FQWL: Inevitable
Apr. 8th, 2013 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonshadows((Contains some sexual activity but no sex))
Despite the frequent snowstorms, the first half of January feels like it's simmering with warmth. Maybe it's because I know whatever bad memories Robert's old tattoo brought up, he's discarded them and is focusing on a future where we can give in to temptation because we know that whatever we do, we'll still feel good in the morning. The other dads are immensely grateful for our early-morning shovel shenanigans, and life goes back to its usual rhythm as the kids return to school after the holiday break. Joseph complains exactly once about the snowcock, but I tell him as casually as I can manage that Robert insisted on modeling it after a dick he was intimately familiar with, and that shuts him up. Amanda packs up and heads back out to Horne, texting me her progress as she goes. She'd jokingly demanded that Robert and I refrain from "getting into the kissy stuff" until she's back for spring break, but Robert told her solemnly that he makes no promises.
He stays with me, sleeping on the couch when night falls, both days my daughter is on the road. I can tell that he's ready to leap into action if the grey purgatory beckons, but it doesn't take me - something he tells Amanda with pride when she calls to say that she's in her hotel and will be checking into her dorm in the morning.
The last two weeks of January are comfortable, familiar routine - jogging, Italian night, trivia night, pizza night, snowy walks in the cemetery, movies and tea. There some new additions. Namely, snowball fights with a variety of participants after every fresh snowfall and little doggie booties so we can keep walking the shelter dogs. Mary tells us that she's building up a nice little nest egg doing books for not only Craig, but Brian as well. Also that Joseph seems really, really frustrated. We all have a good laugh over that.
Valentine's Day, unsurprisingly, dominates conversation as soon as February arrives. The first falls on a Thursday, and over pizza, Mary confides to us that Joseph has a whole fancy dinner thing planned that she's going to have to smile and make nice and deal with, but they need to find a sitter willing to deal with the twins, Chris, and a toddler. Robert jokingly suggests we babysit them, teach the twins some new creepy things and put Crish on a leash like a dog, let him chew on a squeaky bone. Mary laughs and says she's tempted to let us.
Sunday, Joseph asks me if I'd be willing to watch his children so he can devote himself to his lovely wife on the fourteenth. I can't resist fucking with him just a little and protest that I don't know what my plans will be for that night, I have to check with Robert. And Brian. And Mat. And Hugo. And I should probably check with Craig and Damien while I'm at it. Joseph looks like he's trying not to recoil, and I promise that I'll get back to him in a few days. That night, while I'm garnishing three Cherry Sprites with cherries and little pineapple wedges stuck onto cocktail toothpicks shaped like tiny swords, I tell Robert and Mary about it. She laughs, but Robert looks solemn.
"I need to talk to my therapist," he says quietly. "Half of me wants to spend the night alone, to avoid fucking things up, but that doesn't seem like the healthiest way to handle the day."
"Watching my kids is the least romantic or sexual thing I can think of," Mary counters in a dry voice, making us laugh.
"You check with Lorraine," I tell Robert, offering him a glass, "and I'll check with everyone else and then we'll figure out together what we're doing for V-day."
Robert thoughtfully eats the fruit off his tiny sword and salutes me with it. "Together."
Wait...no... "Rob, do-"
"Aye-aye-"
"-n't you da-"
"-captain."
I hide behind both hands. "I'm never watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you again. Any of them."
Robert's laughter rings out, the light and happy stuff I hear so rarely. "I didn't say the whole thing," he teases.
"You made me think it!"
I can hear Robert's chair scrape as he stands, and then his arms slide awkwardly around me considering the kitchen chair I'm sitting on. Stubble against the back of my neck as he presses his cheek against my skin.
"I can make you think of something else," he offers in a low voice.
Ohhh, you touch my tra-la-la.
My cheeks are on fire, and it's spread to the tips of my ears. Robert's breath is warm against them as he laughs again, and then he goes back to his chair.
===
Craig is understandably unenthused about Valentine's Day, and would ideally like to be out of town where the single moms can't get any ideas..as long as he can find someone to watch the girls. River's mobile enough to be a challenge on her own, now, and the twins are...the twins. Damien is also looking to get out of the house, but for a different reason - Lucien has a paramour named Kane, gender undetermined, who he wants to "show around the garden". Of the trivia group, only Brian has no baggage associated with the holiday, but being the designated driver for an out-of-town drinking party is something he's not opposed to doing...as long as someone can watch the kids.
And that's how Robert, Damien, and I wind up with the keys to the church's 'social programs' rooms and temporary guardianship over ten children.
To say the night is hectic is putting things mildly. By common consensus, I'm banished to the toddler room with River and Crish. Damien takes stewardship over Ernest, Chris, Briar, and Christie while Robert wrangles Christian, Hazel, Daisy, and Carmensita. Briar and Christie keep each other calmly occupied, and Chris does his best to isolate himself, but Ernest makes up for that all by himself. Likewise, Daisy and Carmensita are self-contained, but Christian and Hazel are a handful. Each. Halfway through the evening, I wind up with Daisy and Briar helping me keep the toddlers entertained, which is a relief. I don't ask what the other kids got up to, but when the dads (or at least, Brian and Joseph, since the others are...impaired) start arriving to claim their progeny, Robert looks like he needs a clove or three and wants a stiff drink or five. Even Damien looks frazzled, and with relief he volunteers to take Craig's car and girls home. Joseph herds his four into the minivan, collects the keys, and locks up before heading out. Brian's already delivered Craig, Hugo, and Mat to their respective houses, so he takes Ernest, Carmensita, and Daisy and waves to us before driving them home.
That leaves me and Robert alone in the parking lot, just leaning against his truck and each other, enjoying the cool night air and the warmth of each other's bodies and, most importantly, the silence. Robert smokes a clove and I revel in the scents of clove smoke and leather.
"Let's go back," he says once he's ground the butt out.
He drives back to my house and we sit on the couch, arms around each other's backs, holding our free hands.
"You ever have a recurring dream?" he asks quietly after a few minutes. When I nod against his shoulder, he says, "I've been having one. Told Lorraine about it. She said I should talk to you about it because it...has to do with you, and me being vulnerable. And," he adds reluctantly, "I have a request."
Gently, I squeeze his hand. "Tell me about the dream?"
Robert sighs. "It starts out on a beach. I'm lying on a towel, and you come up with soft-serve ice cream cones. Vanilla for me, chocolate for you."
"Why-" I cut myself off. Dreams don't always make sense. "Sorry. Continue."
He snorts. "The way you lick the cone is...suggestive. Very suggestive."
Oh. And with chocolate ice cream...and his skin tone...my cheeks start to heat up.
"Then you tell me that my ice cream has dripped on me, and it has, on my chest and my swim trunks..."
...vanilla ice cream...the blush gets deeper.
Robert takes a deep breath. "And then the ice cream cones are gone and you're...uh...licking up the drips. And my trunks are also gone."
And now all I can think of is that I've never given a blowjob in my life and I hope I won't be disappointing when Robert's ready for that. Maybe I should get popsicles to practice on.
"So...vulnerable," I manage to choke out.
"Yeah." Robert's voice is rough. Like me, he's probably trying not to think about how easily I could actually get my head between his legs. And, like me, he's probably failing. "Jack...I don't let anyone do...that. I mean, when I did...you know I don't do that anymore, either."
That being 'inviting men inside for one-night stands'. His hand is almost painfully tight around mine.
"So even when you were...engaging in casual sex...you never let anyone give you oral sex. And your therapist thinks that having a recurring dream about me...doing that...means you want to let yourself be vulnerable towards me."
"She's right," he says in a strangled tone. "But there's more."
More? What more could there be?
"The last time...I realized it was a dream and...uh...acted on some impulses I've been throttling back."
I will not ask. I will not ask.
"Did it feel good?" I ask instead. "When you woke up, I mean. Did it feel bad later?"
"No," he whispers, hugging me tight. "And that's...Lorraine wants me to work with the dream if it comes back. Use it as practice."
That makes sense. Let him get used to indulging in...urges...in a safe environment. "I support this idea."
"There's...a slight problem," Robert says reluctantly. "I don't have, uh, a full set of data. And Lorraine agrees it would be bad to have my subconscious fill in someone else's...data."
I'm suddenly sure of where this is going.
"You want to make sure I don't turn into someone else," I say quietly.
"Yeah."
"You need a...visual reference."
The silence stretches for a minute before Robert says sheepishly, "Can I have a dick pic?"
I'm so very tempted to just whip it out because the thought of Robert masturbating to fantasies of me giving him head is hot. But I know that's going to lead to ill-advised actions. Namely, sex on the couch. And at the same time, I want to support and encourage Robert opening up. That's the selfless side of me. The selfish side of me wants to know what Robert's junk looks like so I can masturbate to more accurate fantasies myself.
Slowly, I free myself and sit up.
"You need to go home," I tell Robert. Then, before his expression can fall, "And text me from your bedroom."
"Wh-"
"We need to be in separate houses to be sure temptation doesn't get the better of us," I explain, my cheeks feeling like they're on fire. "I, uh, want a visual reference, too."
And now we're both blushing.
"That's fair," Robert says. "I'll...just...go."
Eyes averted from each other, I head for my bedroom and he leaves the house. My clothes get left on the floor and I toss both pillows into a pile, phone in one hand and the other making sure my...subject...is ready for his close-up. Moments later, Robert texts.
SHOW ME UR CRYPTID
That makes me laugh. Just to be a pain, I make the first shot badly-lit and blurry.
I DESERVED THAT, he texts back.
The next shot is nice and clear, and he sends me one from the same angle. Oh god he has a happy trail. I want to follow it down to - I need to send him another one. I need to distract myself. He needs a full set of data. The third shot is from the side. Robert follows suit. It takes some work, but I give him a frontal shot and get one in return. It's so easy to imagine leaning forward into that picture. I want to reach in, to touch, to lick...
It's still Valentine's day, right? Attaching a positive association to the day is a good thing, right? It's not like we're actually going to touch each other. Things can't go any further. Call it a test drive.
Pulse pounding, I press the facetime button and aim the camera down my chest and between my legs. Then I find myself holding my breath until Robert picks up. I can see his hand, curled loosely around his shaft just like mine is.
"Jack?" His voice is rough, his breathing heavy.
"You need a full set of data." My voice is rough, too. "It's Valentine's. I want...even though we're not...I want to do something nice for you."
My thumb caresses the sensitive seam where head meets shaft, and Robert's hand tightens.
"Full set of data," he breathes. "Yeah. I need to...hear you..."
He needs to hear me so that when he dreams about me, he can practice...
My hand moves up and down slowly.
...practice all the sexual things he wants to do to me.
A strangled moan slides out of me. If I hold the phone in front of..blocking the view...then it's almost like my hand is on his cock and his is on mine.
"Oh, Jack, faster."
...I guess Robert's doing the same thing and holy shit that's hot. I speed up, watching Robert's scarred hand.
"Rob. Harder."
He makes a moaning, begging sound. I swipe when he swipes. Our hands are in sync. Both of us pant and make needy sounds. This is incredible.
"Jack..."
"I'm close..."
I can see him twitch. I'm not the only one who's close. His breath catches, stutters.
"Jack...I'm..."
"Oh god, Rob!"
In unison, two jets of pale fluid arc up and two hands relax. My phone falls to the bed as the aftermath of the most intense orgasm of my life ravishes me.
