On Sunday morning, Charles did his very best to eat a piece of dry toast for breakfast, worried the nest of anxious butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t allow it to stay down. Ryan’s flight landed in about an hour, and Charles needed to leave soon, but Cristian had insisted he eat something. Charles hadn’t thought he could, not even coffee, so the whole wheat toast had been a compromise.

He’d spent the entire previous evening cleaning the house, even though it was rarely dusty or dirty, and he’d changed the sheets in the larger of the two guest rooms. It had been Dell’s room once upon a time, and it was one door down from the master, instead of directly across the hall. And closer to the upstairs bathroom.

“Stop over-thinking it,” Cristian said over his own mug of coffee. He’d made eggs and toast for himself and Jake, and they were leisurely eating at the island while Charles paced and nibbled.

“I can’t help myself,” Charles replied. One small bite left and then he could go.

“Everything is going to be fine, you worry wart.”

“I have to tell him about the studio. I’ve put it off long enough, but it’s something I have to say in person.”

Cristian picked up his fork and speared some eggs. “Do you really think Ryan is going to storm off to a hotel in a huff when you tell him you make gay porn?”

“I don’t know. No. I don’t think so. Ugh.”

Jake slid off his stool and got in Charles’s way. “It’s going to be okay, and if I’m the one laying out reassurances, you know it’s true.”

Charles laughed. “Good point.”

“See? Eat your toast and go get your son.”

He kissed Jake on the cheek, then popped the final bite of toast. It was dry and sticky, and he washed it down with a sip of water. The anxious butterflies seemed okay with that, so he sipped a bit more and decided to take the bottle with him.

“Enjoy the moment,” Cristian said. “I wish I could be there to see it, but I get why you want to go alone. Too many new faces at once, a new city. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Thank you.” He kissed Cristian’s cheek, too, before grabbing his phone, wallet and keys, and then heading out the door.

Charles drove his own SUV, partly out of habit but mostly because he’d already described the vehicle to Ryan, so he knew what to look for in the pick-up area. It was a holiday weekend, so traffic in and around the airport was kind of nuts, but Charles eventually found a spot near the terminal. He got out to stand on the sidewalk and waited, hands trembling slightly, his stomach now a sloshy mess of terror and excitement.

A stream of people left the terminal, many with carry-ons, none with suitcases yet. Charles studied the faces of the younger men, hoping for a familiar sight. Maybe he should have brought a sign. But wouldn’t that look silly? As if Charles couldn’t identify his own son from a photograph—there.

A tall man with thick, medium-brown hair, a lanky build, and a gym bag in one hand stopped short just outside the doors. He wasn’t smiling as broadly as in his photo, but Charles still recognized him. Ryan Moreland. His son. His actual, flesh-and-blood son.

All of Charles’s anxiety bled away when Ryan grinned at him.

Charles took a step forward and they met somewhere in the middle. He offered his hand, which Ryan shook with a firm grip. “Hello,” Charles said, a bit breathless from the instant jolt of affection for the boy still holding his hand. “Ryan.”

“Charles. Or should I call you something else?” Ryan had a deep, slightly raspy voice that set Charles instantly at ease. It had to work wonders on the animals he saw every day.

“I tend to go by Chet, so that’s fine.”

“Okay, Chet. It’s, um, great to meet you.”

“Same. Look at you. You’re a completely grown man.”

“Thirty years does that.” His words had the potential to be cruel, but Ryan simply smiled at him, taking any possible sting out of the remark. “But we probably shouldn’t block traffic.”

“Yes, of course. I’m right over here.”

Ryan sitting next to him in the car was a fantastically surreal experience.

“So how was your flight?” Charles asked as he eased them into the line of traffic leaving the airport.

“Mostly boring, which is good. I’ve heard horror stories about noisy passengers, screaming babies, heavy perfumes, all kinds of things, but I don’t fly a lot.”

“I fly rarely myself. When I find a place I like, I tend to settle there and stay put.”

“Like here in Harrisburg?”

