Accidentally in Love (16 page)

As they drove over to the
Greenbriar
and its famous brunch that Tom’s father had always liked, Tom found himself getting nervous. Since he was the one driving, that wasn’t the best way to be. At first, the thought of Cal accompanying him had been an incredible relief, but now he was starting to wish he hadn’t asked. Cal meeting his parents, knowing what they were like, would only end in disaster.

“Relax,” Cal said, patting his knee. “It’ll be okay.”

“You only think that because you haven’t met them yet,” Tom said.

“Are you more worried about what I’ll think of them, or what they’ll think of me? Because I’m tough and I can take it. Either way.”

“They’re just… I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.” Tom put on his turn signal and slowed the car, waiting for the traffic to ease so he could turn into the parking lot of the restaurant. He regretted having tried to paint a happy picture of his family for Cal when they’d first met.

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll be charming. They’ll love me.”

“They don’t know,” Tom said when he’d parked the car. He turned to face Cal, wondering why it was so hard to talk about this when Cal already knew all about it anyway. “They know that I’m gay, but they don’t know that I’ve never been with anyone. They’d always ask, and I’d say that no, I wasn’t seeing anyone right then, and they didn’t really want to know the details, so they never got that I wasn’t seeing anyone ever.”

“I won’t mention that to them,” Cal said, “though it’s not likely to come up. If you want to tell them I’m just your roommate, we can do that too.”

“No,” Tom said. “It wouldn’t be the truth.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Cal agreed. He touched Tom’s cheek with the back of his knuckles, a fleeting touch, barely felt. “This is new to me too. I’ve never been introduced to someone’s parents before. It’s just… Well, you know why.”

“I guess not,” Tom said. “Well, the good news is that they’ll have to leave for the airport again soon, so this won’t take long.”

“I love how you look on the bright side,” Cal said drily.

They walked through the lobby to the arched entrance to the restaurant. Sunday brunch was deservedly popular, and there was a line of people hoping to get seated. Tom saw his parents sitting at a window table luckily big enough for four, and he led Cal past the line.

A discreetly dressed woman at a small desk turned her head to look at them, a sheaf of menus in her hand. “Sir? Do you have a reservation?”

Tom pointed at his parents. “We’re joining that table over there. The
Holdens
.”

The woman smiled perfunctorily at him, her gaze flickering to Cal, who looked completely at ease in a way Tom envied. “Of course. They said that they’d be a party of…three?”

“Four,” Tom said.

“Four, of course. If you’ll just follow me?”

“It’s okay,” Tom said as she began to rise. “Thanks, anyway.”

The room was a large one, broken up by trellises supporting ivy and small white flowers. The plants were real and were replaced as needed. The restaurant was a recreation of summer in an English garden, with a deliberately faded elegance designed to appeal to the diner who fancied himself in a stately home. Tom always felt like one of the servants and had to restrain himself from tugging at his forelock when a waiter spoke to him.

His father stood to greet Tom, a welcoming smile on his face. These visits always started well, but Tom was already counting silently in his head to the first ripple in the smooth facade.

“Here’s the birthday boy.” His father reached out both hands to clasp Tom’s right between his own. His grip was cool and impersonal, although Tom knew that anyone looking would see a loving father.

Cal stepped forward and offered his own hand before anyone could ask who he was or what he was doing there. “Calvin Reece. I’m Tom’s roommate. I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along.”

“Tom’s friends are always welcome,” his mother said as Cal and his dad shook hands.

“Gregory and Emma Holden,” his father said. Tom prayed that Cal could tell by the tone of his father’s voice that he wasn’t under any circumstances to actually call them by their first names.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Cal said. They all sat down, some small part of the awkwardness smoothed out by the niceties, which, Tom supposed, was why they existed in the first place.

“So you’re Tom’s, uh, roommate?” His mother picked up her glass and sipped what looked like orange juice. Tom was pretty sure it was spiked with something.

“Yup,” Cal said cheerfully. “Only for a few months now, but I think it’s working out okay.”

That would have been the time for Tom to admit the truth, grateful as he was to Cal for covering for him. He was saved by a spectacularly beautiful young woman in a white blouse and dark slacks, the uniform for servers at the
Greenbriar
, who appeared tableside at that moment.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said. “I’m Audrey. Can I start you two gentlemen with something to drink?”

“Just coffee for me, thank you,” Tom said. As much as a mimosa or anything else with alcohol in it would have helped, he thought he should avoid drinking in front of his parents. It was always better not to give them added ammunition.

“Coffee would be great.” Cal gave the redheaded Audrey a charming smile, and she actually blushed. Tom’s mother, on the other hand, looked confused, as if she’d just been given information she hadn’t expected.

“I’ll be right back with that. Help yourselves to the buffet whenever you’re ready.”

“Shall we?” Tom's father stood without waiting for a reply from anyone. Tom was used to that. The right time to do something was always whenever his father thought that it should be done, from mealtimes to cutting the grass to Tom’s homework.

Tom trailed behind his parents to the lavish display of food, his stomach a tight knot. He helped himself to a bowl of fresh fruit to start, the usual melon, strawberries, and grapes only part of what lay nestled on ice in a huge crystal bowl.

“That looks very…juicy,” Cal said from behind him. “I’ve never seen raspberries that big.”

“It’s good.” Tom tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. “All of it is. They really go to town here.” Not that his parents would take advantage of the range of food that was offered. His mother would nibble at some fruit and pick at a croissant until delicate flakes of pastry were scattered across the Wedgwood plate and declare herself full, and his father would ignore anything healthy and eat steak and eggs followed by a huge slice of the chocolate cake that was always available on the dessert table.

