Chapter Fourteen

The next couple of days at Grounds N’at went by smoother and faster than they had in months. So far so good with the new baristas Brian had hired. Training was going well. A steady flow of customers came and bought drinks, cookies, and brownies. Pastries were delivered on time. The books were balanced and, though the numbers were very tight, he was in the black. Sam and his crew filtered in and out with regularity.

Brian kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sure, he was still working ridiculous hours and was exhausted all the time, but it couldn’t be this easy, could it?

In a fit of desperation or need for something different in his caffeine routine, Brian switched from shots of espresso to Americanos with a pump of vanilla. No cream though. Not yet.

God, how he wanted Rob. His presence. His laughter. Everything. He’d had this kind of high with Anita, except with Rob it felt deeper. Needier. More urgent. He didn’t know why.

Because you’re fucking in love with him, you idiot.

Yeah, that. Too soon? Rob’s voice in his head. No, this was normal for him, the connection that stole his heart. He shoved away what also usually happened.

It helped that Rob was on the other end of his phone, either by voice or text, to keep him sane.

On Friday, Rob had sauntered in just before eight, waited, and chatted while Brian closed up the shop. They walked to Brian’s, matching strides. That night had been bliss and light. He’d cooked a quick meal for them and discussed Rob’s photos. After that, they’d tumbled into bed, hot and heavy for each other. He’d gone down on Rob, loving the taste of him, the way he took control and the deliciously dirty things he murmured in his British accent. They’d spent themselves twice that night before sleeping, and once again in the morning, horny as teenagers.

Admittedly, he’d not had a lot of sex back then. He doubted his muscles would have protested as much at eighteen, but he’d take the pain that came with age and experience. No awkwardness, no fumbling—even though he still wasn’t sure what he was doing much of the time.

He hadn’t asked Rob to fuck him yet and Rob hadn’t pressured at all, content with anything Brian was willing to do. Frotting. Blowjobs. Mutual masturbation. Letting Brian top him.

Rob was pleasure incarnate, his long body both pliable and domineering.

Brian wanted more than a quick overnight if he were going to bottom. He was nervous as fuck about the prospect, even after the amazing orgasm Rob had given him. Figured the extra time would help. Maybe.

Wouldn’t happen this weekend, though. He’d worked all Saturday training Lamont. Today was the monthly Sunday dinner with his parents and siblings.

He still had no clue how to tell any of them about Rob, especially his folks. Hey. No, I didn’t go to church on Easter. I’m not really going anymore. Oh, by the way, I’m dating a guy. Fraught with peril, even if his parents had always been open-minded. They were still very Catholic in the end.

Today felt like a promise, though. Golden and full of sunlight with fluffy white clouds in the sky. The trees were leafing out, and all around spring had settled in and bloomed. He’d spent the morning working on editing Rob’s photos. Man, if he’d had half Rob’s untrained eye, he could’ve made a living as a professional photographer. Just about every shot from their trip to the Carrie Furnace was well-composed, on point, and stunning. There were little hiccups with the lighting and cropping, but he could teach Rob how to avoid those.

With a little post-processing, no one would ever know anyway.

Shit, he couldn’t wait to show Rob the shots. Utterly professional pieces. They deserved to be framed, sold, and enjoyed like the works of art they were.

He still couldn’t get over what Rob had said about his parents and their lack of support for the arts. Maybe because Brian had grown up in Pittsburgh, art and music had been encouraged right along with everything else, despite his parent’s blue-collar background.

It helped that the Carnegie Art Museum was attached to the Natural History Museum, which was attached to the Carnegie Library. That had been a one-stop shop of brain-filling enjoyment when he’d been a kid.

When the clock ticked to one, he grabbed his helmet, backpack, and bike and headed out the door. After a quick stop at the coffee shop to see how Mark was getting on with Rich, and to grab an Americano to drink, he rode down to his folks’ place.

