Happy (19 page)

backrest. Laughter bubbled up in his chest as Louie struggled to work

his pants and underwear down. He raised his hips to help, and then it was

Louie’s turn to bend and swallow him. Peter gasped at the wet heat and—oh

shit, it was true: guys did give better head than girls. Or Louie did at any

rate, using his expert tongue to tease his foreskin. Peter struggled to control

his breathing, to make it last longer, but he was close, so close.

His fingers tensed in Louie’s thick hair. He was just about to warn

Louie when he pulled free, sat up, and then swung one leg over so that he

straddled Peter’s lap.

Face to face, chest to chest, Louie cupped his face and kissed him,

claiming his mouth possessively.

Peter melted at the unexpected tenderness. He grabbed Louie’s ass,

tried to shove his pants down his hips for better access and drag him closer

so their slippery cocks slid together. Louie’s hand stole between them,

stroking them both, and then he was gone.

When Peter finally came back to earth, it was to a kink in his back, come

cooling on his stomach, and his pants down around his shins.

And he’d never been happier.

“You do know how to impress a guy, Peter Georgiou,” Louie mumbled

against his neck with no signs of moving. “Now I know why you were so

popular in high school.”

Peter snickered. A full-blown laugh followed, then another. Once he

started, he found he couldn’t stop.

Louie raised his head and smiled indulgently when he was done. “I

like your laugh.” His fingers toyed with the gold cross Peter wore around

his neck. “This is pretty.”

“It was a gift—from my mother.”

Louie’s palm skimmed over his chest and flattened just above his

heart. Could he feel the way it was still pounding, Peter wondered.

“I think the rain has stopped,” Louie murmured.

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110

A whisper of cool air chilled the sweat on his body, and Peter shivered.

The air conditioning was running. Looked like the power was back too. “Too

bad.” He sighed. If only they could stay here, like this, and never move….

“If you fall asleep here, how will it look in the morning?” Louie

teased. “Annie will get quite a greeting.”

“Mmm, knowing Annie, I don’t think she’d mind.” He opened his

eyes to find Louie watching him. Peter leaned in and kissed him again. Slow

and sweet this time. Just because he could. He thrilled at the freedom.

The ring of Peter’s cell phone made Louie groan. “Ignore it,” he

mumbled, kissing his way down Peter’s neck.

But Peter couldn’t ignore it. Because there was only one person who

would be calling him this late instead of texting. Fighting a mounting sense

of panic, he pushed Louie off his lap and searched for his phone. It had

fallen out of his pocket and lay on the floor near his feet. He grabbed it, and

the familiar number turned his blood to ice. “It’s my mom,” he said through

numb lips.

“
Panagiotis
,” she cried as soon as he answered. “It’s your father…

it’s….” He could barely make out her words through the sobbing.

“Ma! Please. Where are you?”

“Come quick. I need you.”

TWELVE

Louie watched the color drain from Peter’s face and instinctively knew

it was bad. An icy hand clawed at his gut as he began dressing. His shirt was

still damp, and he grimaced at the clammy feel against his skin.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Peter said in a tight voice.

When Louie glanced over, Peter sat on the bench, the phone in his

hand, his face blank, and his eyes unseeing as he stared straight ahead.

“Peter?”

“It’s my dad. He had another heart attack.”

“Oh, Peter.”

“I need to get to the hospital,” he said dully but didn’t move.

Louie recognized the signs of shock. His heart wrenched. “Then let’s

go.” He grasped Peter’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “Get dressed.” He

tossed Peter his shirt. “Which hospital?” he asked, already on his phone and

calling for a cab.

Peter blinked. “What? Oh, yeah.” The hospital he named was

downtown. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to get there. But Louie’s

hopes sank when the taxi dispatcher warned him it could be a bit of a wait.

The quick storm had snarled traffic and brought down power lines across

the city.

He debated running home and grabbing Demetra’s car—or Peter’s—

but neither of them were in any condition to get behind the wheel right

now. Better to wait for the cab. He spun around and found Peter calmly

straightening up the tables and stacking the candles. He was dressed, but his

shirt hung unbuttoned.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting things back the way they were.”

Louie shivered. He knew he was probably imagining it, yet he couldn’t

help but notice the double meaning in Peter’s words. When Peter handed

him the bottle of cleaner and told him to spray down the banquette, his

anxiety only increased. It seemed as though he was wiping out any trace of

what had just happened, of the beautiful moments they’d shared.

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112

Finally Peter locked up, and they stood out on the sidewalk to wait. It

seemed to take forever for the taxi to arrive.

“It’ll be okay,” he kept repeating on the cab ride to the hospital. He

had no right to make such a promise, but it was all he could think of. He

had no idea if Peter even heard him. He remained silent for the whole ride,

clutching his hand with a tight grip. Any other time Louie would have been

overjoyed by the small action, but even as he clung on, he could feel Peter

retreating further into himself.
Please don’t let them be too late
, he prayed.

By the time they arrived, they learned Kosta had already been admitted.

Louie didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. They raced through

the warren of hallways and finally found Tina in a small waiting area off

the main emergency wing. Although bustling with staff, it was strangely

silent—everyone talking in low voices or whispers. Four uncomfortable-

looking hard-backed chairs lined the wall opposite the main desk. That’s

where Tina sat. She looked terrible: her skin pale and waxy, her perfectly

coifed hair a tangled nest.

Peter let go of his hand and took a step forward. She gave a little cry

and rushed into his arms when she saw him, sobbing loudly against his

chest. For a horrifying, heart-wrenching second, Louie thought they must

be too late.

