Damien chucks his house keys onto the hall table, drops his carry-on bag on the floor by the door, and shrugs out of his leather jacket. He yawns. Winnipeg to New York is only a five-hour flight, and he had to be up at the crack of dawn to catch the first plane of the day. He couldn’t wait to get home.

The loft apartment is quiet. Damien smiles as he crosses into the open-plan kitchen. Brad and Zoe don’t expect him back until tomorrow. He imagines the surprise on their faces when they come through the door. Brad will be home soon, he works a half-day today so he can be home for Zoe. Damien has ascertained that on the phone the night before. As he preps the coffee maker, he calculates in his head. Rose will bring Zoe around four, so Damien and Brad will have a couple of hours to themselves. The coffee foams into the cup, and he daydreams about how they’ll celebrate their reunion.

He takes the frothy cappuccino over to the window in the living room. It’s a murky, chilly March day, but the view of the Manhattan Bridge is breathtaking in any weather. Pooling their money after selling both the Chinatown penthouse and the beautiful old brownstone on Garfield Place in haste has bought them a comfortable, luxurious two-floor apartment on the top floor of one of DUMBO’s prestigious warehouse conversions. It might not look very cozy from the outside, but its 24-hour doorman and central location convinced them both that it was the perfect base for the next few years. Brad, with his knack for hiring and instructing the best decorators, has made sure their shared apartment becomes a home, and a pleasant place for Zoe to grow up in. The color scheme is warm, the furniture maybe more playful and squishy than Brad would have chosen for himself. He picked out every piece only after consulting Damien’s little girl, and Zoe still proudly talks about how they went to the furniture shops in Chelsea to try out all the sofas.

Damien regards the huge, comfortable couch with fondness. Zoe chose well; this monster is big enough for all three of them to curl up on together and watch Disney movies.

He sits down now, relaxing into the softness with a sigh. For a few minutes, he just enjoys the peace, sipping his coffee. Then Brad’s key turns in the lock and Damien straightens up.

“Damien?” comes Brad’s voice from the hall, and a moment later, he appears through the high archway into the living area, beaming. “What are you doing here? We didn’t expect you until tomorrow!”

“Surprise!” Damien says and makes to get up. But Brad steps over to the sofa in a few quick strides and sinks down next to him, wrapping him up in his arms before Damien has made it out of the squishy seat.

“Good to see you,” Brad murmurs against his hair, his hands stroking Damien’s back. Damien blindly extends his arm until he can feel the mug making contact with the coffee table. Then he hugs Brad back.

“Good to see you, too,” he replies with a smile. “I missed you. And I missed home.”

Brad holds him for a few more moments. Damien is surprised. Brad isn’t the most demonstrative with the TLC. When he finally lets go, Damien studies his face.

“You okay?” he asks.

Brad nods. “Sure. Just glad to have you back. Though a week isn’t much time.”

“But then it’s only six more weeks, and I’m done with Gaukur for good,” Damien says. The thought doesn’t exactly fill him with joy, but the separation from his family is starting to wear him down.

“Until you find your next gig, and who knows where that’ll be,” Brad says, not sounding reassured.

“Actually,” Damien says, and takes Brad’s hands, “I do know.”

Brad looks up, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Remember the auditions for The Boys in the Band, that Off-Broadway play I tried for in January?”

“How could I forget?” Brad says with a chuckle. “I read the script with you so many times they could cast me in pretty much any of the roles.”

“Maybe they still need a grumpy extra,” Damien says, grinning. “Brad, I got the role of Michael!”

Brad’s eyes grow wide. “Really? Oh wow, congrats!” He hugs Damien again but then pulls back. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks, sounding put out.

“The call came yesterday, just after we got off the phone. And then the director told us we’d finish shooting early and get today off, so I rebooked my flight to tell you in person.”

Brad beams. “So if you’re on Broadway—”

“Off-Broadway,” Damien interrupts him.

“Whatever,” Brad continues. “If you’re doing theater in New York you don’t have to leave again anytime soon?”

“Not for work, no. We start rehearsals at the beginning of June, and the play’s initial run is all the way into December.” Damien smiles. “But I’d like to take you away somewhere, maybe in May. Ever been to Italy?”

“Italy?” Brad echoes. “All the way to Europe?”

“No, the Italy experience at Disney Land,” Damien says, rolling his eyes. “Of course Italy in Europe, doofus! Rome, Tuscany, Venice. And then, maybe, before we come back, we’ll stop in Paris for a couple days.” He holds Brad’s gaze. “What do you think?”

A smile spreads over Brad’s face. “I think I’d love that,” he says, and kisses Damien long and hard. When they break apart, he adds, “Hey, speaking of travel, guess what!”