What feels like both mere seconds and an eternity later, the phone rings and it's Robert calling. I force myself to move and pick it up, lift it to my ear.
"Let no one slight your dedication to science," Robert says in a voice that sounds as pleasantly exhausted as I feel.
I laugh tiredly.
"We...probably shouldn't do that again," he continues heavily.
"Give yourself a chance," I tell him. "See how you feel in the morning. We just shared some incredible emotional intimacy without any actual physical intimacy. You didn't do anything to me. I didn't do anything to you."
He thinks about that for a minute. "You're right. We just...did a thing together. I still...it's cheating if we just keep doing this, Jack. It's a crutch. I need to keep working on my issues so that I can do the things, say the things to you in person and not in my dreams. You deserve better than that. It may be nice for me, but it's not fair to you."
"It's still a big step," I protest, trying not to think of the things he's been saying to me in dreams. "We were pretty damn intimate just now, but not in a way that you've ever been intimate with anyone before, am I right?"
Robert sighs. "No, you're right."
I have to swallow a wave of giddiness. I've done something with Robert that no one else has.
"So that's intimacy with me, in your bed, but without me in your bed. I'm not invading your space, I'm not making any demands of you, and you still want to do it again."
"I do," he admits in a low, throaty voice.
A thought occurs to me, and I bite back a groan. "What if...what if we do do it again. Just once. But this time...we switch places."
The sound Robert makes goes straight to my loins.
"Let...let me think about that," Robert groans. There's silence for a bit, then he says, "So you...liked what you saw?"
"More than liked," I assure him. "But I can't go into detail because we might lose control of ourselves and rush outside naked and wind up dry-humping on Joseph's front porch."
Robert's laughter is shaky but light. "You're a treasure, Jack."
I can't resist. "Are you saying you don't want to dry-hump on Joseph's front porch?"
"If we're going to do anything on Joseph's front porch we need to go the whole nine yards. Rose petals, scented candles, full penetration." He pauses. "Although maybe pulling out to leave a stain on his door for him to clean."
My own laughter bubbles up. "If we're going to do that, we may as well just make out and jerk each other off. Two stains."
"Don't tempt me," he mock-threatens.
That makes me smile so wide it hurts. "I don't tempt you just by existing?"
Robert laughs helplessly. "Oh, Jack," he gasps, "You're perfect. Hold out just a little longer. I'll be worth the wait, I promise."
Smiling, I roll onto my back and grin up at the ceiling. "I've waited my whole life for you, Rob. I'll wait however long it takes for you to be comfortable."
"You make me comfortable," he says quietly. "I'm gonna go to sleep and hope for that dream again so I can practice telling you all the things you deserve to hear."
That makes me feel warm and fluffy, like cotton candy made of joy. "Okay. Sleep well, Rob. I'll see you in the morning."
"Sleep well, Jack. Thank you for being you."
The call ends and I roll over to put the phone on the bedside table, then roll back the other way and hug the spare pillow. I'd never cared one way or the other about Valentine's Day before, but now...I feel almost guilty for being so happy when I know that Robert and I are the only two in the cul-de-sac who are, tonight.
I fall asleep thinking about Robert's happy trail, and imagining my fingers running lightly down it.
===
Waking up in the morning brings a slight worry for how Robert will be feeling, but when he steps into the kitchen and sees me, his face lights up and he gives me a brilliant smile that makes me wish we were in his dream so I could hear all the things he wants to tell me. We hug for a very long minute, and separate only because the French toast needs to be flipped before it burns. The warm delight that hums between us hasn't cooled down any by dinner, to judge from Mary's expression when she comes over for pizza.
"Did you two finally...?" she asks.
Robert shakes his head. "Just phone sex."
I think that's putting it a bit mildly, but I don't have much to compare it to.
It's definitely settled into simmering warmth by the time the rest of the cul-de-sac sees us, either individually or together, and no one asks about anything we did Valentine's night.
The rest of February is blustery. March is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb, but a warm front means we get an unexpected thaw and Robert eagerly takes me out walking. "Cryptid hunting" is the standard excuse, but it's a chance to be alone together in the woods and we both love it. We're still working up to the swapped-bed facetime call. Robert's nervous about his reaction to me in his bed, so we spend some time just sitting side by side and talking, hands clasped together, his thumb tracing patterns over the backs of my fingers.
Amanda asks when Joseph starts the cookouts back up, and is disappointed to learn that April is the first one. Her spring break is mid-March, but Joseph agrees to do a special one the Saturday she'll be here.
I'm definitely making mini cherry pies for my Panda. Got a couple of fancy crust ideas I want to try.
When she drives up late Monday morning the week of spring break, practically the first thing she says once we stop hugging is, "Have you kissed yet?"
"In my dreams," Robert snarks, making me blush because that's confirmation of one of the things he wants to do in waking life.
We talk late into the night, catching up with our Panda, and she spends the afternoons that week reconnecting with the cul-de-sac kids and her high school friends. Robert and I switch things up and sit on my bed for a bit each day, just talking, and he seems a lot more comfortable with that although he confesses that he's afraid of taking down his self-imposed walls. Lorraine thinks he's ready, and he acknowledges that he probably is, just that - like a kid on the end of a diving board - he needs some kind of push to get him over his fear.
===
The cul-de-sac is fairly humming with excitement the morning of Joseph's impromptu first barbecue of the year, and the weather's warm and sunny. Robert helps me bake the mini pies (apple, cherry, blueberry, and peach, each with their own fancy crust design) before going home to fetch his offering. He saunters in last with a fruit tray that Damien, Lucien, and I all descend upon. Within moments, the strawberries are gone.
"Daaaad!"
"All's fair in love and strawberries, Manda Panda," I tease.
She turns to Robert. "Knife Dad!"
Robert grins, turning my heart to molten chocolate. "Don't worry, kiddo. I planned for this." He pulls a ziplock out of his jacket pocket. There's two big, red strawberries inside.
Amanda squeals, hugs him, and runs off with her prize.
"Traitor," I accuse him, grinning.
He grins back. "Hey, I thought all was fair in love and strawberries."
"Fine, hold my logic against me." For a second, the thought sizzles between us, the similarity to a certain pick-up line.
"You made it," Mary purrs, appearing almost between us to get us both in a headlock hug before letting go.
Robert gives her a proper hug and a kiss on the cheek. "And miss Jack's cooking?"
Mary laughs. I take my turn hugging her. "He knows if he doesn't show up, Amanda will stab him."
"She will, too," he says. "Gave her the knife myself."
"My friends," Damien announces enthusiastically, "I have spent the winter perfecting a non-alcoholic Victorian Sangria, and now I am pleased to present it to you!" He bows over Mary's hand. "And, of course, should you pair it with wine instead of the sparkling grape juice I procured, it will taste just as exceptional."
Mary giggles. "Well then, I guess I'd better try it. Boys?"
I give Robert a questioning look. He snorts.
"You have to ask?"
"Didn't want to make the assumption," I tell him loftily. "I'll be right back."
Mary and I leave Damien chatting with Robert.
"I think it's adorable that you get his drinks for him," she says in a low voice as she ladles mashed fruit and syrup into a plastic cup.
I can feel my cheeks heat.
"I'm being serious, Jack." She hands me the ladle. "You've been really good for him. I know I've got no room to talk, but his drinking wasn't healthy and you pulled him out of the gutter."
"I didn't..." The protest trails off. I'm not sure what I meant to even say, and I ladle fruit and syrup into a pair of cups.
Mary hands he a bottle of sparkling white grape juice. "Fine, he dragged himself out of the gutter. But he did it for you."
While I'm pouring grape juice, I give her a skeptical look. She gives me one right back.
"What, you think it's coincidence that he meets you and the next day decides to clean himself up and do laundry for the first time in...weeks?"
"H-he did?" I knew he'd cleaned up. I didn't know it had been that bad, or maybe I just forgot.
Mary just gives me a superior look and goes off to fill her glass with wine. I bring my cups over to Robert and Damien, and we toast him before sipping.
"Mm. It's good," Robert murmurs, taking another sip. "Cold. Fruity. Thank you."
"I agree," I add, making Damien flush with pleasure. "This is amazing!"
"Ah, my friends, thank you for your kind words! Truly, it is an honor to be able to bring a simple pleasure such as this to my dearest companions."
Robert suddenly goes still, eyes fixed on something behind me, and he looks like he's trying to remember where all his knives are because he needs to stab something right now.
"No," he growls, hand trembling with rage.
Alarmed, I take the cup back and hand both of them to Damien, who turns to set them safely on a nearby table.
"No what?" I ask, turning to see what he's looking at, but all I see is Joseph, wearing...
...wearing...
It occurs to me that the last time Joseph had been wearing that sweater around his neck, Robert had been on edge and then got drunk for the first - and last - time in months. Furthermore, I've seen that robin's egg blue sweater in a photograph Robert showed me when he told me he wanted to quit drinking entirely. I don't know how Joseph got it, but suddenly I know that the dream Robert had given up on was getting his wife's sweater back.
The only other time I can remember dissociating badly enough that I felt like I was floating, tethered to my body, I had just gotten the news about the crash. Then, I was numb with shock and loss. Now, I'm both hot and cold, fury and steel.
"Jack?" Robert asks warily. "Jack, what are you doing?"
I paste a smile on my face, sharp and bright and fake. I'm going to war.
"Joseph!" I stride towards him, arms out for a hug.
"Jack!" He looks surprised, but he's not going to pass the opportunity up. I hug the youths, I hug the neighbors, but I've never hugged him.
We embrace and I lean back, my hands on his shoulders. "You know, I've always admired this sweater. Wherever did you get it?"
"Jack, no!" Robert shouts, sounding faint and distant.
Joseph looks mildly alarmed. "Oh, you know, I really don't remember. I think Mary was the one who bought it..."
My hands tighten on his shoulders. "Now, that's funny, because I thought you stole it from Robert after you took advantage of his emotional vulnerability."
Robert's words come floating on the wind. "Jack, stop, what are you doing?" I ignore them. He said to do that.
Joseph gives me a condescending smirk and laughs. "Is that what he told you? And you believed him?"
Everything seems to be frozen except for me and him. I am vaguely aware of a child's voice, quickly hushed.
"He didn't tell me anything. He doesn't kiss and tell, didn't you know that? I saw the photo of his wife with it, Joseph."
Joseph looks pale. I keep one hand on his shoulder - on the sweater - and the other strokes his chest absently to loosen the knot of the sleeves.
"Furthermore, I think you wear this sweater to goad him into letting you take advantage of him in attempts to get it back."
"Jack, no, stop," Robert pleads faintly.
Finally, Joseph finds his voice. "I'm helping him move on from the loss of his wife. It's an act of love."
The steel in me sharpens. "Oh, so you love him, then?"
Joseph's eyes flicker left and right, taking stock of who's in earshot. "Yes," he says quietly. The sad part is, he probably thinks he does.
I am full of fire and time slows to a crawl, the moment hung suspended in eternity.
I'm going to punch Joseph in the face.
The memory of my father appears before me, asking if I really want to do that. If Joseph died in the next two minutes, would I spend the rest of my life regretting that my last act towards him was one of anger?
The question ripples through me like a stone cast into a lake. The answer comes back, a pale arm holding aloft Excalibur.
No.
