“For who would live if life held no allurements?”
~Lewis Howard Latimer
“A life that doesn’t arouse you from slumber and tempt you with challenges might be cleaner and easier, but it’s also boring. Thrill me; let’s get messy.”
~Julius Shepherd
The POS situation kept us on edge for the first few weeks after the story aired on Channel Eleven news. Who could blame us? The hate group had worked quietly to disrupt the play without us knowing, so common sense made you wonder what else the group planned. Would they boldly retaliate this time? Were they a danger to us or the kids? Roy Halifax had already stalked Rome and me without us knowing it. Wasn’t that an indication the man could be unhinged?
God, I was so pissed when Rome told me about the photo, and even more concerned what Roy would do with it going forward. We couldn’t possibly hope it would always land in a fair-minded person’s inbox. Rome had asked Cait if she wanted him to step down, but she assured him a letter of resignation would be immediately put through the shredder. She reiterated what we knew in our hearts; we hadn’t done anything wrong. Rome had even asked Ashley if she thought we should obtain a restraining order, but the man had never physically threatened any of us. She encouraged us to file an official complaint with the local law enforcement, both for documentation and to see if they’d patrol by our house more frequently. Our house. I loved hearing people say that.
“Do you want me to go to the police station to file the report?” Rome had a series of meetings coming up after school, and I had more free time than he did since tennis was over.
“Why? So that muscled hunk in the too-tight uniform can try and take you away from me? I bet he’d offer to keep a really close eye on you. Probably stand over your bed and watch you sleep.” The last part creeped me out and made me shiver. Rome laughed, and I knew he wasn’t seriously worried about the cop’s interest.
Just in case though, I said, “Knock it off. No one is going to take me away from you, and you’re the only one I don’t mind watching me sleep.”
We went to the police station together, and I tried not to laugh when Rome placed his hand possessively on the small of my back when Officer Simanski was the one who took our complaint. The cop’s flirty side from the night of the board meeting disappeared when he heard our concerns.
“This is the part I really hate,” Officer Simanski said. “I will file your complaint to get it on the record, but right now, there’s not much we can do. I can ask the captain if patrol can swing by your house a few times during their shifts, but without a direct threat…” His expression contorted and looked like he’d sucked on a lemon, but maybe it was because his words tasted nasty in his mouth.
“My sister is an attorney, so we knew there wasn’t anything you could do besides document the claim, Officer,” Rome assured him.
“I’m serious about asking for extra patrolling,” he said. “Dr. Bradley, I have your address on the complaint. Can I have your address too, Mr. Shepherd?”
“We live together,” I replied without thinking. “I do have my own residence, but I’m never there.”
“Okay, so I’ll just ask if we can patrol this one address then.”
“Thank you for your time,” Rome said, shaking the officer’s hand.
“I just wish I could do more.”
“You’re doing what the law allows. We wouldn’t ask you to go beyond that,” I said, offering my hand to him. The big guy’s hand dwarfed mine but there wasn’t a single tingle or buzz when our skin touched. Only Rome made my skin come alive.
On the way out of the police station, Rome leaned close and said, “Make sure we’re pulling the bedroom curtains extra tight.” I just rolled my eyes and looped my arm around his waist. Rome stopped suddenly in the middle of the parking lot and turned to me. “I like what you said inside the station.”
“Which part?” I asked, even though I knew.
“The part about us living together. I know we’ve unofficially lived together for some time, but I want to make it official. I know you’re locked into a lease, and I’m not asking you to break it, but I want to move your things out of your place and into our place.”
The smile on my face grew until it hurt. “Dare already told me he’d rip up the lease if I wanted to officially move out.”
“When?” Rome asked.
“A few weeks after we started dating. I’d only stopped by long enough to take my trash to the curb for pickup. He told me he’d never stand in the way of love. I kind of laughed him off, but I knew even then how much you meant to me.”
“So let’s make it official. Move in with me.”
I looked at our surroundings and chuckled. “You English lit guys aren’t always so suave. Asking me to move in with you while standing in the middle of the parking lot at the police station? How will I ever top this moment?”
