Unfortunate Son (10 page)

It was a good day.

E
VAN
STOPPED
drinking after three beers, though he went back for another burger after taking a turn in the pool. The water was still too far on the chilly side for him, so he didn’t stay in long. He dried off so he wouldn’t get cold as evening fell, and settled back into his seat with his second plate of food.

“God. I wish I still had your metabolism.”

Evan smiled over at Jimmy, who hung off the side of the pool, arms folded on the tiled edge. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Tell that to my trainer.” Jimmy shook his head. “I swear, if I still lived in the city full-time, I’d strangle him in a week. He’s always talking about protein intake and body fat percentages and acting like I’m going to stroke out if I eat a steak now and then, just because I’m not in my twenties anymore.”

“And if it wasn’t for the gray hair, which you know looks hot, no one would guess you weren’t in your twenties anymore.” Evan had heard Jimmy’s grousing before and knew it was never that serious. Very little could get Jimmy down for more than a few minutes.

Sure enough, before Evan had gotten halfway through his burger, Jimmy had wrapped his arms around one of the twinks Evan didn’t know, wrestling and groping him playfully. Water splashed around them as the kid squealed, and Cory’s big, booming laugh came from over Evan’s shoulder, where Cory still sat at the table.

“Show us that ass, Jimmy!” Cory called, and Jimmy followed orders, wrangling the twink around so he could get his tiny little trunks pushed down. He held the kid with one hand and gave his butt a few smacks with the other, laughing as the boy wriggled and squawked between peals of giggles. Evan shook his head and finished off his burger before leaning back on the chaise with his last beer. He knew what would come next. When everyone else left, the twink would stay behind, and Cory and Jimmy would have their fun with him. Evan doubted it would last any longer than the night. It rarely did.

A shadow passed over the sun, and Evan shivered in the
sudden cool. He glanced up to see clouds gathering, likely heralding one of the evening thunderstorms that popped up most days from April through the end of summer. Sure enough, a low rumble of thunder rolled, and Cory’s voice sounded again.

“All right, boys, time to get out of the pool.” A chorus of dissent followed, but Evan knew Cory wouldn’t be denied. “Nope, sorry. Pool is closing for the night. Everybody out, and y’all help me get this stuff moved inside before the heavens open up.”

Evan set aside his plate and grabbed his phone, keys, and shoes, slipping back into the flip-flops. With his clothes still drying, he had no pockets for his phone and keys, so it was a bit of a balancing act to gather up his plate, two empty bottles, and half-gone beer to get everything safely inside.

He’d spent enough time at Cory’s that he knew where to find things, so as the others helped bring things in, Evan sorted it into trash, recycling, refrigerator, or wherever else it needed to go. By the time the patio was cleared off, the rain had started, and a minute later, lightning flashed. Evan was standing close enough to feel Cory’s flinch and reached out to run a soothing hand down his back.

“We’re good,” he murmured, and Cory nodded, though he didn’t relax. With his own bad memories to deal with, Evan understood. A decade earlier, Cory’s father, an avid golfer, had been killed by a lightning strike on the eighth green of his favorite course. The result had been a phobia of thunderstorms that Cory fought but had yet to overcome.

The other guys had wandered farther into the house, and Evan heard discussion of video games or strip poker. Riley’s face flashed through his mind again, and he cleared his throat. “So, once the storm dies down a little, I’m going to head home.”
Or to see if Riley’s home
, he thought. If the guy was going to keep showing up in his head, Evan might as well try to get to the real thing.

Cory gave him a side-eye. “You’re not leaving before dessert,” he stated. “Jimmy made lemon meringue pie. Three of ’em, actually, and if you don’t help us eat them, I’ll eat a whole pie, and….” He puffed out his cheeks and held his arms out to the side in the universal “weight gain” sign, and Evan had to smile.

“I’ll stay for pie,” he agreed. “As long as there’s coffee too.”

Cory gave him a wicked grin. “Sure thing, honey. You know where all the fixins are!”

He landed a big, smacking kiss on Evan’s cheek and
disappeared toward the den before Evan could mount a protest. Sighing, he opened the cabinet and started pulling things out. Going after Riley would just have to wait.

F
RIDAY
NIGHT
,
Evan was almost late for dinner. His degree of punctuality came and went, although he was adamant about never being late for professional gigs. But this dinner was kind of important, no matter what came of it. He needed it to start off right, even if it all went wrong in the end.

He walked into the restaurant with three minutes to spare and pulled up short. His mother stood to the left of the entrance, alone, and it caught him off guard. He’d been sure the “we” in “can we have dinner?” had included his father as well.

Apparently not.

Gwen Day’s smile had always been the stuff of legend, and the one she gave Evan was no exception. She hugged him before he could decide if he was okay with it or not, but he must’ve been, because he hugged her right back. Her scent wrapped familiarity and memory around him, and he closed his eyes as his mind tumbled toward oblivion.

“Oh, Evan,” Gwen whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His mother’s words, as heartfelt as they sounded, pulled him out of his fugue. He broke the embrace as gently as he could manage and took a step back. “I missed you too, Mom,” he said. “I never wanted to leave in the first place.”

Gwen’s smile faded, her eyes clouding. “I know, honey. That’s why I wanted to see you. Can we….” She looked around, caught the eye of the hostess. “Let’s sit, and we can talk. Okay?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Evan agreed.

He followed her to a table in a corner. She must have made the request of location before he arrived, since the hostess hadn’t even checked before heading in that direction. She pulled out her own chair before he could think to offer, something he’d been raised to believe was proper but hadn’t really thought about in years. He did wait until she was seated to take his own place to her left. She gave him a small smile.