“Correct. Technically, I live across the river in a town called Camp Hill, but as no one has ever heard of it, saying I live in Harrisburg helps them triangulate.”

Ryan chuckled. “That’s why I just tell people I live in Boston instead of Cambridge. Otherwise they think I’m from London.” He leaned forward in his seat, observing their surroundings. “I’ve never been in Pennsylvania before. I wish I could have taken more time off, but we’re a little short-staffed at the shelter right now.”

“I understand, and I am so grateful you were able to come and visit. I’m sure you had a host of other invitations.”

“None were as intriguing as a barbecue with my long-lost father, though.” Something in Ryan’s expression tightened. “I’m still a little mad at Mom for letting me believe you were dead all these years.”

“I feel a similar anger toward Melinda’s family for the same reason. But that’s the past, and we’ve found each other now. I’ve quite enjoyed our phone calls these last few weeks, and I look forward to us spending time together in person.”

“Me too.”

Charles took the long way home so he could circle the city and point out various landmarks nearby or in the distance. He took the Market Street Bridge across the Susquehanna River so Ryan could see City Island and the Senator’s stadium. They could always explore a bit more later, depending on if Ryan wanted a home-cooked meal for supper, or if he wanted to go out.

Ryan took it all in, and almost too soon, Charles pulled into the short driveway next to Cris’s car. “Wow, nice neighborhood,” Ryan said. “I like your house.” Polite words but he seemed genuine with his compliments.

They got out and Ryan hesitated a beat. “Something wrong?” Charles asked.

“Not really. I guess I’m nervous to meet your boyfriends.”

“Why on earth are you nervous about that? They’re both eager to get to know you.”

Ryan shrugged. “Because I can tell how much you love them by the way you always talk about them. I want to make a good impression.”

“I seriously doubt you could make a bad one. Come on.” Charles led him up the stone path to the front door and opened it. As expected, Cristian and Jake were waiting in the rear of the foyer, just inside the kitchen archway, both smiling broadly. “Ryan, I’m so happy to introduce you to Cristian Sable and Jake Bowden.”

“Cris is fine,” Cristian said as he stepped forward to shake Ryan’s hand. Jake did as well, and Charles studied Ryan’s reaction to meeting the two younger men. Younger men both dating his father.

“It’s great to meet you guys,” Ryan replied. His smile seemed a tad forced but that could also be Charles’s imagination. “Chet talks about you all the time.”

“Hopefully only good things,” Jake said. “Especially about me. I can be a little overly dramatic sometimes.”

Ryan chuckled. “You’re the chef, right?”

“Not a chef yet, but hopefully one day. I’m a line cook right now, but I’ve also applied to culinary school.” Jake crossed the fingers of both hands and raised them into the air.

“Well, good luck and I hope you get in.” To Cristian he said, “And you’re the programmer who used to model. I can see why.”

The corner of Cristian’s left eye twitched. “I am. Modeling wasn’t my passion but it helped pay the bills, and it was how I first met Chet, so I’ll always be grateful for that former career.”

“Excellent. I’m sure Chet told you, but I work for a dog rescue and volunteer at a pit bull rehab on the side.”

“He definitely mentioned that,” Jake said. “You must love dogs.”

“I do. Dogs are easier than people. All they want is to love you and for you to love them back. It’s why I work with the pitties, too. They’re such a misunderstood breed and can be amazing family pets when they’re raised and trained right.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the videos on Facebook. They’re gorgeous.”

It occurred to Charles then that they hadn’t furthered their discussion of a family pet, because they’d all gotten completely distracted by tomorrow’s barbecue.

“Want me to show you your room?” Jake asked. “You can put your bag down and stuff.”

“Sure, thanks,” Ryan replied.

Jake led him upstairs, and Charles stared in silent wonder at how easily Ryan seemed to be fitting in.

“Dell and Taro are on their way over,” Cristian said. “Should be about half-an-hour, I think.”

“Thank you,” Charles replied. Dell was excited to meet his long-lost cousin, but he hadn’t wanted to overwhelm Ryan by being there when he first arrived. And by coming over today, they’d be two fewer people Ryan had to be introduced to tomorrow.