“Spontaneity is supposed to be sexy. I can ask again with a bottle of wine and a crackling fire in the background if you prefer.”
“I prefer honest and sincere which is exactly what I got.”
“Is that a yes then?”
“It’s a hell yes.” I didn’t just see his joyous smile, I tasted it when I pressed my lips to his. “Let’s go home.”
“Where you can try and top me…um… I mean my proposal…um—” I pressed my lips to his for a second time to stop the nervous rambling. There was no doubt in my mind there would be some topping going on in my future, and I was also just as certain there would be a proposal for a deeper commitment between us down the road.
“Let’s go home.”
“Permutations and combinations. Who can tell me the difference?” I asked my seventh period class the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break. They looked at me with annoyance in their eyes because they expected to goof off the last class of the day. It was a good thing Anastasia’s family got an early start to their vacation travel plans or else she’d really let me have it.
“Are you seriously giving us homework?” Ben asked.
“Did I list homework in your syllabus, Mr. Devers?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I hadn’t planned on giving you homework. I can change my mind if you like.”
“No, sir.”
“Permutations and combinations,” I repeated. “Anyone? This is the lesson we’re tackling on Monday, so I thought I would plant the seed and give it time to root.”
“Permutations and combinations are the same thing,” Jill said. “They’re groups of things that you put together to make something else.”
“You’re partially right, Ms. Skellson. The difference between permutations and combinations is the order. Permutations require a specific order where combinations do not. This theory doesn’t just apply to science. There are many recipes you can jack up if you don’t combine the ingredients in a specific order. Think about your locker combination. You all have three numbers to unlock it, correct?” They all nodded. “Can you use those same three numbers randomly or must they be in order?”
“In order,” Randy said.
“That’s an example of a permutation. Our experiments next week are going to be fun,” I said waggling my brows. “We’ll see who is paying attention and who isn’t.”
“Are we finally going to utilize the face shields?” Travis asked excitedly.
“I worry about you sometimes, Travis,” I teased. The kid was way too excited about the possibility of needing a face shield for experiments. He just laughed and shook his head. “If this were a philosophy class, we’d talk about permutations and combinations in relation to fate. Are our lives guided by preordained permutations or do we just throw in a bunch of stuff to see how it turns out? Do we have destinies or opportunities?”
“Preordained permutations,” Derrick said confidently.
“I think we just close our eyes and toss in the ingredients,” Molly Sue countered.
I hadn’t expected the kids to start debating fate vs chance in my classroom, but I wasn’t mad about it. A teacher could learn a lot about their students by listening. Before any of us realized it, the forty-five minutes had passed, and they were free for a long weekend. My heart swelled with happiness when every single kid in my class wished me a Happy Thanksgiving. Some of them even included Rome in their well-wishes.
I was excited to kick off our first holiday season together, but sad my mom had to cancel her travel plans due to some crisis at the hospital. She was devastated she didn’t get to see her boys and meet Rome, Camilla, and Manny, but promised she would be there the first weekend in December even if it meant quitting her job.
“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” I’d told her on the phone when she called me on Monday evening. She’d sounded so upset, and it made my heart ache. “You’re miserable in your new position. I think it’s time for a big change.”
“How big?” she asked suspiciously.
“You should quit your job and move here.”
“To Whoville?” she asked.
“Mom, you’re starting to sound like Marcus,” I teased. “Yes, you should move to Blissville or Cincinnati if you prefer to stay in a bigger city. My garage apartment is paid up until February, so you could always stay there. You and Dare would go together like peas and carrots.”
“I’m not sure I want to make such a big change, J.”
“Mom, how many weeks of vacation do you have left?” I asked.
“Three,” she admitted.
“And you lose that time if you don’t take it, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Take them, Mom. Stay in the apartment for three weeks. Get to know the people Marc and I love. Take time to breathe and bake and celebrate the holiday with us. Please.”
“That does sound heavenly.”
“While you’re here, you can update your resume and look at employment opportunities. There are tons of hospitals around here.”
“One thing at a time. I’ll inform HR that I’m taking my vacation. They can just deal with it like they expect me to every damn day.”
