Which was another risk in a relationship. It was all a risk. I worried how Isaac would respond if we broke up. I couldn’t quiet that thought, but I managed to find a way to admit my own truth as well, “I need him too.”
“Yeah, I know. I just worry about Isaac more in that way. He doesn’t let anyone in other than you, and that’s not something you struggle with. Anyway, I don’t know how we got onto that subject. Both my boys are happy, and I just might be the luckiest woman in the world. I just called to touch base with you and have you remind Isaac of the family get-together next month.”
I went over and sat on the bed. Fuck, how had I forgotten about that? While our grandmas on both sides often came out, and I went to see my grandparents on my dad’s side as well, there was a huge meet-up every couple of years of everyone on both sides—aunts, uncles, cousins, and Mom’s and Dad’s mothers. Mom organized it, wanting to make sure both Isaac’s extended family and ours were close. It was just over a weekend, and then most everyone except the grandmas went their own way, but it was a tradition, and there was no way of getting out of it. At least not for me or Isaac. I bet he’d forgotten about it too.
“Yeah, we’ll be there. Of course we’ll be there.” It would be awkward as hell, considering what Isaac and I were doing. We couldn’t tell anyone, and it would be a constant reminder, everyone talking about us as if we’re a unit but not the kind we wanted to be. They would call us family.
“So what’s new?” Mom asked. “What have you been working on? Do you have any idea how long you’ll be staying?”
All questions I had a difficult time answering. It wasn’t as if I could tell her I was painting Isaac naked, or the two of us together, or all the ways I wanted to worship his body and have Isaac worship mine.
My home being in Manhattan was another obstacle. I’d needed away, but I hadn’t made a decision about it being permanent or not. I had friends there, contacts. Outside of my family, my whole life was in New York, and now that Isaac and I were together, would he expect me to move? Did I want to?
Everything was so fucked up, and there were a million things to consider.
But the reward was Isaac.
“I’m not sure, Mom. Right now I’m just taking everything one day at a time. As far as work is concerned, I’m…following my heart.” I didn’t know how else to put it.
“You always do, sweet boy. That’s what I love most about you—that big beating heart of yours. I’ll let you get back to it. Tell your brother to call Dad, okay?”
My chest tightened at those words. “I’ll tell him,” I replied, then, “Hey, Mom? I love you.”
“I love you too, Lane.” She made a kissing noise, and then the line disconnected.
I tried to ignore the guilt that thickened like sludge in my gut. When I got back to my easel, I couldn’t make myself paint. I just stood there, brush in hand, staring and willing my fingers to work. When they didn’t, I cleaned up my supplies, showered, and got dressed. My hair was getting too long, and I kept telling myself I’d get a trim but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
To keep myself busy, I decided to cook dinner. Isaac had a grill on his balcony, so I went out, got it going for homemade garlic and onion burgers. I chopped up the vegetables for a quick salad, finishing just as he came home.
“You’re going to spoil me.” Isaac loosened his tie, walked over, and pressed me against the counter. He kissed and touched me all the time, like he couldn’t get his fill or his body was addicted to mine. Like I was a treasure to him, and damned if that didn’t make me feel good.
He leaned in, taking my mouth with his. I let him. Most of the time, Isaac led the way when it came to sex or affection between us, and I was content to follow. His tongue swept past my lips, fingers digging into my hips while he drank at my mouth as if he was in a desert and I was the only water he’d had in days.
Like always, my dick began to harden as he licked and gently sucked his way down my neck. He hadn’t marked me again since that first day, but I knew it wasn’t from lack of want.
“You taste so good…smell so good…feel so good. Now that I can touch you, I don’t ever want to stop.”
How in the fuck had I gone my whole life without hearing him speak to me that way? Now that I’d heard it, those words were fuel to my soul. I couldn’t help smiling.
Isaac didn’t even need to look at me as he said, “See? You like praise and compliments from me.”
“Shut up.” It was incredibly inconvenient having him know me so well. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
He washed his hands, and then we made our plates and sat down at the table together. It was a habit from growing up. Mom had always expected us to eat at the table as a family and talk about our days. It was something I’d fallen out of in Manhattan. Even when I was in a relationship, we didn’t sit to share our meals this way, but Isaac and I did it automatically.
“Did you get any painting done today?” he asked. “What? You’re smiling.”
“I was just thinking about how I didn’t eat like this when I was with anyone else—sitting together, asking about work…and then you asked.”
He shrugged. “Me neither.” But then, Isaac hadn’t been in any relationships.
“I got quite a bit done earlier in the day. Not so much the past little while.”
He nodded, and when I asked about his day, he went into accounts and numbers and all sorts of things he loved and understood in ways my more creative brain didn’t. When he finished, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Mom called.” I took a bite of my burger.
Isaac’s gaze flicked away. We could do what we were doing, pretend nothing else mattered, but the guilt was always there. This was the first time we’d been reminded of it in such a personal way. “What did she say?”
“She wants you to call Dad…your dad… Maybe I shouldn’t call him Dad anymore?”
“Why? Sometimes married people call their in-laws Mom or Dad.”
“Yeah, but that’s different. Since I was fourteen, I’ve literally been raised by him as if he was my actual father. I’m in his will as his son and…” My chest felt tight, and my breathing sped up. I was losing it. Why in the hell was I suddenly losing it? Timothy was my dad, just like my biological father had been. “Why do you call Mom Helena, then?”
“That’s not the only reason for me…and I won’t allow being with me to take away your dad. It would break his heart and yours to suddenly start calling him by his name.”
Isaac was right. It would.
“I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “That this is so difficult. If I hadn’t kissed you—”
“No. Fuck no. I don’t wish this never happened. I want you, Isaac. There’s just a lot to get used to and figure out, but that doesn’t change how much I want you.”
He nodded, but he had that look on his face that said he felt guilty, that he didn’t quite feel worthy—the one he never let his guard down enough to show anyone but me.
“I love you,” I told him.
“I love you too.”