behind his eyes or a giant bell tolling with his head as the clapper—but it was close.

“Oh my God, do you and Pete ever talk?” he asked, trying desperately to cover for the fact that his conversations with her in the last two months had been mostly about him and the fallout from his two days in the spotlight and the rest of his career as it followed. A lot of that he’d shared with Dewey, but apparently national news feeds had been carrying some of the clips, and his parents, who no longer spoke to Trey and Debra, had called Nan to complain.

Nan hadn’t told Trey much about those conversations, but he imagined she’d had some acid things to say.

“We talk all the time,” Nan said now, defensively. “What aren’t we talking about?”

“You know my boyfriend?”

“The one I haven’t met yet?” she asked, and she was no longer defensive.

“Yes, that one—the one I’m calling to schedule for dinner so you can meet.”

“What about him?”

Trey laughed, feeling smug. “What your son, the one who talks to you all the time, has declined to tell you, is that he’s an art history major. And he’d love to get out of his current job.”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone.

“He’s no longer my son,” she said after a moment. “I renounce him. I don’t care if he’s found the perfect girlfriend, he’s dead to me.”

Trey laughed again, knowing Nan would defend Pete to the death. “He keeps calling Dewey his bestie—I think you need to tell him there’s obligations to the word.”

“I think I hate being gone so much in September and October is what I think,” she muttered. “Okay, so you want me to meet this amazing person like family. This is what you wanted to tell me?”

Trey sobered. “You’re… you know. It’s like introducing him to my parents, Nan, but you know. Better. And we’re moving in together—officially after Christmas, but you know….”

“He’s there most nights now?” she asked, laughing.

“Yeah,” Trey said with satisfaction. “I really love this guy, Aunt Nan. I want you to meet him. But, you know, since he’s an art history major, I wouldn’t mind if you hired him too.”

“How good is he?” she asked. “Does he know his stuff?”

“I let him buy art for my walls,” he said, because seriously, that was all he knew about art. “And I love it. I mean… love it.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” she said, her voice dropping softly. “But mostly, that’s because he makes you happy.”

“Thanks, Aunt Nan.”

Now

DEWEY HADN’Tstopped talking since they’d walked down the stairs of Aunt Nan’s place and set off on the two-block quest to find the car. Nan lived and worked in Midtown, so even though it was eleven o’clock, there were still people on the streets, walking from restaurant to bar—or from bar to bar—or finding live music. There had been a Kings game that night; Trey could tell because he could see the bright purple beam from the Golden 1 Center lighting up the sky and knew that happy fans would still be converging on the square.

“So I showed her the prints I got you for your front room, and she loved them,” Dewey babbled, lacing their fingers together. “And I know you were doing the dishes, but we had so much to talk about. She knows artists like you wouldn’t believe, and she needs help now.I think I might work both jobs, if that’s okay. I can do early mornings at her shop and then take a bus to the coffee shop until Lena finds someone else. Oh my God, I may have to get a car! Trey, I hate to tell you this, but your aunt pays really well. It’s insane! Anyway—”

Trey smiled and listened, loving all the plans he was making, loving the bright future his words painted for the two of them. It wasn’t until they spotted the SUV that Dewey paused for breath and dropped the bomb.

“So,” he said, the familiar thread of humor lacing his voice. “When were you going to tell me you hated coffee?”

Trey grimaced. “Uhm….”

“It wasn’t until your aunt actually tried to hide that she was giving you tea—and you drank it, which you don’t do with your coffee, that I figured it out. Holy cats, Trey, how did you end up in a coffee shop?”

“Uhm….”

But Dewey was on a roll. “I mean, you were meeting a date, right? Why would you even choose a coffee shop for someone you were planning to go out with? You wouldn’t even have that in common!”

And here it came. The moment of truth. “I wasn’t meeting a date,” Trey said in a rush. “I was meeting Pete. He wanted me to see Lena because he’d been crushing on her for months and he was trying to work up the nerve. I’ve never been on a dating app in my life. I wouldn’t know how to sign up for one in a million years.”

“But… but why didn’t you say that?” Dewey asked, laughing.

“Because I hadn’t dated in so long,” Trey told him, biting his lip. “I was so tongue-tied. You were so beautiful, and your smile just….” He shrugged. “It was like a shoulder tackle right to the solar plexus, you know? I would have done anything to keep you talking to me. Pretending to get stood up was small potatoes. I drank coffee.”

“You’ve been drinking coffee!” Dewey accused, eyes squeezed closed. They’d drawn abreast of Trey’s Tahoe now, and Trey hit the key fob and then opened the door for Dewey. Instead of sliding into his seat, Dewey snuggled into his arms, taking shelter from the chill of the early November evening and, Trey suspected, wanting to prolong the conversation.

“Yeah,” Trey sighed. “I… I really don’t like coffee.”

“I sort of figured when you had an electric teapot and a tea cozy and no coffee maker,” Dewey told him indignantly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Trey asked.

“Because I was afraid to jinx it,” Dewey said. “The perfect guy wanders into my coffee shop and boom, I’m in love for the rest of my life. I was afraid if I asked you why you were even trying to drink coffee, you’d admit that you were a spy, or it was all a hoax, or your original date had shown up after all.” Dewey shook his head. “And because you walked in and the rest of my life started, and I didn’t want to even question it.”

Trey kissed him, and it was meant to be brief and reassuring, but it lingered, became the kind of kiss you’d offer your lover in the moonlight.

He pulled back and said, “Me neither. I’d drink coffee every morning for the rest of my life if it meant I could wake up next to you.”

“I’ll buy you tea,” Dewey told him drolly. “But you can still wake up to me every morning for the rest of our lives.”

“Win!” Trey said brightly. Then he whispered, “Goal!” reminding Dewey of his first predictions of their lovemaking.

Dewey sputtered, and Trey captured his mouth again and the kiss lingered even longer, even more sweetly. They had a future together. It was even better than tea.