Aria (26 page)

Having offered the last of the bows, he headed back through the opening in the curtain, where already the stage crew had begun to break down and move the set in preparation for the next day’s performance. Don Giovanni’s chambers would soon be transformed into the gardens of Lammermoor Castle for the matinee performance of
Lucia di Lammermoor
.

“Mr. Lind.” A stagehand shined a flashlight at Aiden’s feet to guide the way off the stage in the semidarkness. “Please follow me.”

The sheer exhaustion of an evening spent under the intensely hot lights dulled the reality of his accomplishment. He was costumed in a blue-and-gold brocade jacket with a high ruffled collar, tights, and heavy velvet pantaloons. The thick pancake makeup on his face had begun to melt, and sweat ran down his cheeks in rivulets. His scalp itched beneath the dark wig, and he had been forced to bite his tongue to moisten his mouth.

The dressing room was filled with flowers and cards. He grabbed a bottle of water off the table and chugged it down while he read quickly through them. He stopped and reread the one he’d pulled from the bouquet of irises.

Aiden—
Congratulations! We wish we could have been there to cheer you on. Looking forward to seeing you in Paris at Christmas. Jules promises to bake a bûche de noël if you’ll sing “O Holy Night.”
Bises,
Jason and Jules

He smiled as he inhaled the fragrance of the flowers, adding the card to the one from his sister and his high school drama teacher. He would keep those.

Three dozen roses in a crystal vase caught his eye. He pulled out the card.

Aiden—
I hope you’ll forgive me for not being there tonight. I have no doubt you’re in good hands, although I rather wish they were mine. You will always be in my heart.
-Cam

Aiden rubbed a thumb over the card. He had Cameron to thank for more than just his freedom—he had his career back on track. He’d finally met with Cam a few days after the accident.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Cam told him as he handed Aiden a folder with a few pages of bank records and some other documents, “and I understand. But I wanted to make this right for you.”

Aiden stared at the records. “Alexandria’s husband?” Cam nodded. “I spoke with him, you know. He admitted Alexandria told him nothing ever happened between you two, that you told her you didn’t date married women.”
“
He
was the one?” Alexandria’s husband had never crossed his mind.
“Bit of a jealous prick, it seems. She told him the truth, but he chose not to believe it. I still don’t think he believes her, but it doesn’t matter,” Cam added with a sad smile. “We’ve taken care of it.”
“
We
?”
“David Somers and I. We’ve put out the word that if François Gilman tries to interfere in your contracts, we’ll take care of it.”
“What do you mean, ‘take care of it’? Sounds like a mob hit or something.”
Cam laughed. It reminded Aiden of why he’d been drawn to Cam in the first place—his sense of humor and love for life and adventure. “Not a bad idea. But I only meant that we’ve put out the word that any donation he can make, we can double.”
“You can’t—”
“It’s not a matter of paying for you, Aiden. It’s simply a matter of channeling my already generous contributions where they’re most needed. Honestly, it was David’s idea. Not that I think anyone would dare cross David and break a contract with you—the man’s too big for anyone to play around with.”
Aiden realized he’d get nowhere arguing with Cam over how he spent his money, though he added, “If I find out that you’re putting pressure on anyone to hire me or pay me more….”
“You’re more than good enough to get your own work, darling. You don’t need my help or David’s. Not anymore.”
For once, Aiden actually believed Cam. “Thank you.” Aiden swallowed hard. “I owe you.”
“No. You owe me nothing.” Cam paused for a moment, then pursed his lips and blinked his eyes a few times. Was he fighting back tears?
No way
. “I’m the cause of this whole fiasco.”
“How do you figure that?” Aiden almost laughed as he spoke these words.
“I’m the one who fucked things up with you. If I’d realized… if I’d not been such a fucking bastard, maybe you’d still be with me. I… I’m sorry. Truly, Aiden. I know you don’t believe it, but I’m truly sorry. And not only for myself. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Aiden blew air from between his lips as he fought to school his expression. This time he was sure Cam was telling the truth, and it nearly took his breath away. “I appreciate that,” he said at last. “And I’m sorry I accused you of—”
“Of something I actually considered doing myself?” Cam laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. When I told you I’d make you regret it, I meant what I said.”
“But you didn’t do anything.”
“No,” Cam admitted. “I didn’t.”
Aiden smiled and put his hand on Cam’s shoulder. “There’s hope for you after all, my lord. Just don’t fuck it up.” He kissed Cam on the cheek. “Thanks, Cam.”

The wig master knocked on the door and set to work, bringing Aiden back to the here and now. “You were amazing.” She beamed as she removed the heavy pins that held the wig in place.

“Thanks.”