He and Cristian wandered into the kitchen, which was the only slightly disorganized room in the house, thanks to extra shopping bags of food on the floor by the island. Food for the barbecue he planned to start prepping later in the day. Jake had to work at one and into the evening, after negotiating this morning and tomorrow off by trading favors with another line cook. Charles didn’t want them all up before dawn just to prep.

Plus, the cold salads could be made somewhat easily and stored in the fridge overnight.

Jake’s voice preceded the pair’s entrance to the kitchen, Jake in mid-stream about a restaurant story Charles vaguely remembered hearing last month. Ryan listened intently as he also took in the kitchen, den, and then looked out into the backyard. Charles chuckled at their own home tour guide.

He also marveled at the fact that Ryan was here, in Charles’s home, interacting with his boyfriends so easily. So much joyful, overwhelming emotion filled his chest that Charles couldn’t breathe for a moment. He excused himself to the bathroom, sat on the closed toilet seat and tried to remember how to breathe. To calm himself lest he burst into tears. Grateful, happy tears over finally meeting his son.

After thirty goddamn years, the moment had finally happened. And he was hiding.

No, not hiding. Charles didn’t like showing his own weakness in front of the people he loved. It was what had driven him to the hotel bar the night he found out Ryan existed. Why he’d tried to deal with it himself, instead of relying on his loved ones for support. He needed to stop doing that, because it was the same thing he chided Jake and Cristian for doing.

By the time he left the bathroom, Dell and Taro had arrived. Taro stood off to the side of the kitchen with Cristian, while Dell, Jake and Ryan had an animated conversation about dogs. Ryan must have been showing them photos of his rescues on his phone, because he was swiping away. Charles took in the sight of Dell and Ryan side by side, the family resemblance a bit uncanny. Ryan had definitely inherited the Greenwood genes.

Thank God the boy didn’t inherit their bigotry, as well.

It was inching close to noon and Jake had to leave soon. “Cristian,” Charles said, “why don’t you start pulling out sandwich stuff for lunch. I’d like five minutes alone with Ryan, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” Ryan replied with a grin. “I could eat. I was kind of nervous to fly, so I didn’t eat much breakfast.”

“I completely understand.” He led Ryan to his office but didn’t shut the door. Charles wasn’t about to say anything the other men in the house didn’t already know. Ryan studied the room with its dark wood shelves and big, scarred desk. That desk had come all the way from California with Charles. The shelves were littered with books and trinkets and antiques, as well as his collection of antique cameras.

Ryan zeroed in on those and approached. “Wow, some of these are cool. I’ve seen them in antique shops up north. Dad—Terry likes to go antiquing on the weekend, so I got into it for a little while.”

“Do you have any collections of your own?”

“Nah, I don’t like clutter. Not that your stuff is clutter, or anything, but I like to keep it simple, you know? Plus, the dollars don’t stretch very far, and while my parents would help if I asked for money, I don’t like doing that.”

“I completely understand. That self-made determination reminds me a bit of myself.”

Ryan’s lips twitched with a smile. Then his attention caught on the next shelf over—the shelf where Charles kept a small collection of Mean Green’s DVD’s. He didn’t produce many, maybe two a year, so it was a slender collection, but the XXX label on the spine was easy to spot.

“Now that you’re here and I can talk to you in person,” Charles said, “there’s something I need to be completely transparent with you about, and I apologize in advance for…smudging part of the truth when we first talked.”

Ryan turned his face him, that smile gone. “Okay.”

“Sit, please.” He indicated the leather couch, and they both perched on opposite ends. “A brief story, if I may?”

“Sure.”

“While I still lived in California, I was in a relationship with a man who I thought loved me for the man I was. But he didn’t. He loved me for my money, and for the things I bought him with that money. The McMansion he lived in with me. And then I caught him cheating on me, and he admitted to having cheated on me since day one.”

Ryan’s face pinched with annoyance. “That’s a shitty thing to do.”

