Page 116 of The Leaving Kind
“Yes.”
Victor tugged on his hand, but Cam pulled him up short. “It’s not going to be this easy. Not always.”
“You thought this was easy?”
Cam shook his head. “You know what I mean. We’re going to hurt each other again. We’ll fight and we’ll say stuff we don’t mean. We’ll get depressed, because that’s who we are. There’s too much pain in our pasts to forgive and forget.”
“Perhaps we could put Jorge on a retainer.”
The sharp bark of laughter hurt Cam’s throat.
Victor smiled. “Back to business, as they say: Yours is going to be what you make of it, Cam. I can’t promise you’ll be wildly successful, but with Jorge and me at your side, you can make of it whatever you like. What do you want?”
You.
But also Jorge at his side. And a business they were proud of. Something they’d built and could pass on. “I want to stay. Will you stay with me?”
Vic nodded.
Cam pulled him close and kissed him, his intended sweet touch giving way quickly to hunger. Breathless, he leaned away but left their fingers joined.
“We’ll be patient with each other,” Vic said quietly. “We both have good examples to live by. Parents who loved unconditionally, both each other and their children. We’ll remember that, and our friends. And that we are friends. Friends forgive each other. Friends are there for each other. And friends don’t leave.”
Finally, the words came, and Cam delivered them with a smile. “I love you, Victory.”
Victor’s beam was beautiful to behold. His smile, everything Cam loved. Bright, colorful, and transformative. Sunshine in human form. So stunning, he didn’t need to hear the words Victor said in return.
“I love you too.”
December
Breathing deeply of the bright but chill morning, Victor nodded with satisfaction. The sky was the sort of blue only December could produce, and the sunshine peeking across the treetops carried enough warmth for lighter sweaters and maybe even rolled-up sleeves. It was the perfect day for a party.
Victor surveyed the patio for leaves he might have missed and spied a clump behind the stacked furniture. He put the broom aside, pulled out the short tower of chairs, and then swept behind. The smell of crushed leaves rose from the misty gray flagstones, and the colors of fall danced through his head. A smile edged across his lips as he thought of the series of tiny paintings he’d completed only the week before, each an explosion of color one probably wouldn’t find in a subterranean cavern. But the brief had called for autumn in the underworld, so Victor had delivered prehistoric trees with leaves the size of blankets, the scale made absurd by the dimensions of the game cards.
He’d almost forgotten what it was like to paint for fun, and when he’d shown them off, the audience he’d enjoyed the most was his after-school art club—kids from the summer program and the few faces who’d joined them. Together, he and the kids had signed a contract to provide all the art for Aaron and Grayson’s upcoming game. Aaron had insisted they couldn’t afford an artist of Victor’s pedigree. Wanted to tap him for the few major pieces they had planned, such as the box and booklet art. Victor had insisted on doing some art for the cards as well, though, citing the size as a welcome challenge. They could pay him whatever they could afford; he simply wanted to paint without considering the value of each brushstroke. He’d forgotten what that was like too.
The door to the kitchen creaked open, and a black shadow slipped out and along the wall in the direction of the garage.
“He does have a cat door,” Victor remarked.
Cam leaned in the doorway, arms folded, one of Victor’s favorite smiles curving his lips. The slightly sardonic one. “I know, but there is something to be said for the feeling of being useful that letting him in and out gives.”
Victor arched an eyebrow. “Did I not make you feel entirely useful this morning?”
Cam’s grin widened. “And then some.” He lifted his chin. “How long until everyone starts arriving for this party you insist I need?”
“Fifty only comes once and you have so much to celebrate! Your family, your friends, your business.” Victor leaned the broom against the stack of chairs and crossed the patio. Cam’s arms unfolded at his approach. Victor moved between them and reveled at the warmth closing about his back as Cam hauled him in for gentle hug. “You make fifty look good.”
“Mm.” Cam caressed his lips in a sweet kiss.
“So, now that you’re a year older, any further thoughts on moving in permanently?” Victor asked.
Cam spent five or six nights a week at his house. Victor wanted all seven. To wake up next to this man every morning. He’d invited lovers to move in before but had never looked forward to sleeping next to someone as much as he did Cam. The sex was amazing but so was the talking and the cuddling. The whiff of engine oil and hard work Cam always seemed to carry with him, and the way Cam always asked after his work.
They bickered but were still new enough to enjoy making up afterward.
It wouldn’t always be this simple. Nothing worth having ever was.