“What?” Damien echoes.

“Eric and Neal are in China right now,” Brad beams.

“No way! Did they get approved?”

Brad nods. “They only got the news a week ago. They’ll be back in a fortnight, with their new daughter.”

“That’s great news,” Damien says. “They’ve waited long enough for her!”

“They have.” Brad looks happy. “Oh, hey, did you make that appointment with the acupressure guy?”

Damien nods. “Sure have. Day after tomorrow. Is four p.m. still good?”

“Guy’s on Warren Street, takes me five minutes from the office, so yes.” Brad smiles. He cups Damien’s face so that he can stroke his temple with one thumb. Damien closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

An osteopath who comes to set in Winnipeg for the minor injuries the actors suffer occasionally started doing acupressure for Damien’s migraines a few weeks ago. They’ve only had a handful of sessions, but Damien’s head hasn’t felt this good in years.

The osteopath suggested he should see a specialist in Manhattan, who can also teach him self-administered massage techniques. And Brad has asked to come along, so when Damien has an attack at home he can help him out.

Without opening his eyes, Damien takes Brad’s hand from his face and kisses the palm. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispers.

“If flying to the moon would get rid of your migraine, I’d charter us a rocket today,” Brad says emphatically.

Damien chuckles. He pulls Brad close and kisses him again. But before they can get into the swing of it, Brad pushes himself upright. Damien opens his eyes. Brad’s face bears an uncomfortable expression.

“What is it?” Damien asks, worried. “Has something happened?”

“Before we get distracted, I better tell you,” Brad says. “I had a call from Victor. You know I’ve been trying to find out how Vivienne is getting on.”

Damien’s heart sinks. He’s been badgering Brad to try and find out but in his excitement about the casting news and his anticipation of coming home, he’d forgotten about Viv for a few days. “What did Victor say?”

He’s been reluctant to ask around his own contacts about Viv. He still gets the chills when he thinks about what happened. The trial, highly publicized in the press, had brought to light just how much Viv had veered off into her own, crazy world. The showdown in his penthouse had been scary, but the thought that she’d followed him around the city for weeks, and that she’d been behind the paving stone through Brad’s window, was even more disturbing. Damien went to court only once, to give his statement. Seeing Viv, gaunt, pale, without makeup, her hair dull and untidy, her eyes lifeless from the anti-psychotic drugs, had been the saddest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

He both needs and doesn’t want to know. When Brad doesn’t immediately answer he asks again, “What did he say?”

“She’s no better,” Brad says, staring at his hands. “At first, they thought it was just a case of narcissistic personality disorder. But her delusions are only getting worse. She still thinks she will have your baby soon. And…” He swallows hard. Damien takes his hand. Brad squeezes his fingers. “She tried to kill herself. Slit her wrists.” The last words come out in a whisper. Damien puts his arms around Brad and hugs him close. After what he’s been through with Aiden, nothing holds as much terror for Brad as suicide. Even the thought of Viv, who has put them through all this grief, trying to take her own life is torture to him.

After a long time in Damien’s embrace Brad sighs and sits up straight again. “You know what Victor said before we hung up? At least the movie’s doing well.” He gives a humorless laugh. “What an asshole.”

“He married Stef a few weeks ago,” Damien says. “Was in one of the gossip rags the production assistants like to read.”

The scandal of Victor Cahn divorcing his wife who is locked up in a mental hospital has exercised the gossip-hungry audiences for months. Damien is certain that the divorce, and now remarriage to Viv’s former assistant, are all part of the PR for Victor’s growing reputation of the enfant terrible that will secure him immortality in Hollywood.

“Ugh, sorry,” Brad says, rubbing his face and shaking his head to dispel the distasteful thoughts. “Have I ruined the mood?”

“I’m not sure,” Damien says, eager to forget, at least for a little while, what they can’t change anyway. “Let’s see…” He leans close, and give Brad a small, experimental kiss. Then he pulls away, making an exasperatedly pensive face. “Still not sure,” he says, pretending to frown.

Brad gives a little grin. “Here, let me try.” The next series of kisses grow more passionate, and Damien soon feels his jeans get tight. He sinks down, pulling Brad with him into the depth of the sofa. Brad chuckles.

“What?” Damien asks, breaking the kiss.

“Last night, Rose, Zoe, and I sat right here, singing Frozen songs,” Brad says, blushing. “Feels weird.”

“This is a multi-purpose sofa,” Damien murmurs, pulling Brad into a close embrace. “Lots of room for love right here.”

“Yeah,” Brad agrees with a smile that makes his entire face glow. “Lots of love.”