“That’s my mama,” I’d said proudly.
Rome had taken the entire week off to prep for the feast he planned for our guests which included Camilla’s parents. Rather than making Marc and Camilla split time between the families, Rome thought it would be a nice gesture to invite everyone. I watched in shock as my normally messy man turned into a super-neat freak when we started cleaning for company. Apparently, that meant cleaning the closets because it’s where I found him when I got home from school, not in the kitchen like I expected.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I asked. Dolly got up from her blanket nest by the door and came to welcome me home. “Hi, baby girl. Miss me?” I cradled her against my chest and she licked my chin. “I missed you too, but I’m not licking your chin.”
“How about mine?” Rome asked, peeking around the closet door. “Hi, love.”
“Hi. What’s going on?” I asked, gesturing to the mess he’d made inside the closet.
“I’m getting ready.”
“To go back in the closet? Are you making a nest in there?”
“No,” Rome replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s part of my annual Thanksgiving cleaning ritual.”
“I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Álvarez are planning to look in there,” I said when he disappeared out of sight. I put Dolly back down then made myself comfortable on our bed. I’d helped clean the house too, of course, but I was drawing the line at cleaning the closets when we could be making love. This was a side to him I hadn’t seen, and I found it completely adorable. “So, are you making room for new stuff?”
“No,” he said from somewhere inside his walk-in closet. I saw a shirt sail through the air and land in the pile in the center of the closet floor. That was the Rome I knew and loved. I pulled my polo over my head and dropped it beside the bed then reached for my belt. “I want everything to be tidy and organized for the New Year.”
“So you can mess it up again in a week?” I asked, shoving my pants and underwear to my thighs.
“You think you know me so well, don’t you? I’ll have you know—” Rome’s words died when he saw me working my dick up and down. He blinked a few times then licked his lips.
“You’ll have me know what?” I asked him.
I heard a crash which meant Rome dropped whatever he held in his hands. Then he practically tripped over his own two feet when he cleared the doorway. “Close your eyes, Dolly. Dad and Daddy are about to kick off this holiday right.”
Sometime later, I roused from my post-coital nap. “Do I smell burnt toast or am I having a stroke?” I asked.
Rome snorted from somewhere in the room. I sat up and saw that he was back in the closet again, and the pile of stuff in the center had tripled. He poked his head around the door and grinned. “It’s burnt toast. My handsome guy came home and distracted me, so I forgot I was toasting bread for my homemade stuffing. Luckily, I bought extra bread, but that means we’ll have to use store-bought croutons instead of my homemade ones.”
“Oh, the horror,” I gasped then yawned. “Where are you getting your energy?”
“Is that a crack about my age?”
“You know it’s not.”
“I’m just happy,” he said. “I’m going to need your help in the kitchen later. We have plenty of casseroles to prep.”
“Where are you going to bake all these casseroles? We only have the one oven, and it will be stuffed with that forty-pound turkey you got from the butcher.”
“It’s only twenty-two pounds,” he said, ducking back inside the closet. “Lily and her husband are going to her in-laws, so she said I could borrow her oven tomorrow.”
“We’re going to need a double oven,” I told him. “My mom has one, and it made the holidays so much easier for her. Or,” I said after consideration, “you could ask the guests to bring a casserole dish with them. That’s what most families do.”
“Next year,” he said, but I knew he was dismissing the idea. My grandmother was the same way. She never let anyone bring any food or clean up afterward. I’d have to work on Rome because that was just insane, especially as our lives expanded to include more people.
The feast we prepared would impress Scott Conant. I missed having my mother there so much, but we FaceTimed her so she could meet Camilla’s parents and feel like she was there with us.
“I have big news,” she said once we all finished the initial greetings.
“I’m coming to Ohio next week and won’t be leaving until after the New Year, if I leave at all.
“Julius, I’m going to accept your gracious offer and stay at your apartment while I enjoy a much-needed break.”
I was too excited to ask how she was able to stay an entire month if she only had three weeks of vacation to use. My mom was a sensible woman, and I had no reason to question her.
“No, you must stay with us,” Rome said. “I have a spare bedroom.”