“It was. And it broke something in me. I became intensely depressed. I drank a lot, to excess most days, and I got so low that one night I decided I was done. I didn’t want to live anymore, but I was too much of a coward to buy a gun or swallow pills. I’d always loved the Pacific Ocean, though, so I left my home and began walking west. I decided I’d simply walk into the ocean and let her carry me away.”

Charles had only told this story a handful of times, and old humiliation over having given up washed over him. He didn’t dare look higher than Ryan’s chest as he continued. “I ended up in a bad neighborhood, where working girls and boys waited on the corners for their next john. I passed a corner where several young men stood, and one of them asked if I was looking for a date. He was so beautiful, this young man, that he could have been any popular actor on television. Perhaps he’d come to Los Angeles to act and had failed, I never asked.

“But instead of wanting to die, I wanted to help him. Him and his friends, so I gave them all the cash in my wallet, and then I used my credit card to rent them a motel room for an entire week. It wasn’t enough, and I often find myself wishing I’d done more.”

“You did more than most people would in that situation,” Ryan said gently. “Especially as much as you were hurting at the time.”

“I appreciate that. And meeting those young men changed something inside me for the better. It planted a seed that eventually grew into a new business endeavor. You see, for all the wealth I had, I didn’t use it properly. Sure, my company supported independent artists and small business owners looking for a leg up, but it didn’t feel like enough. So I decided to leave Los Angeles and start over here.”

“To start your new business?”

“Correct. I couldn’t stop thinking of that beautiful boy on that city street corner, selling his body simply to survive. I could have easily been him if I hadn’t made the choices I had in Philadelphia when I was eighteen. I knew I wanted to create a business where I could funnel the vast majority of the profits to the workers, and also to give young queer men a safe place to explore their sexuality.”

Ryan tilted his head, and Charles chanced looking at his face. He was frowning, but with more curiosity than anything else. “By…modeling?”

“Yes, in a way. Ryan, for the last ten years, I have produced, directed, and edited gay porn for an online site I run. The studio is in the basement of this house, and Dell is my director of photography and co-editor.”

Ryan slow-blinked several times, his expression blank. “Are you serious?”

“Perfectly. I’d never joke about something this serious, especially when we’ve only just met, but I needed you to know the whole truth about what I do here.”

“Okaaaay.” He rubbed fingertips in his eyes, then coughed. “So when you said Cris modeled for you, you mean he did porn for you?”

“Yes. For many years, but he was no longer filming when we got together. It was why I’d loved him from afar for so long. It was completely inappropriate to hit on or date a model, and I swear I have never done so. Everything that happens in my studio is completely consensual, everything above board.”

“What about Jake?”

“Heavens no, Jake never did porn. The go-go boy part is absolutely true, but he was only a dancer. Never anything more than that.”

Ryan slumped deeper into the couch, eyebrows dipped low, thinking so hard Charles practically saw cartoon steam wisps coming from his ears. “This is…weird.”

“I know. Believe me, it’s difficult owning a business you can’t really talk about, which is probably why I have so few close friends who aren’t already in this house. But if you believe anything about why I built Mean Green Boys, please believe me when I say it’s for the models. I keep enough revenue to pay Dell, maintain the set and equipment, and to run the site. The rest of the money goes to them as generously as possible.

“And every time one of the young men who’s worked for me finds his feet, finds love, finds a new job or all three? I rejoice in his success. I am never happier than when a model comes to me and wants to retire. I had another boy leave just last month. He’d fallen in love and discovered a new career path, and you’ll meet quite a few of those boys tomorrow if you decide to stay.”

Ryan’s hands jerked. “If I stay? Shit, if I had that big of an issue with this, I’d have stormed out the minute you said you film porn in the basement. I’m just trying to figure this all out. It’s a little overwhelming.”

A tiny spark of hope lit behind Charles’s breastbone. “I know it is. But this is who I am, Ryan. All of me. My house, my boyfriends, my nephew and his boyfriend, and my studio.”

“Okay.”

“Would you like a few minutes alone to think?”

“Can I ask you something first?”

“Anything.”

“Does my mom know about the porn?”

