“I’ll see you in a few hours?” Cameron leaned into the car, using the passenger door for balance.
“I’ll probably be back before you close.” Of course he would be back; Ira liked to make sure the other men who had their eye on Cameron knew he was taken. I’m possessive, Ira thought; sue me.
“Okay. Bye.”
With that, Cameron shut the door and made his way into the Loft. It looked moderately busy tonight.
Cameron was acting squirrelly. Ira had a feeling he knew what it was about, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. They’d been, if unofficially, living together for well over a month, almost two. Ira loved it. After spending two years in self-imposed solitary confinement, having Cameron in his house and life was weirdly perfect. But he had the impression Cameron was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Ira to ask him to move out, say enough was enough. Which he wouldn’t. Ira wanted Cam to stay, to be a part of his life, to live with him in the cabin permanently.
He’d had a chance to bring it up when Cameron had commented that the repairs on Sterling’s apartment were nearly finished despite the insurance company doing everything it could to drag its feet, but the moment passed and Ira hadn’t said what he wanted to say, which was “Stay here.” Admittedly, Ira harbored some lingering fear Cameron might refuse. It was a small but powerful doubt. He hadn’t said anything about the check Rachael had given him, either. Cameron was prickly about money, and Ira was pretty sure Cameron would think any money was a handout.
The money was half the proceeds from the sale of the house he and Rachael had owned together. Rachael had insisted that he take it. Ira wanted to use it to help them start a life together, to help Cameron pay for school if that’s what he wanted.
Not a handout; the money was a boost, a way for them to start out strong with Ira painting again and Cameron doing what he chose. Ira loved having Cameron around. He enjoyed his eclectic taste in music, his quiet sense of humor. His drive and independence. His determination to get through life no matter what it threw at him. But would Cameron tire of Ira?
Honestly, Ira wasn’t very worried about that. He and Cameron seemed to have more in common these days, not less. Now that Ira had set aside their age difference, he recognized that he’d been using it as a shield. From the first time he’d met Cameron, almost two years ago, he’d known they would be good together. He’d felt the attraction immediately, but he hadn’t forgiven himself for his life blowing up on him until now.
So Ira still hadn’t said anything, and now they were just four days from the dreaded Thanksgiving Event. Rachael and her boyfriend had rented a local vacation home to host the meal. At least it was on relatively neutral ground, and they had the cabin to retreat to if things went south. Erin had invited herself and Dane—Cameron had looked sheepish when he told Ira, but Ira didn’t mind, and where Rachael was concerned, the more the merrier. Jacob, of course, would be there, and he’d asked shyly if he could invite Marcus.
One other positive thing that had come of all this was that Ira had quit the coffee shop. There was enough in the bank for him to concentrate full-time on painting again, and he was going to try to take back his career. Sara had been sad, but Ira was resolute.
Privately, Ira thought some of the other employees were glad to see the last of him. The coffee shop had been a place for him to rest while he licked his wounds. That part of his life was past now. He’d even called Ray to see about a show in the future—when he had new work ready.
Ray had been very pleased. “I’ve been hoping to hear from you, since I’m down to one of your pieces. And, to be honest, it’s not your absolute best work.”
That news had been another chance for Ira to talk to Cameron about their future, but Cameron had been so excited for Ira that they’d gotten distracted, and afterward Ira still hadn’t figured out the best way to talk to him. Cameron was so sensitive about money. Ira was sure it came from continually feeling like he had to prove how strong he was, that he could make it on his own. Ira rolled his eyes. He knew how strong Cameron was and wished his boyfriend could see it for himself.
He checked the time on his phone. Cameron was off around ten. Jacob and Ira were meeting to go grocery shopping, presumably to buy out the entire place. Rachael had provided him with a list as long as his arm. After asking Cameron what his favorite Thanksgiving food was and getting the shy answer, “Dessert, of course—but I was never allowed to have much,” Ira planned to make seventeen different pies so Cameron could taste each one. What kind of parent wouldn’t let their kid have pie on Thanksgiving?
As he drove, he turned on the newest playlist Cameron had made. The songs were an eclectic collection ranging from Richard Thompson, Elvis Costello, and Lyle Lovett to Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, and Lianne La Havas, as well as a lot of stuff Ira didn’t recognize but enjoyed.
Jacob was waiting for him outside the front door of his building and came out to the curb as Ira pulled up.
“Are you ready for this?” Ira asked.
