Chapter 36

36

DES

B y the time I leave the office at 7 p.m., the constant checking for Alex's call has given me the jitters, and for once in my life I turn my phone off. A full-blown tantrum is building in my chest. To be left hanging like this … Goddammit. This is not the first time something like this has happened with a guy by a long shot, but Alex seems to think this is only affecting him.

I hoist my bag on my shoulder and walk the four blocks to the gym, pushing myself through a punishing workout on the treadmill and lifting weights until I'm red-faced and shaking. Afterward, the deli's twinkling lights across the street draw me in and I buy the most ridiculous amount of food, shoveling a donut into my mouth as I stand at the crossroads weighed down by bags. It's 8:30 p.m. by the time I reach my building, and I step into the lobby to find Alex sitting on the couch in his work suit and thick blue shirt, dark hair in some wild disarray like he's been running his hands through it.

"Finally!" he says.

This makes me explode. "What the fuck do you mean, finally , Alex? You promised me a call this morning."

He has the good grace to look a little shamefaced. "I got caught up in some meetings." Then he rallies. "I've been waiting since 7 p.m. I've been blowing up your phone."

"Shit, really?"

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I turn it back on. "I was obsessively checking it all day and switched it off when I left the office."

As it powers into life, sure enough, there are five missed calls and a whole flurry of texts.

"I went to the gym, then got some food. Sorry," I mumble.

Alex lets out a long, controlled breath. "I'm sorry I didn't call you this morning. There's a lot of pressure at work at the moment. People are very jumpy, and they wanted me in early for some reason."

Something soft worms its way through me as I study his sharp jaw and tired eyes.

"You wanna eat and talk about it?" I say.

"Yeah."

We head into the elevator, and I eye him in the smoky mirrored walls.

"Are you staying over?"

He glances at his watch and grimaces. "I can't," he says. "My parents are watching me like hawks."

And here we are, right back here again. My jaw tightens so hard it cracks.

Mitzi goes nuts when we walk into the apartment, and Alex bends down and combs long fingers through her fur, bringing a lump to my throat. She writhes on the floor in ecstasy. You and me both, girl . I'm already sad about the fact he's no longer living here, and I didn't make it to the gym this morning without him. Our little routine lasted for a snap of time, and now it's crumbled to dust. I want him back here, curling around me at night as I look out of my bedroom window at the lights on the building opposite with his heat at my back.

I put the bags on the counter and pull out the food, handing Alex a bottle of wine.

"Open that up. I think I'm going to need it," I growl at him, and he blinks at me. "For heaven's sake, Alex, do you not think all this messing about isn't affecting me, too?"

Frowning, he opens the drawer, searching for the corkscrew.

"Messing about? I'm just trying to get on a good footing with my family," he says somewhat mutinously.

"You're never going to get on a good footing with them, Alex! Do you recall that conversation with your dad when he came here? Do you remember what Dimitri said?"

"I had a lovely time with them last night. I can't throw them all away for someone I met on Grindr, Des. They're my family."

A sharp knife slices into my ribs. Somebody he met on Grindr? That's how he sees me? Not a guy he lived a magical happy-dudes-together life. I suck in a lungful of air.

"Oh, excuse me for just being ‘someone you met on Grindr,'" I say, making quotes around the words. And here I was, thinking he was the love of my life. Silly me.

Alex flaps his hand at me. "I didn't mean it like that."

Didn't he? Arranging the roast chicken and vegetables on a tray, I switch on the oven to heat them up. It sounds like he meant it to me. I take a steadying breath.

"What did your sisters say? Rachel?"

"They're all petrified. Terrified of Dad going ballistic, cutting them off, or losing their family connections. The last few weeks have been dreadful for them. They've been suffering his rages while I've been here enjoying myself with you."

"They can leave though, right? I mean they're older than you are."

"Dad doesn't want them to move out until they're married."

"And they've gone along with that?"

"You don't understand, Des, it's the way we've been brought up: Honour your father and mother, respect your family and your elders."

"And that involves your sisters living at home until they're married?"

He picks at a bit of skin on his hands and doesn't answer. It makes my blood boil that that asshole controls them all.