“Huh-uh,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I won’t be an intrusive mother in-law. We’ll get to spend plenty of time together, but we’ll have our separate spaces too.”
“You won’t win,” I whispered to Rome when it looked like he would argue.
Seeing Rome with kids always made my heart so happy, and I looked forward to us having kids of our own. That thought reminded me of the remark I made in class about permutations and combinations. The components of the formula were the same: two men and a baby. The difference between combination and permutation was in the order. Combination implied we could adopt a baby just as we were: two men who were committed to each other. A permutation implied the components should be applied in a specific order, and for Rome and me, that would include marriage before adoption. Old fashioned, yes, but I knew it was the outcome both of us wanted.
Mama arrived the following week like she promised, and she held tight to Rome when we picked her up from the airport. They’d talked, video chatted, and texted a lot over the last few months, but it couldn’t compare to meeting in person. She cried, and Rome got choked up too. I just stood there grinning like an idiot waiting for my turn as people walked by smiling at the spectacle they made.
“I’ve waited for you for such a long time, Romeo Bradley,” my mom said, cupping his cheek.
“Mom, are you trying to steal my guy?” I asked.
“Hush,” she said, waving her hand in my general direction. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”
“I was about to say the same thing about you,” Rome said, hugging her again.
“We’re due at the Álvarez’s house for dinner in an hour. Camilla said her mom makes the best empanadas,” I said. They continued to ignore me as Mom gushed about how happy Rome made me, and he in turn told her that I was the best thing to ever happen to him.
“Oh, my heart,” Mama said, clutching her chest. Then she turned to face me. “You never stood a chance at resisting him, Son.” It was true; I hadn’t. Just like I knew she didn’t stand a chance of resisting the charm of Blissville and the lure of being close to both her sons while they built lives with the people they loved. It came as no surprise to me when Mama announced she wasn’t returning to Philly other than to sell her home. She spent part of her vacation interviewing for jobs at hospitals nearby and looking for a quaint home to buy in Blissville.
The next month flew by in a whirlwind of decorating, eating, play rehearsals, eating, parties, eating, a holiday parade, eating, shopping, and more eating. There were a lot of festivities and even more eating, but through it all there was so much love and happiness. The level of sappiness surpassed the sappiest movie ever to grace the Hallmark Channel. I mean, seriously. Two men move to a new town for fresh starts, fall in love, and live happily ever after.
As exciting as it was to be surrounded by our families, I was grateful that Rome and I carved out quite a bit of time just for us. We had plans to combine both sides of our families for one huge bash at Ashley’s on Christmas day, but Christmas Eve belonged to just us. I made an intimate dinner for two, we drank wine, exchanged gifts, and made love by the Christmas tree lights while listening to the song I recorded for Rome as one of his gifts. I had almost drifted to sleep when I noticed Rome had replaced the picture in the built-in frame on the entertainment center. Instead of Rome and Peter staring into each other’s eyes, there was a picture of us kissing on the stage the first night Rome told me he loved me.
“When did you do that?” I asked, pointing to the frame.
Rome didn’t lift his head off my chest. “A while ago,” he said sleepily. “Turns out that homophobic asshat can take a good picture.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“The Hammer,” Rome said then yawned. “Out of the blue, he emailed it to me. He said the origin of the picture shouldn’t take away from the beauty of the moment.”
“The Hammer said that?” I asked suspiciously.
“I might be paraphrasing, but it’s still the truth.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to make a big fuss out of it. I loved Peter, and I’ll always be grateful for our memories. You’re the one, Jules. You’re the love of my life, and I want everyone to see it when they come into our home. Over the years, that picture will change to show our love evolving and our lives expanding.”
I imagined a picture of us holding a baby or a toddler between us. We would kiss our child’s cheek at the same time while someone snapped a picture of us. Later, there would be us at graduations, and weddings, and every other big moment in our family’s life. Our faces and bodies would change over time, wrinkles and age spots would mar our skin, our eyes would cloud over with cataracts, and our hearing would turn to shit, but one thing would remain the same: Romeo and Julius forever.