“I guess.” Jacob let out a gusty sigh. “I’m just not sure I’m ready for Thanksgiving with Mom and her new boyfriend, along with you and your boyfriend.”
“What about Marcus?” Ira slid the car into drive and pulled an illegal U-turn to head out to the store. “Don’t forget Cameron’s sister Erin and her husband.”
“Marcus can’t come. He said his mom would kill him if he missed dinner. He has a million siblings, and they all have kids, and Marcus is supposed to watch them while his mom and sisters cook.”
“Isn’t Marcus studying to be a chef?”
“He is. I guess even though his family is cool with him and everything, his mom’s not cool with him wanting to go to cooking school.”
Jacob’s profile in the darkness of the car was morose.
“Can you go there? Or can we plan dinner for a time when Marcus could come?”
Jacob looked at him. “You’d do that?”
“Why not? Everyone but Cameron is off through Sunday, and Cameron doesn’t have to be in until Friday evening. We’ve got all day.”
“I’ll see.”
The grocery store parking lot was packed. If Ira hadn’t known better, he would have thought there was a storm warning. Inside, all the checkouts were open and clerks were scanning groceries as fast as they could, but the lines were still eight and ten people deep.
They both stopped short at the sight.
Jacob groaned. “Dad…?”
“Yes, we have to.”
“Where are we going to put it all?”
“Ah, your mom already thought of that. I picked up the key to the house on the way over. She paid for two extra nights. And before you say anything, the lines are only going to get worse as the holiday gets closer, not better. Buck up. Besides, you have class through Wednesday, and I’m not doing this on my own.”
Ira grabbed a cart and began pushing it toward the produce section. They were New Yorkers. They could do this.
Cameron was so anxious Wednesday night, Ira was forced to fuck him into the futon. When he finally let him come, Cameron arched with a long shudder, then fell almost immediately into a deep sleep. They’d taken the edge off, but Ira knew he had to act soon, before his boy was so tied up in knots he couldn’t find the beginning of the string.
The house Rachael had rented was enormous and built right on the edge of a lake outside of town. Newer construction, it had a great room, entertainment room with a gigantic TV, four-car garage, five bedrooms (one a master), and six bathrooms. Ira couldn’t imagine wanting to live in a house this large.
“You know my cabin would fit in this thing five or six times over,” Ira said as he made his way into the great room.
Rachael and her boyfriend, who turned out to be Ray the rat—doubly a rat to Ira now, though that was more for keeping the relationship a secret than for getting with Rachael in the first place—had arrived Wednesday afternoon. Erin and Dane had landed in Seattle earlier but were still making their way north. Traffic on I-5 was notorious, but add a holiday? It could take over twice the usual time to drive from Sea-Tac.
They’d agreed on a later dinner with the hope that Marcus would be able to join them. But Rachael had demanded Ira, Cameron, and Jacob come over as soon as they were awake. Since both Rachael and Ray were on East Coast time, that meant early. As sexy as Cameron had looked in the murky light of the morning, eyes hooded and half smiling, they hadn’t had time for another round.
“So,” Ira asked Ray, “were you ever going to tell me that you and Rachael were…?”
Ray eyed him humorously. Ray was the quintessential New Yorker. His family had been there even longer than Ira’s and Rachael’s. His dad had been a firefighter in Queens. How Ray had gotten hooked by the art world Ira never knew, but his gallery had been a success from the moment he opened the doors over fifteen years ago.
“Yeah, I was hoping you’d come back east for a visit. Seemed a little weird to stick it on a Post-It note when I sent a check.” Ray shrugged.
“You just asked her out?” Ira figured it was something like that. Ray wasn’t Mr. Subtle.
“She kept putting me off. I figured the only way I’d ever get with her was if I bribed her. She wanted to know where I was sending checks; I wanted a date. I’d tried playing hard to get, but she didn’t fall for that.”
“Ray,” Rachael said with exasperation.
“It’s the truth.”
“I suppose,” Rachael replied. “I thought I was doing you a favor being arm candy for an opening. Next thing I know we’ve gone on several, mm, dates, and I’m enjoying myself.”
“It’s not every man who can keep up with you, Rach.” Ray waggled his eyebrows, and Ira was pleased to see Rachael turn a brilliant shade of red.
“Annnyway, enough about me.” She waved a hand and suddenly had an expression on her face that Ira had learned years ago to be wary of. “When are you making this thing between you and Cameron official?”
Oh fuck. Cameron had busied himself in the kitchen, seeming to ignore their conversation, but now he stilled.
