Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CLAY

"When did your parents move to this house?" I ask.

It's a squat blue bungalow with solid roof columns. Nice build. And well-maintained, too.

"We moved here when I was in high school," he answers. "Only from the other side of the neighborhood, though. Come on. The fence should be unlocked. All the tools we need are in the shed out back."

"Keeping me out of the house. I guess that means embarrassing childhood photos."

Nicholas laughs. "You're welcome inside any time. Just don't look at any photos in the second-story hallway."

"Definitely checking those ones out."

He pulls the door open and shoots me a sly smile.

"You said no parents today?" I ask.

Nicholas walks through. "This morning, my mom is chairing a committee on summer programs for the parks and recreation board, and my dad is running an errand for the community choir before he heads to the library to work until close."

I nod. "Guess that is where you get your hustle."

"You have no idea."

My eyes catch on the explosion of color behind him, pink and red and orange. There are bushes tucked into every possible space, framing the picnic table, surrounding the veranda, and growing like a hedgerow along the wide deck.

I step inside and take it all in.

"It's like being inside one giant rose bush."

Nicholas laughs. "I tried to leave enough space so it doesn't feel that way. My mom insisted she needed a yard. But you're right. It's time to prune. That's why we're here."

I look at Nicholas, and a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. He's taken his suit jacket off and set it aside, leaving him in a pink T-shirt.

He looks like another flower.

It feels embarrassing to think that, but it's true. The sun is playing on his tan skin, and his hair is doing that thing where it's messy and nice. And he's smiling at me, warmth in his eyes.

Fuck.

Nicholas grins. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

I walk over to him. We're alone in the rose garden, so I risk stepping close and putting my mouth at his ear.

"Because I can't stop thinking about fucking you in Niagara Falls, Nicky."

Nicholas leans in, nearly taking me in an embrace, but pulls away playfully. "I like that you keep thinking about it." He inhales a deep breath. "And there's something we should talk about before we start on the roses." He gestures to the picnic table. "Take a seat?"

Cautiously, I sit. I don't like this.

What if he has regrets? I'll hate that so much.

It's going to kill me to leave this guy, but I'll fucking lose it if I have to end things early on top of everything else. I need every damn second I can get.

Nicholas sits close to me. "It's nothing bad," he says, reading my emotions. "Well, not horribly bad. It's just that the gossip train is finally catching up with us."

Relief washes through me that he's not about to share regrets, but then I think about it a second longer. "Oh." I frown. "Shit. Everyone is talking about us?"

"Afraid so."

I try to process. I'm about to leave town, so I'll be able to flee any ramifications. But that doesn't mean I like the idea. And Nicholas lives here. Whatever rumors we've inspired are going to stay with him, maybe for years.

"You didn't want people to know your business," I say. "Sorry we didn't pull it off."

"They definitely know a lot of our business. Someone's sister got married and overheard us at the hotel."

My eyebrows pop up. "Seriously? How did that make it back to the neighborhood so fast?"

"It's only starting to make the rounds. But my friends quickly reported back to me." He studies me. "Tell me what you're thinking, Clay. Are you bothered?"

"Not sure. I guess I don't give a shit if people know." In fact, a part of me wants them to know, I realize. I really goddamn want them to know, which is strange. "I just don't like all that attention, if that makes sense."

"It does. And I wish I could remember what I was screaming at the top of my lungs last night."

"You definitely said Clay and hole a lot."

He buries his face in his hands. "I did have a lot to say about my hole, didn't I?"

I chuckle. "Aw, come here, Nicky," I say and pull him into a hug. "We almost pulled it off."

He hums against me. "So what? Does this mean we're open about what we're doing now?"

I ease back, no longer holding him close but not letting go, either. We find a way to settle in together, and my arm stays over his shoulder.

"I don't know," I answer. "Guess it would be weird to keep hiding when everyone knows."

"You're not the PDA type. I got that. But I think I'd enjoy it if we didn't have to be totally furtive for your last days in town. It could be a relief, actually."

Emotions wrench behind my ribs. My last days in town are approaching.

"If that's what you want, sure. I can work with that."

I try to say more, but I don't know how, so I just kind of grumble to myself.

I'm as bad as my grandpa is in his journal. Nicholas is here under my arm, and I still miss him. It doesn't make any sense.