Time speeds up, and Joseph's expression shifts to one of alarm as my smile ceases to pretend to be friendly. The hand that had been stroking pulls back and lashes out, just as Ana taught me so long ago, and smashes into the center of his face with a wet impact. I missed his nose - mostly - and nailed his eye. He staggers back and falls to both knees, hands over his face, yelling in pain, and the sweater comes away in my hand.
"Love isn't a trophy to wave around," I tell him coldly. "It's a gift, something to cherish and protect. Even if it hurts. Even if you have to make sacrifices. Because to see the one you love being happy..." I turn to look at Robert. He's staring at me in astonishment, and I can feel a real smile spread across my face. "That's what makes life worth living."
I move towards Robert, and discover that he's moving to meet me in the middle of the yard. I offer him the sweater, but he ignores it to take my face in both hands and kiss me. It's somehow eager and hesitant at the same time, hungry and tender, turning me into molten chocolate. I can hear Amanda yelling GO KNIFE DAD! in the background.
Robert laughs shakily. When I open my eyes, his lashes are clumped together by tears. "Jack, you wonderful, amazing, beautiful sunnovabitch. I love you."
"I love you too," I tell him, beaming, "but that's no way to talk about my mother."
He crushes me to his chest, laughing and crying at the same time. I turn my head and kiss the hollow of his cheek the way I've been yearning to for almost a year, and feel the scratch of his stubble as he turns to kiss the side of my neck. I think I'm going to melt.
"You took advantage of his grief to elicit intimate acts from him?" Damien demands in ringing tones. "You...you cad!"
"It's not like that!" Joseph shouts back.
Mary laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Oh, it's exactly like that. I have pictures. Also, I want a divorce."
Robert and I pull back a little, standing side by side so we can take in what's happening. Amanda and Lucien are keeping the other kids herded into a corner, while Craig stands with Hugo and Brian repeating over and over again that he's never seen me hit anyone, even some people who really, really deserved it. I think I broke his brain a little. Mat's hovering behind Damien, looking shell-shocked and a little sick.
"You know what?" Robert asks in a too-loud voice. "Let him have the sweater. As a reminder of everything he's just lost."
He takes the sweater and hurls it to the grass in front of Joseph, but Mary snatches it up.
"Can't let you do that, Rob," she tells him. "She was my friend, too. If you don't want it, I'll keep it."
Joseph gives us all a murderous look. There's blood smeared across his face; guess I got his nose better than I thought I did. "This is assault," he snarls in my direction. "I'm going to press charges."
Robert hugs me a little tighter. "I didn't see any assault," he calls out. "I only saw you trip and clock yourself. Anyone see anything differently?"
Heads all around shake no. There's some frowns, but also some grins.
"Hey, Brian." I make eye contact with the hefty man. "I think this time, it's up to you to cook our feast."
He grins at me in brilliant delight. "It would be an honor."
The barbecue (minus Joseph, who is either sulking in the house or trying to convince the police he was attacked) is just as rowdy and upbeat as any of them have been in the past. Amanda texts someone excitedly - probably Val, letting her know that their dumb dads finally kissed. Lucien congratulates me on my "sick burn". Craig's still in shock, but he's switched to repeating "I'm so happy for you two" over and over again. Damien insists that Robert and I take the wrought-iron table, and moves it so that we can sit comfortably beside each other without having to let go of each other's hands. There's a lot of thumb-brushing, knuckle-kissing, actual kissing, gentle smiles, and heads laid affectionately on shoulders. Brian's right at home on Joseph's grill, and we all eat until we're stuffed.
"Not to sound like Craig," Hugo jokes, toasting us with some of Damien's Sangria, "but I'm so happy for you two. I knew the day I met you that this day would come," he says to me. "I'm just surprised it took you two this long."
Robert snorts. "It took me this long," he says, shooting me an apologetic look that I banish with light kisses. "I...asked Jack to hold off until I'd gotten my head straightened out. I'm probably going to freak out on you later," he warns me.
"It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
He smiles, melting my heart again. "My therapist thinks you're a saint, by the way."
Hugo laughs while I blush. "Well, I think he's a miracle-worker. He got you out of your shell enough to eat lunch with him in less than twenty-four hours after you first met!"
"I was similarly impressed," Damien confides, having snuck up on us from the side. "And Robert, you sought out a mental health professional? That is splendid news! I am so proud of you, my friend!"
It's Robert's turn to blush. "Val insisted," he mutters. "Part of her conditions for talking to me again. But...I needed it. I needed someone to give me a reason to do the right thing."
"It's not easy to face your mistakes and own up to them," Hugo says somberly. "I'm proud of you, too."
"On a lighter note," Damien says brightly, "I must enquire as to whether the two of you have given any thought towards picking a date."
I look at Robert. He looks at me. Neither of us has any idea what Damien's talking about. "A date?" I ask.
Damien beams. "For your wedding! June weddings were considered particularly auspicious by the Victorians, and if - that is, should the idea tickle your fancies, I would be honored to assist in any way, from suggesting elements to hosting and performing the wedding myself."
Robert blinks. "You're ordained?"
"I, uh, completed my ordination...online," Damien confesses, like he's expecting to be mocked. He does not expect Robert's broad grin.
"What do you think, Jack? Victorian wedding in Damien's garden in June?"
I lean in to kiss him briefly. "Sounds good to me."
Robert turns back to Damien. "We'll do it," he declares, and now Damien's grinning like we've just made his entire year.
"Do what?" Mat asks, joining the cluster.
"Jack and Robert are going to get married," Hugo answers.
Mat's face splits into an ecstatic smile. "That's great! Who asked who? How did you do it? What did you say? Was there crying?"
Robert and I glance at each other, suddenly realizing what we've done...or failed to do.
"I..."
"...he..."
Damien's face falls. "You hadn't..."
Robert looks away, hand tight around mine. "Yeah, we kinda...didn't...I mean, I just assumed..."
"There was never a chance I'd say no," I assure him, blushing.
"No! My friends, I apologize," Damien practically wails. "In my eagerness, I too-hastily raised a question which should have grown and blossomed naturally between you! Instead, the bud has been nipped before it could bloom."
Hugo pats him on the shoulder. "Knowing them, they would have just cohabited for a year until Amanda asked them when they were going to tie the knot already, and it would have been just as anticlimactic."
Robert snorts. "Sounds about right."
Something occurs to me, and I give Damien a sly grin.
"So," I ask casually, "does that mean I can still propose even though we've already agreed to get married?"
Damien, Hugo, and Mat all grin as Robert freezes, then stares at me in awestruck wonder. "Yes," he breathes.
Mary's suddenly leaning on my shoulder. "Yes what? Did you just propose, and I missed it?"
"Not quite," Damien tells her. "Jack has merely proposed the idea of a future proposal. Ah! Would you perchance be interested in holding a betrothal party?" he asks us.
"I think it sounds like a great ides," I tell him. "Rob?"
He leans in to kiss my jaw. "Sounds good to me."
"Hey!" Amanda shouts, pushing through the small crowd. "Val says it's about time and she'll talk to you tomorrow," she tells Robert. "So, uh, what's going on over here?"
Mat grins at her. "Your dad just asked Robert if he could ask Robert to marry him, and Damien offered to host a betrothal party where your dad could pop the question. When do you go back to college, again?"
Amanda makes a face. "I leave in the morning. But the semester ends in May, and that would give you plenty of time to plan a fancy party and everything, right?"
"Of course! Splendid idea, my dear girl." Damien hugs her briefly. "If our happy couple is amenable to this idea-"
"We are," Robert and I chorus in unison.
"-then I shall begin making preparations!" He looks around, taking in the setting sun. "Ah, I believe it is time we began to take our leaves, in any case."
Hugo scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, time to pack it in. Congrats again, you two."
The barbecue breaks up, people gathering dishes and children and wandering off towards their own houses. I find myself hesitating on the sidewalk with Robert, neither of us certain which direction either of us are going.
"You haven't figured out what you're doing past kissing?" Amanda asks from behind us, making us jump. Our guilty looks get a tolerantly amused smile. "Geez, you two. Take a blanket and go sit on the tree bench and talk about things. I'm going to veg in front of the TV."
"Good idea, Panda." I give her a one-armed hug since Robert's still holding my other hand and I don't want to let go.
We grab the knitted afghan and drape it around ourselves as we sit, comfortably close, on the bench under the cherry tree in the backyard. I don't know how many times over the last several months we sat here like this, arms around each other's backs and hands clasped, quietly talking through whatever was shaking Robert's determination to stay sober. The first few minutes are for silence, the comforting reassurance that I'm not going to pry that gives him the emotional space he needs to open up. I always let him break the silence, and tonight is no exception. We watch the sun painting the sky in reds and purples as it sinks below the horizon.
"I want to go slow," Robert says quietly. "I'm still afraid I'll fuck up."
I lean my head against his shoulder. "Take all the time you need, Rob. I want you to be happy and healthy."
He trembles and turns to hug me to his chest. "They say the Devil is so beautiful, you don't realize he's evil until it's too late. After Marilyn died...Joseph was there to comfort me. Absolve me of my guilt. I was already friends with Mary, and they welcomed me into their lives. Joseph...I thought he cared. I really did. I knew things were bad between him and Mary and I felt guilty about keeping it from her, but he made me feel...loved."
I hug Robert back, knowing that he needs my silence more than ever. What he's telling me can't be easy, and I do my best to wordlessly convey that I'm there for him.
"Then one day we went sailing on his yacht. We had engine trouble and had to spend the night at sea. That’s when we…” He trails off, shaking a little, and I kiss the smooth skin of his neck until he turns to capture my lips. When the kiss ends he sighs, tilting his head so our foreheads touch before I put my head back on his shoulder. “I asked when he and Mary were splitting up. He looked at me like I was a complete stranger and said they weren't. There was no us except in the space between him and her. He was putting the illusion of his perfect life first, no matter who it hurt. Once we got back to shore I asked Mary to meet me at Jim and Kim's and told her everything. She told me she already knew. That I wasn't the first. Only the latest. I spiraled hard. There wasn’t much point to living, as far as I was concerned. Just being there for Mary. And Betsy. Mostly, what kept me going was spite. I wanted to stick around long enough to see Joseph’s perfect life go up in flames. What I was like when you first met me - that's what I'd been like for three years, give or take. Only worse. But I'd left Marilyn's favorite sweater on the yacht. I used to wear it as a sort of apology to her, you know? A reminder of how I'd fucked up and failed her. Every few months, Joseph would start wearing it around his shoulders until I went to demand it back. That's when..." Robert's voice trembles.
"He made you do things," I say quietly.
"Yeah. And I did them, hoping this time he'd give it back, but I was a fool. Of course he'd never give it back, it was the only bait he had to lure me back into his bed. I was so angry...I thought fine, if this was the way things happen between men, I could do that. Any guy who was interested in me clearly just wanted a good fuck and that's it, so that's what I did." He takes a deep breath and loosens his hold on me.
I sit up to look at him and his eyes are sad and dark, begging me to understand.
"That's why I wanted to wait," he said softly. "That's what I had to un-learn. I didn't want to do that to you."
"That's why you never asked when you were sober?"
Robert nods.
I kiss him gently. "I understand. We'll go as slow as you need."
"You're...not disappointed, now that you know...?"
My smile is lopsided and full of old pain. "My dad held the memory of my mother hostage against my good behavior. I can't be disappointed that you loved your wife enough to put up with...things...to get her favorite sweater back. And I don't blame you for getting drunk that last time, either. I'm just glad Mary came and got me, and kind of relieved that I know now why she was so angry."
