Worth the Wait (2 page)

Tate smiled. “Well, she’s a pretty nice kid. And she loves these books. It’s all she wants to talk about when we Skype. She’s drawn all the characters…. I think one of the reasons she likes it is because she can relate to the heroes. Her mom’s Japanese, and they’ve been stationed in Korea for the past two years, after spending the previous two in Germany. The books are all about new people and exciting adventures and being brave in the face of adversity, or so she tells me.”

“That’s a pretty good description,” Brandon agreed. “She’s an Army brat, then?”

Tate scoffed. “Air Force, please.”

“There’s a difference?”

“I’m going to do you a favor and pretend I didn’t hear that.” The line shuffled forward a bit more, and Brandon moved with Tate again. He didn’t look like he had any intention of leaving, actually, and that was more than enough to fortify Tate against the possibility of another few hours in line. In fact, if the line stayed just fast enough to get him through the door at the end of the night, he’d be happy.

They talked easily, trading stories about living in Denver and work. Brandon was a freelance artist who specialized in kinetic sculpture, which led to the two of them huddling over a phone as Brandon showed Tate some of his projects, then some of the pieces he loved.

“The one at the Changi Airport is amazing. Look at that,” he said, and Tate watched, mesmerized by the curtain of dark red raindrops rising and falling in beautiful harmony.

“Awesome,” he said. “And appropriate, given how things are tonight.”

“It could be worse,” Brandon said with an evil smile. “I mean, it could be hailing.”

Tate clapped his free hand over Brandon’s mouth. He’d finished his coffee ages ago. “Don’t say that sort of shit out loud. You might give the weather ideas.”

Brandon smiled against his hand, mobile lips warm and soft, and Tate was seized by the thought of leaning in and seeing if they felt the same against his own. Which, no, this wasn’t exactly a first date or anything, and as nice as Brandon was, he probably wasn’t nice enough to just take that in stride. Tate took his hand away a moment later, a little embarrassed, but Brandon didn’t seem bothered.

“No tempting the weather. Got it.”

Tate swallowed and nodded as casually as he could manage. “And don’t forget it.”

Honestly, it could have snowed by the time they actually got close to the door and Tate wouldn’t have minded. He was enjoying himself so much. Unfortunately, he also wasn’t paying attention to the time. When he looked up and saw the man wearing a Tattered Cover shirt come outside with an apologetic look on his face, he groaned. “Oh no.”

“What?” Brandon asked, but then the man started to speak.

“We’re so sorry, folks, but it’s after nine and the bookstore is closing for the night.”

Disappointed shouts rang out, a few of them angry but most of them just frustrated.

“We’re so sorry for the inconvenience. I know some of you have waited a long time. Ms. Withershine is leaving a limited number of signed copies of
The Spidersilk Bridge
with us, and we’ll be holding them through tomorrow for those of you who waited tonight.” He went down the line handing out little yellow tickets with numbers on them. “We can only save you a copy through tomorrow, and only for the first hundred people. Thanks for coming out tonight, and again, we apologize for the inconvenience.”

People slowly began to disperse, heading out into the drizzling night with grumbles and sighs. Tate stared down at his yellow ticket, grateful to have it and yet incredibly disappointed. Addie had wanted her name in the book. She’d wanted an
inscription
. She’d take a signed copy happily, Tate knew, but he still felt like he was going to be letting her down.

Brandon had a furrow between his dark eyebrows. “Not good, huh?”

“No… I mean, yes, it’s good I’ll be able to get a copy for Addie, but she was really hoping for a message from the author.” Tate forced a shrug. “It’ll be okay. She’ll still like it.” He exhaled noisily and watched his breath fog in the air. “I should have planned things out better. Now I know for next time.”

“No way.”

“No way what?”

Brandon shook his head. “You stood in line for almost five hours. There’s no way you’re walking away tonight without getting what you came for. Come on.” He offered his hand to Tate, who took it tentatively, then led the way into the bookstore.

“No, we can’t. They’re closed!”

“They won’t kick us out,” Brandon said. “This won’t take long.” He pulled Tate across the dark carpet, past warm oak shelves decorated with fake holly and signs declaring Anthea Withershine’s event, until they were at the signing table itself, where a short, plump woman in a bright purple dress was wearily working a glitter pen across the front pages of a stack of books. She glanced up as they got close.

