Empty Nests (10 page)

“Don’t let the décor fool you, most of the menu is pretty traditional.”

James took a deep breath. “Smells good already.”

Gabe flipped through the menu, trying to decide if he should have the risotto again or be more adventurous. He was about to ask James what he was considering when the doors banged open and people streamed in out of the rain. It looked like a family, possibly two or three, and at least fifteen people all talking at the top of their lungs, drowning out the
Il Divo
playing over the speakers.

Gabe watched with a sinking feeling as the waitstaff quickly shoved a bunch of tables together and brought out bottles of wine that were ordered before the families even got seated.

Gabe leaned over the table. “I’m sorry.” He had to raise his voice a bit. “This is usually a really quiet place.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

A woman’s particularly shrill laugh cut through the restaurant, followed by the whine of a small child. Gabe saw a little twitch at the corner of James’s eyes. There was a flash of light and a clap of thunder overhead that caused the whole place to jump, then the family started talking even louder.

“You know this place does meals to go?” Gabe all but shouted. “I’m really so sorry.”

James chuckled and lowered his head. “It’s okay. Really not your fault.” There was the sound of a glass breaking. “Do they do the tiramisu to go?”

“I’m sure of it.”

T
HE
FOOD
was still warm when they unwrapped it at James’s small kitchen table.

Gabe managed to keep most of the conversation off himself, because he knew he had little to talk about outside his job. James, fortunately, seemed to have no interest in reality TV but did have great stories of people with genius-level IQs forgetting which office was theirs, hitting “reply all” and sending bitchy responses to the entire university, and one divorce that resulted in the husband having to move his research lab to the other side of campus.

They took their dessert to the couch. The tiramisu was rich and ever-so-mildly alcoholic. A bit of cream was at the corner of James’s mouth. Gabe reached out with his thumb to wipe it away. James quickly reached for a napkin, but Gabe stopped that with a kiss.

James squeaked, and Gabe felt him tremble a little. He pulled away.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay? I mean—”

“I’m fine.” James cut in. “You just startled me.”

“It’s startling that I want to kiss you?”

“A little, yeah.”

Gabe started to wonder how long a dry spell James was on, he looked so shy and nervous. He mentally reworked his plans for a bit of hot and heavy action to something a little slower. Not that he had any problem with slow. It all got them to the same place in the end.

He stroked James’s cheek. “Would you mind if I try to kiss you again?”

“No.”

Gabe brushed his lips across James’s. James started to kiss back, but Gabe pulled away to ghost his lips across James’s jaw and then down his neck. James rolled his head back and moaned softly. He pressed his lips against James’s pulse and felt the blood racing under his skin.

He wrapped his arms gently around James’s slim frame, which was trembling, and nuzzled his throat. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” He kissed James’s throat.

James clenched Gabe’s arms tight enough to bruise. He gave a tiny whimper that sounded as if he were in pain.

Gabe was sure the last time he’d had a partner react like that, it was his second college boyfriend who’d been—

Gabe’s brain skidded to a halt. He carefully removed his lips from James’s throat. He unwrapped his arms, but held James’s hands in his.

“James?”

“Yes?” James’s pupils were already blown wide open, his face was flushed, and he was nearly gasping for breath.

“I swear the answer to this question won’t change anything at all but… um… I mean… and it’s fine really… um… are you… I mean, have you done this… it before?”

James’s face burned bright red in barely a second, and he whipped his hands away. “I have a child, you know.”

“I don’t mean in that way.”

James squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in hard breaths through his teeth. “I’ve been a little busy,” he hissed. “I’ve had other priorities. Responsibilities. More pressing concerns than—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Gabe said, quickly gathering up James’s hands and putting his lips to a burning cheek. “It’s okay. I just… I don’t want to scare you by moving too fast. Or hurt you or something.” James pried his eyes open. “I’m starting too really kinda like you, and I don’t want to screw this up.”

James pulled back again, curling in on himself. “I’m sorry. I should have said something….”