Robert puts his head on my shoulder, and it's my turn to hug him.
"I don't want to rush you," I tell him, "so I won't do anything that you haven't done first. If you want to trade the couch for sharing the bed, I'm more than happy to share. If you want to hold off, I'm fine with that. Whatever you want, Rob. You call the shots."
"What if I want to bend you over this bench?" It's dark and angry, and I suspect he's starting to lash out like he warned me.
I kiss his hair. "Then I hope you'll let me get the lube out of my bedroom first. Unless you've got some on you."
He snorts, the tension popping before it can really get going. "How do you not get taken advantage of, Jack? You're too nice."
"That's my secret," I tease. "I am too nice. I use your own conscience against you. Any time anyone thinks of doing a mean thing to me, they remember my cooking and my innocent blue eyes and they can't, it's like kicking a puppy. I have this on the very best authority," I continue loftily. "I befriended some very unscrupulous people in college. They actually apologized for being bad people and stopped coming around. Last I heard, they'd taken up volunteering in their spare time. Carrying groceries for little old ladies, putting on puppet shows for orphans, baking cookies for retirement homes, that sort of thing."
Robert sits up. "Really?"
I kiss the tip of his nose. "Nah, but they did apologize that I was too nice and they didn't deserve my friendship and that's the last I saw of them. So whatcha think: my bed, your bed, the couch?"
"Let's start on the couch and see how I feel when it gets later," he says. "Jack...thank you for being the real deal. When I first met you, I thought for sure you were gonna break my heart if I let myself care about you. But you refused to use me. You were nicer to me than anyone had been since Joseph first started luring me in, but you didn't ask me for anything. I was used to taking, and you...you just kept giving. And then I didn't want to take anymore. I wanted to share."
He smiles at me, the gentle one that melts me, and I can't help but smile back.
"When I first met you," I confess, feeling my cheeks heat up, "The only reason I thought you weren't homeless is that you hadn't pawned your leather jacket for food. Then I figured you might still be homeless, you'd just stabbed the jacket's previous owner to death in a dark alley recently. But I still wanted to take you home, cook you a good meal, and see you smile."
Robert looks like he's not sure if he's going to scold me or laugh, his mouth hanging open. Then he shakes his head. "Jack..."
"I'm a sap?"
He leans over to kiss me. "Yeah. But it's sweet. Come watch a movie with me?"
"At your place?"
"At the theater," he corrects, grinning.
I grin back. "I'd love to."
Still wrapped in the afghan, we make our way inside to let Amanda know we're going out. She hugs us and says that if we're going to get kinky, to not go to a theater she goes to.
"No promises," Robert deadpans while I blush. "No arson while we're gone."
"No promises," she shoots back. "Love you, Dad. Love you, Knife Dad."
"Love you too, Panda," we chorus.
As I start the car, Robert leans over to kiss my cheek. "I love you," he murmurs.
I turn to catch his lips for a return kiss. "I love you, too."
The look of delighted adoration that gets makes me feel like there's no possible way I'll ever be happier than I am at this moment. Then I remember the betrothal party and Victorian wedding we agreed to, and I look forward to being proven wrong.
===
===
EPILOGUE
===
===
Robert and I are in the parking lot, standing by the car as people stream out of commencement, waiting for Fareeha to join us so we can go somewhere fancy for dinner. He keeps giving me nuzzling little kisses, mustache and goatee scratching gently at the side of my neck as if reassuring me that I haven't lost that little pleasure just because he's mostly clean-shaven now. After about the sixth one I give in and turn my head to capture his lips, our fingers threading together as we kiss.
"Wooo! Go Dad! Go Knife Dad!"
Fareeha, apparently, managed to find us while we were, uh, otherwise engaged. A little guiltily, I break the kiss and am faced with two beaming grins as my husband and daughter both see that I'm blushing.
"Please," she says airily, "don't stop on my account. I love seeing you be cute together."
Robert leans in to nibble my ear, making Fareeha laugh in delight as my blush deepens. Behind her, a woman in a blue hajib with a patch over one eye leaves the river of babbling students and parents and turns towards us. At first, I think she's heading for the car next to mine, but she pulls a handful of brightly-colored envelopes out from under her shawl and hands one to each of us before walking off.
"What the..."
"You said it, Panda," Robert mutters.
We give each other confused looks, shrug, and open the cards.
"It's a graduation card," Fareeha says, puzzled. "But why did she give cards to you?"
Robert's got the sort of card you give to a newly-married couple on their wedding, but when I pull out my card it's...a sympathy card? The message inside reads IT'S NEVER EASY, LOSING SOMEONE YOU LOVE but underneath, in a too-familiar hand, someone has written I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Rm 504 at the Hilton if you want to talk. Dimly, I can hear Fareeha say 'how did she know my name?' and Robert wondering who knew me that they were thanking him for marrying me and making me happy, but the blood pounding in my ears is making it difficult to hear anything but my pulse and the world has gone grey around me.
"Dad, what's your card say? Dad? Dad!"
The card is gone. I am vaguely aware that Robert took it out of my hands and gave it to Fareeha. My hands are full of Robert's jacket, clove and leather in my nostrils as he holds me to his chest, stroking my hair until I shudder and draw in a deep breath.
"This is Mom's handwriting," Fareeha says quietly. "Knife Dad..."
"You knew there was a chance." Robert's voice is gentle. "That explains why my card was thanking me for making your Dad happy. You don't have to go see her, Panda. You don't even have to make a decision just yet; we do still have dinner to go to."
"Dad, are you..."
Robert snorts. "Of course he is. Aren't you, babe?"
"Yeah," I say quietly. "Closure if nothing else." Slowly, I free myself from Robert's protective embrace. "Rob, do you mind driving?"
He kisses me softly. "Not at all. You sit in back and tell your daughter how proud of her you are."
That snaps everything back. I hug Fareeha. "I'm so proud of you, sweetie!"
We pile into the car and chat happily as Robert drives us to our dinner destination. It's very swanky, and I can tell that Fareeha's just as impressed as I am. The desserts are fabulous, and Robert wrestles with himself before deciding not to have a glass of wine. He gets a kiss on the cheek for that, and Fareeha squeezes his hand and tells him that she's proud of him.
Full and happy, we drive back to our hotel and only remember Ana's cards when we get into the elevator - because we're staying at the Hilton, in rooms 512 and 513.
"Jack?" Robert asks quietly as the elevator starts moving.
"Let's change into more comfortable clothes first," I answer.
A few minutes later, we're walking down the hall in jeans and sneakers and tee-shirts. I know that what I'm feeling isn't really nervousness. It's a whirlpool of anger, hurt, betrayal, relief, and joy all tossed in a blender. Robert takes my hand and squeezes reassuringly; Fareeha has my other hand and it's me doing the reassuring squeeze. We stop at room 504 and she lets go of my hand to cling to my arm. The door is slightly ajar, the security arm swung out to keep the door from closing. I knock anyway.
"Ana?" I call when there's no answer.
Faintly, a familiar voice inside says, "Enter."
I push the door open slowly, Fareeha crowding behind me as I enter. Robert must correct the security arm because I can hear the door close and lock behind him. Ana is standing in front of the window with her back to the room. The blender-whirlpool of emotions threatens to overflow, and the world turns grey.
The grey fades into a black t-shirt that smells vaguely of cloves and smoke, and a hand running comfortingly through my hair. In the distance, I can hear Fareeha crying and Ana murmuring a stream of reassurance and apology. Then there is silence, followed by words that actually make sense: "How is he?"
"Jack?" Robert murmurs, almost-stubble scratching gently against my ear.
I take a deep, shuddering breath but only lift my head enough to put it on his shoulder and close my eyes. My arms tighten around his chest. "I don't want to look yet."
"You don't have to," Robert promises in a low voice.
"You have every right to be angry," Ana says in a tone of iron calm. "Being angry does not mean you are rejecting the person you are angry at. Merely that they have done something that you feel they should not have."
It's an argument we've had - carefully - many times over the years. She's never won it.
"It's still a separation. Pulling away. Withdrawing support. I can't do it, Ana. I won't do it unless I'd be okay with it being my last interaction with you."
Ana sighs. "I suppose I should be grateful you still hold me in esteem I may not deserve. Robert? Are you angry at me?"
"I'm making sure Jack's okay," Robert says in a low growl. "I'll figure out how I feel about you later."
"I am glad that he has found someone who gives him the love and support he deserves," she says warmly. "Ours was never a marriage of love."
"I know."
Another sigh. "I did not intend to deceive you at all, much less for this long. After my injury, I was found by noncombatants and taken for medical care, but stripped of my uniform and mistaken for a soldier of another nation. It was not safe for me to be identified until I was recovered, and by then I knew that I would have been declared dead. For me to return to life at that point would have stripped Fareeha of the survivor's benefits that helped finance her dream. And..." her voice falters. "I knew from Craig's social media posts that you had found love. I did not want to jeopardize your happiness. You spent eighteen years devoting yourself to a child you had no hand in creating, tying yourself to a woman you barely knew and did not love. I could not give you the freedom to live your own life, could not give you that happiness while I was alive. But in death..." Her voice trembles. "...I could set you free."
Ana was always so calm, so composed. Only rarely had I ever heard that tremor in her voice, when something managed to strike a deep enough chord that it shook her iron control.
She cares.
Suddenly I'm imagining what it must have been like for her, ghosting around the edges of our lives, watching her daughter from a distance, unable to share in our happiness. And she did that, she sacrificed her rightful place, because her 'death' gave Fareeha the freedom to follow - and achieve - her dream, and me the freedom to find and marry for love.
I hug Robert tighter for a moment, press a kiss to his jaw, and turn to face my dead wife. She's sitting on the foot of the bed with one arm around her daughter, a few strands of silver in her dark hair and tears on her left cheek. The patch over her right eye is...distressing. When I spread my arms, she throws herself into them and weeps into my chest while I cry into her hair. After a minute, Fareeha and Robert sandwich us to form a hug knot. It's a few minutes before we break apart again, and all my previously-conflicting emotions have settled.
"So if you're dead," Robert asks, sliding his arms around me from behind, "then who are...you?"
"My sister," Ana days dryly. "It is a fiction that has been in place a long time. I had a...colorful...youth."
Fareeha grins. "So I have an aunt now? Cool. You gonna move into our new house? I'm sure Dad would give you a good deal on the rent."
Ana's eye flickers up to me. "Would I be welcome in your neighborhood?"
"Of course," I say immediately. "Um...Craig will figure out that you're...you."
Her eye crinkles in amusement. "So long as he does not tell the government, I am comfortable with that."
We exchange contact information.
"So we'll see you in a few days," Robert says, daring Ana to say no.
"You will."
He grunts and steps forward to give her a hug, something that seems to startle her. "Take care, Ana. Drive safe."
"You as well," she returns, apparently on reflex.
Fareeha takes her turn hugging Ana. "Good night, Mom. See you in a few days. Love you."
Before she can respond, I hug her as well. "Thank you for this," I murmur. "Take care, Ana. Love you."
When I step away, Ana's tearing up again. "Thank you for everything, Jack. I...I love both of you, too."
Ritual complete, we smile and wave and retreat out into the hall where we immediately collapse into a group hug for a minute.
"It's gonna be weird," Fareeha says as we walk back to our rooms. "Having Mom back. Having her not leave after a few months. Weird, but a good weird."
