Faith and Fidelity (34 page)

“Thanks.” Matt opened the bottle and took a swig. “Sitting down or ready to run?” he said after he swallowed, throwing Evan an expression he could only describe as challenging.

“I was going to pace actually.” Evan opened his bottle— and paced a bit to the other side of the room and back. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Matt shrugged. “Hey, whatever. You had a change of heart. Understandable. Not like we made any promises to each other.”

Evan was pretty sure he'd given this speech before, and inwardly, there was a pretty serious wince on his part.

“But we did. Or at least... I did, to myself. I made a lot of promises to myself and then I sort of got sidetracked by— by fucked-up thinking.” Evan's voice was low as he looked down at the rug. Spied popcorn. Resisted the urge to vacuum. “And I made a huge mess of what was... the thing... with us.”

“You make it sound so appealing,” Matt laughed, deep and hollow.

“It was.”

“Yeah, it was.”

Silence wove through the air, punctuated by doors slamming and feet stomping above them. Evan took a breath, taking some comfort in the sound.

“I panicked and I'm sorry. Because you didn't deserve that— you didn't deserve me just kicking you out like a freak.”

“No offense, but more used to that than... this.” Matt did a wave that encompassed the room. Upstairs. Evan's life.

“But you miss it. You miss the kids.” Evan was bold for a moment, moving into Matt's personal space, metaphorically at least.

Matt's eyes narrowed. “They're good kids. Course I miss them.”

“They miss you.”

“I'm a fucking amazing guy— who wouldn't?”

The air sizzled. The noises upstairs abated a little more as the house settled down.

“Who wouldn't— good point.” Evan cleared his throat and sat down on the couch— the middle of the couch. He didn't look at Matt just yet, but he could feel the other man's heated gaze boring into the side of his head.

“Don't play me,” Matt said finally, and the sound of his voice made Evan's head turn. If he didn't feel like a guilty piece of shit before, the look in Matt's eyes took care of that.

“I'm not. I had pretty much convinced myself I made the right decision but there's gotta be a reason... there's just gotta be a reason you're here right now.”

“Your kids asked me to stay.”

“Yeah— yeah they did. And if I ever needed a better blessing than that... ” Evan's voice trailed off and softened. “I have to talk to them, I have to tell them everything, but I'm not so afraid of that anymore.”

Matt coughed, like beer went down the wrong pipe when actually it was more like air went down the wrong way.

“Tell the kids— what happened with us before?” he managed eventually, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Tell the kids what might be happening with us down the road,” Evan offered casually, his cool eyes flickering over Matt. “I mean— if you're not convinced I'm a fucking head case with enough baggage to take a plane down.”

“I have a matching set of luggage.” Matt laughed, his heart trying to batter out of his chest.
What? Wait? Huh
? rolls around his head like loose dice on a craps table. “So uh— you talk to the kids and then what?”

“I don't know.”

“That answer should scare me more.”

“They love you.”

“They love me as Dad's friend. Not necessarily as Dad's uh... special friend.”

Matt watched the shudder rattle Evan's frame and reached out instinctively, resting a hand at the back of his neck. And really, he was thinking of just backing out because no matter what his assload of anger and issues, the idea of messing up this beautiful family made him want to take a header off the Brooklyn Bridge. The words would have come out of his mouth— seriously— but the corded muscles of Evan's neck against the damp of his palm disconnected his thinking brain, and then they were just staring at each other...

If he thought about it later, the best part of all this was that Evan was the one who leaned toward him, grabbing his shirt to bring him closer and then— then their mouths met.

It wasn't easy for Evan to concentrate for the next twenty-four hours; he was working on adrenaline and emotion— not a new state of being for him, but for the first time in a long time it didn't manifest from work. It bloomed from Matt and seeing him and kissing him and thinking that maybe (just maybe) this could work out.

Hope felt like a strange cloak to wear at this point in his life.

He got up and showered the next morning, pretending he had slept, answering the kids’ questions about whether or not Matt would be back soon with affirmative words. Miranda hovered on the edge of the commotion, warily eyeing her father as if waiting for the explosion.