Weird to think that Rob was only a few blocks away in Mrs. Kaminski’s house. He circled the parklet, fighting the urge to show up on Rob’s doorstep. There was still time before he needed to be at his parents’. But no, not with the way he and Rob melded so quickly whenever they were together. They’d fall into conversation or tumble into bed if he stopped there first, and he’d never make it to dinner.

He needed to open up to his parents and siblings. Over the summer, there’d be family events he’d want to bring Rob to. He simply couldn’t hide this. He didn’t want to.

He headed down the street in the other direction and hopped off his bike when he got to the house he’d grown up in. Only his parents’ car was parked out front. As was usual, he was the first of his siblings to show. After chaining his bike to the porch, he walked in.

Smelled like home. A zip of spices, some kind of lemon cleaner, and a trace of his mom’s perfume. “Hey, I’m here,” he called.

“In the kitchen.” His mother’s strong voice echoed through the front room. He dropped his helmet and bag on the couch and headed through the dining room to the large kitchen at the back of the house—the reason his mother had chosen this place way back when—or so she’d said.

Cooking was his mother’s vocation and his father’s art. No one left the Keppler house hungry, ever. Often they left with extra food.

Family Sundays were usually Italian, but his mom had branched out in his youth, cooking just about everything under the sun and trading recipes with neighbors. Scouring cookbooks for new and interesting dishes.

His mom, her long silver-and-blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, was pouring sauce into a large baking dish when he entered the room.

Brian bounded over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The pan was full of wide noodles with ricotta peeking out at the edges. Fuck yes, lasagna!

His dad was probably putting the noodle maker away. While lasagna was Dad’s meal, since he’d retired, his parents cooked together. “Meat or spinach?”

“Spinach.” She pecked him on the cheek in return. “Zoe has decided to be vegetarian again.”

Zoe had been vegetarian in high school, but quit while in college, due to the wacky schedule every student had. “Well, it is a healthy choice.” He’d even cut back on meat.

Her mother chuckled. “Those were her exact words.”

His brother, Len, would give Zoe some flack, but he loved spinach lasagna more than regular, so there’d be peace.

Food always brought them together.

“Dad in the basement?”

As if the question had summoning powers, the stairs from the basement creaked and his father appeared through the door. He brandished two wine bottles. “No meat in these!” He set the bottles down, and clapped Brian on the back. “Great to see you.”

His father looked good, which was a relief. He’d had a bout of bronchitis the previous month that had left him looking far older than Brian wanted to think about. The telltale signs that the years were rolling by were there, though. His father’s hair was thinner and not the near-black it had been. Both his parents had more lines on their faces than Brian wanted to acknowledge.

But right now, both were healthy and happy. Even though he had his issues with God, he sent up a silent thank-you anyway.

Couldn’t hurt.

His father sat down at the kitchen table. “How’s life treating you?”

There was the flutter of nervousness. I met a guy dad. I think I’m in love. Was that even something he could say? “Oh, the usual ups and downs. Shop’s been busy and I’ve been there a lot. Lost some baristas. Replacing them has been hard, but I just hired three new people, so hopefully things will ease up.” He grabbed a chair and joined his father at the table. “Life’s good, otherwise.” Really good. Robert Ancroft good. Heat touched his cheeks.

Shit, this was going to be hard.

The blush must not have been visible, since his father didn’t react. “Good help’s hard to get. Hope the new folks work out for you.”

“Me too.” He leaned against the table. “I can’t keep working the hours I’ve been working. I’ve been . . . short with people. That doesn’t help.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, hon.” His mother slid the pan into the oven. “You’re human.”

Couldn’t help the smile. That was a common refrain, one he’d heard throughout his childhood. “I know.”

His mom dusted her hands together. “Now that dinner is in the oven . . .”

She didn’t have to say more than that. Both he and his father rose and headed toward the sink. His mom would wash, he’d dry and his dad would put everything away.

Helping with the dishes now meant he could beach his overstuffed ass on the couch after dinner while his brother and sister took care of clearing the table. They’d grouse about how unfair that was, but it wasn’t his fault he was the clever one.