"They are not your responsibility, Alex."

He raises his head and narrows his eyes at me. "Says the man who took in Marla. My sisters have done a lot for me, Des."

I'm fighting a losing battle arguing about his sisters. I suck in another deep breath.

"Did you talk to your parents about being gay?"

He nods, making a face.

"And?" Opening the oven door, I poke at the meat.

"I talked to Mom. She said I shouldn't make a big deal of it, that it annoyed my father, so it was better if we didn't speak about it at home. She said she didn't want a repeat of the night I confronted him."

I slam the oven door shut again. "Jesus Christ, Alex. Your dad hit you. Where is your mom's concern for you? She should be reporting him to the police. Has she even said what a shock it was for her, or asked you how you're feeling? Why is it all about aggravating your dad?"

"It's always about my dad, Des. You know that, it's what we do as a family, tiptoeing around his moods and tempers."

Arms folded across my chest, I say, "And you want to do that? Live in their house, second-guessing your dad's temper, denying who you are?"

Alex exhales sharply, fiddling with his shirt sleeve.

"I've spent the last three weeks thinking about all this, Des, okay? Give me some credit here. What would you do if the people you'd lived your whole life with, trusted your entire life to, people who have supported you, denied who you are like this? It's not that easy to throw everything you've ever known away."

I suck in a deep breath. Okay. I don't like it, but I get it. This situation is new to me. Calm the hell down, Des.

After a mostly silent dinner, Alex turns into me on the couch and skates a hand down my back.

"I'm sorry, Des."

He rubs his palm up and down my spine then slides a warm hand under the edge of my shirt. He kisses my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, and it's a little desperate, a little sad. I turn my face to him, seeking. He leans in, feathering his lips across mine, and I open my mouth, tangling my tongue with his. I bring my hands up to his face and cup his cheeks.

"Alex," I whisper.

Fingers grip the bottom of my shirt, and then it's up and over my head and warm palms land on my chest, skating down, greedy. Leaning back, I shift so I'm half lying on the couch and grab at the buttons of his shirt and he laughs, straightening as he yanks it over his head and off. I wriggle to get myself flat on the cushions as he moves over me, rubbing against my hip a little, and I squeeze him over his jeans and smile into his mouth. A groan rumbles out of him.

"That's so good," he says.

It's always so good, ever since that first time, after all the waiting. On our couch. Gripping his waist, my chest tightens. Am I further into this than he is? More committed than him? I'm his first in so many ways. Am I going to give my heart only for him to retreat into his shell and go back to his family? Or maybe worse: This is a first fling for him and he'll move on and experiment. And it dawns on me now, clear as day: I didn't love George. I saw what he was like and held back. With Alex, I haven't been able to do that. Ever since that first night when he came over and cooked dinner and looked after me after a grueling day at work, I've been knocked sideways, all in. These last few weeks with him living here have been blissful. Mentally, I've fast-forwarded to a happy-dudes-together future, but— Oh God —we have never had that conversation. How does he see what we're doing here? Maybe I'm only shocked he went back to his family because I love him—I couldn't be so careless with this relationship, with his emotions. But maybe it's not the same for him.

He slides a hand up my chest, snagging on a nipple and cupping my face.

"This is always so good," he says.

And I close my eyes and nod and let the moment take me over.

When he shifts about an hour later, my eyes blink open, half asleep.

Lips trail along my jaw, and Alex lifts his head. "I'm sorry, Des, I've got to go or I'll miss the last train."

He clambers over me and snags his clothes from the floor, pulling them on, his suit and shirt madly crumpled like he's been ravaged. Swinging around to the edge of the couch, I pull my boxers back on and run a hand over my no doubt chaotic hair.

He leans down and kisses my temple. "I'll sort it out. I promise," he murmurs.

My eyes roam over his pink face and crazy curls as he straightens. This might be the last time we'll be together like this. The last time I see him flushed and rumpled. I don't have his faith that this is sortable. Who knows what his family might do and what he'll feel obliged to conform with?

I stand and pull him into a tight hug, and he pats my back.