Love And The Real Boy - Coming About, Book 2 (21 page)

This was all good, because it left the garage apartment vacant for Patrick and Rich to crash without scandalizing any of the family members. It was completely separate from the house, only connected by a closed walkway from the side door of the house to the garage portion of the building.

Patrick could feel his pleasant buzz starting to fade around the edges, revealing hints of the hangover he was sure to have tomorrow. He wanted to be passed out on a bed before it happened completely. With a grunt, he climbed to his feet and wavered as his head spun. Damn, it was a good thing he didn’t fight with his brother a lot—he hadn’t drunk this much since college.

He reached out a hand for Rich, though he doubted his ability to keep himself upright, much less help lift another human being. Rich just chuckled and rolled off the chaise and onto the patio floor. From there, he used the seat to pull himself to standing like a toddler.

When Patrick made the comparison out loud, Rich dissolved into giggles and almost fell back down. Though he wasn’t sure he was qualified, Patrick tucked Rich’s arm in the crook of his elbow and helped him into a wobbly walk toward the breezeway that led to the garage.

Rich suddenly stopped, the motion yanking Patrick to a halt so fast his teeth cracked together and his head spun. “Ouch,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Rich looked over at him with eyes that were, for that brief moment, free of the haze of alcohol. “Your family is totally insane.”

Patrick blew out a breath, because it had looked for a moment like he might have been about to say something more serious. “That’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah…” Rich answered, slurring now. “Insane. But I’d take all of them in a New York minute.”

Chapter Seventeen

Rich agreed to meet John-Michael and Josiah at Cascade Park that Thursday because it was only a couple of blocks away from Rich’s office complex, and it had a nice playground for Josiah—assuming he didn’t run away screaming from his Big Gay Uncle.

Despite John-Michael’s assertion that he wanted Rich and his boyfriend to present a united front so that Josiah got used to the idea of them being together, Rich wanted Patrick to hang back while he met his nephew for the first time—it seemed important to do it that way. Patrick had readily agreed to wait for Rich’s text. There was a cute little café called Nollie’s around the corner from the park, so Rich sent Patrick there to have a cup of coffee and relax until the initial introductions had been made.

The big presentation for the
Essedarius
campaign was that afternoon, which meant that Rich was an irrational blob of nerves and self-doubt. He was grateful to get out of the office and into some fresh air before he had to basically lay his job on the line for some silly idea he’d come up with after having sex—however amazing it was—with Patrick. But to be honest, he was just as nervous about meeting Josiah as he was about the meeting.

Rich turned the corner and entered the park, sitting down on one of the concrete steps. He tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, as he guessed it would seem a bit odd for a grown man in a suit to be sitting around in a playground without a kid. He wrapped his arms around his knees and hunched his shoulders while he scanned the paths for any signs of John-Michael and a tiny human.

He was so focused on watching that he didn’t notice the little tow-headed kid that had crept up on him until he plopped down right beside him. The kid mirrored Rich’s pose and heaved a big sigh.

Rich looked down at him—he looked around kindergarten age…maybe—a skinny kid with blue eyes, tousled blond hair, chubby cheeks. Then he looked around for any accompanying parents. He saw none with his first cursory glance.

“Hi,” the boy said in that scratchy, rusty voice that shy kids sometimes had because they didn’t talk enough. John-Michael’s had been the same.

“Um…hey.”

Nothing else was said for a few minutes, the only thing filling the silence was the kid’s heavy breathing and occasional sniffles.

“Your parents around here?” Rich asked helplessly.

“My dad’s hiding.”

“Hiding?”

“Yep, hiding.”

“Why?”

“He wanted me to come over and inner…inter…say hi to my uncle like a big boy.”

“
Oh.
” Rich’s entire body froze, and his gut contracted painfully. Josiah.
Christ, I wasn’t ready
. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he pasted a friendly smile on his face. “Josiah?”

The boy turned to look at Rich, giving him a huge smile that had a gap on the bottom from a missing tooth…whether it was coming or going, Rich hadn’t a clue. “Yah. Jos.”

“Uh, well, hi…” he held out his hand to Josiah. How did one greet a four-year-old? “I guess that makes me your Uncle Rich.”

Josiah stretched his arm out to place his miniature hand in Rich’s, giving it a vigorous shake that surprised a laugh out of Rich. It was right at that moment that John-Michael walked up with a smile hovering over his lips.

“I see you two gentlemen are getting along.”

“Well, it’s early yet,” Rich said with a wink. Then he floundered, at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to a little kid, or his long-lost brother for that matter.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” John-Michael asked, deliberately within earshot. Jos didn’t bat an eye. Hell, he probably didn’t even know what ‘boyfriend’ meant in the context of a boy and a girl yet, much less two boys.

“He’s around the corner at Nollie’s. I wanted to say hi to Josiah by myself first.” Rich took out his phone, grateful for the lifeline that was Patrick, waiting at the café. “I’ll text him, and he’ll walk on over.”

Josiah’s head popped all of a sudden from where he’d been staring at some ants on the ground, scuffing sand around to direct their path. “I want to swing.”

The matter-of-fact way he said it made Rich laugh. Jos stood up and took Rich’s hand again, putting all of his weight into yanking him up. “Push me!”

Rich let himself be dragged across the playground to the swing set. The swing that Josiah wanted was a plastic chair with a five point harness, suspended by heavy metal arms. “Wow, swings sure have changed since I was a kid,” he muttered.

He helped Josiah climb into the swing and then buckled him in. He chuckled when Josiah checked the harness, inspecting his work. “Buckles mean I can go higher!” His voice had gotten louder as he became comfortable in the situation. “Push!”

“Yes, sir,” Rich said with a laugh. He gave the swing a hesitant shove, and it moved a couple of feet before swinging back.