“How was the ride down?” His mother filled the basin. “I always worry about you and that bike of yours. Too many accidents in the news.”

“The ride was beautiful. This spring’s been good for biking. Did a bunch of trail riding the other weekend.” He paused. “And I stick to the quieter streets and the bike lanes, Mom.”

“Don’t hassle him, Alice. Exercise is good for stress.”

She rolled her eyes and threw the utensils that couldn’t go into the dishwasher into the sink. “I don’t hassle.”

Brian laughed. “Hey, I worry about the cars, too.” He took a wooden spoon from his mom, dried it, and twirled it in his hands before turning it over to his dad.

“Hmm.” His mother eyed him and handed over a large plate to dry. “Who’s the woman?”

He nearly dropped the thing. “What?”

“You have that glow about you, hon. The one you get when you’ve started seeing someone. So, who is she?”

He dried the plate carefully, his hands shaky and his face red hot.

“Um.” This was so not the way he intended to come out to his parents. Holy shit. He handed the plate over to his dad and braced himself against the kitchen counter for support, heart ramming against his ribs. Both his mom and his dad had confused expressions. “It’s . . . he. A guy. I’m dating a guy.”

His parents looked at him, and then at each other.

“You’re gay?” his mom said.

Good God, his legs were shaking. “No . . . I’m bi. Bisexual. I . . . like women and men.”

“Well, that explains it.” His dad walked over to the cabinet and put the plate away.

“So, then who’s the guy?” His mom washed a mixing bowl, then held it out to him.

Brian stood still, gripping the counter, staring at the water dripping off the bowl. This was not how he expected his parents to react. Or not react. Slowly, he reached out and took the bowl. “You . . . what explains what?”

“Oh.” A touch of color blushed his mother’s cheeks. “When you were younger, we thought you might be gay and kept expecting you to come out, but you never did. Then you started dating women . . . and . . .” She shrugged.

“We figured we were wrong,” his dad said. “But I guess we weren’t entirely off base, huh?”

Wait, what? “You thought I was gay?”

“You collected a lot of photos of that young actor from My So-Called Life, dear.”

Oh God, yeah. He had. He coughed. “Well, okay.” He handed his father the bowl and took a pile of damp utensils from his mom.

“And all those men’s health magazines,” his father added.

That too. Lithe and muscular male bodies. He also had pored over the ads for guys clothing. “I was . . . confused as a teen.”

“Sounds like you weren’t at all.” His dad pulled out a drawer and put the mixing bowl with the others.

His mom bumped his shoulder with hers. “So what’s his name?”

“Rob. Robert. But he likes Rob.” He was babbling. His parents were okay with this? They . . . kinda knew?

The world tilted, righted itself, then tilted again. He steadied himself against the counter and took a breath. “You don’t mind?”

Another exchange of glances and his Dad cleared his throat. “You remember Joe, from the factory?”

One of Dad’s best work buddies. There were three of them, his dad, Joe, and Darren.

Oh. Oh. “Wait, are you about to tell me that Joe and Darren . . .?”

His dad shrugged. “Yeah. Found out a couple years ago. They’re getting married this summer, now that they can.”

Well, shit. “This is weird.”

“Bri.” His mom washed her hands, dried them, then pulled him into a hug. “Did you think we’d disown you? Hate you? Never!”

“You’re our son, Brian.” His dad’s voice was uncomfortably thick. “We’ll always love you.”

He relaxed into his mom’s embrace. “I didn’t know what to think. I mean—” He drew back. “You guys still go to church and everything.”

A snort from his father. “There’s God and Jesus and the Mass. There’s the church and the people . . . and then there’s the hierarchy.” He waved a hand. “Those bishops should be plucking logs from their eyes rather than pointing fingers.”

Wow. His heart thudded in his chest. “So, if I brought him to dinner?”

“You’d better,” his mom said. “You should have brought him tonight.”

