Big plans for the cafe.
Need your help.
Come after close tonight, 6:30.
Adam parked his car in front of the café. The text messages had come from Rebecca earlier that afternoon. He’d texted her to ask her what was up, but she hadn’t replied.
The sign in the café’s door said Closed. The lights were off in the display cases, but he could see Rebecca sitting at one of the tables, talking to someone who had his back to Adam. Adam let himself in, and the bell over the door tinkled.
“Oh good, you’re here!” Rebecca hopped up from her chair and came toward him. She hugged him, but Adam didn’t bring his arms up to return the gesture. He was too focused on the man across the room, who had just turned around.
It was Kyle.
Holy shit.
It was a different Kyle.
Holy fucking shit.
Adam could barely process what he was seeing. The rumpled skinny-jeaned comic book T-shirted single-dad man-boy was gone. He had transformed, suddenly sophisticated and confident and unspeakably attractive.
“I think you know Mr. Fenton,” Rebecca said, but Adam couldn’t take his eyes off Kyle. He took in the narrow-cut blazer with the vest buttoned snugly underneath it, and the gray pants stretching down long legs to black leather shoes that pointed at the toes. Even his face was different; it seemed leaner, older. Adam couldn’t turn away. That was why he saw the moment that Kyle’s blank smile faded, and his stare hardened.
“What’s going on?” Adam asked.
“I was about to ask the same thing,” Kyle’s voice matched his expression. The sound made Rebecca still.
“It’s like I was telling you,” she said. “I want to plan a celebration. I’ve owned the café for five years, and I want to plan . . .” Her voice faltered, as Kyle’s face darkened.
“What does Mr. Hathaway have to do with your café?” Kyle asked.
Rebecca’s cheery expression faded a little, but she kept talking. “He’s my brother and—”
“Your brother?”
Adam had a sinking sensation that had not been the right answer.
“Yes and—”
“Did you put her up to this?” Kyle was talking to Adam now. His eyes, normally dark chocolate brown, were sharp and flinty. Adam still wasn’t clear on what was going on, but whatever it was, it was going south quickly.
“No!” he said. And when he saw the scowl on Rebecca’s face, he was forced to add, “That is, I told her about what you do and—”
“Did my dad put you up to this?”
“What?” This was Rebecca. “No! I mean he comes into the café sometimes and he said you’d come back to town and that you’d be looking for work. I just thought that—”
Kyle shook his head. He turned away from them and gathered up a stack of papers from the table. There was a laptop set up too, with a slideshow running pictures of a flashy party.
Oh shit.
“It’s what I do now.”
Kyle had said that when Adam had asked him about work the other night. Based on the way he’d frowned, it was clear it wasn’t what he’d always done or what he wanted to be doing long-term.
“But I need an event planner. I wanted to talk about—” Rebecca was still talking. Adam put a hand on her arm and, mercifully, she stopped.
“I’m sorry.” Kyle packed the laptop into a black case. “There’s obviously been a misunderstanding. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m a professional and I don’t need a handout.” His voice wavered and Adam’s gut clenched. “I’m sure you’ll find you’re capable of organizing this on your own. I’m sure Mr. Hathaway can . . .” He faltered, cleared his throat, and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Mr. Hathaway is very capable . . . Excuse me.”
Rebecca went to go after him, and Adam stepped in front of her. Kyle hurried out the café door. The bell tinkled overhead. It was then that Adam noticed Kyle’s van parked on the street.
As soon as the van drove away, Rebecca turned on him.
“Oh my god, Adam! What the hell?”
Adam glared at her. “Exactly, Rebecca, what the hell? What the hell were you thinking?!”
“I wanted to help!” She glared at him. “I don’t know what happened. He arrived and he was amazing! He had these ideas, and then you showed up and it all went to hell. Why is that, Adam?”
“Did you tell him you were my sister?”
“What?”
“Did you tell him you were my sister? When you asked him to organize your—” He couldn’t remember what she’d said she was planning to do.
“Anniversary?”
“Your anniversary. Fuck, Rebecca!” He was yelling now, but tried to rein his temper back in. “Did you tell him?”
“No! Why would it matter? I had an event; he’s an event planner. You said so.” Rebecca had grilled him for an hour the day before about his dinner at the Fenton’s. “I thought it was a great idea. He’d organize the party and you’d help him. I thought you could spend some time with him. The two of you could get to know each other . . .” She flailed. Adam’s nostrils flared.
“This was a matchmaking scheme?” He sat down in one of the café chairs. The situation was worse than he’d imagined.
“You were so happy yesterday.” Tears welled in Rebecca’s eyes. “Happier than I’ve seen you since you came here. You kept talking about him.”
