Take the Cake (29 page)

“And now you’re suddenly twelve years old,” Kate said, exasperation creeping into her voice now. “You’ve got to cut this out. You do it every time.”

“Do what?” Tom was all innocence.

“Every time a new guy arrives on my horizon, and I’m not saying that’s a regular occurrence,” Kate added, holding up an admonishing hand as Tom opened his mouth to interrupt. “You check them out, announce that they’re no good, and start crowing as soon as they’re gone.”

“Well, they’re not. I’ve known you long enough to know what’s good for you, Kate. We all do,” Tom said, finishing his wine and signaling for another.

“No, I don’t think you do,” Kate said, her fingers whitening on her glass stem. The conversation was heading in a direction she didn’t like, and she felt her stomach twist with anxiety.

“Excuse me?”

“Tom, we’ve got a long history and it’s seen some pretty big changes over the years, but enough’s enough. You’ve got to let me move on.”

“What do you mean?” Tom replied. Now it was his turn to look worried.

Kate set her glass aside and ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it off the back of her neck before rubbing her face. She felt terrible. Now that it was finally happening, she was becoming aware that this was a conversation that had been building up for years.

“Tom,” Kate began in what she hoped was a gentle voice, “what I’m trying to say is that it feels like you’ve had me all to yourself for a long time. That might work for you, but it doesn’t work for me. It’s like you get the best of both worlds: you’re dating and having a great time, plus there’s our friendship. Why can’t I have that too?”

“You do. You’ve dated other guys,” Tom protested.

“And have I had your support every step of the way?” Kate sipped her wine again, watching him carefully. Tom was silent. “You know you’re in my heart, but you just can’t have
all
of it anymore.”

Tom mumbled something unintelligible into his wine glass.

“Sorry, what was that? I don’t speak Merlot,” Kate prompted, earning a sheepish look from Tom.

“I said I don’t see why we can’t share.”

“Oh, I think Michael can share. It’s you I have my doubts about after this afternoon’s effort,” Kate said.

The pair of them sat staring at each other before Tom broke the silence with a loud sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “If that’s what it takes.”

“I can’t make you do what you don’t want to, but if you’re going to cause problems, Tom, then I think it’s time you let me go.”

“Oh, you did
not
just say that,” Tom said, his face flushing with a combination of anger and shock.

“I did,” Kate said, feeling the struggle of the conversation take its toll as her cheeks began to flush.

“Is this because I hurt you when I came out?” Tom said, his eyes narrowing. “It’s taken you a while, Kate, but if this is payback then—”

“God, no,” Kate protested. “C’mon, give me some credit. I’m trying to say that if you want relationships
and
our friendship, then you have to extend me the same courtesy.”

“But I have,” Tom replied, slouching back in his chair.

“C’mon, Tom, have you really?” Kate kept her tone as even as she could, but all she wanted to do at this point was curl up, go to sleep and wake up when it was all over.

Tom was silent while he considered her words. “Maybe not, but I
have
talked you out of a few bad shoe choices,” Tom allowed at last, startling a laugh out of both of them.

“True, and I’ll always need help in that department.” Kate smiled. “At least until they come out with a pair of Converse that go with a cocktail dress.” She laughed again as Tom gave a theatrical shudder and made the sign of the cross to ward off fashion evil. They looked at each other and began laughing again, although the hilarity was out of proportion to the joke.

“So,” Kate ventured once their laughter had begun to subside, “are we good?”

“We’ll see,” Tom sighed. “I guess so. It’s just going to be hard, you know?” Tom stared unhappily into his wine. “I’ve gotten so used to having you all to myself, I figured that whatever happened it’d always be you and me.”

“You know I’ll always be here,” Kate said, reaching over to pat his hand, and was surprised when Tom took her hand in a fierce grip.

“I’ll share, but I’m not happy about it. Still, if he can prove that he’s good enough, then I’ll go along with it.” Tom delivered this pronouncement with an air of martyrdom, giving Kate an arch look as she smiled into her glass. “Going by the look on your face, you seem to think he’s worth it.”

