Sleeping ’til Sunrise (5 page)

I WORRIED
about what I would say to Roark, but I shouldn’t have. It turned out he had to fly out to Grosse Pointe on family business, and he left town without a word to me. Of course I was illogically hurt because I thought that we’d bonded, but apparently it was just another blow job to him. I should have been happy that I had dodged the bullet of his illness as well as his clearly cavalier attitude toward sex, but while the first seemed horrible, the second was sad. I’d thought we were both in the market for something deeper, and to be wrong felt like my instincts were for crap. I was clearly a terrible judge of character. The only good news was that I didn’t need to dwell on my failure now. I had four years to figure it all out before my daughter went away to college. I’d worry about it much later.

Ivy was having dinner with her best friend, Julia Kent, at her house because Sharon, Julia’s mom, needed help making up the wedding favors for her Saturday nuptials. It was going to be a sweet, small private wedding in her backyard, where she and Fuller Denny were tying the knot. I’d met them both, very nice salt-of-the-earth types, and the gift bags going next to everyone’s plates were 100-percent organic and biodegradable, as was everything going inside. Julia had pressed her best buddy into service with her, and when I called to make sure that Ivy’s help would indeed be appreciated, Sharon nearly broke down thanking me. Apparently Ivy being there, excited for her, was helping Julia be a bit more accepting.

“Your daughter’s a godsend,” she assured me.

It was always good to hear that.

I talked to Ivy, told her I’d be over by nine to pick her up, and headed home from the office. It had been a low-key day. Only one call for sunburn, one from a woman who’d locked her poodle in her car for—gasp—at least two and a half minutes, and one from Jeremy Riley’s mom, who had another emergency with him and his latest thrill ride. I had no idea how they even got the wood up onto the roof without her knowing—or the grocery cart for that matter. They were about to try the latest coaster of death when I got there and called them all down instead.

“You’re making your mother crazy,” I informed the eleven-year-old.

“She needs to embrace her inner daredevil,” he volleyed.

“You’re so grounded,” I responded, shaking my head.

“Whatever Chief Dodd is telling you, you better believe it!” Candace Riley shrieked from her front door.

Jeremy groaned. “You’re a buzzkill, man.”

I knew that. It came with the job.

“I thought firemen were risktakers.”

“Only when we’re saving people,” I said, setting him straight.

The second groan from him was even more pained than the first.

As I turned onto my street, I saw Britton Lassiter walking toward me with his newly adopted daughter, Katie, on his shoulders. She waved to me and he slowed. It was cute how she had her hands in his hair, holding onto his head. I had carried Ivy the same exact way.

“Hey,” I greeted them.

He gave me a wincing smile.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”

“His mommy and daddy, my new grandparents, are at my house again,” Katie announced happily. “They’re going to stay the whole month!”

My gaze met Britton’s. “That sounds great.”

“Does it?” he snapped.

I scoffed. “Weren’t they just here?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice sounded so strained.

“They like the beach, do they?”

“No, not really.”

I tipped my head at Katie.

“That’s right,” he told me. “Lazlo too.”

Britton had worried—the whole town knew he had—about how his parents would take the news that he was gay. By all accounts, they were very kind people, so it wasn’t a stretch to find out that they wanted only the best for their son, and as that was so obviously Lazlo––who lit up like a neon sign whenever Britton came near him––the fact that they were on board with the relationship was not a surprise. What
had
been was the revelation that along with a new son-in-law, they got their first grandchild as well. Katie, the epitome of cuteness and smarts, was a gift.

I couldn’t stop the chuckle. “They seemed great when I met them at your wedding. What’s the problem?”

He cleared his throat. “They like staying at the house with us instead of at a hotel.”

“So you’re not getting… any.” I snickered.

“That’s right,” he said not so cheerfully.

Lazlo, former wild child, former loner, who no longer drank or smoked or did drugs or fucked for money, also refused to have sex in a house with paper-thin walls where guests could hear him make love to his new husband. No ring on his finger, even with a diamond as big as my head, would sway him.

“He doesn’t want to offend them,” I said graciously.

“Have you looked at him lately?”

I had, and so, I knew, had every man and woman in town. Lazlo had always been gorgeous, striking, with that smoldering beauty that made you think he should be on magazine covers, but now, loved and cherished by Britton, he had bloomed into something else entirely. The confidence that had before been all bravado and swagger was now simply
there
. He was self-assured because he was loved, and that, he’d never been before. Only the wedding ring kept people from throwing themselves at him morning, noon, and night, as well as getting a look at his husband. Britton was nothing to scoff at, himself.

“I can—” Britton cleared his throat. “—barely keep my hands off him, and my parents… are in my house, having the best time hanging out and talking.”

“And he loves being part of a family,” I surmised. “Am I right?”

He grunted miserably.

“Well, they have to go home eventually.”

“They’re looking into getting a house here.”

I nodded, trying not to laugh.

The noise of disgust he made as he walked around me heading for home was funny. Katie waved back at me and then leaned over the top of Britton’s head. No matter what he said, he was happy to have his family there, too, even if his parents were putting a crick in his sex life.

I was surprised when I reached the gate in front of my house to find Blake, the other doctor in Roark’s office, on my front steps.

“Hey,” I greeted as I lifted the gate latch and gazed up at him.

“Sorry to just show up,” he apologized. “I tried to get you on the phone today, but every time I called, whoever answered at the station said you were out on a call.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t have your cell number.”

Why would he? We weren’t friends. “So what’s going on, Blake?”

He stood and came down the steps to me. “Have you heard from Roark?”

“No, I haven’t.”

He nodded. “Did he tell you anything about his grandmother or the vineyard in Kentucky?”