“Rachael,” Ira growled.
“What, Ira?” She tried to appear innocent. “You’re happy, he’s happy; you’ve got the money. I don’t understand. Buy a house—build a house if that’s what you want. Make yourself a home, and invite Cameron to be a part of it.”
Ira opened his mouth, but Rachael beat him to it. “And don’t give any of us this ‘right time’ crap. We all know there’s no such thing.”
“I was, actually, planning on asking him privately,” Ira hissed.
“Yeah, yeah. You forget I know you. Privately means you’ll stew over it for far too long before you actually do anything. While Cameron here is wondering what the hell is going on. Am I right?” This last bit was aimed at Cameron—or Ray; Ira wasn’t sure.
Cameron stood at the island that acted as a barrier between the great room and the kitchen, a bag of flour in his hands. Ira examined his expression carefully: wary hope waged a battle with inevitable disappointment. Ira had been learning the language of Cameron’s expressions. He wanted to chase the disappointment away.
Crossing to the island, he took the flour from Cameron and placed it gently on the counter. A little puff of white escaped the bag. Ira took Cameron’s hands in his own, gripping them a little tighter than he needed to.
“Cameron McCulloch, would you be willing to share your life with me? I’m not suggesting we get married, right away, or ever if you don’t want to, but I’d like you by my side. I’ve wasted an awful lot of time that we could have been together, and I’d like to make up for it.
“As Hurricane Rachael alluded to, I have plenty in the bank. We can build a bigger house on the property or look somewhere else. You’ve talked about college; I can help with that, if you’ll let me. You don’t have to answer now. Regardless of what Rachael thinks, sometimes it is best to take your time with a decision.”
Rachael cleared her throat. “You forgot something,” she hissed, making a heart sign with her fingers.
“Oh shit. I love you, Cameron. I want you in my life because I love you,” Ira hastily added. Worst proposal ever.
“Welp,” Rachael grinned, “we’ve established that you are really bad at proposing. Take your time, Cam.”
“Can I borrow Ira for a second?” Cameron asked everyone generally.
Without waiting for an answer, while Rachael shouted something Ira chose to ignore, Cameron dragged Ira into the powder room off the foyer.
The tiny room barely fit them both. Cameron pushed Ira against the closed door, pressing his body fully against Ira’s, his lips against the sensitive shell of Ira’s ear.
“Yes. Yes, I want to live with you, to be with you, to be by your side.” He slid cold hands under Ira’s dress shirt, and Ira’s skin rippled in response. “That was the worst proposal ever; you’re going to have to do it over—after I graduate. And we’ll talk about this money thing later. Oh, and…”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
Warm lips crashed down on his own, taking Ira’s breath away. Ira’s hands landed on Cameron’s ass, pulling him closer so there was no space between them. Just the way Ira wanted it.
Cameron pulled away first, Ira chasing him, wanting more.
“I believe we have pies to make?”
Pies. Not seventeen though, sadly. A turkey that had had a steroid habit, glazed ham, green beans (gross, in Ira’s opinion). Ray insisted on a maple cake and brandied carrots. There were also mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, two kinds of stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce made fresh and the kind from a can, and a token green salad. By late afternoon there was more than enough food for twelve people, either prepared or waiting to go into the oven.
Erin and Dane arrived around four. The drive had taken them over four hours due to a horrific three-car accident that had partially closed I-5.
“I mean, fatal car accidents are always so horrible; I’ve driven past my fair share of them—but on a holiday?” Erin hunched her shoulders and shuddered. Dane came to stand next to her, pulling her tightly against him.
Dane was gorgeous. Ira’d seen Cameron eyeing him, trying to learn more about his sister by cross-examining her husband. They were both pleasant and easy to talk to. Dane’s vestigial English accent only added to his allure.
All in all, dinner was fun. Marcus even made an appearance toward the end of the evening. He didn’t eat, though, claiming his family had forced him to eat enough for a family of four and he was still full. Then he proceeded to regale them with stories about his nieces and nephews. He tried to make it sound like he didn’t like them, but it was clear Marcus adored his family.
He and Jacob disappeared after pie. Ira figured Jacob had had enough family time and didn’t blame him for leaving. Ira wanted to get Cameron home himself. He wanted to celebrate; he wanted to talk about their future, about what Cameron wanted to do—he wanted to make sure Cameron really was okay. It had been a very long time since Ira was excited about his future. It felt good. Really, really good.