He nods, satisfied. "Great." Gesturing to the shed, Nicholas quickly turns his attention to work. "Harvesting roses is fairly straightforward." He tosses me some heavy gloves, I guess for the thorns, and turns back into the shed. "With both of us working, it should go quickly!"

I pull the gloves on. "Let's do it. Show me how you work a rose."

His eyes dance. "You make it sound pornographic."

I step close to take the shears he offers. "In your parents' rose garden, of all places," I joke, and he laughs.

He shows me how to help, and pretty soon, we're making our way around the backyard, cutting flowers with the sun bright overhead.

Another rose scratches up my arm, and I curse and pull the branch back.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Fine."

"I found out a bit about Jacob from Sue," Nicholas says as he snips away pleasantly. "He used to spend time around the gay bars before he moved downtown to work at the architecture firm, the place where Himari is a partner. But he's retiring now and wants to return to the gayborhood."

I shove a few more roses into their little water holder things. "Guess we'll meet him this week."

He nods as he turns back to the roses. "It will be a full week. I've got some bumper crops lined up for our expansion, but I still need to track down more product if we're going to make this flower stand work. And as it turns out, the registration fees for these festivals are even higher than the cost at the market. Plus, I need to figure out how to spread word." He shakes his head. "I like the plan, but it feels terrifying to dump more money in the business with all the uncertainty ahead."

"It's not dumping money," I tell him. "It's investing. And considering how successful you are, it's a smart, proven investment, too."

Nicholas turns to me. "I appreciate that," he says. "I know you're prudent about this kind of thing, too."

Glad he sees me that way, I nod. He seems to want my advice, which feels nice. He's the one with the proven success. "You've nearly paid off your loans," I remind him. "You can continue investing that money in your business if you need to. And you already know that the booth is profitable. I think this is smart."

"I was considering hiring a marketing team for an extra boost," he says, brightening a bit.

"Then you should do it," I tell him confidently.

"Maybe I will," he says and drops a few flowers into their holders. "It will be another task on my list this week. But I'll have my thirtieth on Saturday, so there will be a celebration after all the extra work." He spins and looks at me, eyes wide. "Oh my god. You're going to be there and everyone is going to know."

I grunt. "Everyone is going to know everywhere in the neighborhood."

Nicholas nods. "Yeah, but it's my thirtieth birthday party. All the attention will be on me. And, by extension, us. It's how birthdays work, for better or worse."

I frown, thinking about it. "Do I need to do anything about that? Or can I still drink a beer and leave?"

"You don't have to do anything." He begins efficiently snipping away again. "Although to make sure you have proper context, the Menagerie isn't exactly a bar. It's the local sex club! They're normally closed during daylight hours, but they have a gorgeous garden out back, so they're letting us hold an afternoon event there." He snips a few more stems. "And I forwarded you the invitation, right? You saw that everyone's dressing like their favorite flower? Conceptually."

"Yeah, I saw. And dressing like flowers was a funny joke to put at the end of the invitation," I say flatly.

Nicholas laughs. "No joke. Flowers are the theme of the day. There will be flower-inspired cocktails and treats. Of course plenty of bouquets. And all my favorite people in outfits and costumes inspired by their chosen flower."

My face falls. "Seriously?" I rub my hand over my face. "Fucking hell. You know I'm happy to celebrate your birthday with you. But that's a lot."

"Don't worry. I'm not telling you that you have to dress like a flower. I'm just highlighting that everyone else will be dressed like flowers."

I grumble under my breath. No way in hell I'm doing that.

Except he probably wants me to do it.

Fuck.

I stew for a while as the roses scratch me. Dressing up like a flower and going to a sex club will make me feel like a fool. But it's his thirtieth birthday, so maybe not dressing up like a flower would make me an asshole.

So much easier when I just keep to myself.

"Nicholas! Oh, there you are!"

I turn and see two people, clearly his parents, emerging from the rear of the house.

Nicholas's mom has his hair, and almost the same short, choppy haircut, too. She's tall, the same height as Nicholas's dad, who has his son's round cheeks and hazel eyes. They're both wearing sneakers and carrying backpacks, and they each have something of Nicholas's movements immediately recognizable in how they carry themselves.

Nicholas drops his snippers and pulls off his gloves. "Mom, Dad! You're back." He turns and gestures to me with a smile.

