“I love him. You all know that.” His eyes were a brilliant blue as he looked back up and gazed at each of them around the table. “I can’t…we can’t imagine how he feels right now. I don’t know how we got so lucky to have him back, but I—” his voice broke. Lale bit her lip. Andreas leaned in to her.
“He loves them both.” His voice was low. She nodded without looking back at him. “Damn.” He sat back and crossed his legs, letting his hand dangle onto her shoulder, just enough of his presence to keep her settled.
“I want you all to know that no matter what happens, I consider you my family. Now and always.” Without another word he stood and strode out, leaving the whole room in an uproar. Lale collapsed back into Andreas’s arms. She was hollow, empty, not a tear left as she watched her dearest friend leave the restaurant.
***
The ride back from the rehearsal dinner was even worse. Caleb had joined them in the limo but stayed quiet, and had been mostly absent for the last couple of weeks. Emre knew he’d reconnected with Tarkan. And it had taken a lot of energy not to yell at the man to bring his brother back. To share him. Let the rest of the family revel in his return from the dead. But Andreas had talked to him after Adem had left. Told him the story about the mobile phone number and Adem’s text. Emre hadn’t asked for it either. Because if he had it, he knew he’d call. He shut his eyes. God, he needed to see his brother again. To hold him, feel him, prove to himself he was indeed, alive. Their connection as young boys had been incredibly strong. They’d slept together from birth until they were nearly nine years old. When Tarkan had taken to piling the bed with toy cars and army men and Emre wanted his space.
The connection loosened as teens, when they attended the French high school in Istanbul and ran in different crowds. Then college, two separate schools in America. They spoke multiple times a week, eventually by text mostly or email. And that summer, back in Istanbul when Caleb had showed up in their lives, and then later when he’d met Elle. Well, the rest was family history, he guessed. And now, he fairly thrummed with need to see his twin once more.
Emre looked over to find Caleb staring at him, his deep blue eyes clear and untroubled. A first, for a long damn time. Andreas shifted next to him, obviously a little uncomfortable in the back of the limo.
“Hey, Zorba, I thought you NFL types were used to traveling by limousine.”
“Nah, we were more luxury bus types. You know, so we could walk the aisle and shake off the nervous energy.”
Emre smiled at his future brother-in-law. The guy had a handful of a life ahead of him, but Emre was glad he was here. Was thankful for his apparent control over Lale’s wild tendencies. He patted the man’s knee. “Relax. It’s fine. We’ve got your back.”
Caleb laughed. “Yeah man. You are gonna need it.” Emre poured them all a shot of one hundred year old scotch from the limo’s bar, and they toasted.
“To family.” Emre smiled at the Greek man who’d captured his sister’s heart and soul and at Caleb, the man who had done the same for his brother.
Chapter Seventeen
The Next Day
Elle jiggled Aslan in her arms, quieting him as Ayla ran around in her too-expensive dress. It was unseasonably hot. But a breeze blew from the Bosporus, whipping everyone’s hair, and rustling the tent edges. The string quartet and harp player set a lovely ambiance, but something wasn’t right. Elle sensed it. She sought out Emre, thought if she could lay eyes on him she’d feel better. But he was nowhere to be seen. Likely with Andreas somewhere, doing shots or whatever men did to convince other men at the last minute that getting married was actually not a bad idea.
She smiled as her mother-in-law appeared, and took the baby from her. “Come, my dear, walk with me.” She followed the slight woman as they wandered to the edge of the super manicured lawn, right up to the tall hedges bordering a precipitous drop off to a neighborhood below, marveling at her inherent ability to calm fussy babies. “I never thought I’d escape this place. This.” She gestured up to the looming grey building that now served as a museum. “It was my prison. Emre’s father rescued me.”
Elle put an arm around Vivian’s waist. “It is an awfully romantic story.”
Vivian sighed and shifted the now sleeping baby to her other arm. “Yes. It is. I’m glad I lived it. Just like I’m glad I lived the rest of my life with all of you. And now that Tarkan is…well, is making his way back to us, I’m—” Her voice broke, and Elle pressed her forehead to her mother-in-law’s, letting her own tears flow freely.
