Chapter 18
In the end, Alex ended up staying up nearly the entire night, only falling asleep twenty-five minutes before his alarm for the office was due to go off. He texted John in the middle of the night that he wasn’t going to make it into work, which, he learned, John was already planning on, since George was pack in the picture.
Alex spent most of the night in his bedroom with his laptop, only leaving when his growling stomach was too much for him to ignore. He waited as long as he could, hoping that he wouldn’t have to talk to George until he was properly sober. He pressed himself against the wall as he walked down the stairs, holding his breath and stepping only on the edges of the wood so that the middles didn’t creak.
Fortunately, George was so exhausted that he didn’t move so much as an inch as Alex clambered by him. It wasn’t all that surprising to Alex, though; George had been spending the last several months sleeping on a thin, hard cot. Alex’s couch wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but compared to that, it must have felt like the most luxurious of beds.
Alex had had to stop himself from lying down at the couch with George, but now, as he tried to convince himself to go downstairs and have a full conversation, he was glad that he hadn’t lied down with him. Being upstairs gave him just enough distance to think about what it was that he was going to say, while still being close enough that he wasn’t afraid that this conversation wouldn’t happen.
Eventually, Alex knew that he had to stop stalling, and he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a dark-red sweatshirt before going downstairs, the smell of bacon attacking his senses the moment that he opened his door. His head felt like it had been sliced in half with a machete, and his stomach was curdling, but he did his best to ignore it as he stepped into the kitchen.
Immediately, Alex could tell that George was making all of his favorites: bacon, orange Julius, and blackberry pancakes with powdered sugar. George had found an apron somewhere in the kitchen (it had to be Angelica’s; it was designed with a dark-pink cheetah print and had hot-pink fake fur and jewels along the edges) and was humming a tune to himself as he flipped the pancakes, cooking them evenly on both sides before sliding them onto a plate.
When George turned to put the plate onto the counter, however, he jumped, startled by Alex’s presence. He barely caught the pancakes, flipping them haphazardly onto the counter just in time for them to not fall on the floor. He rocked on his feet for a moment before pouring more batter into the pan, dropping a few of the cut-up blackberries into the center of each pancake. “Good morning, Alexander,” he said, his voice breaking and his arm beginning to tremble. He nearly dropped the spatula as he set it down on the counter.
“Good morning, George.” Alex couldn’t stop the quivering of his voice, either. “How did you sleep?”
“Just fine, thank you. How about you?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good.”
George picked the spatula back up and flipped the pancakes. Alex bit his lip and tried to think of anything he could say to break the tense silence, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t come out awkward or accusatory. He had so many questions, but he didn’t want to come out and ask anything. What if he did it wrong, and George decided that Alex wasn’t worth the answers? He had tried to explain everything, and Alex had just walked away. If the roles were reversed, Alex wasn’t sure that he would let George have a second chance, so why would George be any different?
Regardless, Alex had to break the silence. There had been too many things unsaid between them to keep on being silent. “I didn’t actually get your letters until yesterday, so you know. I wasn’t purposely ignoring you or anything; Angie found them first and didn’t want me to get hurt again.”
George stiffened. “I see.”
“I just . . . I don’t want you thinking that I didn’t want to talk to you. I wanted to come back and see you, but with how things were here—”
“Alexander, you don’t have to apologize,” George interrupted, pausing flipping the pancakes to glance over his shoulder. “I understand, I really do. Eliza and Maria needed you more than I did. I missed you so, so much, but it wasn’t like I was going anywhere. Besides, John still came on a weekly basis.”
“I know he did, but it was me that you reached out for in the first place. If I hadn’t dragged John along, you would have been alone.”
George’s knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the spatula, and his shoulders had moved from trembling to heavy shaking. When he spoke, Alex could hear that he was trying to keep himself from crying, his voice tight and his words clipped. “It’s fine, Alexander. Really.”
The tense silence came back. This time, Alex wasn’t sure what to say. He sighed and walked over to the island across from George, putting his hands on the edge and using it to hoist himself up onto the counter. He kicked his feet out and breathed through his nose, twisting his lips up to the side as he tried to think of something witty or amusing to break the ice.
Before he had thought of anything, however, George finished making the pancakes. He grabbed another plate from the cabinet (at first, Alex was surprised that he knew where to go, but then he remembered that he hadn’t changed where he put things since George left) and separated the pancakes onto them, covering both stacks with healthy amounts of powdered sugar and a few pieces of bacon before handing one to Alex.