"The infamous Clay," his mom says and offers her hand, which I take after shucking my gloves. "I'm Luana."

Infamous?

I meet her eye, not about to fuck this up. "Clay. My pleasure." I turn to his father. "You—" Damn, what am I trying to say? "You both have a great home."

"Reymond," he says cheerfully and clasps my hand. "And thank you!"

"Do you have a library card, Clay?" Luana asks me.

I tighten my brow, not sure I heard her. "Excuse me?"

"Do you have a library card?" she asks again, smiling as sincerely as Nicholas does.

"Uh. I don't really live here."

"Back home?" Reymond asks. When I don't answer immediately, he shakes his head. "No bother. Come inside! Come!"

Luana puts a hand on my shoulder as she guides me toward the house. "We'll have to get you a library card," she says. "Here and back home. Yes?"

"Okay," I say as I'm led away, not about to argue at the moment.

Inside, the house is filled with books and framed photographs and weird little decorative objects. Stuff that people have in a house when they don't have to move every couple years.

"Coffee? Tea? Water?" Reymond asks as I'm led into the kitchen.

I turn to Nicholas for help, and he follows after, a look halfway between exasperation and amusement on his face. "Is this really all necessary?" he asks.

Luana pulls a can from the fridge. "It's that soda water you like," she says, ignoring his question, and grabs a couple more cans. "We'll all have a glass."

Somehow, I end up at the kitchen table while Reymond turns to get glasses from a cupboard. "Busy day," he says. "Sorry to rush you. But we have heard a lot about you around town."

"Reymond!" Luana says.

He turns to her with a frown. "I didn't say anything explicit. What? Everyone else in town knows, but I'm supposed to act like I don't know?"

"Dad!" Nicholas says, and I nearly groan.

His parents know. Just great.

Luana puts down four cans of soda on the table, which Reymond immediately starts opening, fumbling with them.

"You look just like your grandfather," Luana says, turning to me as she changes the subject again. "The spitting image."

Nicholas plops in the seat next to me. "Not exactly like him," he objects.

Reymond leans forward. "What do you think of Buffalo?"

I swallow, my head spinning. "Great city," I tell him. "Honestly. It's got everything. Good neighborhoods. Close to nature."

And of course I'm fucking your son. Which you apparently know.

Inside, I start to die. This is what Nicholas was trying to warn me about.

Reymond stands abruptly. "That's right! We almost forgot. Time to load the extra card tables into the car."

Luana sips her soda water. "Should just take two sets of hands."

"I'm happy to help," I say, glad for a task and a break from the rapid-fire questions.

Luana shakes her head. "Nicholas and I will be able to handle it just fine."

"Mom, you can't seriously?—"

"It will just take a minute," Reymond interrupts. "And you already know which way they fit."

Nicholas glances between his parents before sighing and turning back to me. "Will you survive if I leave you alone for five minutes?"

"Do I have a choice?" I ask, and both parents laugh warmly.

"No, dear," Luana says as she pats Nicholas on the shoulder. "Not at all."

When Nicholas disappears with his mother, Reymond remains with me, sitting across the table with a pleasant smile.

I swallow. What the fuck is going on? I've been trapped in something I don't understand.

"Carpentry, yes?" he asks and sips his water.

"That's right. I'm a journeyman."

Reymond nods appreciatively. "Impressive!" he says, and pulls up another wide smile, his cheeks curving just like Nicholas's. "The repairs you've completed on the building were overdue. I'm so glad to see Blossom in a better state."

I blink. Is that what this is about? Concerned parents checking on their son's business?

Except he knows that I'm sleeping with Nicholas, I remember, mortified again.

"I'm glad you think so. It's a special building."

He drums his fingers on the table casually. "I'm sure you know that Nicholas is an optimist. He's always been quite brave in that way, persevering on with his unshakable belief in a bright future. Ever since he was a kid."

I'm pleased and not the least bit surprised to hear that he's always been this way.

"He works hard," I say. "Earns that optimism."

Reymond nods, and I think he likes that I said that.

I care what his parents think of me. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

"That he does," he agrees. "Although like everyone, his good qualities get in his way sometimes. Did he ever tell you he had his heart set on a different building for his shop before Randy came along?"

I arch an eyebrow. "No. I never heard that story."