“No. No. It’s fine. It’s actually been a really long time since I’ve been with someone and not hopped into bed on the second date. And it’s also been a really long time since I’ve made it much past a third date. And frankly anything past a fourth date counts as a relationship these days. So… yeah.” Gabe felt shame, the confession burning his own cheeks.

James turned his still flushed face from Gabe. “I haven’t had a relationship in… ever. There was one kiss at fourteen, then Cindy Loo, then this other father at a father/son weekend camping thing, but he was still married and there’s only so far you can get surrounded by nine-year-olds. I get set up on dates a few times a year, but say the words ‘single parent’ and watch the guy head for the hills and not call back.”

Gabe’s heart broke. James was, as far as he could tell, a not-bad-looking, intelligent, sweet, stand-up guy. Even in the reasonably large Bay Area dating pool, guys like that were rare. And no one should spend their life that alone.

He stroked his thumb along the back of James’s neck. “Come here.” James leaned in, and Gabe kissed him again. He kept his kisses soft and careful, letting James be the one to deepen them. It didn’t take long before James began to dart his tongue out, flicking it along the edges of Gabe’s teeth. Gabe held him tight; he was warm but had stopped trembling.

Gabe leaned back, stretching out on the sofa, guiding James until he was stretched out on top of him.

“Am I too heavy?”

“Not at all.” He drew James in for a kiss, and James kissed back, hot and deep. He slid a hand under James’s shirt and rested it on his lower back. James wriggled at the touch, and Gabe raised his hips in response.

James let a deep moan slip into the kiss, and soon they were in a gentle rhythm, rolling against each other. Gabe started to lose himself in the peace of it all. It had been years since he’d just made out or even had a decent date that didn’t turn into a frantic rush to the bedroom. Not that he wasn’t planning on making it to the bedroom eventually. The part of his mind usually thinking about fifty-year market trends and political stability in emerging economies was being reprioritized. It was thinking about a candlelit dinner for two, massage oils, and high-thread-count sheets. It was debating champagne versus a good wine. It was thinking about all the wonderful things Gabe wished his own first time had been, instead of something done quickly and shamefully in a cold back bedroom while patrol cars slid slowly through the neighborhood.

He squeezed James a little tighter. Then he heard the front door open. James bolted to his feet, managing to knee Gabe in the groin in the process. Gabe curled in on himself and rolled to the floor, choking back some very unmanly noises. Someone shouted “Dad!” and there was a high female shriek.

Gabe managed to get to his feet in time for the extreme awkwardness to kick in.

Standing in front of the open door was a young man. Tall, built, blond, and blue-eyed, but Gabe spotted a bit of James around the eyes and nose. Next to him was a young, buxom blonde woman, trying to straighten her clothing, her cheeks bright red. Gabe had a feeling his were a similar color.

“What are you doing here?” Dylan was the first to ask. “You were going out!”

“We got dinner to go instead. What are you doing here? I thought you were out at some club.”

“The band sucked and we… I mean, I….” Dylan was quickly wilting under a very impressive parental glare. James’s eyes flicked to the girl. “Oh yeah, this is Gemma. Gemma, my dad.”

“Hi, Mr. Maron.” Gemma held out her hand for the world’s quickest handshake.

“And this is Gabe, I guess?” Dylan’s tone didn’t sound unfriendly, but it was a blatant attempt at a subject change.

“Um… yes. Gabe, my son, Dylan.”

“Hi.” Gabe held out his hand for an even quicker shake. There was silence.

Dylan broke it. “You know, Dad, warm-up acts always suck. I’m sure the good band is up by now. We can just—” He gestured randomly in the direction of the door.

“No,” Gemma piped up, her cheeks still burning. “Um… It’s getting late, and I really have a test I need to study for.”

“Yeah… I’ve got a test… uh, conference call I’ve got to get ready for.” As much as Gabe wanted to pick up where they’d left off, the mood had been officially killed, buried, and the earth over it salted. He gave James a quick peck on the cheek to prove he had some balls. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” James was still glaring at Dylan.

