When there was a knock at the door, I went over and opened it.
“Smells good,” Warren said as he came in and hugged me.
“Enchiladas.”
“My favorite.” George gave me a similar greeting, and I closed the door behind them.
“You want a drink?”
“Beer, please,” George answered.
I got three bottles out and opened them. We sat around, talking while the food finished cooking. George was a lawyer, and Warren an accountant. We talked about work and life and about Ross.
After we ate, the three of us went to the backyard for George to have a cigarette. He used to be a heavy smoker, but Warren hated it. Now he had one a day after dinner.
“How are you and the boy?” Warren asked.
“I can’t believe it took us this long to get on the topic,” George said.
Warren and I were sitting on the porch steps, George standing in front of us.
“He’s not a boy,” I replied. “You can just ask how Zander and I are.”
The two of them exchanged a look. I’d learned over the years that they had whole silent conversations with each other that no one else understood, though this one I knew was about me and Zander.
I picked at the white paint on the railing. “I think I might be in trouble.”
“Uh-oh,” George said.
“Damn it. I told you to be careful,” Warren added.
“How was I to know I’d fall for him? It was supposed to be just sex. I’ve had plenty of sex in my life, and feelings have never been a problem before.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been a little different about this ki—Zander—from the start.”
“I know. Fuck, I know.” Something about Zander had been special from the very beginning. I just hadn’t wanted to admit it. “I want strings, damn it, and I know I shouldn’t.”
“Why shouldn’t you, though?” George asked. “Things change all the time. Relationships start with dating or having sex, and then you realize that person is yours. It’s never really in the plan. And once you have them, you start trying to figure out how to give them back.”
“Asshole,” Warren replied. They ribbed each other the way Zander and I did, and Jesus, was I acting like some lovesick kid or what? Comparing it to my friends who’d been together nearly twenty years?
“It’s complicated. Zander is…skittish about relationships. It’s hard for him to trust people, and he’s been honest with me about it from the start. This is convenient sex with a side of friend, and that’s it. I can’t change the rules of the game now. And how stereotypical is that? The older man smitten with the younger one. I feel like a walking cliché.”
“Since when do you care what other people think?” Warren asked.
“I don’t, not really. I care what I think and how I feel, which brings me back to the weird older guy crushing on a younger one.”
“Wow, when did you start using the word crushing?” George asked.
“Asshole,” I teased, calling him what Warren had. They laughed. “Seriously, though. I care what Zander thinks, obviously, and he thought he was just going to get laid. He’s so determined not to give himself to someone else, not completely. He wants to be independent and focus on his career and not worry about the relationship thing. I respect the hell out of him for that, but it’s also one of the reasons I know my catching feelings is a mistake.”
Warren opened his mouth to respond, but I continued first. “And then we have Ross. I care what he thinks too, and it’s one thing for Zander and me to fuck once in a while, but what if we became more? Doesn’t that make me an asshole father? Taking his best friend? Are we supposed to be some big happy family? Suddenly Ross’s buddy who means a lot to him is his stepdad who’s only two years older than he is. How awkward would that be for all of us?”
“Ross doesn’t need a stepdad. He already has three fathers.” Warren pointed to all of us. “He’s the kindest, most well-adjusted, accepting person I know. Talk to Ross, and he’ll be fine. Even if it is weird for a while, you all just keep open the lines of communication, and you’ll figure it out. If Zander is anything like you and Ross—and it sounds like he is—then what will matter most is being happy and the people you care about being happy. That’s always the most important thing to you when it comes to your son, and I know him well enough to know he feels the same. It might take some adjusting, but hell, a lot of things in life do.”
Theoretically, he was right. If I told Ross I wanted to be with Zander, he would be okay, but I didn’t think that was what Zander wanted. And if he did, I wasn’t sure he would allow himself to have it. “None of this matters if Zander doesn’t feel the same.” That was…a hard pill to swallow. I wasn’t saying I was in love with him, but I did want more. I’d never had that. Even with Tracy, when she left, I hurt, but I was okay. All that had mattered was Ross.
And now here I was, falling for someone for what might be the first time in my forty-one years, and he was a twenty-four-year-old who had no interest in settling down with someone, or at least not with me.
“Oh God. I don’t think I’ve ever sounded so poor me in my life. Someone shut me up. I’m finished with this conversation.”
Warren scooted closer, nudged me with his arm. “You know, it’s okay to put yourself first now, to focus on your happiness. You want that for everyone else around you, fight like hell to help them get it, but I don’t know if you realize it’s okay for you too. You’ve raised an incredible son, and you did it on your own. You’re probably the world’s best father, but now Ross is twenty-two, and despite the wrinkles around your eyes, you’re still fairly young.” He grinned.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You love me. But…I’m not sure you truly believe your life is your own now. You’ll always be a father, yes, but you don’t have to be afraid to go for what you want. You don’t have to keep things casual in case Ross ever needs you. Harrison, you deserve love too.”
I knew that. I did. Didn’t I? How could I not?
“Talk to Zander. He might surprise you. If not, the longer you keep this going—and the longer you pretend to only want this ridiculous no-strings-attached arrangement—the more it’s gonna hurt you in the end.”
He had a point. I hadn’t figured out if I planned to do anything about it, but Warren was right. I looked at George. “How do you deal with him?”
“It’s tough, but someone has to do it. And for what it’s worth, I’m Team Warren. He’s spot-on with this one.”
“Yeah, yeah. You have to think that because you’re in love with him.” I nodded toward the house. “I think I need another beer.”
Warren clapped me on the shoulder. “Lead the way, my friend. Lead the way.”
When I got the first swallow down, my thoughts went back to Zander. Had he reached his mom’s? Was he enjoying himself? Did he think about me the way I did about him?
I shut those thoughts down and tried to enjoy the night with my friends.
CHAPTER NINETEEN