Chapter Seven
Joaquim
#poutymiserablealphamissinghisomegahotnursewhoop
The flight was miserable. Usually, I loved air travel. It was like you were moving, and time was suspended all around you.
Of course, it wasn’t, but I liked it.
But from New Orleans to Portland was extra miserable. I intended to drown my sorrows in a glass of whiskey, but the hospital might call me in to work after I got there, and I didn’t want to be inebriated. I’d emailed them from the flight to let them know I’d be in town early if they wanted to schedule me early.
I threw my head back against the headrest listening to the captain talk about landing shortly. I didn’t want to be in Portland. I needed to be with Brent, strolling down some lazy French Quarter street hand in hand.
But he was probably living his life already, and this nurse just a memory—a story he told his friends about the hot guy he nailed in New Orleans.
Out the window, Portland looked pristine. I’d read a good bit about the city on the flight and found it contemporary with a hipster flare, my kind of place, like my kind of man.
I swiped my phone open and sent a quick text message to my dad to let him know where I was. We texted most days and once in a while, if I visited a place my dad liked, I would Facetime him and let him get a real view of my destination.
Technology, he said, was a miracle.
While on my phone, I checked Twitter and almost yelped out loud when seeing my notifications. Apparently, my depressed Tweet got quite the buzz from other omega and alpha couples, along with singles.
They were using the hashtag #FindtheMardiGrasHoney and commenting like crazy. My account had gotten over six hundred followers in a few hours.
I figured I might as well update them.
In Portland now. Missing my #MardiGrasHoney
Shortly after, the flight attendant made the call for everyone to turn off their phones for landing. I groaned mentally. One night with Brent, and all of a sudden my life didn’t hold the same meaning. Instead of being excited about spending time in a new city, I was wondering where he was, what he was doing, and if he was absolutely needing my touch as much as I needed his.
Probably not. Otherwise, he would’ve stuck around.
I got off the plane and turned my phone back on just as my dad was attempting to reach me via video chat. I accepted and let him get a view of the airport, which he was not pleased about. He always wanted to see something exciting, like he was touring the cities with me.
I put in my earbuds. “How is life, my son?” he asked.
“It’s life, Dad. It’s just work and travel. That’s it.”
I looked down at the phone to see his confused expression. “Mijo, you just lied to me. Tell me the truth.”
“I didn’t lie, Dad,” I lied again. Double lying to my dad was a mistake.
“You did the thing with your lip. You’ve been curling one side of your lip when you tell an untruth since you were in kindergarten lying to me about what you’d done with all your lunch money after the school called and accused me of not giving you any.”
I’d spent it on a Spiderman action figure.
“It’s complicated, Dad.”
“Mmm-hmm, because your old dad is such a vavoso I can’t understand it?”
“I met this guy in New Orleans,” I started, but didn’t quite know how to finish.
“Ugh-oh,” he said.
“Why ugh-oh?” I looked down to see him really close to the screen, like he’d leaned in to hear the gossip.
“Because if you met someone in New Orleans and you’re in Portland, that’s ugh-oh.”
He was right, it was no good.
“Yeah well, um, the next morning, he was gone. No note, no thanks for the screw, nothing.” Okay, that was probably a little too much information for my dad, but he asked for it.
“You didn’t get his number or anything?” A concerned tone lay underneath his question, but he didn’t dare judge me. He knew I was a big boy.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Last name?” Judgey.
“Nope.”
He breathed out a worried sigh. “A special one?”
A smile played at my mouth, thinking about the first time I’d seen Brent on that balcony. Hell yes, he was one of a kind, and to me he was the only one of a kind I wanted.
“You have no idea, Dad. But he’s gone. And I have to move on, you know?”
I managed to grab my luggage and get a taxi while still talking to my dad on video chat, yet I couldn’t get the phone number of the guy I was practically head over heels for. Idiot.
“I know, but you can still hope, right? So, I was thinking I hadn’t seen my son in almost five months. For someone who travels, it seems you have a hard time getting a flight home.”
He was joking—sorta.
“Why don’t you come to Portland and visit me? There’s beaches here and apparently some of the best coffee in this part of the country. We could have some fun.”
“I wouldn’t be getting in the way of your game?”
I rolled my eyes. My dad, worried about getting in the way of me getting guys.
“No, Dad. I think I used all my game getting Brent but then didn’t have enough to keep him. How fast can you leave?”
My mom had died too young from thyroid cancer. He’d grieved hard but, three years later, was probably bored to tears.
“I can get on a plane tomorrow. Nothing here for me now with your mom gone and your brothers working.”
“As soon as I get to my hotel, I’ll book you a flight, okay? I have to go, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you, mijo. I’m going to pack.”