“Hey, mind if I break this up? I’d like to hug my wife.”
Elle wiped her eyes and stepped away. Levent stood, leaning on a cane, tall, distinguished, and handsome, but frail. Love shone bright in his eyes as he gazed at Vivian. “It was not a rescue, mind you,” he said. “More like a release into the wild.” Vivian smacked his shoulder. “Where is my son? I thought we were to see Tarkan today….” He looked around.
“I know, my love.” Vivian handed the sleeping baby back to Elle. “We all want to see him. But Caleb warned us. We mustn’t make a fuss. He still needs space.” She turned to Elle. “I realize you have to leave next week.”
Elle startled at the change of subject. Emre must have told her. “Well, yes. I do. I have to…you know get back to work.”
“I do know, my dear, and I wish you the best. I will send Emre quickly home behind you.” Elle swallowed hard, watching the two of them together. She’d seen her father-in-law’s medical records and knew just enough from pharmacy school that he had at best a few months left, unless a suitable donor could be found. Which was very unlikely, as he had refused to come to America with them and wait for one there. She and Emre had talked long into the nights of late and had decided Elle would return to California and convince the company to let her divide her time between the two countries. If they wouldn’t, she would simply resign. Family came first.
Ayla came rushing up then, squawking that Auntie Tulip needed them. She was crying in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out. Vivian gave Elle a look. “I knew we would not get through this day without some kind of Lale outburst.”
Elle laughed. “Want me to go?”
Vivian touched her arm. “No. She’s mine. Just like that one.” Vivian pointed to Ayla, who at that moment, was spinning in circles like a whirling dervish then falling to the ground and getting her dress completely grass-stained. “Is yours.” She patted Elle’s shoulder. “See you on the other side.”
Some sort of mild uproar occurring over by the back entrance caught Andreas’s eye. Lale’s mother walked in, followed by Elle then Caleb. They all smiled and waved at him. He gave the group a weak thumbs up in return. In truth, he thought he might throw up. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his black trouser clad legs and continued pacing. His first wedding had not tied him up in knots like this. But that had been a lifetime ago, to a woman he had no feelings for compared to how he felt about Lale.
He wanted this. Hell, he was the one who pressed the whole thing and had even hoped he would get her pregnant if he were honest with himself. A completely foreign desire to him and a little freaky. He paced back, letting the wind cool his brow. Emre appeared at his elbow, handed him a cold bottle of beer to match his own. He took it, and they clinked glasses. The ice-cold lager went down fast and smooth.
Emre began. “I want to thank you—”
Andreas held up a hand. “Stop right there. I love your sister. I loved her the first minute I laid eyes on her. Before I even knew of you and your brother and all of this.” He motioned around at the pomp and circumstance.
“I know that now.” Emre grabbed a couple more bottles from the cooler in the tent and popped them open. “I’m not talking about whatever miracles you work with Lale. I mean, for all of this. For taking charge, and letting Caleb do…what he’s doing. Convincing the rest of us to wait.”
Andreas shrugged. He watched as first Lale’s mother, then Elle, then Caleb exited the building where Lale was hiding, probably crying, or smoking, if he knew her. And he did. He narrowed his eyes at the tall, freshly shaven blond man. “What d’you think will happen with them?”
Emre sighed. “I have no idea. But I hope Adem finds happiness. He deserves it. He’ll be here today, too, you know.”
Andreas looked up at the sky as it passed from late afternoon to early evening. “Yeah, I know. Lale thinks she can finagle the three of them together somehow.” Emre raised his eyebrows. “She, well, we think Caleb loves them both, equally. And that it might work, if they all agreed.”
“Sounds complicated to me.”
“Yes, but what relationship isn’t? Anyway that is her grand plan today. I told her not to be disappointed if it didn’t work. But she, well, you know how she gets.”
“Say no more.” Emre slapped his shoulder.
Andreas sucked back the rest of his second beer. The wedding planner lady was motioning for him. He looked over shoulder, just to fuck with her. Emre laughed. They sat a few more seconds, watching her panic then stood, put their empties on a small table and straightened their ties “Shall we, my Turkish brother?” Andreas pointed to the tent where the gathered guest waited.