“He is.” Kate nodded, the knot in her stomach loosening now that the conversation was taking a friendly turn.

“Hmm, well, prejudice aside, given he’s taking you away from me,” Tom mused, “I have to say that he’s gorgeous—that hair, those eyes.” Tom’s eyes took on a wicked glint as he continued, “high and tight in the back too.”

“Tom.” Kate laughed at this, and Tom grinned at the look of embarrassment and delight on her face.

“Speaking of taking away, though,” Tom mused, “how come he bailed earlier?”

“You were a total bitch queen for a start,” Kate said bluntly. “Who’d want to stick around for that?”

“True,” Tom said with a reminiscent smile. “I was in fine form.”

“I don’t know that you should be patting yourself on the back for that little display. Paul was looking pretty pissed at you too.”

Tom blanched. If there was one friend he treasured as much as Kate, it was her big brother. Paul was perhaps the only person in New York City other than Kate who could rouse Tom out of bed to help with some manual labor on a Sunday.

“Point taken,” he said, looking chagrined. “I’ll buy him a beer later.”

“He’ll like that,” Kate assured him.

~~~

Michael flickered his fingers over the computer keyboard, and then sighed and deleted the sentence. He gave the laptop a light shove and kicked back in his chair, staring at the screen. He didn’t know what he was writing. He wasn’t even in the mood to write; he was just trying to occupy himself as a way to kill time until he heard from Kate again. He needed to find something to do. Getting up from his chair, he wandered over to his bookshelf, selecting books at random and then putting them back when they didn’t appeal.

He huffed out a sigh and stood with hands on hips, staring dejectedly around the apartment. Used to his own company for so long, he now found himself missing Kate’s. He had no idea what he was going to do with the afternoon that stretched interminably ahead of him.

Half an hour later, he slouched lower on the sofa, staring at the television, trying to work out what the movie was about, and then realized he didn’t particularly even like it. Reaching for the remote, he scrolled through some more cable channels before giving up in disgust. There was nothing he wanted to watch, so he switched the TV off and got up, scuffing into the kitchen. A minute later he slammed the refrigerator shut. He didn’t want anything to eat, either. He stood in the living room, hands on his hips again as he stared at the floor. What he really wanted was Kate, and she wasn’t here because she was back at the store with another man. Not just another man, but an ex-boyfriend with whom she’d had a committed relationship.

So what if the guy was gay now; it wasn’t helping him feel any better about the situation. And what had he done? Reaching up to rub the back of his neck with one hand, Michael ran his fingers through his hair and growled under his breath. The first sign of any conflict and he’d turned tail and fled, which was playing right into the other guy’s hands. And what if Kate had wanted him to stay? Michael groaned this time, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration. She hadn’t begged him to stay. If anything, she had looked just as uncomfortable as he had felt. Should he have asked if she wanted to leave with him? No, she’d stayed. Paul seemed to be the emotional stabilizer in the store, so perhaps he’d keep things on an even keel.

Or not.

Michael didn’t know Paul’s history with Tom, which in itself was no surprise given he’d only just heard about the man today. He grimaced at the turn the day had taken. He and Kate had woken up in each other’s arms and were delighting in the thought of a whole day together stretching before them. That feeling had lasted as long as it had taken for Alistair to call. Kate had dealt with the surprise far better than he had expected. When it came to his previous relationships, Michael was used to the opposite: pouting and endless questions about why the current woman in his life
wasn’t
featured in his work.

He shook his head as he thought of some of the women in his past. They had all been beautiful and intelligent to be sure, and yet strangely insecure and hungry for some kind of immortality in the reflection of Michael’s words. He had never delivered, and they had inevitably moved on. Their disenchantment at their inability to inspire had been combined with Michael’s less than stellar social skills and impossible working hours. He knew it was foolish to blame that sole factor on the breakups, but there were at least two ex-girlfriends who had longed to be considered his literary muse.

He’d never needed a muse until he met Kate. Her appearance in his work had been quite unexpected, but once she was on the page, it became impossible for him to write anything else. By the time he had begun to wonder if he should tell Kate what he was working on, they’d seemed to have passed the point of no return. Kate had asked him a few questions about his work before he had been ready to discuss it, and then the subject had been dropped. He had entertained the brief fantasy of presenting Kate with a finished copy of the book, watching the surprise and delight dance across her face as she realized what the story contained. All it had taken to ruin all of that was for Michael’s phone to be out of reach when Alistair called.

Punching the wall with frustration, Michael stalked toward the bedroom and stripped off his T-shirt. He might as well go for a run. He shoved down his jeans and kicked them aside as he walked into the bathroom to grab his shorts off a hook on the back of the bathroom door. He changed with quick, angry movements, slamming the apartment door after him with unnecessary force.

