Page 81 of Big Britches
“Do you really need to ask?”
Pedro shook his head. “No.”
Titus looked at him for a long time, saying nothing. Finally, Pedro grew self-conscious. “What?” he asked.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“How about once upon a time?”
Titus smiled. “OK. Once upon a time, there was a man who became a hermit because his wife died. The man had a secret he held close. He thought to himself, I have a son. That’s all he needed. He would raise that son well and dedicate his life to the task. His secret would go to the grave with him, he thought. No one ever needed to know. But?—”
“But,” Pedro said. “The man’s wife knew his secret. And before she died, she planted a seed… and the seed grew, as wildflowers do.”
Titus patted his lap and Pedro exchanged his chair for it, welcoming the comfort of a firm embrace.
“And then,” Titus continued, “the hermit who thought he could love only his son met someone new. And he fell head over heels for him. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like being a hermit anymore. He wanted to share this new love with the world, this beautiful man… partner… parent.”
“But the town had expectations.”
“Yes. The town remembered this man as a champion, a hero.”
“Are you afraid people will change their minds about you because of me?”
“I don’t care anymore if they do.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t want them to think I’m ashamed. I’m nuts about you, P, and I want to flaunt it like Rhett Butler with Bonnie Blue. I just want to stroll about town with you on my arm saying, see this? See this, world? This is my man. He makes me happy again. And, yes, he is holding my son’s hand because my son loves him, too. We’re a family and if you don’t like it, I may have to crush you.”
Pedro laid his head on Titus’s shoulder. He didn’t need to look for the tears of anger in Titus’s eyes. He could hear them in his voice. Titus was a gentle giant. In the short time they had been together, Pedro had learned this. And, though he had pleasured from the spectacular side effects of Titus's embedded fury earlier, this juxtaposition in mood was a tad disconcerting. Especially when considering his size. He could crush someone easily.
“No one’s ever wanted to show me off before.”
“You’re everything I ever dreamed of, and I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Is that selfish?”
“A little. But I’m OK with it, my big, handsome brute.”
They were quiet for a while. Nothing but the sound of crickets.
When Titus spoke again, it was abrupt. “I don’t want you working for Silas anymore. I have money. You don’t have to work.”
Pedro sighed deeply. “I do, remember? I can’t stay in the country if I don’t. And it’s not like I can marry you.”
“Would you do that, if you could?”
Pedro gave him some quick side-eye, then a lengthy glance skyward, as if he needed more time to think.
Titus squeezed him. “It’s not that hard, is it?”
“No.” Pedro's gaze returned, angelic. “It’s not hard at all. Of course, I would marry you, T.”
“OK, that settles it. You’re moving in.”
“What about appearances?”
“People already suspect. Your moving in will confirm things. If Silas is smart—which he is not—he’ll keep you on. You love what you do, you’re great at it, and loyal employees are hard to come by. But I’m calling him Monday and telling him everything. If he has a problem with it, and lets you go, so be it. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Pedro nodded, comforted a little by their having a plan. “If he lets me go, it’s not like I would get deported immediately. I’ll just have to find work elsewhere—a sponsor. As long as I live and work here for five years, I can still apply for citizenship. Do you know?—”