“Thank you,” Alex said, forcing himself to smile in a way that he hoped looked genuine. “Do you want to sit at the table and eat?”
“Sure.”
Alex jumped down off the counter and led the way, using his foot to kick George’s chair out for him. George grunted in thanks and sat down, training his eyes on the table as he ate. Alex did the same, at first, but he quickly found his eyes being drawn to George.
After several minutes, George started looking up at Alex, as well. He chewed his pancakes slowly before swallowing and sighing. “I—I know that you are angry that I lied to you, but I want to try and explain my reasoning. I understand that yesterday you were too angry to—why are you looking at me like that?”
Alex clenched his jaw and squeezed his lips together, staring at George for a moment before looking away and blinking quickly to try and push back the tears. He tried not to look away for too long, though. He didn’t want to give George the wrong idea. “I’m not angry at you for lying, George. I was, at first, but then I thought about it, and Eliza was in Martha’s shoes, I would have done the same thing.”
“Why are you angry with me, then? It may have been five years, Alex, but I still can tell exactly what you’re feeling. I know there’s something that you’re not saying.” He sighed. “Is it about why I never came back all these years?”
Alex couldn’t lie to him. “ . . . yes.”
George nodded curtly. “I expected that. I wanted to come back, Alexander, I really did. It was one of the first things that Martha and I talked about, after we got married. I mean, we had talked about it while we were ‘dating’ too, but—” He paused, shaking his head. It took him several seconds to figure out how to continue. “I refused your proposal because I was scared, Alexander, and I stayed away for the exact same reason. When Martha and I got married, she kept trying to convince me to come and talk to you, to try again, anything, but I was so sure that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. She proposed being my beard, making it appear to society that I was straight and happily married while still allowing me to share my life with you. I knew that wasn’t what you wanted, though, so I stayed away.”
“Why go through with the marriage in the first place, then, if neither of you loved one another?”
George put his hand out and stretched it towards Alex. Alex hesitated for a moment before reached out as well, interlacing their fingers. George let out a breath through his nose, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes lighting up. “Sweetheart,” he hesitated, waiting for Alex to say something about his word choice. Alex didn’t. George’s smile grew. “Sweetheart, Martha and I only got married to ease our broken hearts. Martha’s husband had passed on, and I was missing you . . . we both needed someone to ease the ache.”
Alex squeezed George’s hand, but he couldn’t help but look down at the table as his throat became tight. “I just wish that you had felt like you could have come home. Was I that terrible to you that you didn’t think you could just come back?” He started to pull his hand away, but George held on tighter. “I wish you had just come home. I was mad at you, but I would have forgiven you, George. All I wanted was for you to come home to me.”
“I know you did, sweetheart, but I was just too afraid. I didn’t know what to do.” He cleared his throat. “I . . . almost came back, a few times. The day that I left, it took every bit of energy I had to make it to the end of the driveway, nonetheless the end of the street. I kept thinking about how big of a mistake I was making, about how much of an absolute idiot I was for leaving you. You were the best thing to ever happen to me, by far, and I was stupid enough to throw it away because of a few doubts I was having . . . and then a few months later, when Martha and I began talking, she tried to convince to come home.”
“Why didn’t you, then? Why didn’t you talk to me? Tell me that you were having doubts? We could have worked through them together. After you left, I didn’t even care that you didn’t want to marry me. I just wanted you back home in whatever way I could have you.”
Now it was George who was fighting back tears. “I know you did,” he said, his voice thick with emotion and his grip on Alex’s hand tightening like a vice. “I know you did, sweetheart. And I wanted to come back so badly, I just . . . ” He trailed off, his lower lip jutting out and his free hand waving as he tried to figure out what to say.
Alex saved him the trouble of saying it again.” “You were scared.”
George pursed his lips. “Yeah.”
“Can you tell me what you were afraid of? Please?” Alex moved his thumb so that he could rub the side of George’s hand in comfort.
George hesitated, but nodded. “I . . . I was afraid of what we had. You were speeding up to the top of the totem pole, and everything was going so well for you. You were finally reaching all of your dreams, and I . . . ” he chuckled dryly, “I wasn’t doing anything more than selling some produce by the side of the road. You needed someone who could jump just as high as you, someone who was smart enough to do something with his life. Everything was going well, for a while, but after you won that Biggerson case and fell into the eye of the media . . . Alex, you’re young. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. Everyone loves you. You deserved better than being with some old guy like me, especially when you could have literally anyone that caught your eye.”