She gently worked the wig off of his head and set it on the wig stand, then removed the cap and pin curls beneath.
“God, that feels good.” He laughed as she scratched his itchy scalp with her long fingernails. “The way to a man’s heart is most definitely through his head.”
“I wish.” She winked at him knowingly in the mirror and shook her head. “I’ll get Charles to send the flowers over to the hotel. Do you need me to call you a car?”
“No, thanks, Cecilia. I’ll walk.”
“What? Not going to the opening night party?”
“Not this one. I’ve got someone I need to meet. Would you please give Maestro Somers my regrets? Tell him I’ll make it up to him.”

“Someone important, then?”
“You could say that.” He smiled and picked up the note that had been stuck to the mirror when he’d gotten back to the dressing room after the first act.
Meet me at Battery Park after the performance
, it read.

He and Sam had planned on meeting after the performance, though Aiden had expected they’d join David and Alex for the party.
Battery Park?

Sam had been staying in New York for the past two weeks of rehearsals, working remotely from their hotel room. For the past few months, he’d been traveling with Aiden as promised. When Sam couldn’t come, they scheduled nightly chats by Skype or telephone. Over Sam’s protests, Aiden had also cut back on his performance schedule. It was rare that they spent more than a few weeks apart now, and when they were home, Sam and Aiden hosted regular get-togethers at the apartment, with Becca joining in. Aiden had started to get to know Sam’s friends. He’d even made a few of his own. Philly was beginning to feel a lot like home.

An hour later, showered and dressed in casual clothes, Aiden headed south on the No.1 subway to South Ferry. It was warm in spite of the late hour. He loved this time of year in the Northeast: one day it was cool and the leaves had begun to turn; the next it was like summer again and everyone headed for the beach.

There were still people in the park—some on their way home to Staten Island by ferry, others tourists, Aiden guessed, wanting to view New York Harbor and Lady Liberty at night. The sound of steel drums rang throughout the park, calling to mind a tropical island. At first, Aiden had found the sound strange for the southernmost tip of New York, but later he’d come to associate it with the city. He’d often come here when he lived in New York. The ferry was a cheap date, and the view was nearly as good as the more expensive tourist lines that headed across the water to Liberty and Ellis Islands.

Aiden ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and headed farther down the path, toward the water.

S
AM stood at the water’s edge, looking out over the harbor. The air was fresh and cool, with a faint scent of salt from the ocean beyond. Above, stars were visible between the light dusting of clouds. On the horizon, the moon had risen orange and full. How many nights had he come here with Nick and watched him paint? He’d lost count—it was never a chore. Each time had been a new experience, an inspiration for Nick’s creativity. He’d learned so much listening to him describe what he saw in the clouds and the water.

He’d arrived early after stopping at the hotel to change his clothes and grab the backpack he’d left. He took a cab downtown because it was faster. He’d wanted a little time by himself before Aiden got there. For the past half an hour, he’d watched the boats—tiny points of light on a dark background, like stars—as they traveled across the harbor toward New Jersey and beyond. Several ferries had come and gone. People had begun to leave, headed to clubs and restaurants or making their way home. People laughing, talking, enjoying the last gasp of summer before the leaves began to fall and winter threatened.

Hey, Nicky. It’s been a while.

Nearly eight years. It still took his breath away how much it hurt to think about Nick, even after so long. He hadn’t told Aiden, but he’d gone to Brooklyn Heights that afternoon to see the loft. He’d even knocked on the door, hoping he might be able to look inside, but no one had answered. He’d decided it was the universe’s way of telling him to move on. Only he’d already moved on. He’d just now realized that it was okay to look
back
.

S’only your fault it takes you forever to accept that things change
, he could almost hear Nick say. Almost. The voice was fainter now, but it was still there.

You’re right, Nicky. It’s only my fault.

He pulled the backpack off his shoulder and sat down on a bench. He unzipped it and pulled out the battered cookie tin. The lettering,
Macadamia Chocolate Chip
, had faded, and the paint was scratched off in spots. He’d almost forgotten where he’d put it when he’d moved to Philly. Almost. He put the tin on his lap and ran his fingers over the surface. He didn’t fight the tears but closed his eyes and let them spill over his cheeks. He tasted the salt on his lips and held the tin tighter in his hands.

The phone in his pocket vibrated.
Where are you?
the text message read.

Sam wiped his eyes, smiled, then typed,
Benches by the water. In the middle.
Be there soon
, Aiden answered a moment later.
Sam took a deep breath and set the tin back down.

A
IDEN spotted Sam standing near a bench. They embraced in silence, holding each other before kissing. Sam brushed Aiden’s hair from his eyes. “You were incredible tonight. I’ve never heard you sing better.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you were there.”
“As if I wouldn’t have been.” Sam brushed his fingers over Aiden’s cheek, and Aiden let out an audible sigh. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here.”