Evan just grounded her instead.

He dropped them off at school, grabbed coffee for Helena on the way to work, and felt inordinately grateful for the slow-moving traffic into Manhattan. Because he could sink into his thoughts, the reality of last night, the reality of his own stupidity. Denial and fear were never going to let him find happiness, and not finding happiness would be counterintuitive to everything he'd built his life on. Everything he and Sherri had taught their children
not
to do.

The reality of his own stupidity— definitely something Sherri would agree with.

In the squad room, Evan moved on autopilot through the morning greetings and shift change, sitting down at his desk and shuffling through papers without seeing a thing.

Which of course was the very first thing Helena noticed as she sat down across from him.

“Where the heck are you?” she asked, sucking down half the tepid coffee he'd left on her blotter.

“Huh? Oh... just got a lot on my mind,” he answered absently, but apparently there was something in his tone that piqued her interest because he suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope.

“Do share.” It wasn't exactly a request.

Evan's eyes flickered up from the file in front of him and he did a quick sideways glance to see who might be paying attention and murmured, “Lunch, we'll talk.”

Helena smirked.

“Ohhhhhhhh, we're taking an early one,” she muttered.

And they dove into their day.

Lunch turned out to be a late afternoon hot dog and soda binge in the car— not that either of them was complaining. Helena let Evan have about four bites before she turned in her seat to give her partner an evil stare.

“What's going on?”

“Chewing,” Evan pointed out, moving his jaw slowly.

“C'mon. I've been good all day. Spill before I start guessing.”

Evan swallowed, wiped his mouth and tried not to smile— though a tiny bit leaked out.

“Actually I should really be freaking out. Miranda got into some trouble in the city with her friends... ” He sighed, rubbing his palm against the knot in his forehead. “Luckily there aren't going to be any legal consequences. Matt straightened it out.”

“Matt?” Helena's grin took up all the remaining oxygen in the car. “Seriously? Matt Haight?”

“No, Matt Jones. The other guy I was uh... seeing.” He crumpled up his napkin and tossed it into the paper bag.

“So what— Miranda called Matt?”

“Yeah. And he went down there to get her, and then we... well, he stayed around for dinner because the kids missed him.”

“Riiiiiight, the kids missed him.”

“Keep it up and I'm going to stop talking, and I haven't gotten to the good part.”

Helena took another bite of her hot dog, chewing and grinning, her eyes wide.

“So we talked a little bit and... you know.” Evan made a hand motion that he hoped explained everything. “Maybe I was wrong with the way I ended things.”

“Duh.”

“Really not a vocabulary word for a woman of your professional level.”

“Whatev, dude. Is there more? Anything follow the talking?” She even used quote fingers around talking and Evan blushed.

“No,” he lied. “I'm not rushing things. I need to talk to the kids; I need to figure this out.”

“You need to stop thinking so damn much and just get laid.” Helena drained her soda can with an obnoxious slurp. “Matt is a great guy, and second chances with a great guy don't happen all that often. Take it from me.”

“I'm going to try okay?”

“There is no try... ”

“Oh God, you're quoting Yoda?”

“He's a wise little alien and you need all the help you can get.”

Instead of Yoda, Evan went to Vic Wolkowski. There was a vague physical resemblance... but he didn't mention that.

“Hey, you got a few minutes?”

“Case stuff or personal?” Vic shoved some folders to one side and leaned his elbows on the desk.

“Personal.”

“Shut the door and pull up a chair.”

Evan settled in across from Wolkowski and fidgeted for a moment before he cleared his throat and began.

“I need to know if it will affect the department if... if I'm involved with someone... who's a man.”

The words were strung together with tension wire, but when Evan got them all out, a bit of air seemed to creep into parts of his lungs that hadn't felt used in a while.

Vic's expression didn't change. He was like a statue. “Depends. Do I know this someone?”

Evan smiled. Half a smile. Maybe a quirk of his lips.

“Yeah, you do.”

Now Vic's facade cracked. A little. Maybe a quarter of a smile.