“You remembered,” she murmured, and he realized what he’d done. A viral infection when Evan was ten had left his mother with hearing loss in her right ear. Even five years after they last saw each other, he’d automatically sat on her good side.

He gave a small smile. “Habit.” He picked up his menu. “Have you been here before?”

“Oh yes.” Gwen smiled and looked around. “A good friend of ours is head chef. I helped her with some of the interior design. It turned out lovely, didn’t it?”

Evan raised an eyebrow. His mother had been a full-time wife and mother all his life, apart from charity work befitting a former sorority member and spouse of a well-known attorney. “It’s nice,” he said, watching her glow with pride. “You’ve been doing design work?”

She turned her focus back to him and laughed lightly. “Oh, just a bit here and there. I’ve been at loose ends since….” She trailed off and turned her attention to her menu. “The seafood is my favorite here, but everything is delicious.”

His mind filled in the rest of her incomplete sentence:
since you left home
. Wife and mother had been more than a full-time job, but wife alone apparently left something to be desired.

He was happy for her that she’d found something she enjoyed. “Have you been taking design courses, or…?”

She blushed. “I had a certification from decades ago,” she admitted. “Beverly, the chef here, has been trying to talk me into updating it.” She paused, then shook her head and waved a hand. “I’m sure it would be too much bother.”

Evan didn’t press, but he knew she had the time, and she certainly showed an interest. If they managed to rekindle a regular relationship, maybe he’d encourage her to take some courses. God knew he’d like to have the time and money like she did.

He turned his attention back to the menu, settling quickly on one of his favorites—grilled rainbow trout. He set the menu aside and took a sip of water, looking around the dining room again. The space felt comfortable, the noise levels low, the design sleek but warm. He thought of Riley and his design interests. Maybe they could…. He shook off the half-formed thought. He didn’t even know yet if his mother was here to accept him or make another effort to get him to renounce his sexuality. The idea of bringing Riley into the picture was so premature as to be ludicrous.

Gwen set her menu down, and within moments, a server appeared. “May I take your order?”

Gwen smiled her beauty-queen smile. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have the scallops Florentine, and a glass of house chardonnay.”

The server nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned to Evan. “And you, sir?”

“Grilled rainbow trout,” he said, and he nodded at Gwen. “And the same wine, please.”

“Excellent. May I get you anything else? An appetizer?”

Evan looked at his mother, who tilted her head winsomely. “A bread basket and some of that wonderful honey butter would be lovely.”

“I’ll have that right out,” the server said. She smiled before turning to head toward the kitchen, and Gwen turned her smile onto Evan.

“I can never resist bread,” she confided, reaching for her water glass. “All my friends have done the low-carb and the gluten-free and all that, and I simply can’t manage it. I’ve long ago given up fighting it.”

Evan chuckled. “You don’t need to worry about any of that anyway,” he said. “You still look just as beautiful as you ever did.”

Gwen blushed again, which only made her more beautiful. She still had the poise and grace of the beauty queen she’d once been, but unlike many others, she’d let her looks age gracefully. If she’d had any work done, Evan couldn’t tell, and he’d seen enough bad plastic surgery to recognize it from three feet away. Aside from deeper lines around her mouth and delicate crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, she could easily pass for decades younger than her fifty-six years. No one would believe that she had a twenty-five-year-old son, much less that she’d had one four years older. And that she’d survived the loss of one and estrangement from the other.

Evan’s mood followed those darker thoughts. He dropped his gaze to the deep gray tablecloth, noticing a tiny gap in the fabric just to the right of his knife, not a tear but a flaw in the weaving.
Story of my life
, he thought.
Looks fine from a distance, but get up close and you can see the holes
.

“Honey.” Gwen slid a hand, long fingers tipped with a perfect french manicure, to cover Evan’s where it sat on the table. “How have you been? I want to hear everything about your life.”

No, you really don’t, Mom
, Evan thought. He shrugged. “Pretty typical, I suppose. I work. Have an apartment. Have friends. Travel sometimes.” Gently, so as not to cause trouble, he extracted his hand and lowered it into his lap with the other. “How have you been?”

Gwen was quiet for a long moment, long enough that Evan looked up to catch her with tears in her eyes. “I feel like we’re strangers,” she whispered. “Like I gave you up for adoption and we’re just now meeting. How did—?” A soft sob cut her off, and she fumbled for her purse, found a handkerchief, and used it to dab at her eyes. “How did we let this happen?” she finally finished, and Evan had to fight to tamp down the anger that welled up in him.

“‘We’ didn’t do anything, Mom,” he pointed out, proud of how calm he sounded. “You did. You and Dad let this happen. All I did was tell you who I am, and you refused to have anything to do with me.”

“We were wrong!” Gwen’s eyes glittered. “Oh, God, Evan, there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t regretted what we did. We thought…
hoped
that you’d change your mind and come back. We were stupid and ignorant and thought we were doing the right thing.”

Gwen stopped and bit her bottom lip, hard, as if using it to get her emotions back under control. Evan saw their server approaching with their drinks and bread, and he leaned back and nodded in that direction so his mother would understand. She did, and when the glass of wine was placed in front of her, she managed a gracious smile, if not a verbal thank-you.

Once the server was gone, Evan grabbed his wine and drained half of it in one swallow. He set the glass back on the table and focused on his mother. “What made you change your mind?”

Gwen sipped at her wine more delicately, as befit a genteel Southern lady, but her hand trembled. “A lot of things,” she murmured. She took another sip and then set down her glass. “But mostly it was your brother.”