“Heavens, no. I was up front with her about my boyfriends, but I couldn’t see bringing porn into the conversation when I didn’t know if you’d want anything to do with me. You have been far more gracious and accepting of me than many other people would, so thank you.”

Ryan nodded absently. “I’ll, uh, take those few minutes, thanks.”

“Of course. Please, join us for lunch when you’re ready.” Trembling a bit, Charles rose and left the office.

Four pairs of eyes latched onto him the moment Charles entered the kitchen. He hadn’t announced what he was going to tell Ryan, but they all knew. “Well?” Cristian asked. “How’d he take it?”

“Shockingly well. He was calm, asked questions, and he seemed surprised I thought he might leave because of it.”

Cristian grinned. “Then he’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” Charles joined them at the island and wrapped his arms around Jake from behind. Kissed his temple. “I truly hope so.”

Jake held up what looked like turkey and Swiss on rye, and Charles took a big, solid bite.

Dell observed Uncle Charles for the rest of lunch. How his hopeful mood shifted to obvious joy when Ryan joined them and put together a sandwich for himself. Jake left for work soon after, but their quintet kept up a steady stream of conversation. Ryan shocked the hell out of Dell by asking specific questions about the studio and what exactly Dell did.

After telling him about his camera work and photography, Dell mentioned the film he and Uncle Charles were working on, and their hopes to add a little something extra to their site. Ryan further shocked them all by—once the lunch fixings were put away—asking for a studio tour.

Uncle Charles looked absolutely charmed.

And Ryan was charming. Kind, humorous, so much different than the cousins Dell had grown up with. Ryan wasn’t a bully or a bigot, and he was putting in a real effort to know and accept all parts of his biological father’s life.

It was truly a beautiful thing to watch. Dell followed Ryan and Uncle Charles downstairs to show him around. The set was in one corner of the spacious room, their extra props and furniture in another. While Uncle Charles pointed out the toy closet, no one opened it. Dell showed off his favorite camera and let Ryan take a few still shots of Uncle Charles.

“I have to say, man,” Dell said on the walk back upstairs, “you are being super chill about all this.”

Ryan didn’t answer until they were in the foyer. “I’m not perfect. I have stuff in my past that gives me no room to judge the choices or actions of other people, so I try to listen and understand. Unless your actions hurt animals. Then I’ll judge you right into my closed fist.”

Dell grinned at his cousin. “Same. About animals and stuff in my past. Maybe we’ll be close enough someday that we can talk about it.”

“I’d like that.”

Uncle Charles eyeballed the back of Ryan’s head as they entered the kitchen, probably as curious as Dell about Ryan’s past. They had several decades to catch up on, and it sounded as if Ryan had some skeletons of his own in his closet. Taro and Cris were playing cards at the kitchen table, and after a bit of chair shuffling, they had chips out and a proper poker game of Five Card Draw going. Not for real money, but for fun.

Ryan didn’t have much of a poker face, and neither did Uncle Charles, and they sat beside each other, opposite Dell and Taro. The resemblance was amazing to see in the eyes and shape of Ryan’s face. Dell’s heart ached a tiny bit for himself; Uncle Charles had told him more than once that he considered Dell a son. Would that change?

Nah. Uncle Charles had room enough in his heart for two sons, just like he had room for two lovers. Dell missed having Jake with them, but he was there in spirit, and Ryan seemed to fit right in with their teasing and jokes. Taro had a perfect poker face and was really good at the game, so he ended up with the most chips at the end of an hour of playing.

Dell elbowed Taro. “I think Mr. Moneybags over here should buy us all dinner.”

Taro squawked. “We weren’t paying for real money, you know.”

“I did mean to ask you, Ryan,” Uncle Charles said. “Would you prefer to eat here, or go out?”

“I’d like to go out, actually,” Ryan replied. “I want to see more of the area while I’m here. If that’s okay?”

“Certainly.”

“Cool.” Ryan grinned at his father. “It’s not dinnertime yet. How about a round of Texas Hold ‘Em?”

“Sounds like a plan, son. Sounds like a terrific plan.”