“I still have to tell Len and Zoe,” he said. “I want to make sure everyone’s okay before . . .”

Back at the sink, his mom washed a pot and handed it over. “They’ll be thrilled.” She huffed a laugh. “Well, Zoe might feel outnumbered in the guy department, but she’ll come around.”

Zoe loved meeting his girlfriends. Grew up with too many boys, she said. He dried the pot and handed it over.

His mom bumped him again. “So what’s Rob do? How’d you meet?”

A warmth settled over him. They really were okay with this. Holy shit. “You realize I’m going to have to repeat all of this at dinner, right?”

His father laughed. “Can’t stop your mom.”

No, he couldn’t. While they finished up with the dishes, he filled his parents in on Rob and about the time his mom stopped grilling him, the front door banged open.

“Hey! Two for one!” his brother called. That was followed by a yelp. “Hey!”

“I’m my own person.” Zoe’s voice echoed through the air.

They thumped into the kitchen. “Didn’t have to smack me.” Len rubbed his arm.

“Sister’s prerogative.”

After that, it was hugs and chats and noise and wonder. Brian was so light-headed and relieved that he wasn’t sure his feet were touching the floor.

When the oven timer beeped, their mom shooed Brian and his father from the kitchen. “Go pour the wine.”

She had Zoe and Len make a salad.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting around the table, staring at the lasagna their mom set down.

“It’s like you know me,” Len said.

“I gave birth to you.” His mom sat back. “Let’s say grace.”

They did, and while he repeated the words by rote, everything his dad said flooded back. Joe and Darren. His criticism of those running the church. The acceptance that he was dating a guy.

He couldn’t help the giggle when they finished.

“What’s your problem today?” That from Zoe. “You’ve been in the wine already?”

“No,” he said. “I—uh—” He caught his mom’s eye.

“Brian has some news.”

Both his siblings stared at him.

Geez. Thanks, Mom. Brian swallowed and heat rose to his face. “I have a boyfriend.”

They stared at him harder.

“I’m bisexual. I met a guy. His name’s Rob and he’s kind of—” That giddy laugh escaped again. “—Amazing.”

Zoe leaned back in her chair. “Wow.”

His brother, however, nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Wait, what?” Zoe whipped her head to stare at Len.

Len snorted. “Oh, come on. You ever go into his room when we were growing up?”

Brian rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe the posters on the wall had been a giveaway. All the actors and actresses he’d found hot. “So this is news to no one, huh?”

“It is to me,” Zoe said, her face pink. “I kinda wanted to be the queer in the family, but you beat me to it.”

Oh. All of the attention shifted off of him. “Um . . . sorry?”

Zoe’s smile was sincere and joyous. “Hey, saved me having a heart attack figuring out how to tell Mom and Dad.”

“You know, we’re both sitting at the table . . .” His mom handed the salad to his dad and picked up a knife to cut into the lasagna.

She blushed harder. “I’m gay. Well, lesbian, but . . . yeah.”

He took the salad from his dad and fought the urge to burst out into a laughing fit. Man, he’d have a story to tell Rob tonight. After putting salad into his bowl, he handed it off to Len.

“Knew that, too,” Len said. “I’ve been in your room as well.” After taking his share, he passed it to Zoe.

“Doesn’t matter what any of you are,” their father said, gravel in his voice. “You’re our kids and we love you. End of story.”

“Not completely,” his mom said. “Are you seeing anyone, Zoe?

She rolled her eyes. “Mom!”

Len laughed.

Unexpected tears pricked in Brian’s eyes. His family loved him. Accepted him. One another. Nothing, and everything, had changed.

His dad always said there wasn’t anything more important than family. He held out his plate and his mom placed a nice large slice of lasagna on it. “Eat up,” she said.

Zoe talked a little about her girlfriend. Len, as usual, had no one in his life. “Kinda hard when work takes you to different cities all the damn time.” He shrugged and smiled, a picture of contentment. He loved flying, so Brian wasn’t surprised. “Maybe someday.”