“They have vineyards in Kentucky?” This was news. “I thought there were only vineyards in California.”

“Your wine education is sorely lacking,” he said condescendingly.

It was really no wonder that most people just wanted to dropkick him. “What’s going on, Blake?”

He walked toward me, stopping just a few feet away. “Roark’s grandmother passed last weekend, and she lived out in a vineyard in Kentucky, out in Midway, so that’s where he went.”

“Oh, I thought he went to Grosse Pointe.”

Blake shook his head. “No, he went to Kentucky, and he’s been there all this time. Normally he calls just to give me a heads-up, but not this time. And he was supposed to be back yesterday, but again, no call, e-mail, nothing.”

“Okay,” I said, looking at him, not sure what this had to do with me or why he was at my house at seven on a Friday night.

“I have no idea what’s going on with him.”

I was quiet, thinking there was more.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Blake threw up his hands. “Have you heard from him or not?”

“Why would I have heard from him?”

“Because he was all excited.”

I was so lost. “I’m sorry?”

He seemed surprised. “You guys had a date, right?”

Fellatio on his couch could not be classified as a date. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” I said firmly. “There was no date.”

He sighed sharply, and I could hear all the exasperation. “That makes no sense.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He looked annoyed.

“Blake?”

“Now I’m really lost, because last week—what was that, Tuesday—we had this pharmaceutical rep in, and normally he stays with Roark before he heads back to Panama City. But this time Roark doesn’t even invite him back to his office, just says that we don’t need anything and thanks him for coming by.”

I crossed my arms, waiting for the point of the story.

“So after the guy leaves I tell him that he shouldn’t be treating a fuck buddy that way, and he says that he’s got no time for anyone anymore but you.”

It was my turn to be surprised. “What?”

“Yeah. So when you tell me that you haven’t heard from him, I’m wondering what the hell is going on.”

“I have no idea.”

His brows furrowed. “Well, could you try and call him, and if you get ahold of him, could you let him know that he needs to call me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” He sighed, smiled, and then left, getting into the red Ferrari parked in front of my house and gunning the motor before he took off.

Inside, I immediately tried to get Roark. He answered on the second ring.

“Ess?”

Oh, the shortened name thing was kind of hot. “Yeah.”

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

He was? “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I was afraid if I did, I’d ask you to come here, and I didn’t want to do that.”

He wanted me there with him? “What’s going on?”

“My grandmother died.”

“Yeah, Blake told me.”

“You talked to Blake?”

“Yeah, just now. He came over because he wanted to know if I’d heard from you. And by the way, he wants you to call him when you get a chance.”

“Oh… oh, I see,” he said softy, and the underlying sadness was heartbreaking. “So you’re just calling because—”

“What the hell is going on, Roark?” I nearly shouted.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean are we starting something or not?”

“I thought—yes. Aren’t we?”

And the truth hit me. We were having our first, and hopefully last, misunderstanding.

He thought we’d already begun.

I was checking to make sure he wanted to.

Neither of us was aware of what was happening in the other person’s head.

But clearly, as evidenced by the hitches in his breath as he waited for me to answer, he was already
in
the relationship. He was already
there
. I was the one who hadn’t heard the ready-set-go and was waiting for some definitive word or gesture from him.

For him, allowing me close, at all, was the “Okay, I’m in this moment.” He felt like he’d already said yes to me, which was why he was worried now. He wasn’t sure whether we were on the same page, and there I was, waiting for a sign he’d already given me the night I drove him home. The whole letting me in was him beginning.

Christ.

Sometimes I missed what was right in front of my face.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, growling at him. “So why the hell would you leave without saying anything to me?”

“I—it was too soon to ask you to go with me,” he rushed out, and I heard both relief and longing in his voice.

“That’s what you thought?”

Nothing.

“Roark?”

He coughed. “Yeah.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“No?” he husked.

“No.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t come, because it’s awful here, and my family is just insane and… I… you’re the only thing.”

“What?”

“Thinking about my life there, about going home, about you being there… that’s been the only thing keeping my head on straight.”

The thought of me was keeping him grounded, and he was looking forward to seeing me. I couldn’t think of a better compliment. “Explain to me what’s going on there.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to bur—”

“If you say bug me or burden me with your crap or anything but how much you missed having a person in your life to share bullshit with—this could be real bad for us.”

“You’re serious.” It was a statement, but he still sounded surprised.

“I am.”

“Because why?”

“Because that’s what people in a relationship do: they lean on each other.”

“And if one person does like 90 percent of that?”

“Who told you life was always fair and equal?”

“Ess—”

“No, really? Who?”

He coughed. “No one.”

“Then where is this everything’s gotta be equal crap coming from?”

Silence.

“As long as you’re in it, seriously, giving and taking and doing it as hard as you can with your whole heart, I don’t see where there could ever be any problem.”

After a moment he took a breath. “You’re amazing, you know, and you have no idea.”

“Not a saint.”

“I didn’t say saint—and you’re not—but you’re different from anybody else I know.”

“Shouldn’t I be, if you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

“And you do, right? Want to be with me?”

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

It was good to hear. “Okay, then,” I said with an exhale. “Talk to me.”

“Okay, so the reading of the will happened today, and now it’s a battle because my grandmother left me the winery and everyone is trying to get me to hear their side of things.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I decide what happens to it, that’s what she wanted, and my father just told me they’re going to challenge me because of my illness.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s telling them that the cancer is affecting my mind.”

“Hold up.” That made no sense. “Without even waiting to hear what you’d say, he goes right to attacking your mental faculties?”

“Yes.”

“That’s crap!”

“Yes, it is, but if he files suit and then it goes to the state medical board, I—”

“You’re telling me that something he does there can affect your practice here?”