Josiah literally rolled his eyes, and in that moment, he looked so much like a young John-Michael that Rich had to blink back sudden tears. God, how could he do this? How could he spend time with a clone of his brother and a reminder of their misspent childhood?

Automatically, he gave the swing a real push when it swung toward him again, and Josiah let out an excited whoop. He lifted his arms in the air and raised his face to the breeze, and Rich’s breath caught in his throat.
This
was how John-Michael should have been.
This
was what they should have had. They had the chance to give this boy—this gorgeous, golden kid—the life that had been stolen from them.

He looked back at John-Michael, who was leaning against the metal railing of the concrete steps. He gave Rich a sad smile and nodded as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. And just beyond his brother, Rich spotted Patrick strolling down the path, his familiar presence reaching out to Rich like a beacon.

His auburn hair glinted in the sun, turning it the color of burnished copper. He looked so casually beautiful in his O’Dowd Restoration T-shirt and ripped jeans that it made Rich’s heart hurt a little. When Rich finally caught his eye, Patrick’s smile was immediate and familiar, like they were an old married couple who still couldn’t wait to see each other at the end of the day.

He lifted his hand to wave, and as he got closer, Rich could see the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and he couldn’t help the fleeting thought that flickered across his brain—that maybe everything might just be okay.

Chapter Eighteen

This was it. Rich was laying everything on the line with his presentation for the Avoir Lieu account. He was sweating underneath his designer Armani as he walked back to his office from the park. The meeting with Josiah had left a warm glow deep in his belly, but his good mood was evaporating with every step he took toward the enormous steel and glass tower.

When he entered the main lobby, he waved to the guard behind the security desk, flashed his badge, and she nodded back at him. On the elevator ride up to the InVentiv suite on the ninth floor, Rich stared at his distorted reflection in the aluminum wall of the elevator. The guy looking back at him looked terrified.
Great.

All too soon, the elevator door opened and he stepped out into the ninth floor lobby. He smiled at the sweet septuagenarian who served as InVentiv’s receptionist and administrative assistant.

“Hi, Louise.”

“Hello, Mr. Langston,” she answered cheerfully, then took a sip of her tea. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

He’d asked her repeatedly to call him Rich, because he certainly didn’t consider himself her boss, but Louise was old-school. “I did, thank you.” This time his smile was genuine. “I went to the park with my brother and my nephew.”

How strange that sounded coming out of his mouth; a description of a commonplace lunch with family, yet it was such a new concept for him.

“Oh, how nice! I wasn’t aware that you had any family in the area.”

That story is definitely longer than we’ve got.
“They just moved to town. We’re getting reacquainted.”

“Lovely. Well, now that everyone’s trickling in, I’m going to go next door and grab a bite. See you in a bit.”

“Have a good one.” Having no more reason to stall, Rich swallowed down the knot of fear in his throat and walked on back to the large open office he shared with his project team.

He dumped his briefcase onto his workstation and carefully leaned his large leather portfolio against the side of his desk. Poking his head around the corner into the adjoining private office, he waved to his boss.

Terry Cavanaugh was a senior exec and also Rich’s team leader on the
Essedarius
project. Though it all came down to what the client thought, the fate of Rich’s promotion rested solely in this man’s recommendation to the partners. Terry was short and stocky, though all of it muscle, and he sported a blond brush cut and thick moustache. While he’d made no comments to justify the fear, he was just the type of guy that had made Rich feel like he shouldn’t come out at work.

Sensing his presence, Terry looked up from his laptop and waved Rich in. “Hey, Langston. Everything ready for the presentation?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve got all of the boards at my desk ready for you to look at.”

“Perfect. The reps from Avoir Lieu will be here any minute.”

Rich’s blood ran cold. He was pitching to the client? With any new campaign, the junior executives always pitched their ideas first to their team leader, who then decided which one—or ones—they would present to the clients for evaluation. He’d never been involved in a presentation in which the ideas didn’t go through a senior exec first.

“Wait, we’re pitching to the client?”

“Yep. They’re looking for a quick turnaround for this campaign—like
miniscule
. If they want to cut out the middle man and wade through all of the ideas themselves, far be it from me…” He waved it away, as if he hadn’t the time or the air to finish the sentence.

“Should I set up in the boardroom then?”

“Yeah, go on in and set up. Johnson and Wigmore are already in there. Davis should be on her way as well. I’ll bring the clients in when they get here.”

“Yes, sir,” Rich said again.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Langston, how long have we known each other?”

“Oh, I don’t know, four years, maybe five…sir.” Rich gave him a salute and a ghost of a smile. He was too nervous to joke around with Terry at the present moment “See you in a bit.”

Grabbing his stuff from his desk, Rich headed back to the conference room. He nodded to the other two juniors already there, then took his boards out of the portfolio and set them on an easel. One of them was turned around so that they would all be hidden from view until it was his turn.

Next, he booted up his MacBook and pulled up the rest of his presentation so that it would be ready to connect with the huge flat screen plasma monitor when the time came. Rich had been with the company longer than the other three juniors and was technically up for promotion before them—so while there was competition for the account, there wasn’t any for the promotion. He was grateful for that, because he certainly didn’t need the added pressure.

Rich looked up from his computer when Angela Davis came scrambling into the boardroom. “Don’t worry, the clients aren’t here yet.”

“Thank God,” she said, and went about setting up her own materials.

Rich loosened his tie as much as he dared, trying to give his sweaty neck room to breathe. It was just that he had so much riding on this meeting; he was also nervous about the fact that he’d only practiced the abbreviated presentation he’d planned to pitch to Terry. He would have polished it up and added some flare for the benefit of the client. But now he’d have to wing it.