“Thought had crossed my mind. How did you know I didn’t want to go to the party?”

“David’s idea. He said you hated them—the donors’ parties. He thought some time alone might be more up your alley.”
“He’s right.” Aiden laughed.
“He said you owed him but that he’d figure out some ‘suitable penance’ for you.”
“Probably an extra aria at his next soiree. Something high and fast. Figaro, or something else I sing like shit.”
“Somehow I think what you think is shit sounds great.”
“That’s only because you’re tone-deaf,” Aiden teased as he pulled Sam close and kissed him again.
“Let’s sit down.” Sam motioned to the bench.
“Sure.”
Sam slipped his arm around Aiden’s shoulders. “I came here the night I met you, you know,” Sam said after a few moment’s silence. “Before I went to the bar.”
“You worked near here, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I used to love this place. I still do, I guess. I’d eat lunch here when I could manage a break from work. But mostly Nicky and I would come here when the weather was nice. He’d set up his easel over there.” Sam pointed to a spot to their right. “Sometimes he’d face the water. Sometimes he’d face the park and paint people.”
Aiden wasn’t sure what to say, so he leaned into Sam. He also wasn’t sure where this was leading, but Sam rarely talked about Nick, and Aiden really wanted to know more about him. It still scared him a little to hear about Nick, but he no longer worried that he couldn’t live up to Nick’s ghost. He knew Sam loved him, and that was good enough.
“The night I met you, I came here to say good-bye. I’d been holding on to what was left of him.” Sam looked out at the water, but Aiden knew he wasn’t seeing the harbor anymore. “I spread his ashes here.”
“That must have been hard.”
Sam drew a long breath and released it audibly. “No. It was easy, really. I just opened my hand and he was gone.” He paused, then said, “The hard part comes in bits. Like when I let you go to Europe, and I realized part of me was ready to move on, even though I wasn’t ready yet. Or when I was in Paris and something reminded me of him. Or when I thought I’d lost you and I knew I couldn’t….” Sam turned to face Aiden. “When I knew I couldn’t let you go, so I had to let
him
go.”
“Sammy, I’m so sorry you had to—”
“Shhh. I don’t want you to be sorry. Remember what we said?”
Aiden nodded. “I remember.”
“So I asked you to meet me here”—Sam’s voice was once again bright, even hopeful—“because I’m ready.” He reached to his left and pulled something off of the bench. A cookie tin, scratched and dented, coated with paint spatters. In answer to Aiden’s unspoken question, Sam nodded. “This was Nicky’s. But what’s inside is for you.”
Sam opened the tin and placed the top next to him, then withdrew a smaller box covered in velvet.
Aiden’s mouth went dry. He took the box and his hand trembled.
“Open it,” Sam said. “Please. And if you don’t want it—if you don’t want this yet—then just leave it in the box and maybe someday—”
“Shhh.” Aiden touched his fingers to Sam’s lips. He met Sam’s gaze and held it for a moment, then reached down and opened the box. “God, Sammy, it’s beautiful.” He pulled the platinum ring out and held it up so it caught the light of the nearby streetlamp.
“There’s a matching ring—for me—if you want this.”
“Yes. I want this.” Aiden wished the lump in his throat would stop getting bigger. Or maybe that was his heart, ready to explode? Unsure what to do, he replaced the ring and handed the box to Sam with slightly shaky hands. “Can you put it on me? Please?”
Sam nodded and pulled the ring out, then slipped it onto the third finger of Aiden’s right hand. “I want to put it on your left hand when I marry you,” he said in an undertone as he rubbed his thumb over the top of Aiden’s hand in slow, sensual circles. “We can figure out the when and where later. David’s offered to throw a party for us.”
Sam’s touch was making it difficult to focus. “You told him?” His voice sounded far away, even to his own ears.
Sam looked a bit sheepish. “I was afraid you might say no. He convinced me you wouldn’t.” Sam leaned in and brushed his lips over Aiden’s.
“I need to thank him.” Aiden brought Sam’s face back toward him, then kissed his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips. The kiss deepened, and Aiden moaned when their lips parted. “But first I need to get you somewhere private, where I can spend the whole night showing you how happy you make me.”
“I’m liking that idea. A lot.” Sam stood and offered Aiden his hand, pulled him up from the bench, and slung the backpack over his shoulder.
“Did you forget something?” Aiden glanced over at the bench and the cookie tin.
“No.” Aiden saw a mixture of pain and happiness in Sam’s expression.
I’ll take good care of him, Nick. I promise.
Aiden kissed Sam sweetly on the lips, then went to retrieve the tin. He handed it to Sam, who smiled at him in silent wonder.
“Keep it.” Aiden wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist and drew him closer to kiss him. “So you can remember.”