“Because you kept asking about him! You wouldn’t leave me alone!”
“I just want you to find someone.” She slumped into a chair opposite and buried her face in her hands. “Oh god. This was a really bad idea.”
“No shit.”
“Swear jar!”
They sat like that for a minute in silence. Adam stared out the window at the empty parking spot where Kyle’s van had been, then shook his head and turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked.
“I can’t talk to you anymore tonight.”
“Adam, wait!” Rebecca called behind him, but Adam kept walking.
In his car, he called Kyle’s number, but wasn’t surprised when the call went to voice mail. He typed out a couple of versions of the same text message, but nothing sounded like it would be enough, so he deleted them. He sighed. This was pointless. He’d see Kyle again at school. If he didn’t hear from him before that, Adam would make sure to apologize then.
He headed for home, but had only been driving a few minutes when he saw the van parked in the lot at Morrison’s. Adam’s first instinct was to keep driving, maybe try calling again when he got to his apartment, but instead he made a U-turn and pulled in next to the van.
Morrison’s was mostly empty when he entered. Kyle was visible at the bar, where he’d hung his jacket over the back of his chair. The white sleeves of his shirt seemed bright in the dim room. Adam approached and ignored the urge to run his hands across Kyle’s shoulders to try to ease some of the tension out of them. Instead, he sat down on the next stool over.
Kyle picked up a shot glass full of brown liquor and downed it, then set the glass next to the two empty ones on the bar. “Go away, Adam.”
Adam ignored the twinge of hurt that the first time Kyle called him by his first name was with so much anger. Kyle signaled to the bartender and raised two fingers. The bartender glanced at the empty shot glasses, then turned to Adam.
“Anything for you?” he asked.
“I’ll have a Coke.” Adam had a feeling staying sober was going to be important.
“Why are you here?” Kyle was still staring straight ahead.
“I thought you’d go home.”
Kyle smiled, mocking. “I thought I would too. But coming back so soon would have been a giveaway and I told them . . .” He bounced a knee up and down from the footrest on his chair, leaving his forearms braced on the bar. “I needed some time.”
Background noise filled the space between them for a minute, the sound of the few other conversations in the room, and acoustic music played quietly over the speakers. The bartender returned, set Kyle’s shots in front of him, and the Coke in front of Adam. Kyle downed the first one, then sat, running a finger along the side of the other glass. Adam didn’t touch his drink.
“Kyle, I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . . Rebecca texted me at work and said to come to the café. She didn’t tell me why. If she had I would have—”
“You would have what?” Kyle picked up the shot glass and drank it. He grimaced as he swallowed.
Adam struggled to answer the question. He would have told her it was a bad idea? Not gone home to change out of his work clothes? Not that it would have mattered. Nothing in his wardrobe of chain-retailer pants and collared shirts would have stood up to what Kyle was wearing. Everything about his appearance tonight was polished. The shirt fit him perfectly, the vest cut in a way that seemed edgy. The change in him went all the way to his hair, which was slicked back away from his face, making his cheekbones stand out. He looked about ten years older than he had as he’d laughed with his daughter over cupcakes.
“It was a bad idea,” Adam said. “Rebecca, she’s . . . it’s like she’s been a mom since she was Caroline’s age. She looks out for people.”
Kyle let out a hard bark of laughter.
“And you what?” he said. “You thought you could get her to take care of me? You told her about your dinner with poor Single Dad Kyle, and how he’s struggling with his rich bitch clients who make him plan their vacations and write their blog posts, and you said ‘wouldn’t it be nice if we could throw him a bone?’”
“No! It wasn’t like that. She’s my sister. We talk. She asked what you did for a living, I told her, that’s the end of it.”
“Because I don’t need anything from you,” Kyle continued as if Adam hadn’t spoken. “We’re fine. Caroline and me, we’re fine. We don’t need any favors. The two of us are doing fine.” He grabbed one of the empty shot glasses and banged it on the bar. The bartender glanced towards them but Adam waved him off.
“It’s only a temporary thing,” he said. “Being at my dad’s. It’s temporary. We weren’t going to make it in Seattle. Not with my job, and Dad said . . . Just a temporary thing.”
“Of course it is.”
“It’s what I had to do for Caroline, you know?” Kyle was still going. “She needed . . . she needs two parents. I can’t . . . I’m not enough. I barely know what I’m doing half the time, and she needs . . .” He tapped a finger on the bar.
Adam didn’t say anything. He’d only seen them together a few times, but it had been enough to show him that Kyle was a great dad. He didn’t think that was what the other man wanted to hear right then though. Kyle waved to the bartender, who stopped in front of them.