He hung back, not sure what kind of welcome he was in for, and let

Peter comfort his mother. They spoke quickly, urgently, in hushed tones. He

saw Peter tilt his head back, saw the way his shoulders sagged in relief, and

assumed the worst hadn’t happened then.

Tina suddenly frowned and leaned back. She patted the front of Peter’s

open shirt. “What is this? Why are you wet?” Then she turned her head and

noticed Louie standing there. “Why is he here?” she asked.

“We were….” Peter’s eyes slid away from Louie’s. “We went out for

a drink,” he replied, the lie rolling easily off his tongue. “And got caught in

the storm.”

Something twisted in Louie’s chest. The pain was brief but piercing,

like someone had quietly slipped a knife beneath his breastbone, only

instead of blood, it was hope slowly seeping from the wound. The deception

had already begun.

Tina let loose a rapid fire volley of Greek that he couldn’t quite make

out, but he heard Peter say his name at least twice. He didn’t look happy

when he said it either.

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113

The realities of the evening began to sink in. Even if Peter’s relationship

with Demetra was fake, that didn’t mean he was necessarily interested in

one with Louie. He had no idea where they stood.

Peter’s and Tina’s discussion was interrupted by a young male nurse.

Peter put his arm around his mother’s shoulders as they spoke. Another round

of urgent voices, of nodding heads, and then the nurse escorted Tina away.

Peter stood alone for a moment, forced his shoulders back and then

turned in Louie’s direction. Louie rose to his feet as he approached, a knot

of tension forming behind his eyes as he mentally braced himself. But Peter

surprised him, stepping into his arms and clinging as if he were a drowning

man and Louie his only salvation. His breath came in shaky bursts, and

every few seconds, a tremor would roll through his body.

Louie just held him tight. “Are you okay?” he asked after a few minutes.

He felt Peter’s nod against his shoulder. Another couple of minutes,

a deep breath, and he raised his head, but didn’t step out from the circle of

Louie’s arms. “They have him stabilized. He has to have surgery. They’re

doing an emergency bypass in the morning.”

Louie let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good, right?”

“They’re letting Ma see him now.” Peter dipped his head and wiped

at his eyes. When he raised them, they were black with guilt. “I should have

been there,” he said hoarsely.

“You can’t think like that, Peter.” Louie grasped Peter’s face in his

hands and stroked his cheeks. He knew exactly what Peter was thinking:

if he hadn’t been with Louie tonight, it might have been different. If they

hadn’t stopped at the restaurant. If they hadn’t had sex. “I won’t let you

blame yourself.” That guilt would eat him up alive.

He searched Peter’s face for signs that he’d heard what he was saying,

but he found none, and it terrified him.

“
Panagiotis
?” Tina called. “Come.”

Peter quickly jerked away. Louie’s hands fell to his sides, suddenly

numb. He knew how this went. But it still hurt like hell. He’d thought Peter

would be different.

“I should go see him,” Peter said. “You don’t have to stay. I’ve got

things covered now.”

“You want me to go?”

Peter glanced over his shoulder at Tina. “It might be easier if you did.”

He gave Louie’s arm a platonic, buddy-like squeeze. “I’ll call you later.”

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114

White-hot anger came out of nowhere and blinded Louie. He was

good enough to blow in the dark, but not to be seen with? He shook off

Peter’s touch. “You know what? Don’t bother. I won’t let you treat me like

your dirty little secret. What happened to not pretending, or was that all

bullshit?”

Peter’s dark eyes filled with guilt, and if Louie wasn’t mistaken, a hint

of resignation. But he didn’t try to defend himself. “Lou—”

Louie started walking backward down the hallway toward his escape.

“If you want me, you can date me—out in the open, like anyone else.

Otherwise, just stay the hell away.”

Two hours later, Louie sat alone with his thoughts in the dark kitchen,

working his way through the last of the six-pack in the fridge. Even though

the sun had yet to make an appearance, the birds had begun chirping, which

meant dawn was not far off. Zelda, unable to coax him to bed, had given

up and sought more comfortable quarters than the cool tile floor. But he

couldn’t sleep. He was too angry. At Peter. At himself most of all.

How had this happened again? Did he possess some sort of

psychological flaw—he was only interested in men who were unavailable?

The creak of the floorboards above his head drew his attention.

Demetra’s bedroom door opened and then footsteps descended the stairs.

Two sets. So mystery man was still here. He’d been in such a state when he

got home he’d forgotten to check.

He heard their whispers in the front hallway. Curiosity took hold. Just

who was Demetra seeing on the side? If it weren’t for this guy he never would

have seen Peter tonight. Things never would have gone as far as they had.

Now anger simmered alongside the curiosity. Silently, Louie stole

through the kitchen. He snapped on the foyer light. Like cockroaches

scuttling for darkness, they jumped apart, but not before he got a good look

at his sister wrapped around a gorgeous black man and his hand cupping her

ass beneath the long T-shirt she wore.

“Louie,” she shrieked, clutching a hand to her chest. “What the hell?”

“Cheers.” He saluted them with his beer bottle and then drained it.

They looked at each other, guilt written across both their faces.

Demetra’s lover stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Andre. You must be Demetra’s

brother.”

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Demetra darted in front of him and pressed her palms to his impressively

wide chest. “Let me take care of this. Why don’t you go home and I’ll call

you later.”

Ha! Famous last words.

But Demetra’s guy apparently had more balls than he did, because he

stood his ground. “No. I’m not going to let you push me away again. You

said I could meet your family.”

“And you will,” she assured him. “Just not now. It’s not you I’m

worried about—it’s him. Louie’s not exactly making a great impression.”

“Hey,” Louie protested, but weakly because his bottle was empty