Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“She came around, though, right?” I whispered, reaching for his hand.
“I think so…yeah. Maybe. She called when she left Dad and needed a place to stay. Just a week, she said. I bought her a condo in Studio City, and she never left. I want to think we were healing, you know? Like maybe she could forgive me for not being the son she wanted, and I could forgive her for letting me go. I thought we’d put the worst behind us. We talked all the time—not about anything major, but I thought we were better. Then she got sick and…she was gone. And I wasn’t ready to say good-bye.”
I kissed his cheek and laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry, Pierce.”
He swallowed audibly. “Me too. She had stomach cancer. Stage four when they caught it. She did one round of chemo, and it didn’t do a thing. The doctor said any further treatment wouldn’t bide her any time. She was gone two months later.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
Pierce gave a hollow smile. “I’ve been told I should be grateful we’d connected and had good times together. I am. And I thought I’d worked through the worst of the grief until Jasper showed up with the cousin story.”
“That was Enid,” I reminded him gently.
“I know. But now I’m in that ugly place all over again, wondering why she didn’t talk to me. Was she ashamed of me because I’m bi or of him because he was gay? The mom I grew up with didn’t like those words. Yet supposedly, somewhere in that house, there are photos of me she sent her queer cousin and his husband.” He hooked his thumb behind him, then threw his hands in the air. “Go figure. And yeah, I’m a little pissed that Jasper didn’t lead with that info. Why is everything a fucking secret?”
I was wary of playing devil’s advocate, but I had to.
“ ’Cause they came from a different time, honey. I’m not excusing terrible communication skills, but I think she was trying. Maybe she didn’t know how to say the words, but…she showed up, right? And she stayed. Maybe you’re overthinking the rest because you don’t trust that there might be a silver lining. It’s okay to believe she loved you.”
He laced our fingers and kissed my hand. “Maybe.”
“I think I’m on to something. I’ve spent the last two years feeling pretty low and unlovable, which I know is shocking. But I lost two people I loved in a matter of weeks, and I couldn’t make sense of it. Both losses cut me to the core and made me question everything about myself. Am I good enough, smart enough? Will I ever be happy again? I wallowed in the blues until one day I got angry. Fuck Tony, fuck the Grim Reaper, fuck it all. My life might not be on the track I wanted to travel, but I refuse to believe I’m not worthy of more. I refuse to be unhappy.”
“You won’t be, baby.”
“Neither will you. Take ownership of the things you can control and let the rest go. Fuck the studio, fuck your brother, fuck the public. You’re allowed to be happy too, Pierce. You. Not the character you play…you. And right this very second, you’re in a beautiful private place with a very hot guy—that’s me, in case you were wondering—who brought three days’ worth of food and a ton of lube. If you ask me, it’s very fucking good to be Pierce Allen right now.”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Sounds like I’m a lucky guy.”
“Very lucky,” I assured him, nipping his jaw. “We’re going to spend most of this weekend naked…in front of the fireplace, in the kitchen, in bed. We’re going to play games, drink a lot of wine, and have a lot of sex. We’re not going to talk about Baxter or the studio or family or think about unpleasant things. Let’s just…be happy in the moment. Can you do that?”
He nuzzled my neck. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good.” I kissed his cold lips and smiled.
“What is this games thing? I never agreed to play games.”
“There are a ton of games in the hall closet. Monopoly, Risk, Parcheesi, and yes…Scrabble.”
He groaned aloud. “You said sex too, right?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Pierce nodded thoughtfully. “We should probably start there.”
I flashed a saucy grin as I stood and held out my hand.
We spent the weekend in our own little world. We made every meal together—simple things like pancakes, sandwiches, and pasta. I was the head chef and Pierce was the chief stirrer and chopper. He rolled his eyes when I praised his julienned carrots for our salad and called him my right-hand man. He called me a pest, but the twinkle in his eyes made me think he didn’t mind so much.