The tears began to fall. George sniffed before reaching up and wiping some of the tears away. “I wanted so badly to say yes when you asked me to marry you, Alex, but I truly believed that you would regret marrying me. It would have just tied you down, and eventually, be it now or ten years from now, you would have regretted it. You would have regretted me. You could have made decisions without worrying about anyone besides yourself, you could have . . . I don’t know, Alex, but you were better off without me.”
Alex, who had been fighting George’s pull the entire time he was speaking, gave in to his desires, keeping hold of George’s hand as he walked around the table and sat down on his lap. He wrapped an arm around George’s neck and leaned their foreheads together, his other hand coming up to cup George’s cheek. He lowered his head and kissed him gently, echoing the love he had tried to portray in his goodbye kiss at the prison. George kissed back with just as much emotion, his hands sneaking up under the back of Alex’s shirt and pressing his fingertips against him, pushing him closer against his chest.
After a few more gentle kisses, Alex pulled away and cradled George’s jaw. He placed feather-light kisses along his nose and cheekbones, nuzzling against his jaw before pulling back and locking their eyes. George still had a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks, but he didn’t look upset, anymore. He looked like he had just witnesses every miracle in the world.
“None of those dreams mattered without you, George,” Alex said, dropping down to kiss him again. “After you left, I was a complete mess. I could barely go to work, and Eliza had to keep Phillip and Angelica full time because I couldn’t look after myself, nonetheless a couple of thirteen-year-olds.”
George reached up and pulled Alex’s hair of out its tie, letting his waves cascade over his shoulders and upper back. He moved his hand to massage the back of Alex’s neck before whispering, “I’m sorry, Alexander.”
Alex kissed him again. “I’m sorry too, George. I love you so much. I really, really do.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
George adjusted their positions so that he was hugging Alex. He buried his face against Alex’s shoulder and breathed him in, his fingertips now massaging Alex’s hips in circles so gentle that it gave Alex goosebumps. Alex, in turn, wrapped his arms around George’s neck and rested his cheek against the top of George’s head.
Alex and George sat like that for several minutes, but eventually, Alex wanted more. He untangled himself from around George’s neck. George looked up at him in confusion when Alex pushed George’s hands off his back and stood up. “Alex?”
“Come lie down with me,” Alex said, intertwining his fingers with George’s again and pulling him up until he was standing, too. George smiled and nodded, humming contentedly as Alex led him up to his bedroom. Alex let go of George’s hand to pull his pajama pants and tee shirt off. He sat down on the bed in just his boxers, scooting back until his hips were against the pillows.
Alex expected George to get undressed, too, but he seemed to be mesmerized by Alex, his eyes darkening as he stared at Alex. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, smiling as he pulled his eyes from Alex’s abdomen up to his face. “So, so beautiful.”
Alex smiled back at him, patting the empty spot beside him. “Are you going to come lie down with me or am I just going to sit here by my lonesome?”
George chuckled and shook his head, quickly pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it over onto the top of Alex’s dresser. He started to unbuckle his pants but he stopped, the smile dropping and his eyes dropping bashfully. “Uhm, after we broke up—” he began, lifting his hand uncomfortably to rub the back of his neck.
“I know,” Alex finished for him, rocking up onto his knees and grabbing one of George’s belt loops. He pulled him closer to the bed and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to George’s navel before pushing his jeans down to the ground.
Once the denim had hit the floor, Alex moved back to the pillows to study George like George had studied him, his heartbeat increasing as his eyes dropped down across George’s hard abs and firm thighs down to the intricate metal webbing of his prosthetic. George angled his posture so that it was partially hidden behind his natural leg, embarrassment evident in his features. Alex tried to make him more comfortable, taking his hand again and pulling him down onto the bed as he stepped the rest of the way out of his jeans.
“I said, lie down with me,” Alex teased, purposely keeping his gaze away from the prosthetic as he pulled the blankets down over them, pushing on George’s hip until he was rolled over and facing the other direction. George still seemed tense, so Alex wrapped an arm around his waist and moved closer to him, pressing his chest firmly against George’s back and nestling George’s read against his groin. He kissed the back of his neck. “Get some rest, sweetheart. We have all day.”
He was asleep within minutes.