either, do they?”
“Nope,” laughed Massimo. “They just don’t speak at all!” Then, a moment later, he announced, “I like you, Connore. My papà likes you too.”
“Is that so?” Cary countered. Was he getting the hang of this talking-to-a-kid thing?
“My papà used to live with a boy he liked. His name was Massimo, just like mine.”
“Really?” So Antonio wasn’t a monk, after all. Interesting.
“He died.”
“Oh.” Cary wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Massimo, however, was unfazed. “You like boys, don’t you? I mean, grown-up boys.” Massimo lowered his voice and went on to explain, “Like Papà does? You know, better than girls.”
“Yes,” Cary admitted, surprised at how much the child understood about sexual orientation, “but—”
“Are you going to stay with us, then? Like Massimo stayed with Papà, before I was born?”
Crap. How the hell do you answer that? “No, kid, I hadn’t planned on it?” Or maybe “Just long enough so he can fuck me into the bed?” It wasn’t as if he expected much more, anyhow. He didn’t want any more than that, right?
“I don’t think so, Massi. We’re just friends,” Cary finally said. “I don’t think—”
“It’s good you’re friends,” Massimo interrupted, looking quite pleased. “So Papà and I will just have to make you stay.”
And what , thought Cary with a sigh, can you possibly say to that?
But as they arrived back at their seats, Cary wondered what Antonio would say when he realized Connor was a lie. Then again, so much of my life is a lie anyhow. What was one more whopper piled on top of the others?
Chapter 7
T HE E LEPHANT IN THE L IVING R OOM
T HEY arrived back at Antonio’s apartment four hours later. Massimo fell asleep in the cab, and Antonio carried him to the big bed, where he tucked the boy in as Cary watched.
“Thank goodness,” Antonio said a moment later, closing the door to the bedroom. “If I have to hear about the elephants one more time….” He covered his mouth with his hand and yawned. “Sometimes he even makes me tired.”
“You’re really good with him.” Cary knew he shouldn’t care, but he was even more attracted to Antonio after watching him with Massimo. It was a strange realization, and one that left Cary ill at ease.
Next thing you know, you’ll be offering to help him wipe the kid’s nose. Or worse….
“Thanks.”
When Massimo started to get cranky as the day wore on, Antonio had been nothing but patient. Well, almost. At one point, Cary had seen the frustration in Antonio’s usually calm features when Massimo, for the second time, dropped his lollipop onto the filthy floor. Still, Antonio hadn’t given in to Massimo’s demands for more candy.
“I’m pretty sure I’d have bought him the lollipop when he started to whine,” Cary admitted.
This statement was rewarded with a rumbled laugh. “What you don’t know is that I did give in to the whining. About a hundred times. And every time I did, Massi ended up with a sugar tantrum that would have put Attila the Hun to shame. It just took me a while to learn my lesson.” Antonio grinned and walked over to the kitchen. “More coffee?”
“Please.” In spite of the espresso they had stopped for on their way home, Cary was nearly as tired as Massimo. More caffeine would do him good. That, and he was enjoying Antonio’s company too much to go home so soon.
“It’s like anything,” Antonio continued as he worked the espresso maker. “You get better at it with practice.”
They settled down on the couch and sipped their coffee. This close, Cary could see the tiny lines at the corners of Antonio’s mouth. He couldn’t help but be amazed at how Antonio’s blue eyes appeared almost turquoise in the fading light filtering in through the windows. And that hair… Cary could see strands of red woven throughout. It was cropped close at the back of his neck, but the top was longer, tumbling over his
“Nope,” laughed Massimo. “They just don’t speak at all!” Then, a moment later, he announced, “I like you, Connore. My papà likes you too.”
“Is that so?” Cary countered. Was he getting the hang of this talking-to-a-kid thing?
“My papà used to live with a boy he liked. His name was Massimo, just like mine.”
“Really?” So Antonio wasn’t a monk, after all. Interesting.
“He died.”
“Oh.” Cary wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Massimo, however, was unfazed. “You like boys, don’t you? I mean, grown-up boys.” Massimo lowered his voice and went on to explain, “Like Papà does? You know, better than girls.”
“Yes,” Cary admitted, surprised at how much the child understood about sexual orientation, “but—”
“Are you going to stay with us, then? Like Massimo stayed with Papà, before I was born?”
Crap. How the hell do you answer that? “No, kid, I hadn’t planned on it?” Or maybe “Just long enough so he can fuck me into the bed?” It wasn’t as if he expected much more, anyhow. He didn’t want any more than that, right?
“I don’t think so, Massi. We’re just friends,” Cary finally said. “I don’t think—”
“It’s good you’re friends,” Massimo interrupted, looking quite pleased. “So Papà and I will just have to make you stay.”
And what , thought Cary with a sigh, can you possibly say to that?
But as they arrived back at their seats, Cary wondered what Antonio would say when he realized Connor was a lie. Then again, so much of my life is a lie anyhow. What was one more whopper piled on top of the others?
Chapter 7
T HE E LEPHANT IN THE L IVING R OOM
T HEY arrived back at Antonio’s apartment four hours later. Massimo fell asleep in the cab, and Antonio carried him to the big bed, where he tucked the boy in as Cary watched.
“Thank goodness,” Antonio said a moment later, closing the door to the bedroom. “If I have to hear about the elephants one more time….” He covered his mouth with his hand and yawned. “Sometimes he even makes me tired.”
“You’re really good with him.” Cary knew he shouldn’t care, but he was even more attracted to Antonio after watching him with Massimo. It was a strange realization, and one that left Cary ill at ease.
Next thing you know, you’ll be offering to help him wipe the kid’s nose. Or worse….
“Thanks.”
When Massimo started to get cranky as the day wore on, Antonio had been nothing but patient. Well, almost. At one point, Cary had seen the frustration in Antonio’s usually calm features when Massimo, for the second time, dropped his lollipop onto the filthy floor. Still, Antonio hadn’t given in to Massimo’s demands for more candy.
“I’m pretty sure I’d have bought him the lollipop when he started to whine,” Cary admitted.
This statement was rewarded with a rumbled laugh. “What you don’t know is that I did give in to the whining. About a hundred times. And every time I did, Massi ended up with a sugar tantrum that would have put Attila the Hun to shame. It just took me a while to learn my lesson.” Antonio grinned and walked over to the kitchen. “More coffee?”
“Please.” In spite of the espresso they had stopped for on their way home, Cary was nearly as tired as Massimo. More caffeine would do him good. That, and he was enjoying Antonio’s company too much to go home so soon.
“It’s like anything,” Antonio continued as he worked the espresso maker. “You get better at it with practice.”
They settled down on the couch and sipped their coffee. This close, Cary could see the tiny lines at the corners of Antonio’s mouth. He couldn’t help but be amazed at how Antonio’s blue eyes appeared almost turquoise in the fading light filtering in through the windows. And that hair… Cary could see strands of red woven throughout. It was cropped close at the back of his neck, but the top was longer, tumbling over his
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