Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Owen nods, lifts his glass. “To the power of Eros, aka the God of . . . Road Trips.”
I slide drinks to Grant and Declan, and they lift theirs too. “To the power of Paul Rudd.”
Grant knits his brow in question.
“Inside joke,” I say, then I lean across the bar and press a kiss to Owen’s lips.
When I break the kiss, I turn to Grant and Declan. “By the way, you told me so.”
“And I’ve never been so happy to hear that,” Grant says.
TJ lifts his glass once more, then looks somewhere in the distance, a faraway haze in his eyes.
Like he’s lost in time.
28
TJ
I didn’t plan to be in San Francisco.
My schedule said that it was time to return to New York.
I have meetings and whatnot, including one coming up any day with Webflix. I’d figured I’d be in New York, prepping for it.
You don’t miss a meeting with the world’s biggest streaming service. Not when it’s optioned the rights to your best-selling book.
But when I talked to my agent the other day, he made it clear I needed to stay the fuck out of the scene of the crime for a few more days.
“New York is getting you down, TJ. Go west, young man. Head to San Francisco. Meet a guy. Go on a date. Maybe that’ll inspire you,” he’d said to me. “Then, we’ll do the meeting.”
I’d like some inspiration, thank you very much.
I’d like it to fall from the sky, jump out of a doorway. Hell, it could come in the form of a scary clown, rising up out of a sidewalk grate.
I need it. Badly.
So I said yes, and ventured here after Friendsgiving. I’ve been kicking around San Francisco for a few days.
But I’m not inspired, even at the Lazy Hammock, so I’ve been dateless.
Story of my life for the last year.
I can’t complain though. Aside from romance, my life is good. Even though seeing all these guys around me find their happily-ever-afters tugs on my heart.
Makes me wish mine hadn’t cratered so spectacularly.
But as I knock back the rest of my drink, listening to Owen and River catch up with Grant and Declan, I reason maybe it’s safer this way, on this side of heartbreak. Just getting to be the guy who’s happy for his friends.
That’s what I tell Owen when I leave the bar that night, pulling him in for a hug. “So happy for you, O,” I say.
“Thanks. You gave me the kick in the pants to make it happen.”
“Nah. You didn’t need me.” I rap my knuckles against his sternum. “You found that kick in the pants right there, my friend.”
I say goodbye, then I leave, heading out into the San Francisco night.
Alone.
Maybe someday I’ll be ready again.
Maybe someday soon.
EPILOGUE
Owen
The next year is everything.
We live it up, River and Owen style. We go to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving, like we planned, and it’s freeing to walk in there holding hands. His parents are ecstatic, draping us in hugs.
Turns out I don’t mind hugs so much when it’s about this—him and me.
As the year rolls on, we go to coffee shops and argue about whether London Fog lattes are better than Earl Grey teas. Spoiler alert: we don’t agree.
We wander around The Mission, checking out new bakeries and ordering cakes.
“Mostly, I just like to watch you moan around the dessert as you eat it,” River tells me one day as I take a bite of a coconut cake that’s particularly decadent.
“Because it makes you think about the way I moan when my lips wrap around your cock,” I tell him.
River leans forward across the table. “Exactly.”
I join him on a hike, and I love it more than I expect. The company has something to do with it. So I go with him a few times a month, and his dog starts to fall in love with me too.
We take trips, making our own bucket list of our favorite Discovery Prism places, checking out street art in Santa Fe, and maritime lore in Nova Scotia, and the best of underground Los Angeles.
River is a great traveling companion because he’s curious by nature. I’m a good one for him, because I’m game for anything.
And we make the most of our weekends in San Francisco, something that becomes even easier when I move in with him.
Goldilocks isn’t happy about having two new roommates, but she is a cat, so that’s to be expected. River charms her, though, discovering the key to Goldilocks has been petting her chin ever so lightly, and that makes her purr like a locomotive.
“Huh. She never really was into petting with me.”
“Lean into her name. She likes things to be just so,” he says.
“You’re a cat charmer,” I say, but that’s not entirely surprising.
River just has that way about him.
He knows how to make any mammal feel good.