Over dinner and wine and brownies for dessert, he spilled his guts, answering the questions about how he’d met Rob, what he did, and how serious things were.

After the last question, Brian bit his lip. “I don’t know. Maybe pretty serious? He’s . . .”

“. . . Dreeeeaaaamy?” his sister said.

He threw a napkin at her. “He’s British.” He paused. “And a redhead.”

“Oh God,” his brother said. “No wonder you’re glowing.”

“I am not!”

Len clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry to say, but you look happier than you have in years. Probably could read by you in a dark room.”

He couldn’t argue with that. At all.

By the end of the night, he was more than a little stuffed, had a whole container full of leftover lasagna and brownies, and really didn’t want to climb the hill back home on his bike in the dark. Thank God Len offered to drive him.

“Got a rack on the back of the SUV, and everything.”

Hugs all around. He pulled his sister close. “If you ever need to talk . . .”

She mock-punched him in the stomach. “Works both ways, you know.”

Yeah, he probably should call more often.

Detangling from their childhood home always took time, but eventually, he and Len got his bike on the SUV and were on their way. The silence between them was broken by Len.

“I’m really happy for you. Seriously.” A quick glance. “My brother. Dating a high-powered CEO.”

“I don’t know about high-powered . . .”

“Dude, I read the business news. I know who Robert Ancroft is.”

Weird, really, weird to hear Rob’s name from his brother’s lips. “I don’t read the business news. I think he likes that about me.”

Len laughed. “Probably because you treat him like a normal guy.”

Rob, normal? Rob was the hot guy he wanted to pull into bed. The one he couldn’t get enough of. The one he’d had on his knees.

He kept that to himself—some things you didn’t share with your sibs. He shrugged. “I’m just grateful Mom and Dad and you guys are okay with it.”

“Bri, you’re you. Of course we’re okay.”

“Not all families are.” He studied his hands. “I get the feeling Rob’s weren’t.”

Len was quiet for a while. “You’re my little brother. I’ll always have your back.”

They pulled up in front of his apartment. “You have my back ’cause I’m always one step ahead of you.”

Len punched him in the arm, then pulled him into a hug. “You’re a jackass.”

“Love you, too, Len.”

He got out, grabbed his bike, and headed up into his apartment. Once everything was put away, he changed into a pair of gray sweats and flopped down on his bed.

Almost eleven—dinners at his parents seemed to go on forever and yet fly by too fast. He sent a quick text to Rob.

You still awake?

A minute later, his phone rang. “Yes, of course I am.”

Hearing Rob’s voice warmed his blood. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. How’d it go with your family.”

He couldn’t help the laugh. “Unbelievably well. They knew.”

“That you were dating me?” Incredulousness in his voice.

Brian slid a hand over his bare stomach. “No, that I was bi.” He paused. “Well, not exactly that I was bi . . .” He filled Rob in on the conversation he’d had with his parents.

A laugh. “Good lord, that must have been something.”

“It gets better. So Mom basically set me up to spill my guts at the dinner table to my siblings . . . and after I did, my sister quips that she wanted to be the queer of the family.”

Silence, then a huff of laughter. “And no one set anything on fire?”

“Nah. Everything was cool. Though my mom was ticked that my sister’s been dating for six months and hasn’t brought a girlfriend over yet.”

Another exhale. “Jesus.” Rob’s voice was heavy with emotion. “Your family sounds amazing.”

Mist in his eyes and gravel in his throat. “They are. I want you to meet them.”

Whispered words from the other end. “I’d like that.”

“You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me. I want to share you with the world.”

“You’re fucking fearless,” Rob said. “And I love you.”

Those words were lightning in his heart. “Love you, too.” He did. God, he did.

They talked until far too late and after many yawns on both their parts, finally said good night. Brian slipped under his covers, set his alarm, and turned off the light.

His family. The shop. Rob. Everything was going to be okay.