"Panda," Robert says, draping an arm around her shoulders and the other around my waist, "the best things in life are."
Despite the frequent snowstorms, the first half of January feels like it's simmering with warmth. Maybe it's because I know whatever bad memories Robert's old tattoo brought up, he's discarded them and is focusing on a future where we can give in to temptation because we know that whatever we do, we'll still feel good in the morning. The other dads are immensely grateful for our early-morning shovel shenanigans, and life goes back to its usual rhythm as the kids return to school after the holiday break. Joseph complains exactly once about the snowcock, but I tell him as casually as I can manage that Robert insisted on modeling it after a dick he was intimately familiar with, and that shuts him up. Amanda packs up and heads back out to Horne, texting me her progress as she goes. She'd jokingly demanded that Robert and I refrain from "getting into the kissy stuff" until she's back for spring break, but Robert told her solemnly that he makes no promises.
He stays with me, sleeping on the couch when night falls, both days my daughter is on the road. I can tell that he's ready to leap into action if the grey purgatory beckons, but it doesn't take me - something he tells Amanda with pride when she calls to say that she's in her hotel and will be checking into her dorm in the morning.
The last two weeks of January are comfortable, familiar routine - jogging, Italian night, trivia night, pizza night, snowy walks in the cemetery, movies and tea. There some new additions. Namely, snowball fights with a variety of participants after every fresh snowfall and little doggie booties so we can keep walking the shelter dogs. Mary tells us that she's building up a nice little nest egg doing books for not only Craig, but Brian as well. Also that Joseph seems really, really frustrated. We all have a good laugh over that.
Valentine's Day, unsurprisingly, dominates conversation as soon as February arrives. The first falls on a Thursday, and over pizza, Mary confides to us that Joseph has a whole fancy dinner thing planned that she's going to have to smile and make nice and deal with, but they need to find a sitter willing to deal with the twins, Chris, and a toddler. Robert jokingly suggests we babysit them, teach the twins some new creepy things and put Crish on a leash like a dog, let him chew on a squeaky bone. Mary laughs and says she's tempted to let us.
Sunday, Joseph asks me if I'd be willing to watch his children so he can devote himself to his lovely wife on the fourteenth. I can't resist fucking with him just a little and protest that I don't know what my plans will be for that night, I have to check with Robert. And Brian. And Mat. And Hugo. And I should probably check with Craig and Damien while I'm at it. Joseph looks like he's trying not to recoil, and I promise that I'll get back to him in a few days. That night, while I'm garnishing three Cherry Sprites with cherries and little pineapple wedges stuck onto cocktail toothpicks shaped like tiny swords, I tell Robert and Mary about it. She laughs, but Robert looks solemn.
"I need to talk to my therapist," he says quietly. "Half of me wants to spend the night alone, to avoid fucking things up, but that doesn't seem like the healthiest way to handle the day."
"Watching my kids is the least romantic or sexual thing I can think of," Mary counters in a dry voice, making us laugh.
"You check with Lorraine," I tell Robert, offering him a glass, "and I'll check with everyone else and then we'll figure out together what we're doing for V-day."
Robert thoughtfully eats the fruit off his tiny sword and salutes me with it. "Together."
Wait...no... "Rob, do-"
"Aye-aye-"
"-n't you da-"
"-captain."
I hide behind both hands. "I'm never watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you again. Any of them."
Robert's laughter rings out, the light and happy stuff I hear so rarely. "I didn't say the whole thing," he teases.
"You made me think it!"
I can hear Robert's chair scrape as he stands, and then his arms slide awkwardly around me considering the kitchen chair I'm sitting on. Stubble against the back of my neck as he presses his cheek against my skin.
"I can make you think of something else," he offers in a low voice.
Ohhh, you touch my tra-la-la.
My cheeks are on fire, and it's spread to the tips of my ears. Robert's breath is warm against them as he laughs again, and then he goes back to his chair.
===
Craig is understandably unenthused about Valentine's Day, and would ideally like to be out of town where the single moms can't get any ideas..as long as he can find someone to watch the girls. River's mobile enough to be a challenge on her own, now, and the twins are...the twins. Damien is also looking to get out of the house, but for a different reason - Lucien has a paramour named Kane, gender undetermined, who he wants to "show around the garden". Of the trivia group, only Brian has no baggage associated with the holiday, but being the designated driver for an out-of-town drinking party is something he's not opposed to doing...as long as someone can watch the kids.
And that's how Robert, Damien, and I wind up with the keys to the church's 'social programs' rooms and temporary guardianship over ten children.
To say the night is hectic is putting things mildly. By common consensus, I'm banished to the toddler room with River and Crish. Damien takes stewardship over Ernest, Chris, Briar, and Christie while Robert wrangles Christian, Hazel, Daisy, and Carmensita. Briar and Christie keep each other calmly occupied, and Chris does his best to isolate himself, but Ernest makes up for that all by himself. Likewise, Daisy and Carmensita are self-contained, but Christian and Hazel are a handful. Each. Halfway through the evening, I wind up with Daisy and Briar helping me keep the toddlers entertained, which is a relief. I don't ask what the other kids got up to, but when the dads (or at least, Brian and Joseph, since the others are...impaired) start arriving to claim their progeny, Robert looks like he needs a clove or three and wants a stiff drink or five. Even Damien looks frazzled, and with relief he volunteers to take Craig's car and girls home. Joseph herds his four into the minivan, collects the keys, and locks up before heading out. Brian's already delivered Craig, Hugo, and Mat to their respective houses, so he takes Ernest, Carmensita, and Daisy and waves to us before driving them home.
That leaves me and Robert alone in the parking lot, just leaning against his truck and each other, enjoying the cool night air and the warmth of each other's bodies and, most importantly, the silence. Robert smokes a clove and I revel in the scents of clove smoke and leather.
"Let's go back," he says once he's ground the butt out.
He drives back to my house and we sit on the couch, arms around each other's backs, holding our free hands.
"You ever have a recurring dream?" he asks quietly after a few minutes. When I nod against his shoulder, he says, "I've been having one. Told Lorraine about it. She said I should talk to you about it because it...has to do with you, and me being vulnerable. And," he adds reluctantly, "I have a request."
Gently, I squeeze his hand. "Tell me about the dream?"
Robert sighs. "It starts out on a beach. I'm lying on a towel, and you come up with soft-serve ice cream cones. Vanilla for me, chocolate for you."
"Why-" I cut myself off. Dreams don't always make sense. "Sorry. Continue."
He snorts. "The way you lick the cone is...suggestive. Very suggestive."
Oh. And with chocolate ice cream...and his skin tone...my cheeks start to heat up.
"Then you tell me that my ice cream has dripped on me, and it has, on my chest and my swim trunks..."
...vanilla ice cream...the blush gets deeper.
Robert takes a deep breath. "And then the ice cream cones are gone and you're...uh...licking up the drips. And my trunks are also gone."
And now all I can think of is that I've never given a blowjob in my life and I hope I won't be disappointing when Robert's ready for that. Maybe I should get popsicles to practice on.
"So...vulnerable," I manage to choke out.
"Yeah." Robert's voice is rough. Like me, he's probably trying not to think about how easily I could actually get my head between his legs. And, like me, he's probably failing. "Jack...I don't let anyone do...that. I mean, when I did...you know I don't do that anymore, either."
That being 'inviting men inside for one-night stands'. His hand is almost painfully tight around mine.
"So even when you were...engaging in casual sex...you never let anyone give you oral sex. And your therapist thinks that having a recurring dream about me...doing that...means you want to let yourself be vulnerable towards me."
"She's right," he says in a strangled tone. "But there's more."
More? What more could there be?
"The last time...I realized it was a dream and...uh...acted on some impulses I've been throttling back."
I will not ask. I will not ask.
"Did it feel good?" I ask instead. "When you woke up, I mean. Did it feel bad later?"
"No," he whispers, hugging me tight. "And that's...Lorraine wants me to work with the dream if it comes back. Use it as practice."
That makes sense. Let him get used to indulging in...urges...in a safe environment. "I support this idea."
"There's...a slight problem," Robert says reluctantly. "I don't have, uh, a full set of data. And Lorraine agrees it would be bad to have my subconscious fill in someone else's...data."
I'm suddenly sure of where this is going.
"You want to make sure I don't turn into someone else," I say quietly.
"Yeah."
"You need a...visual reference."
The silence stretches for a minute before Robert says sheepishly, "Can I have a dick pic?"
I'm so very tempted to just whip it out because the thought of Robert masturbating to fantasies of me giving him head is hot. But I know that's going to lead to ill-advised actions. Namely, sex on the couch. And at the same time, I want to support and encourage Robert opening up. That's the selfless side of me. The selfish side of me wants to know what Robert's junk looks like so I can masturbate to more accurate fantasies myself.
Slowly, I free myself and sit up.
"You need to go home," I tell Robert. Then, before his expression can fall, "And text me from your bedroom."
"Wh-"
"We need to be in separate houses to be sure temptation doesn't get the better of us," I explain, my cheeks feeling like they're on fire. "I, uh, want a visual reference, too."
And now we're both blushing.
"That's fair," Robert says. "I'll...just...go."
Eyes averted from each other, I head for my bedroom and he leaves the house. My clothes get left on the floor and I toss both pillows into a pile, phone in one hand and the other making sure my...subject...is ready for his close-up. Moments later, Robert texts.
SHOW ME UR CRYPTID
That makes me laugh. Just to be a pain, I make the first shot badly-lit and blurry.
I DESERVED THAT, he texts back.
The next shot is nice and clear, and he sends me one from the same angle. Oh god he has a happy trail. I want to follow it down to - I need to send him another one. I need to distract myself. He needs a full set of data. The third shot is from the side. Robert follows suit. It takes some work, but I give him a frontal shot and get one in return. It's so easy to imagine leaning forward into that picture. I want to reach in, to touch, to lick...
It's still Valentine's day, right? Attaching a positive association to the day is a good thing, right? It's not like we're actually going to touch each other. Things can't go any further. Call it a test drive.
Pulse pounding, I press the facetime button and aim the camera down my chest and between my legs. Then I find myself holding my breath until Robert picks up. I can see his hand, curled loosely around his shaft just like mine is.
"Jack?" His voice is rough, his breathing heavy.
"You need a full set of data." My voice is rough, too. "It's Valentine's. I want...even though we're not...I want to do something nice for you."
My thumb caresses the sensitive seam where head meets shaft, and Robert's hand tightens.
"Full set of data," he breathes. "Yeah. I need to...hear you..."
He needs to hear me so that when he dreams about me, he can practice...
My hand moves up and down slowly.
...practice all the sexual things he wants to do to me.
A strangled moan slides out of me. If I hold the phone in front of..blocking the view...then it's almost like my hand is on his cock and his is on mine.
"Oh, Jack, faster."
...I guess Robert's doing the same thing and holy shit that's hot. I speed up, watching Robert's scarred hand.
"Rob. Harder."
He makes a moaning, begging sound. I swipe when he swipes. Our hands are in sync. Both of us pant and make needy sounds. This is incredible.
"Jack..."
"I'm close..."
I can see him twitch. I'm not the only one who's close. His breath catches, stutters.
"Jack...I'm..."
"Oh god, Rob!"
In unison, two jets of pale fluid arc up and two hands relax. My phone falls to the bed as the aftermath of the most intense orgasm of my life ravishes me.
What feels like both mere seconds and an eternity later, the phone rings and it's Robert calling. I force myself to move and pick it up, lift it to my ear.