“Just don’t get between me and the bacon.” Cal stole a glossy blackberry from Tom’s bowl and popped it into his mouth. “I’m starving.”

“That makes one of us.”

Cal picked up a plate. “Look, this is going to be over soon, so there’s no need to be all doom and gloom over it. At least your parents are here. They didn’t have to be.”

“They don’t
want
to be,” Tom said, aware that he sounded like a sulky brat. His parents were already back at the table, and he could see them shooting glances his way. “They just know that their friends will ask about me, and it’ll look weird if they admit that they didn’t visit me.”

“Maybe they’re as nervous about this as you are?”

Tom met Cal’s gaze squarely. “The bacon’s over there. I’m going back to the table now. And…I appreciate you trying to be positive, but you only just met them. You don’t know them.”

Cal sighed. “I’m sorry. The day started out so well, and I guess I wanted to keep it that way. No more optimism. This is me going in search of fried pig.”

“It’s imported from Ireland,” Tom called after him. “From happy pigs.”

The grin Cal gave him meant that he went back to the table with a smile of his own, at least.

Before he’d even sat down, his mother was leaning toward him across the table. “Why did you have to bring that boy with you?” It never ceased to amaze Tom that she could hiss something so viciously and still maintain a polite, interested expression.

“He’s not a boy, Mom. He’s older than me.” Tom couldn’t remember by how much, exactly, but it didn’t matter to him. “We had plans, and it seemed rude to exclude him.” That was sort of true, anyway.

“And are you…?” His mother looked down at her plate, which held some grapes, two strawberries, and a small glass bowl of yogurt. Probably—no, certainly—low-fat yogurt.

“Am I what, Mom? Still gay? Dating him?” There was more despair in Tom’s voice than anger, but his father still reprimanded him.

“Don’t speak to your mother that way. Show some respect.”

“Respect goes both ways.” Tom looked up to see Cal standing beside his chair. “Sorry to have to intrude on a private conversation, but it’s true.”

Surprisingly, neither of his parents seemed to have anything to say to that. Cal sat, put his napkin in his lap, smiled at Tom, and ate a piece of bacon.

“So, Tom tells me you’re just passing through. It was nice you were able to make time to visit him,” Cal said pleasantly a minute later, when Tom was starting to think he’d have to scream to break the silence.

His mother had just cut a grape in half with her fork and knife. She was probably horrified that Cal was eating the crispy bacon with his fingers. “We’re on our way to the Bahamas,” she said. “It isn’t the best time of year for it—”

Tom nodded at the predictability.
Of course not, because otherwise what would she have to complain about?

“—but it’s almost our anniversary, so we thought we could have a little getaway.” She favored her husband with a smile.

“How long have you been married, Mr. and Mrs. Holden?” Cal asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“This will be our twenty-seventh anniversary. I was very young when I got married, of course.”

Tom, who knew exactly how old his mother was, was too used to the polite fiction that she’d been a child bride to bother challenging it. He speared a piece of pineapple with his fork and concentrated on chewing it.

“I did a photo shoot in the Bahamas two years ago,” Cal offered, keeping the conversation alive, though Tom didn’t know why he was bothering. “Nassau, mostly. God, the colors in that place! Everything is so bright and vibrant from the buildings to the beaches.”

“You take photographs?” Tom’s father asked. “For a
living
?”

He made it sound frivolous beyond belief. Cal took a sip of coffee, then nodded. “I’ve always loved photography. You’re telling a story at such a basic, accessible level, but beneath the simplicity of an image there’s—”

“You’ll have to excuse us, Mr. Reece,” Tom’s mother said, breaking in on Cal with a smooth discourtesy that she covered with a distant smile. “I’m sure that’s fascinating, but we haven’t seen our son in quite a while, and I’d like to hear about
his
life, not yours.”

“Of course, I’m sorry,” Cal said. He managed to sound both apologetic and understanding, instead of shocked at Tom’s mother’s rudeness.

“It’s not like you couldn’t call me anytime,” Tom pointed out. “If you were so interested in my life.”

His mother sighed as if Tom were her greatest trial. “I never know when you might be available. To talk.”

“Mom, I’m always available. You make it sound like I’m out every night.”

“Well, as far as I know, you are.” His mother sniffed. “Isn’t that what boys like you do?”

Tom could feel his face heating with humiliation. It was one thing for her to talk to him like this where strangers could overhear, but to do it in front of Cal turned his stomach. “Boys like me? Okay, for one thing, I’m twenty-five years old. And for another, you don’t
know
what I’m like. Why do you all of a sudden want to talk about this now? You never have before.”

“You’ve never made it so impossible for us to overlook before,” his mother said with a pointed look at Cal.

“Now, Emma,” his father said with a chuckle, all cosmopolitan man of the world. “You can’t blame the boy for wanting to show off his, uh, friend.”

“I’m
not
showing him off,” Tom said. “I just—”

“Thought that we’d like to meet him?” his father said, the lift of his bushy eyebrows conveying his incredulity at the very idea.

“I
knew
you wouldn’t want to meet him.” Tom put his napkin on the table. “I’m sorry. I think we’d better go.”

“There’s no need for that, son—” his father began, but by then Tom was already getting to his feet, jarring the table so that his barely touched coffee cup tilted and fell. Coffee poured across the table, the dark stream heading for his mother, who squeaked and thrust her chair back to avoid getting splattered. Her napkin fell to the floor, and a few drops landed on her coral pink skirt.

“Look what you’ve done!”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said numbly, flinching from the savage glare she gave him. His mother hated mess and prided herself on presenting a pristine appearance always. Boarding the flight in a stained skirt would probably ruin the start of the vacation for her. “I didn’t mean to—”