“So long as you're doing the same job you've always done around here, I don't see where your personal relationships come into play.” He shrugged, all casual like, but the grin was teasing at his eyes. “Could certainly liven up the holiday party though... ”

“Yeah, that bridge we'll cross... later. Maybe.” Evan shook his head. He didn't want to see Matt drown Moses in a bowl of dip.

“I'm just glad to hear things are... going another way, Evan. I mean that.”

“Honestly? Nothing is settled, not really. I don't know if he's going to give me a second chance. And I don't want to put everything out there until... until I talk to some people.”

“Like the kids?” Vic's eyebrows did a little rise and fall dance.

“Yeah, like the kids. Like my in-laws.” The latter of which was comparable to having been shot in the chest at this point. He winced.

“The kids are crazy about Matt... and your in-laws’ approval is not required, Evan.”

“No, it's not. But they could fight for custody... ”

“And if they do, they'll lose. There's nothing about the way you conduct your life that makes you a bad father.”

“Can I count on you as a character witness?” Evan smiled ruefully.

Vic rolled his eyes. “C'mon— you'll have so many character witnesses they'll not only throw out a custody suit, they'll give you the key to the city.”

“No need to go crazy.” He wiped damp palms on his slacks and checked his watch. “Thanks, Vic. I have to get home, pick up the kids. We have some talking to do.”

“Understood and good luck. But you know, I don't think you're going to need it. Those are some amazing kids you got there.”

Evan stood and reached his hand out; Vic shook it, giving him an extra squeeze before letting go. “Go on, get out of here. I have a warm cream soda and two weeks of back reports to read. Wanna trade?”

“Come to think of it? No.”

Matt sat at his kitchen table with the sports section of the
Daily News
and a plate of lasagna. And two beers. His knee jiggled with nerves that his placid face did not reveal.

He reread a trade article four times before he remembered he wasn't an Islanders fan and really didn't care.

He checked his watch. Checked the clock on the wall. Checked the digital time on the microwave. What he was waiting for he didn't quite know; did he think Evan would wave a magic wand and make everything terrific and get settled and call him over for some sex?

Okay— that was his ultimate fantasy. That was not even vaguely reality.

He finished dinner, the beers. Took out the recycling and read an ad on the tenant board about samba classes. And a parrot for sale. Neither interested him but he read them twice for something to do.

Then he went back to his apartment.

There was no message on his machine and Matt rubbed his face with both hands. Getting his hopes up seemed stupid but he couldn't help it. You'd have thought his life thus far would have taught him a few things about, you know, lying down and playing dead when reality kept taking potshots at your head.

Guess he was just a stubborn son of a bitch.

Matt shut off the light and headed for the bathroom; he figured he could jerk off in the shower, then go to bed and stare at the ceiling for a few hours. Perfect. At least that was familiar territory.

Evan sat on the floor of the living room, sucking down a beer like it was the last one he'd ever have. Two hours. Two torturous painful hours with some tears and some anger and a lot of Evan trying to find words for things he wasn't sure existed. In the end, the twins had enough information to be confused... but fixated on the point that Matt would be around more and that was good.

Kathleen understood a bit more; she seemed torn between wanting to please her father by accepting what he said and conflicted about what it all meant. She nodded a lot, her eyes wet and her smile confused.

Again— Matt being around more was a plus for her.

Miranda was another story entirely, but really, Evan wasn't surprised by that at all. She started out stone-faced and ended up wanting to talk to her father “alone,” with a meaningful glance at the other children.

After they were tucked in, Miranda launched a full-out assault. Was he always gay? Was he going to tell people? Would he lose his job? Did he really love Mom or was that all a bunch of crap?

He kept his temper— barely, but he did. He understood her confusion because hell, he was still dealing with it. How did you go your whole life thinking one thing then have it turned on a dime?

Explaining wasn't easy because Miranda was too overwrought to hear. He tried to talk about Sherri and ended up choked up which didn't help his explanation. Finally— finally— Miranda made a sound of frustration and said, “I don't want to get attached to Matt again and then have him leave okay? The kids— it hurt them.”