Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Fuck. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed back. I knew he was bothered by his “coming out” to his family. Among those he worked with, it’d been an anticlimactic affair; his cousin’s son—who Gideon referred to as a nephew—had even mentioned he’d suspected Gideon was gay. Or bi, in his case. But there’d been some “concerns” raised by other family members. The kind that went, “We support you no matter what. We’re just worried about how this might affect your life.” Then some self-appointed patriarch of the family had suggested that they “keep this development private.”
I couldn’t blame Gideon for never having felt close to them. They seemed frigid, the bunch of them. And fuck them. Most of them weren’t even in direct line to the Grant fortune; they just acted superior with all their gold sticks shoved up their asses because they felt entitled.
“I love you.” I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his fingers.
He smiled, and it reached his eyes, thank God. “I love you too. Please don’t be worried, Nicky. I’m finally happy.”
Good.
Anthony returned to the table with his coffee and a scone, not to mention a rant about how people in the city couldn’t behave for shit. I didn’t ask why. It was always some small thing. Like the other members of my family, Anthony would always find a reason to complain about Manhattan.
“Speaking of absolutely not that,” I drawled, “Gideon has a question.”
“Yeah?” Anthony faced Gideon and sipped from his coffee.
“Yes.” Gideon cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me finding a Christmas present for Nicky.”
Nothing like bonding over shopping for me…
I smiled around a forkful of cake.
“I don’t mind. That one’s easy to shop for,” Anthony replied. “If you haven’t noticed already, he tends to post pictures on Instagram of shit he wants. Kid can’t spell subtle.”
“And that’s a good thing!” I insisted.
“I’m inclined to agree,” Gideon chuckled.
Anthony shook his head in amusement at me before giving his attention to Gideon again. “We can meet up one day when he’s got work,” he said. “He works later than I do on Thursdays.”
“Terrific. I appreciate it,” Gideon said. Then he flicked me a hesitant look. “Was that why you posted a photo of that cast-iron skillet?”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You catch on quick, papi. I wanna cook for you, and we’ll need new shit when we move in together.”
He loved it whenever I brought up us moving to Brooklyn, and I loved making plans for it. Other than instruments and the occasional clothing item, I didn’t shop much. Now, suddenly, a whole new world had opened up. I was looking at inspiration online for kitchens and bathrooms and bedrooms and home offices—his demand—and home studios—my down-the-road wish.
I’d yet to venture into the universe of interior design for kids’ rooms, ’cause I had a feeling I’d spend money prematurely. Maybe things we wouldn’t end up needing. I already had family who did that. Pop’s sister, for instance, who bought a bunch of pink stuff for her granddaughter who turned out to be a grandson.
“Do you know when you’re moving yet?” Anthony asked around a mouthful of food. “I don’t mean to rush you, but you know Nonna’s gonna ask tomorrow.”
I scratched my nose. “Well, we talked about it…” I glanced at Gideon, because he was in charge of all that.
“We’re hiring a Realtor after the holidays,” he said. “I’m doing my best to pace myself, but I’m not very good at it.”
I laughed and kissed his shoulder. “You know I’m not-so-secretly thrilled that you’re impatient, right?”
“I do, it’s just frustrating that you’re the mature one,” he joked.
Anthony let out a laugh. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“Ay.” I flipped my fingers under my chin.
Anthony gave Gideon a “You see what I mean” look, and my man boarded the train to Mock Nicky Town.
I couldn’t say I minded, though. It was a good way for them to grow closer as buddies.
A few months later
Gideon quickly learned the ropes around Nonna’s house, and he discovered the way to their hearts was to be interested in Nonna’s cooking and listen to Pop when he talked engines and cars. In a family full of loudmouths, a listener could go far doing nothing. ’Cause wasn’t that what we loudmouths wanted? Someone to listen to us?
That said, I didn’t expect Gideon to grow so close to my grandmother. Anthony? Definitely. And they did meet up from time to time to chat and watch old baseball games—while waiting for the next season—and they had a friendly rivalry going on, what with my brother rooting for the Mets and Gideon being a Yankees fan. But it was Nonna whom Gideon formed a special attachment to, and it was hella mutual.
In retrospect, it made more sense. Gideon had missed having a motherly type who fussed over him, and apparently Nonna loved having someone around who wasn’t just there to fill their stomach. Anthony and I were bad, bad grandsons.