"Let no one slight your dedication to science," Robert says in a voice that sounds as pleasantly exhausted as I feel.
I laugh tiredly.
"We...probably shouldn't do that again," he continues heavily.
"Give yourself a chance," I tell him. "See how you feel in the morning. We just shared some incredible emotional intimacy without any actual physical intimacy. You didn't do anything to me. I didn't do anything to you."
He thinks about that for a minute. "You're right. We just...did a thing together. I still...it's cheating if we just keep doing this, Jack. It's a crutch. I need to keep working on my issues so that I can do the things, say the things to you in person and not in my dreams. You deserve better than that. It may be nice for me, but it's not fair to you."
"It's still a big step," I protest, trying not to think of the things he's been saying to me in dreams. "We were pretty damn intimate just now, but not in a way that you've ever been intimate with anyone before, am I right?"
Robert sighs. "No, you're right."
I have to swallow a wave of giddiness. I've done something with Robert that no one else has.
"So that's intimacy with me, in your bed, but without me in your bed. I'm not invading your space, I'm not making any demands of you, and you still want to do it again."
"I do," he admits in a low, throaty voice.
A thought occurs to me, and I bite back a groan. "What if...what if we do do it again. Just once. But this time...we switch places."
The sound Robert makes goes straight to my loins.
"Let...let me think about that," Robert groans. There's silence for a bit, then he says, "So you...liked what you saw?"
"More than liked," I assure him. "But I can't go into detail because we might lose control of ourselves and rush outside naked and wind up dry-humping on Joseph's front porch."
Robert's laughter is shaky but light. "You're a treasure, Jack."
I can't resist. "Are you saying you don't want to dry-hump on Joseph's front porch?"
"If we're going to do anything on Joseph's front porch we need to go the whole nine yards. Rose petals, scented candles, full penetration." He pauses. "Although maybe pulling out to leave a stain on his door for him to clean."
My own laughter bubbles up. "If we're going to do that, we may as well just make out and jerk each other off. Two stains."
"Don't tempt me," he mock-threatens.
That makes me smile so wide it hurts. "I don't tempt you just by existing?"
Robert laughs helplessly. "Oh, Jack," he gasps, "You're perfect. Hold out just a little longer. I'll be worth the wait, I promise."
Smiling, I roll onto my back and grin up at the ceiling. "I've waited my whole life for you, Rob. I'll wait however long it takes for you to be comfortable."
"You make me comfortable," he says quietly. "I'm gonna go to sleep and hope for that dream again so I can practice telling you all the things you deserve to hear."
That makes me feel warm and fluffy, like cotton candy made of joy. "Okay. Sleep well, Rob. I'll see you in the morning."
"Sleep well, Jack. Thank you for being you."
The call ends and I roll over to put the phone on the bedside table, then roll back the other way and hug the spare pillow. I'd never cared one way or the other about Valentine's Day before, but now...I feel almost guilty for being so happy when I know that Robert and I are the only two in the cul-de-sac who are, tonight.
I fall asleep thinking about Robert's happy trail, and imagining my fingers running lightly down it.
===
Waking up in the morning brings a slight worry for how Robert will be feeling, but when he steps into the kitchen and sees me, his face lights up and he gives me a brilliant smile that makes me wish we were in his dream so I could hear all the things he wants to tell me. We hug for a very long minute, and separate only because the French toast needs to be flipped before it burns. The warm delight that hums between us hasn't cooled down any by dinner, to judge from Mary's expression when she comes over for pizza.
"Did you two finally...?" she asks.
Robert shakes his head. "Just phone sex."
I think that's putting it a bit mildly, but I don't have much to compare it to.
It's definitely settled into simmering warmth by the time the rest of the cul-de-sac sees us, either individually or together, and no one asks about anything we did Valentine's night.
The rest of February is blustery. March is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb, but a warm front means we get an unexpected thaw and Robert eagerly takes me out walking. "Cryptid hunting" is the standard excuse, but it's a chance to be alone together in the woods and we both love it. We're still working up to the swapped-bed facetime call. Robert's nervous about his reaction to me in his bed, so we spend some time just sitting side by side and talking, hands clasped together, his thumb tracing patterns over the backs of my fingers.
Amanda asks when Joseph starts the cookouts back up, and is disappointed to learn that April is the first one. Her spring break is mid-March, but Joseph agrees to do a special one the Saturday she'll be here.
I'm definitely making mini cherry pies for my Panda. Got a couple of fancy crust ideas I want to try.
When she drives up late Monday morning the week of spring break, practically the first thing she says once we stop hugging is, "Have you kissed yet?"
"In my dreams," Robert snarks, making me blush because that's confirmation of one of the things he wants to do in waking life.
We talk late into the night, catching up with our Panda, and she spends the afternoons that week reconnecting with the cul-de-sac kids and her high school friends. Robert and I switch things up and sit on my bed for a bit each day, just talking, and he seems a lot more comfortable with that although he confesses that he's afraid of taking down his self-imposed walls. Lorraine thinks he's ready, and he acknowledges that he probably is, just that - like a kid on the end of a diving board - he needs some kind of push to get him over his fear.
===
The cul-de-sac is fairly humming with excitement the morning of Joseph's impromptu first barbecue of the year, and the weather's warm and sunny. Robert helps me bake the mini pies (apple, cherry, blueberry, and peach, each with their own fancy crust design) before going home to fetch his offering. He saunters in last with a fruit tray that Damien, Lucien, and I all descend upon. Within moments, the strawberries are gone.
"Daaaad!"
"All's fair in love and strawberries, Manda Panda," I tease.
She turns to Robert. "Knife Dad!"
Robert grins, turning my heart to molten chocolate. "Don't worry, kiddo. I planned for this." He pulls a ziplock out of his jacket pocket. There's two big, red strawberries inside.
Amanda squeals, hugs him, and runs off with her prize.
"Traitor," I accuse him, grinning.
He grins back. "Hey, I thought all was fair in love and strawberries."
"Fine, hold my logic against me." For a second, the thought sizzles between us, the similarity to a certain pick-up line.
"You made it," Mary purrs, appearing almost between us to get us both in a headlock hug before letting go.
Robert gives her a proper hug and a kiss on the cheek. "And miss Jack's cooking?"
Mary laughs. I take my turn hugging her. "He knows if he doesn't show up, Amanda will stab him."
"She will, too," he says. "Gave her the knife myself."
"My friends," Damien announces enthusiastically, "I have spent the winter perfecting a non-alcoholic Victorian Sangria, and now I am pleased to present it to you!" He bows over Mary's hand. "And, of course, should you pair it with wine instead of the sparkling grape juice I procured, it will taste just as exceptional."
Mary giggles. "Well then, I guess I'd better try it. Boys?"
I give Robert a questioning look. He snorts.
"You have to ask?"
"Didn't want to make the assumption," I tell him loftily. "I'll be right back."
Mary and I leave Damien chatting with Robert.
"I think it's adorable that you get his drinks for him," she says in a low voice as she ladles mashed fruit and syrup into a plastic cup.
I can feel my cheeks heat.
"I'm being serious, Jack." She hands me the ladle. "You've been really good for him. I know I've got no room to talk, but his drinking wasn't healthy and you pulled him out of the gutter."
"I didn't..." The protest trails off. I'm not sure what I meant to even say, and I ladle fruit and syrup into a pair of cups.
Mary hands he a bottle of sparkling white grape juice. "Fine, he dragged himself out of the gutter. But he did it for you."
While I'm pouring grape juice, I give her a skeptical look. She gives me one right back.
"What, you think it's coincidence that he meets you and the next day decides to clean himself up and do laundry for the first time in...weeks?"
"H-he did?" I knew he'd cleaned up. I didn't know it had been that bad, or maybe I just forgot.
Mary just gives me a superior look and goes off to fill her glass with wine. I bring my cups over to Robert and Damien, and we toast him before sipping.
"Mm. It's good," Robert murmurs, taking another sip. "Cold. Fruity. Thank you."
"I agree," I add, making Damien flush with pleasure. "This is amazing!"
"Ah, my friends, thank you for your kind words! Truly, it is an honor to be able to bring a simple pleasure such as this to my dearest companions."
Robert suddenly goes still, eyes fixed on something behind me, and he looks like he's trying to remember where all his knives are because he needs to stab something right now.
"No," he growls, hand trembling with rage.
Alarmed, I take the cup back and hand both of them to Damien, who turns to set them safely on a nearby table.
"No what?" I ask, turning to see what he's looking at, but all I see is Joseph, wearing...
...wearing...
It occurs to me that the last time Joseph had been wearing that sweater around his neck, Robert had been on edge and then got drunk for the first - and last - time in months. Furthermore, I've seen that robin's egg blue sweater in a photograph Robert showed me when he told me he wanted to quit drinking entirely. I don't know how Joseph got it, but suddenly I know that the dream Robert had given up on was getting his wife's sweater back.
The only other time I can remember dissociating badly enough that I felt like I was floating, tethered to my body, I had just gotten the news about the crash. Then, I was numb with shock and loss. Now, I'm both hot and cold, fury and steel.
"Jack?" Robert asks warily. "Jack, what are you doing?"
I paste a smile on my face, sharp and bright and fake. I'm going to war.
"Joseph!" I stride towards him, arms out for a hug.
"Jack!" He looks surprised, but he's not going to pass the opportunity up. I hug the youths, I hug the neighbors, but I've never hugged him.
We embrace and I lean back, my hands on his shoulders. "You know, I've always admired this sweater. Wherever did you get it?"
"Jack, no!" Robert shouts, sounding faint and distant.
Joseph looks mildly alarmed. "Oh, you know, I really don't remember. I think Mary was the one who bought it..."
My hands tighten on his shoulders. "Now, that's funny, because I thought you stole it from Robert after you took advantage of his emotional vulnerability."
Robert's words come floating on the wind. "Jack, stop, what are you doing?" I ignore them. He said to do that.
Joseph gives me a condescending smirk and laughs. "Is that what he told you? And you believed him?"
Everything seems to be frozen except for me and him. I am vaguely aware of a child's voice, quickly hushed.
"He didn't tell me anything. He doesn't kiss and tell, didn't you know that? I saw the photo of his wife with it, Joseph."
Joseph looks pale. I keep one hand on his shoulder - on the sweater - and the other strokes his chest absently to loosen the knot of the sleeves.
"Furthermore, I think you wear this sweater to goad him into letting you take advantage of him in attempts to get it back."
"Jack, no, stop," Robert pleads faintly.
Finally, Joseph finds his voice. "I'm helping him move on from the loss of his wife. It's an act of love."
The steel in me sharpens. "Oh, so you love him, then?"
Joseph's eyes flicker left and right, taking stock of who's in earshot. "Yes," he says quietly. The sad part is, he probably thinks he does.
I am full of fire and time slows to a crawl, the moment hung suspended in eternity.
I'm going to punch Joseph in the face.
The memory of my father appears before me, asking if I really want to do that. If Joseph died in the next two minutes, would I spend the rest of my life regretting that my last act towards him was one of anger?
The question ripples through me like a stone cast into a lake. The answer comes back, a pale arm holding aloft Excalibur.
No.
Time speeds up, and Joseph's expression shifts to one of alarm as my smile ceases to pretend to be friendly. The hand that had been stroking pulls back and lashes out, just as Ana taught me so long ago, and smashes into the center of his face with a wet impact. I missed his nose - mostly - and nailed his eye. He staggers back and falls to both knees, hands over his face, yelling in pain, and the sweater comes away in my hand.