“There you are!” she said when she saw Brandon. “I thought you’d abandoned me for the night, honey.”

“Would I do that?” he asked.

The woman looked between the two of them. “You might, if you found someone more interesting. Who’s your friend?”

“Mom—” And Tate felt his brain short-circuit a little, trying suddenly to wrap his head around the fact that he’d spent all evening with
Anthea Withershine’s
son. “—this is Tate Beckinsale, and his niece is your biggest fan.”

Brandon looked at Tate expectantly, and he snapped out of his surprised fugue.

“She really is,” Tate managed. “Your books are her favorites. I swear she’s got them memorized by this point. Her birthday is coming up, and I was hoping to get a copy of the newest one tonight—”

“With a message for her,” Brandon finished. “I know your fingers are probably ready to fall off, Mom, but can you manage a few more words?”

She beamed. “Of course I can!” She plucked a fresh book from the stack at her elbow. “What’s your niece’s name and favorite color?”

“Um, blue, I think, and her name is Addie.” Tate spelled it out for her and watched as she wrote
For Addie, May Your Dreams Carry You On Many Fantastic Journeys, Anthea Withershine
, along with a quick line drawing of a sparkly blue spider. She handed it over to Tate, and he just stared at it for a moment, as enthralled as he knew his niece would be when she got her hands on it.

“Do you want her to do the ones in the bag?” Brandon prompted him.

“Oh, no, they’re probably nothing but pulp at this point,” Tate said. He glanced into the bag and ruefully confirmed it. “Pretty waterlogged. It’s fine, though,” he assured them. “This is more than enough. Addie will be thrilled.”

“Oh no.” Anthea shook her head. “I’m sure we can do better than that. Hang on.” She looked through one of the boxes at her feet, eventually coming up with a hard copy of
The Mystery of the Falling Star
. “I knew I had an extra one of these with me,” she said. She opened the front cover and wrote another sweet note, this time with a picture of a star trailing sparks. “There! And here’s a fresh bag to put both of them in.”

“You’re such a mom,” her son said, and she casually threw a bookmark at him. “Ow!”

“How’s that, then?” she asked Tate brightly, ignoring Brandon’s wounded look.

“It’s so great. Thank you,” he assured her. “I can’t even tell you how happy she’ll be.”

“Well, maybe you can let me know after her birthday, just to be sure.”

“I… ah….” There seemed to be all sorts of assumptions in that statement, and Tate didn’t know what to do with any of them. Neither did Brandon. Fortunately, his mother didn’t require either of them to speak.

“I’ve got to run to the bathroom. Could you finish packing things up for me here, except for the books on the table? Then I’ll cut you loose, honey.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then bustled off.

Tate turned to look at Brandon. “I thought your last name was Halling!”

“It is! You think her real name is Anthea
Withershine
? No, she got that idea from Lemony Snicket and ran with it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me your mother was the author?”

Brandon shrugged uncomfortably. “Because I wanted to talk to you about something other than my mother. I get people coming up to me all the time who are just interested in getting her autograph, or an advance copy of her next book, or a meeting with her agent…. It’s kind of exhausting.”

He looked embarrassed and more than a little unhappy, and Tate suddenly reminded himself that he’d had a great evening with this guy, who then had given up his anonymity so that Tate’s niece could have her signed copies. He’d show them to her tomorrow morning during their Skype chat before he sent them off. Tate couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

“I’d have liked you anyway,” he said, and Brandon smiled a little. “I mean, I do. I do like you anyway.”

“That’s good.” Brandon glanced down at his feet, then back up. “Look, how do you feel about going to get dinner with me? After I help my mom pack up, I mean?”

Tate felt his smile slowly morph into a grin. It felt like his turn to do something nice for Brandon—and for himself—was coming around. “Sounds great.” He looked at himself. “Maybe someplace casual?”

“Somewhere without a wait,” Brandon agreed. “I think you’ve had enough of that for one day.”

“I don’t know,” Tate said. “I think the wait ended up being just about right.”