“We shall, my Greek brother.” Emre smiled, and they walked towards the tent.
Chapter Eighteen
After talking Lale down off the ledge and watching Elle and Vivian smooth her makeup and set the small circlet of flowers in her dark hair, Caleb walked out, waved at Andreas and Emre, and made his way around to the front of the CG’s residence. He needed some air.
He and Tarkan had made love last night for the first time after many days and nights of simply talking, or sitting together in the calm quiet of his room. It had shattered him completely and Tarkan had to do the holding afterward, as Caleb could not stop shaking. Visions of Adem kept intruding. His voice, his mannerisms, his lean strong body. Images of what Tarkan had been doing while he…while they…. Caleb had to bite his tongue when he came, hard, not to call out for him. At that moment he knew. He simply could not do this anymore. It wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all Adem.
He told Tarkan everything about Adem. After all, he knew the man’s entire trauma, start to finish. After admitting that he missed Adem, Caleb had prepared himself for the worst. But Tarkan had run a finger down his newly shaven face and smiled. “It’s okay. I know. I see it in your eyes.”
Caleb had sat on the edge of the bed, hands clenched tight, cursing himself for his inability to be satisfied—for seeming to always want something else no matter who he was with. Tarkan rubbed his shoulders, crooned to him in Turkish, calmed him, like he used to do. Caleb grabbed his hands, pulled him around to him hold him close, kiss him, prove something, to himself mostly.
He’d lain in the circle of Tarkan’s embrace all night, but knew neither of them slept much. At one point Tarkan had whispered in his ear. “Perhaps, we could…I mean…I love you enough and am willing to share. Something tells me he—Adem—is, too. Otherwise he would not have left you here, knowing you would come to me.” Caleb took his hand, kissed it, threaded his fingers through it.
“Perhaps.” But Caleb couldn’t get his mind around that. All he felt was selfish for even considering it.
They finally drifted off, and he had a beautiful morning of love with the man he’d yearned for, dreamed of for so long. At the last moment, Tarkan had clutched his face, just as Caleb was about the enter him, kissed him hard and let tears slip from his eyes. “I am so sorry.” He’d whispered.
“No, my love. I am.” Caleb had whispered back as he pressed his aching cock into Tarkan’s body. He didn’t know who he was apologizing to at that moment. But now he did. To Tarkan, for not knowing—not realizing he was alive and in such agony. And to Adem, for loving him just as much as he did the man with him now, the man returned from the dead.
He looked around the parked cars, hoping Tarkan hadn’t bailed at the last minute. He checked his phone again, heard the telltale sounds of the first song before the wedding party was to gather. “The Adagio for Strings” by Samuel Barber. Caleb closed his eyes at the first bars. Took a long deep breath.
“Hey, handsome.” He let the breath out and opened them at the sound of his love, his Tarkan, the man gone and returned. A black suit covered up how thin he had become. They’d had it made to fit him so as not to alarm his mother too much. His beautiful face still had a haunted, nervous look on it. It made Caleb clench his fists in anger then release, knowing there was no point.
“Hello,” he said simply, forcing his face into a smile. “You look great.” He flicked an invisible bit of dust off Tarkan’s lapel. The smell of him invaded his nose, made his throat close with emotion. “I warned them. So it shouldn’t be too much of a scene.” He put his arm around the thin, nervous man and guided him around to the back. “It will be fine.”
Chapter Nineteen
The last two weeks had been a brutal exercise in self-control for Adem. He lived and breathed the renovations on the new restaurant, handled all the initial interviews, micro managed the shit out the whole damn thing until he was sick of himself. But he had to. It was that, or call, email, Skype, or jump on a plane and be faced with the reality of Caleb, reunited with his one true love.
Adem knew damn good and well he’d be willing to share Caleb. Wanted him badly enough that he’d give him that, if he needed it. But he was unsure if Caleb was the kind of man who could do the same. He somehow doubted it. And besides, where the fuck would they all live? He smiled out the taxi window, picturing Caleb’s bright blue eyes, his infectious grin and realized he had to suggest it. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t. And at least, that way, he would know for certain, would never have to second guess. Adem was not a good second guesser. Never had been. He would make the offer today and steeled himself for rejection.