“You sure?” The bartender glanced at the empty shot glasses and then at Adam, who shrugged. What was he supposed to say?
He’s had enough.
I’m just his daughter’s teacher.
The bartender pulled out another glass, but it was a tumbler this time. He filled it with ice and then poured a single shot of whiskey into the bottom and placed it in front of Kyle. He lifted it with a wobbly hand, inspected the glass, and then rested it against his forehead.
“It’s so easy to focus on the child. And I get that. I’m all she’s got now.” He paused and Adam nodded.
“I know.”
“I’m there for her. All the fucking time. Because that’s what she needs.”
“You’re a great dad, Kyle.”
“But what about me? People always ask about Caroline. Is she making friends? It must be so hard for her, losing her mom so young.” The last words were faint, and Kyle took a sip of his drink.
“It must be hard.” Adam said it mostly to fill the space. Kyle shook his head.
“I lost my best friend.” He stared at the melting ice in his glass. “She went out one night, some asshole in a BMW couldn’t be bothered to check the intersection before he turned, and I lost my best friend.”
Adam’s heart froze. He opened his mouth. He didn’t know what he was going to say. It didn’t matter, because Kyle’s sad eyes were strangling him anyway. Kyle drained the rest of his drink and slithered down from his chair. His long slim body fit into the space between the bar, but as he stood he knocked the chair back and it tumbled over. He seemed confused about where the chair had come from, while he patted at his chest.
“What are you doing?” Adam asked as he righted the chair.
“I should go home.” Kyle ran his hands over his clothes again. “Where’s my wallet?” Adam sighed and took out his own wallet to cover their bill. Kyle turned in slow circles, and Adam kept an eye on him, half afraid he’d fall over. He didn’t know Kyle well enough to know how he handled his liquor, but that had been a lot of whiskey for most mortals.
Kyle’s blazer still hung off the back of the chair. Adam felt through the jacket’s pockets until he heard the jingle of keys, and he pulled them out.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said.
Kyle reached for the keys, then wobbled and had to grab for the chair to keep himself upright. “Probably a good idea.”
“Come on.” Adam wrapped an arm around Kyle’s waist.
“You’re very warm, Mr. Hathaway.” Kyle giggled. Adam ground his teeth. The entire evening had been a disaster, and it only seemed to be getting worse.
The walk out to the parking lot took forever. The liquor had hit Kyle hard. He turned out to be a cuddly drunk. Trying to get him into Adam’s car was like trying to get an angry octopus in a shoebox; arms and legs materialized out of nowhere. His hands kept sliding over Adam’s body in a pleasantly distracting way, but eventually, Adam got him in and buckled. He put the blazer over Kyle’s lap.
“Olivia always liked the professor jacket better.”
The words felt like ice in Adam’s chest.
When he got in the driver’s side of the car, he looked over to find Kyle already asleep in the passenger seat. His head was tipped back, his mouth open. Adam sighed and put the car in gear.
He’d only gone a few blocks when he remembered Kyle’s words. “Coming back so soon would have been a giveaway and I told them . . .” They came to a stoplight, and Adam rested his head on the steering wheel for a minute. He glanced at Kyle again, really considered his clothes, so different than anything he’d seen him in before. A large watch with a silver face peeked out from the cuff of his shirt. There had been the pictures, on his laptop, the ones of the fancy party. Adam’s stomach sank as he realized Kyle had been there to pitch an event like that, and had made sure to dress the part too.
Shit.
He couldn’t take Kyle home like this, hammered and full of self-pity. He didn’t want to explain it to Kyle’s father or, worse, Caroline, if she was still awake.
Adam thought about taking Kyle home to his place, but when Adam nudged him, Kyle didn’t move. Trying to wrestle his gangly unconscious frame up the three flights of stairs to the apartment was a bad idea so, instead, he turned the radio on and drove around town.
He wasn’t sure how long he drove. He went past the school and the police station, Rebecca’s subdivision and his own apartment. He drove past the hospital and down the main strip past the café again. He drove until his eyes were heavy, then he pulled into an empty parking lot at the municipal baseball diamond and nudged Kyle, who moaned, but didn’t wake up. Unsure what else to do, Adam shut the car off, tilted his own seat back, and closed his eyes.
He might have been asleep for a minute or an hour when he heard Kyle say his name.
“Adam, wake up.”
Adam blinked and sat up.
Kyle had managed to get his jacket back on. His hair was a mess, as if he’d run his fingers through it. The car was silent, except for the sound of rain on the windshield, which must have started sometime after Adam had fallen asleep.
“You okay?” Adam asked.
“You can take me home now.” You can take me home now. Not Can you take me home? As if he knew what Adam had done.
“Sure.”