Brandon smiled at him. “I know this great little place, right down the street. Best tiramisu I’ve ever had. I usually go there after a book binge at Tattered, and they’re open late. Interested at all?”

His stomach growled at just the right time, and he pressed a hand against his belly to quiet the sound. “Sure. Dinner and dessert?”

Tate offered him his hand, and Brandon took it loosely. “I’m almost always craving pasta.” They headed outside, into the sleet, and Brandon opened his umbrella over them as they walked down the sidewalk. Brandon stopped them a few blocks later, in front of a small Italian restaurant called Nonna’s, that was painted what would have probably been a pretty yellow in the sunshine but in the darkness of the cloudy night sky was dull and bland.

The smells coming out of it, though, were amazing, all garlic and basil and a rich red sauce Tate couldn’t wait to try. Brandon held the door for him, then closed his umbrella. Tate didn’t expect him to take his hand again, but he did anyway as they were taken to an open booth.

“You’ve got to try the calamari if you like seafood,” Brandon said as he pulled a menu close.

Tate just smiled at him. “You seem like you come here a lot.”

That made Brandon blush as he glanced away toward his menu. “Not a lot, really. But it’s right by my place, and I can’t cook very well.”

Laughing, Tate also looked at the menu. He was having a hard time deciding, though, since everything sounded so good. Finally giving up and choosing to do something he normally never would have, Tate lowered the menu and looked across the table at Brandon. “Order for me?”

“You sure?”

He really wasn’t, but Brandon seemed to have a good handle on what was edible there, so he shrugged. “Yeah. Just not vegetarian.”

“Got it.” When the waiter, decked out in a jaunty red Santa hat, came over to take their drink orders, Brandon was ready to order the food as soon as Tate had asked for an iced tea. He ended up ordering the calamari, stuffed mushrooms, chicken parmigiana, and lasagna.

When he’d finished, Tate just smiled at him. “You must really be hungry.”

Brandon blushed a little and sipped the water that had been brought over for him. Tate took the lemon out of his iced tea, having forgotten to ask for it without, and put it on one of the small plates between them. He’d intended to leave it there for one of the waiters to take away, but Brandon picked it up and tossed it into his water.

“So… if you don’t like my mom’s books, what do you read?”

“What if I said I didn’t like reading?” Tate asked him with a smile.

Laughing, Brandon shook his head. “I can’t imagine that, and besides, I saw you looking at the crime novels as we left. What do you like?”

That was actually a bit embarrassing. “You can’t laugh.”

“About you liking detective stories? Why would I?”

Tate leaned forward a little bit, closing the space between them. “Because new-release romance novels were next to the crime novels. And there’s this one where the two guys actually get together. They’ve been side characters in the last two books in the series, but now they get their own book.”

Brandon looked a bit surprised, and Tate didn’t blame him. It was kind of embarrassing to admit that he read romance novels. At least he thought so.

“That one’s out? About the space pirates you mean, right? I thought that didn’t get released until next month.”

Tate’s mouth dropped open. “You know about
Into the Dark
? How?”

“Because I’m a gay man that likes to read good sci-fi? Actually, if the two main characters are gay, I’ll give nearly any genre a try. Don’t look so surprised,” Brandon teased him. “It’s not that weird.”

Well, no, it wasn’t weird. Except to Tate it kind of was. “Everyone I know reads the hard-hitting detective type stories, like you thought I did. But a lot of them are just too gory for me.”

“Ever tried my mom’s books?” Brandon asked, surprising him.

Tate shook his head. “No. Sorry. I don’t really read kids’ books.”

Their appetizers came, and Brandon started eating the mushrooms while Tate went for the calamari.

“You should try the first one. The series is actually really good. I’ve read them all, but because I like them more than because my mom wrote them. She has another series that isn’t nearly as popular or as good, but you should check out the first book in this one. I think you’ll like it.”

“Because my niece does?” Tate joked.

Brandon laughed. “No. Because I said so.”

They shared a grin and kept eating. As the evening continued and they spent hours there eating together and laughing, Tate realized that he wasn’t getting anxious or looking at his phone. He hadn’t even noticed the time going by. That was unusual for him, and a nice surprise.