"Love isn't a trophy to wave around," I tell him coldly. "It's a gift, something to cherish and protect. Even if it hurts. Even if you have to make sacrifices. Because to see the one you love being happy..." I turn to look at Robert. He's staring at me in astonishment, and I can feel a real smile spread across my face. "That's what makes life worth living."
I move towards Robert, and discover that he's moving to meet me in the middle of the yard. I offer him the sweater, but he ignores it to take my face in both hands and kiss me. It's somehow eager and hesitant at the same time, hungry and tender, turning me into molten chocolate. I can hear Amanda yelling GO KNIFE DAD! in the background.
Robert laughs shakily. When I open my eyes, his lashes are clumped together by tears. "Jack, you wonderful, amazing, beautiful sunnovabitch. I love you."
"I love you too," I tell him, beaming, "but that's no way to talk about my mother."
He crushes me to his chest, laughing and crying at the same time. I turn my head and kiss the hollow of his cheek the way I've been yearning to for almost a year, and feel the scratch of his stubble as he turns to kiss the side of my neck. I think I'm going to melt.
"You took advantage of his grief to elicit intimate acts from him?" Damien demands in ringing tones. "You...you cad!"
"It's not like that!" Joseph shouts back.
Mary laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Oh, it's exactly like that. I have pictures. Also, I want a divorce."
Robert and I pull back a little, standing side by side so we can take in what's happening. Amanda and Lucien are keeping the other kids herded into a corner, while Craig stands with Hugo and Brian repeating over and over again that he's never seen me hit anyone, even some people who really, really deserved it. I think I broke his brain a little. Mat's hovering behind Damien, looking shell-shocked and a little sick.
"You know what?" Robert asks in a too-loud voice. "Let him have the sweater. As a reminder of everything he's just lost."
He takes the sweater and hurls it to the grass in front of Joseph, but Mary snatches it up.
"Can't let you do that, Rob," she tells him. "She was my friend, too. If you don't want it, I'll keep it."
Joseph gives us all a murderous look. There's blood smeared across his face; guess I got his nose better than I thought I did. "This is assault," he snarls in my direction. "I'm going to press charges."
Robert hugs me a little tighter. "I didn't see any assault," he calls out. "I only saw you trip and clock yourself. Anyone see anything differently?"
Heads all around shake no. There's some frowns, but also some grins.
"Hey, Brian." I make eye contact with the hefty man. "I think this time, it's up to you to cook our feast."
He grins at me in brilliant delight. "It would be an honor."
The barbecue (minus Joseph, who is either sulking in the house or trying to convince the police he was attacked) is just as rowdy and upbeat as any of them have been in the past. Amanda texts someone excitedly - probably Val, letting her know that their dumb dads finally kissed. Lucien congratulates me on my "sick burn". Craig's still in shock, but he's switched to repeating "I'm so happy for you two" over and over again. Damien insists that Robert and I take the wrought-iron table, and moves it so that we can sit comfortably beside each other without having to let go of each other's hands. There's a lot of thumb-brushing, knuckle-kissing, actual kissing, gentle smiles, and heads laid affectionately on shoulders. Brian's right at home on Joseph's grill, and we all eat until we're stuffed.
"Not to sound like Craig," Hugo jokes, toasting us with some of Damien's Sangria, "but I'm so happy for you two. I knew the day I met you that this day would come," he says to me. "I'm just surprised it took you two this long."
Robert snorts. "It took me this long," he says, shooting me an apologetic look that I banish with light kisses. "I...asked Jack to hold off until I'd gotten my head straightened out. I'm probably going to freak out on you later," he warns me.
"It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
He smiles, melting my heart again. "My therapist thinks you're a saint, by the way."
Hugo laughs while I blush. "Well, I think he's a miracle-worker. He got you out of your shell enough to eat lunch with him in less than twenty-four hours after you first met!"
"I was similarly impressed," Damien confides, having snuck up on us from the side. "And Robert, you sought out a mental health professional? That is splendid news! I am so proud of you, my friend!"
It's Robert's turn to blush. "Val insisted," he mutters. "Part of her conditions for talking to me again. But...I needed it. I needed someone to give me a reason to do the right thing."
"It's not easy to face your mistakes and own up to them," Hugo says somberly. "I'm proud of you, too."
"On a lighter note," Damien says brightly, "I must enquire as to whether the two of you have given any thought towards picking a date."
I look at Robert. He looks at me. Neither of us has any idea what Damien's talking about. "A date?" I ask.
Damien beams. "For your wedding! June weddings were considered particularly auspicious by the Victorians, and if - that is, should the idea tickle your fancies, I would be honored to assist in any way, from suggesting elements to hosting and performing the wedding myself."
Robert blinks. "You're ordained?"
"I, uh, completed my ordination...online," Damien confesses, like he's expecting to be mocked. He does not expect Robert's broad grin.
"What do you think, Jack? Victorian wedding in Damien's garden in June?"
I lean in to kiss him briefly. "Sounds good to me."
Robert turns back to Damien. "We'll do it," he declares, and now Damien's grinning like we've just made his entire year.
"Do what?" Mat asks, joining the cluster.
"Jack and Robert are going to get married," Hugo answers.
Mat's face splits into an ecstatic smile. "That's great! Who asked who? How did you do it? What did you say? Was there crying?"
Robert and I glance at each other, suddenly realizing what we've done...or failed to do.
"I..."
"...he..."
Damien's face falls. "You hadn't..."
Robert looks away, hand tight around mine. "Yeah, we kinda...didn't...I mean, I just assumed..."
"There was never a chance I'd say no," I assure him, blushing.
"No! My friends, I apologize," Damien practically wails. "In my eagerness, I too-hastily raised a question which should have grown and blossomed naturally between you! Instead, the bud has been nipped before it could bloom."
Hugo pats him on the shoulder. "Knowing them, they would have just cohabited for a year until Amanda asked them when they were going to tie the knot already, and it would have been just as anticlimactic."
Robert snorts. "Sounds about right."
Something occurs to me, and I give Damien a sly grin.
"So," I ask casually, "does that mean I can still propose even though we've already agreed to get married?"
Damien, Hugo, and Mat all grin as Robert freezes, then stares at me in awestruck wonder. "Yes," he breathes.
Mary's suddenly leaning on my shoulder. "Yes what? Did you just propose, and I missed it?"
"Not quite," Damien tells her. "Jack has merely proposed the idea of a future proposal. Ah! Would you perchance be interested in holding a betrothal party?" he asks us.
"I think it sounds like a great ides," I tell him. "Rob?"
He leans in to kiss my jaw. "Sounds good to me."
"Hey!" Amanda shouts, pushing through the small crowd. "Val says it's about time and she'll talk to you tomorrow," she tells Robert. "So, uh, what's going on over here?"
Mat grins at her. "Your dad just asked Robert if he could ask Robert to marry him, and Damien offered to host a betrothal party where your dad could pop the question. When do you go back to college, again?"
Amanda makes a face. "I leave in the morning. But the semester ends in May, and that would give you plenty of time to plan a fancy party and everything, right?"
"Of course! Splendid idea, my dear girl." Damien hugs her briefly. "If our happy couple is amenable to this idea-"
"We are," Robert and I chorus in unison.
"-then I shall begin making preparations!" He looks around, taking in the setting sun. "Ah, I believe it is time we began to take our leaves, in any case."
Hugo scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, time to pack it in. Congrats again, you two."
The barbecue breaks up, people gathering dishes and children and wandering off towards their own houses. I find myself hesitating on the sidewalk with Robert, neither of us certain which direction either of us are going.
"You haven't figured out what you're doing past kissing?" Amanda asks from behind us, making us jump. Our guilty looks get a tolerantly amused smile. "Geez, you two. Take a blanket and go sit on the tree bench and talk about things. I'm going to veg in front of the TV."
"Good idea, Panda." I give her a one-armed hug since Robert's still holding my other hand and I don't want to let go.
We grab the knitted afghan and drape it around ourselves as we sit, comfortably close, on the bench under the cherry tree in the backyard. I don't know how many times over the last several months we sat here like this, arms around each other's backs and hands clasped, quietly talking through whatever was shaking Robert's determination to stay sober. The first few minutes are for silence, the comforting reassurance that I'm not going to pry that gives him the emotional space he needs to open up. I always let him break the silence, and tonight is no exception. We watch the sun painting the sky in reds and purples as it sinks below the horizon.
"I want to go slow," Robert says quietly. "I'm still afraid I'll fuck up."
I lean my head against his shoulder. "Take all the time you need, Rob. I want you to be happy and healthy."
He trembles and turns to hug me to his chest. "They say the Devil is so beautiful, you don't realize he's evil until it's too late. After Marilyn died...Joseph was there to comfort me. Absolve me of my guilt. I was already friends with Mary, and they welcomed me into their lives. Joseph...I thought he cared. I really did. I knew things were bad between him and Mary and I felt guilty about keeping it from her, but he made me feel...loved."
I hug Robert back, knowing that he needs my silence more than ever. What he's telling me can't be easy, and I do my best to wordlessly convey that I'm there for him.
"Then one day we went sailing on his yacht. We had engine trouble and had to spend the night at sea. That’s when we…” He trails off, shaking a little, and I kiss the smooth skin of his neck until he turns to capture my lips. When the kiss ends he sighs, tilting his head so our foreheads touch before I put my head back on his shoulder. “I asked when he and Mary were splitting up. He looked at me like I was a complete stranger and said they weren't. There was no us except in the space between him and her. He was putting the illusion of his perfect life first, no matter who it hurt. Once we got back to shore I asked Mary to meet me at Jim and Kim's and told her everything. She told me she already knew. That I wasn't the first. Only the latest. I spiraled hard. There wasn’t much point to living, as far as I was concerned. Just being there for Mary. And Betsy. Mostly, what kept me going was spite. I wanted to stick around long enough to see Joseph’s perfect life go up in flames. What I was like when you first met me - that's what I'd been like for three years, give or take. Only worse. But I'd left Marilyn's favorite sweater on the yacht. I used to wear it as a sort of apology to her, you know? A reminder of how I'd fucked up and failed her. Every few months, Joseph would start wearing it around his shoulders until I went to demand it back. That's when..." Robert's voice trembles.
"He made you do things," I say quietly.
"Yeah. And I did them, hoping this time he'd give it back, but I was a fool. Of course he'd never give it back, it was the only bait he had to lure me back into his bed. I was so angry...I thought fine, if this was the way things happen between men, I could do that. Any guy who was interested in me clearly just wanted a good fuck and that's it, so that's what I did." He takes a deep breath and loosens his hold on me.
I sit up to look at him and his eyes are sad and dark, begging me to understand.
"That's why I wanted to wait," he said softly. "That's what I had to un-learn. I didn't want to do that to you."
"That's why you never asked when you were sober?"
Robert nods.
I kiss him gently. "I understand. We'll go as slow as you need."
"You're...not disappointed, now that you know...?"
My smile is lopsided and full of old pain. "My dad held the memory of my mother hostage against my good behavior. I can't be disappointed that you loved your wife enough to put up with...things...to get her favorite sweater back. And I don't blame you for getting drunk that last time, either. I'm just glad Mary came and got me, and kind of relieved that I know now why she was so angry."