~~~

“So when do you think you’ll be seeing him again?” Tom asked, his voice only slightly muffled by the potato wedge he had just stuffed into his mouth.

“Today, I hope,” Kate replied, licking some sour cream off her fingers. After two glasses of wine, she had started to feel a bit wobbly, so she’d insisted that they get something to eat.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Tom urged, holding up his empty glass to signal a passing waiter, and then gave Kate a questioning look. “Glass or bottle?”

“Might as well make it a bottle,” Kate said in a resigned tone. Given the rate he was drinking, it would work out cheaper. She felt a pang of sympathy for Tom now. He drank like this when he was nervous, so the conversation had obviously had more of an impact on him than she’d thought. “Tom, are you seeing anyone?”

“Not right now,” he admitted, reaching for another wedge.

“But what about that guy you—” she began, stopping when Tom shook his head vehemently.

“Uh-uh, Momma’s boy,” he said with a tone of finality.

“Right.” She considered this. Tom’s dating history since he had come out had certainly been a moving feast, but there hadn’t been many relationships in the intervening years that had lasted more than a couple of months at best. “Anyone on the horizon?”

“Nope,” he said, “and while the hunt for Mr. Right continues, I’ve still got you.”

And with that simple comment, Kate had an epiphany. Even though they had ended the sexual side of their relationship, she was still very much Tom’s girlfriend. She was his go-to girl when he wasn’t in a relationship of his own, which is why he preferred it when she was available. Anger roiled in her chest at the thought of being Tom’s beck and call girl to satisfy his thirst for company. She looked up and was arrested by the look of stark longing on his face: Tom was watching a couple on the other side of the bar, laughing and enjoying themselves.

Tom looked back at her and raised an eyebrow, his expression shuttered once more.

“What?”

“Did you hear what you just said?” Kate said.

“No, what?”

Kate repeated his words back to him. Tom stared at her for a long moment.

“Fuuuuck,” he sighed at least. “Okay, point taken.”

“Wow.” Kate nodded.

“That’s putting it lightly. You know, Kate, I never meant … I guess that …” he broke again and snorted at his fumbling. “Would it, I mean, that is to say …”

“Oh, just say it,” Kate said.

“Security blanket,” he blurted.

Kate blinked. “Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll need a little more information than that.”

“Kate, we’ve known each other most of our lives. Hell, even when you moved to the big smoke, I wasn’t too far behind. All this time you’ve been my security blanket. Even when I knew I might be gay, I thought if I could make it in a relationship with you, everything would be okay.” He swallowed. “But I only ended up lying to the both of us.”

Kate’s throat felt tight, and all she could do was nod for him to continue.

“You’ve always been there for me, and it’s something that I never wanted to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Kate suggested. “You just have to stop being such a bitch.”

“Look at yourself every twenty-eight days and say that.” Tom snorted, prompting a choked laugh from Kate.

“To be fair, though,” he went on, “I’ve been your fallback as well. Remember all those times you wanted to go out, you were dateless and didn’t want to go alone?”

“True,” Kate agreed. “I guess over the years, we’ve each been as bad as the other.”

“Yeah.” Tom nodded. “Still, this is
you
that I’ve hurt. You’re not other people to me; you’re
Kate
.” He reached over to take her hand. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t talk about Michael with you more. I knew, the last time we spoke, that he was maybe something special, but I guess I wasn’t ready to face up to it.”

“Well, you faced up to it today,” Kate said, holding up her glass of wine.