"Nicholas was convinced his flower shop should be in the same location as the little flower shop he loved growing up. Even turned down Randy at first, thinking he was going to get the other building. That deal fell through and left him heartbroken, but once he accepted that it wasn't going to work out, he was able to see how perfect the current location is."

I study him, trying to figure out why he's telling me this.

"I guess it turned out for the best."

Reymond chuckles. "Just like our Nicholas always believes, it worked out exactly like it was supposed to. But that doesn't mean it's going to work out anything like he expected, or even wanted at the time." He shakes his head. "Anyway. Tell me more about yourself. Any pets? Or aspirations for pets?"

Before I can answer, Nicholas and his mom return.

"Tables are loaded," he says and turns his eyes straight to me, "and I am here to save you from whatever plots my parents are currently trying to hatch."

"Plots," Reymond says, like that's ridiculous.

"No need for rescuing, anyway," Luana adds. "We must be on our way."

Reymond stands, so I stand, too. "Yes, yes," he agrees. "Another busy day!"

"Glad to have met you, Clay," Luana says. "And I'm sure we'll cross paths again while you're in town."

I swallow. "Sounds good."

When they depart, Nicholas collapses in a kitchen chair. "My sincere apologies for whatever just happened."

I snort. "It's fine. They're fine." I sit down again, suddenly exhausted. "What was that?"

I'm disoriented, but also strangely pleased.

"That was my mother pulling me aside to ask me if things with you were serious. And after I answered, she spent several minutes trying to fit the tables into the rear of the car while assuring me that she and my father are supportive of casual sex."

I rub my jaw, feeling my beard growing out. He told his parents we aren't serious, which is correct. But it sucks, anyway, and makes me grouchy.

Trying to shake it off and keep things happy like Nicholas deserves, I just nod. "Guess I got off easy. Your dad chatted me up about the building and your business."

"That's it?"

"He did tell me that you've always been this way."

"What way?"

"I don't know. Bright."

He looks he's trying to hide his smile. It's cute.

Why does everything I notice have to hurt a little bit now?

"Now you've met my parents," he says. "Two bundles of energy and good nature. I'm glad to take after them, even when they spin around like a whirlwind."

"I'm glad you take after them, too."

Talking about family, Randy's journal comes to mind, and I decide that I want to tell him about it this time.

"I hope you don't think this is rude," I preface, "but I found an old journal of Randy's. It's from the nineties. I've been reading it."

He sits up straight. "Wow. Why would that be rude?"

"I thought it might be intrusive."

Nicholas considers it. "You did inherit the journal. It might be more complicated for someone who knew him well to read it, but I guess I feel in your case, it's a way to learn about him. Right?"

I nod, glad he understands. "Right. I guess your folks just made me think of him. It's good that you have family that appreciates you."

Nicholas nods, and his teeth brush his bottom lip. "What's going on with Randy in the nineties?" he asks.

"He's in love with some guy he's been hooking up with for a while. Worked himself up for weeks getting ready to tell this guy, Allen, how he felt. Finally did, and Allen said he loves Randy, too. But he also loves this other guy."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah. Randy doesn't like that. The part I read last, he's in a sorry fucking state about it."

Nicholas smiles sadly. "He wasn't the best at sharing." He stands up and offers me his hand. "Come on," he says. "Let's go finish up the roses. I want you to tell me more about Randy and how it feels to read about him."

I take his hand and stand, half-smiling to myself. "Okay. Sure. Just going to use the bathroom," I mumble out and start walking behind him.

"That's not the bathroom. Those are the stairs. There's a bathroom down here."

Before he can catch on, I take the stairs two at a time.

"Hey!" he yells after me, laughing, but he's too late.

Upstairs, I take the old picture of him down from the wall. Early teen Nicholas stands beside a massive papier-maché flower. He has the worst of all possible haircuts. It's an attempt at spiky, early 2000s hair with blonde tips, but it's a porcupine-looking disaster. His smile is awkward and exaggerated, and he's wearing a pink T-shirt with a Pokémon on it.

Nicholas appears behind me, laughing. "Unfair," he says.

I pull my phone out and snap a picture of the photo. "This is perfect," I tell him. "Literally perfect."

He laughs and leans against the wall, but doesn't object anymore.

Satisfied, I put the photo back. "Roses?" I ask.

Nicholas steps forward and pecks a quick kiss on my cheek. "Roses," he answers.