Robert puts his head on my shoulder, and it's my turn to hug him.
"I don't want to rush you," I tell him, "so I won't do anything that you haven't done first. If you want to trade the couch for sharing the bed, I'm more than happy to share. If you want to hold off, I'm fine with that. Whatever you want, Rob. You call the shots."
"What if I want to bend you over this bench?" It's dark and angry, and I suspect he's starting to lash out like he warned me.
I kiss his hair. "Then I hope you'll let me get the lube out of my bedroom first. Unless you've got some on you."
He snorts, the tension popping before it can really get going. "How do you not get taken advantage of, Jack? You're too nice."
"That's my secret," I tease. "I am too nice. I use your own conscience against you. Any time anyone thinks of doing a mean thing to me, they remember my cooking and my innocent blue eyes and they can't, it's like kicking a puppy. I have this on the very best authority," I continue loftily. "I befriended some very unscrupulous people in college. They actually apologized for being bad people and stopped coming around. Last I heard, they'd taken up volunteering in their spare time. Carrying groceries for little old ladies, putting on puppet shows for orphans, baking cookies for retirement homes, that sort of thing."
Robert sits up. "Really?"
I kiss the tip of his nose. "Nah, but they did apologize that I was too nice and they didn't deserve my friendship and that's the last I saw of them. So whatcha think: my bed, your bed, the couch?"
"Let's start on the couch and see how I feel when it gets later," he says. "Jack...thank you for being the real deal. When I first met you, I thought for sure you were gonna break my heart if I let myself care about you. But you refused to use me. You were nicer to me than anyone had been since Joseph first started luring me in, but you didn't ask me for anything. I was used to taking, and you...you just kept giving. And then I didn't want to take anymore. I wanted to share."
He smiles at me, the gentle one that melts me, and I can't help but smile back.
"When I first met you," I confess, feeling my cheeks heat up, "The only reason I thought you weren't homeless is that you hadn't pawned your leather jacket for food. Then I figured you might still be homeless, you'd just stabbed the jacket's previous owner to death in a dark alley recently. But I still wanted to take you home, cook you a good meal, and see you smile."
Robert looks like he's not sure if he's going to scold me or laugh, his mouth hanging open. Then he shakes his head. "Jack..."
"I'm a sap?"
He leans over to kiss me. "Yeah. But it's sweet. Come watch a movie with me?"
"At your place?"
"At the theater," he corrects, grinning.
I grin back. "I'd love to."
Still wrapped in the afghan, we make our way inside to let Amanda know we're going out. She hugs us and says that if we're going to get kinky, to not go to a theater she goes to.
"No promises," Robert deadpans while I blush. "No arson while we're gone."
"No promises," she shoots back. "Love you, Dad. Love you, Knife Dad."
"Love you too, Panda," we chorus.
As I start the car, Robert leans over to kiss my cheek. "I love you," he murmurs.
I turn to catch his lips for a return kiss. "I love you, too."
The look of delighted adoration that gets makes me feel like there's no possible way I'll ever be happier than I am at this moment. Then I remember the betrothal party and Victorian wedding we agreed to, and I look forward to being proven wrong.
===
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EPILOGUE
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Robert and I are in the parking lot, standing by the car as people stream out of commencement, waiting for Fareeha to join us so we can go somewhere fancy for dinner. He keeps giving me nuzzling little kisses, mustache and goatee scratching gently at the side of my neck as if reassuring me that I haven't lost that little pleasure just because he's mostly clean-shaven now. After about the sixth one I give in and turn my head to capture his lips, our fingers threading together as we kiss.
"Wooo! Go Dad! Go Knife Dad!"
Fareeha, apparently, managed to find us while we were, uh, otherwise engaged. A little guiltily, I break the kiss and am faced with two beaming grins as my husband and daughter both see that I'm blushing.
"Please," she says airily, "don't stop on my account. I love seeing you be cute together."
Robert leans in to nibble my ear, making Fareeha laugh in delight as my blush deepens. Behind her, a woman in a blue hajib with a patch over one eye leaves the river of babbling students and parents and turns towards us. At first, I think she's heading for the car next to mine, but she pulls a handful of brightly-colored envelopes out from under her shawl and hands one to each of us before walking off.
"What the..."
"You said it, Panda," Robert mutters.
We give each other confused looks, shrug, and open the cards.
"It's a graduation card," Fareeha says, puzzled. "But why did she give cards to you?"
Robert's got the sort of card you give to a newly-married couple on their wedding, but when I pull out my card it's...a sympathy card? The message inside reads IT'S NEVER EASY, LOSING SOMEONE YOU LOVE but underneath, in a too-familiar hand, someone has written I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Rm 504 at the Hilton if you want to talk. Dimly, I can hear Fareeha say 'how did she know my name?' and Robert wondering who knew me that they were thanking him for marrying me and making me happy, but the blood pounding in my ears is making it difficult to hear anything but my pulse and the world has gone grey around me.
"Dad, what's your card say? Dad? Dad!"
The card is gone. I am vaguely aware that Robert took it out of my hands and gave it to Fareeha. My hands are full of Robert's jacket, clove and leather in my nostrils as he holds me to his chest, stroking my hair until I shudder and draw in a deep breath.
"This is Mom's handwriting," Fareeha says quietly. "Knife Dad..."
"You knew there was a chance." Robert's voice is gentle. "That explains why my card was thanking me for making your Dad happy. You don't have to go see her, Panda. You don't even have to make a decision just yet; we do still have dinner to go to."
"Dad, are you..."
Robert snorts. "Of course he is. Aren't you, babe?"
"Yeah," I say quietly. "Closure if nothing else." Slowly, I free myself from Robert's protective embrace. "Rob, do you mind driving?"
He kisses me softly. "Not at all. You sit in back and tell your daughter how proud of her you are."
That snaps everything back. I hug Fareeha. "I'm so proud of you, sweetie!"
We pile into the car and chat happily as Robert drives us to our dinner destination. It's very swanky, and I can tell that Fareeha's just as impressed as I am. The desserts are fabulous, and Robert wrestles with himself before deciding not to have a glass of wine. He gets a kiss on the cheek for that, and Fareeha squeezes his hand and tells him that she's proud of him.
Full and happy, we drive back to our hotel and only remember Ana's cards when we get into the elevator - because we're staying at the Hilton, in rooms 512 and 513.
"Jack?" Robert asks quietly as the elevator starts moving.
"Let's change into more comfortable clothes first," I answer.
A few minutes later, we're walking down the hall in jeans and sneakers and tee-shirts. I know that what I'm feeling isn't really nervousness. It's a whirlpool of anger, hurt, betrayal, relief, and joy all tossed in a blender. Robert takes my hand and squeezes reassuringly; Fareeha has my other hand and it's me doing the reassuring squeeze. We stop at room 504 and she lets go of my hand to cling to my arm. The door is slightly ajar, the security arm swung out to keep the door from closing. I knock anyway.
"Ana?" I call when there's no answer.
Faintly, a familiar voice inside says, "Enter."
I push the door open slowly, Fareeha crowding behind me as I enter. Robert must correct the security arm because I can hear the door close and lock behind him. Ana is standing in front of the window with her back to the room. The blender-whirlpool of emotions threatens to overflow, and the world turns grey.
The grey fades into a black t-shirt that smells vaguely of cloves and smoke, and a hand running comfortingly through my hair. In the distance, I can hear Fareeha crying and Ana murmuring a stream of reassurance and apology. Then there is silence, followed by words that actually make sense: "How is he?"
"Jack?" Robert murmurs, almost-stubble scratching gently against my ear.
I take a deep, shuddering breath but only lift my head enough to put it on his shoulder and close my eyes. My arms tighten around his chest. "I don't want to look yet."
"You don't have to," Robert promises in a low voice.
"You have every right to be angry," Ana says in a tone of iron calm. "Being angry does not mean you are rejecting the person you are angry at. Merely that they have done something that you feel they should not have."
It's an argument we've had - carefully - many times over the years. She's never won it.
"It's still a separation. Pulling away. Withdrawing support. I can't do it, Ana. I won't do it unless I'd be okay with it being my last interaction with you."
Ana sighs. "I suppose I should be grateful you still hold me in esteem I may not deserve. Robert? Are you angry at me?"
"I'm making sure Jack's okay," Robert says in a low growl. "I'll figure out how I feel about you later."
"I am glad that he has found someone who gives him the love and support he deserves," she says warmly. "Ours was never a marriage of love."
"I know."
Another sigh. "I did not intend to deceive you at all, much less for this long. After my injury, I was found by noncombatants and taken for medical care, but stripped of my uniform and mistaken for a soldier of another nation. It was not safe for me to be identified until I was recovered, and by then I knew that I would have been declared dead. For me to return to life at that point would have stripped Fareeha of the survivor's benefits that helped finance her dream. And..." her voice falters. "I knew from Craig's social media posts that you had found love. I did not want to jeopardize your happiness. You spent eighteen years devoting yourself to a child you had no hand in creating, tying yourself to a woman you barely knew and did not love. I could not give you the freedom to live your own life, could not give you that happiness while I was alive. But in death..." Her voice trembles. "...I could set you free."
Ana was always so calm, so composed. Only rarely had I ever heard that tremor in her voice, when something managed to strike a deep enough chord that it shook her iron control.
She cares.
Suddenly I'm imagining what it must have been like for her, ghosting around the edges of our lives, watching her daughter from a distance, unable to share in our happiness. And she did that, she sacrificed her rightful place, because her 'death' gave Fareeha the freedom to follow - and achieve - her dream, and me the freedom to find and marry for love.
I hug Robert tighter for a moment, press a kiss to his jaw, and turn to face my dead wife. She's sitting on the foot of the bed with one arm around her daughter, a few strands of silver in her dark hair and tears on her left cheek. The patch over her right eye is...distressing. When I spread my arms, she throws herself into them and weeps into my chest while I cry into her hair. After a minute, Fareeha and Robert sandwich us to form a hug knot. It's a few minutes before we break apart again, and all my previously-conflicting emotions have settled.
"So if you're dead," Robert asks, sliding his arms around me from behind, "then who are...you?"
"My sister," Ana days dryly. "It is a fiction that has been in place a long time. I had a...colorful...youth."
Fareeha grins. "So I have an aunt now? Cool. You gonna move into our new house? I'm sure Dad would give you a good deal on the rent."
Ana's eye flickers up to me. "Would I be welcome in your neighborhood?"
"Of course," I say immediately. "Um...Craig will figure out that you're...you."
Her eye crinkles in amusement. "So long as he does not tell the government, I am comfortable with that."
We exchange contact information.
"So we'll see you in a few days," Robert says, daring Ana to say no.
"You will."
He grunts and steps forward to give her a hug, something that seems to startle her. "Take care, Ana. Drive safe."
"You as well," she returns, apparently on reflex.
Fareeha takes her turn hugging Ana. "Good night, Mom. See you in a few days. Love you."
Before she can respond, I hug her as well. "Thank you for this," I murmur. "Take care, Ana. Love you."
When I step away, Ana's tearing up again. "Thank you for everything, Jack. I...I love both of you, too."
Ritual complete, we smile and wave and retreat out into the hall where we immediately collapse into a group hug for a minute.
"It's gonna be weird," Fareeha says as we walk back to our rooms. "Having Mom back. Having her not leave after a few months. Weird, but a good weird."
"Panda," Robert says, draping an arm around her shoulders and the other around my waist, "the best things in life are."