“Yeah.” Gemma sidled toward the door as well. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Okay.” Dylan only managed to give his girlfriend’s hand a quick squeeze before she bolted, with Gabe right behind. The door closed, and Gabe leaned against the hallway wall. He looked at Gemma, who was doing the same.

“Was that the singularly most embarrassing moment of your life?” she asked.

“No, but it makes the top five. Of course I’m older.”

“Crap,” she suddenly said.

“What?”

“Dylan was my ride.”

“I can give you a lift.”

She looked him over. “Normally I don’t take rides from strange men, but I’m going to take a guess that you don’t have any real desire to get in my pants?”

“Not really, no.”

J
AMES
STARED
at his son, the embarrassment choking any voice from him. Dylan’s phone bleeped, and he quickly checked it. “Gemma’s grabbing a ride with your boyfriend.” That was the point when James remembered he was the adult and parent in this situation.

“So you thought I was out and decided to sneak a girl into the apartment despite my very reasonable and understandable rules on the issue?”

Dylan’s shoulders hunched. “I….” James put his hands on his hips. “I mean….” James glared. The embarrassment had shifted to anger mixed with disappointment. “I’m really grounded, aren’t I?”

“Oh yes.”

“How bad are we talking?”

“Here, school, practice. One month.”

“A month! But—”

James gave a sharp wave of his hand. He was not going to put up with any argument on this one. He gave Dylan a lot of freedom, but there were some hard, permanent lines that were not to be crossed, and this was one of them.

“Stay on my good side, and we’ll talk about early parole.”

Dylan shut his mouth and lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It was really stupid of me, and I totally get why you have the rules you do.”

“Good. Now look me in the eye and tell me you’re still a virgin. Feel free to lie.”

“Yes, Dad. Virgin. Absolutely saving myself for my wedding day.”

“Don’t push it. And you better be using protection, and the pill doesn’t count.”

“Yes, Dad, I use—”

“Nope!” James cut in quickly. “Don’t need details.”

“Okay, no details.”

“Good.”

There was silence again, and they could hear the rain still banging against the kitchen window. “So, Dad, speaking of no details, next time put a rubber band on the doorknob or something. I mean, I am all for you having some grown-up alone time.”

James felt the embarrassment from earlier creep back. “I assure you any other grown-up alone time that may or may not happen will not be any of your concern.”

“May or may not? Come on, Dad, that guy totally falls under the tall, dark, and handsome category, and if that ride out front is his, he’s totally loaded.”

“Yes, he may be those things, but I am not, and he….” James ran out of argument. He was still more than a little confused by the whole turn of events. He, James Maron, single father of the twenty-first century, technology-sector servant class, did not attract rich, handsome executives. The more he thought about it, the more the unpleasant but understandable idea that Gabe was simply slumming crept into his mind, and if the whole teenaged-son-in-the-abstract situation hadn’t chased him off, coming face-to-face with the issue certainly would.

“Dad.” Dylan rested his hands on James’s shoulders. “You are, like, the nicest guy on the planet. If that guy isn’t into you, then he’s a moron. And frankly he looked pretty into you.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Dad, you know why I want you to get a boyfriend?”

“So I don’t turn into a crazy old lady with lots of cats?”

“Yes, but it’s mainly because you’ve earned someone. You have landed father of the year eighteen years running—it’s time to do something for yourself. Time to catch up on all those things you missed, and don’t give me that ‘you regret nothing’ line. Just because you don’t regret missing something doesn’t mean you didn’t miss it.”

James didn’t quite know what to say. It was true. No matter how hard it was, he had no regrets about keeping Dylan, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been some damn lonely days he had forced himself to ignore.

James sighed, suddenly feeling tired, and gave Dylan a pat on the arm. “I’ll see what I can manage.”

J
AMES
WAS
typing on autopilot, dwelling on his interrupted date and trying to focus on the better parts, when a sensation that he was being stared at began to creep over him.

“Hey, boss, can I ask you something?”

He curled his back as if making himself smaller would somehow make Dave, and whatever his almost certainly stupid question was, disappear.