Confounded: Part III - 14. Chapter 9

--==Mitchell’s POV==--

Tom’s temporary place in Venice turned out to be a modern home, definitely more for a family than a single bachelor but it was cold, sterile. His friend, the owner, had purchased it as an investment, sight unseen, he told me. Tom had mentioned he’d been using it for a long while now. According to him, it had 4 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms, but he only gave me a quick tour of the ground floor. The kitchen was a modern marvel and the whole house decked out in marble flooring. Decorated in mostly white, there were a few colorful carpets to break the monotony, but the whole thing felt more like a showroom than an actual house. I didn’t comment on it, but he seemed to pick up on it.

“A bit too modern, huh?” he smiled.

“It’s...beautiful.” I didn’t want to offend.

“I’m grateful to house-sit, because of the area, but it’s too bright. Your place is comfy, warm. I like the stonework and the wood beams. No stories. This is more like a dentist's office.” He laughed when I showed my surprise at his opinion. “It’s free. Well, I do pay for the utilities and such, of course. I didn’t have to buy any furniture, everything is here. I only redid the bedroom and added the outside cage for Silver. I shouldn’t complain, and I’m not, but it’s definitely not my style.”

Looking around, he pointed at a folder on the coffee table. “I’ll show you what I’m looking at, in a bit. Ah, there’s my baby.”

Squatting, he grinned and then I got my first look at the most beautiful cat I've ever seen. And she was a monster. I simply stared as a beast, easily 15 inches in height, came into the room through a slightly cracked open door and seemed to float, her coating dancing elegantly. I could hear her meow and consequent purr from across the room as soon as she saw and heard her daddy. “Whoa…”

Smiling up at me, Tom spread his arms and she came running, then bumped her head to his chin with such force, he almost fell backwards. He laughed when she went for his hands, then kept sniffing them, constantly bumping her head against them. And she actually ‘spoke’ to him, meowing back when he addressed her. “Hi sweetie! Aww, you hungry?”

She could probably smell the cat food on his hands; he’d shown me what it looked like in the petstore and had me smell it.

“Meow.”

“You wanna pet her? She loves it.” Then he looked at my pants. “Ah, maybe not. You’ll get hair all over you. Downside to these cats; they shed a lot.”

He didn’t seem to care about it but he was dressed more casually. At least mine were light gray.

Lowering myself to squat, I held out my hand. I wasn’t sure if she would scratch me or bite; I’m not familiar with cats and certainly not ones this big. I was actually surprised when she sauntered over, tail swaying and she smelled my hand, then gave a big bump to it with her head and a few licks on my fingers. I grinned and glanced over to Tom. She continued bumping her head against my hand. Then she noted I had another hand, alternating between them and then dropped onto the floor.

“They come into a room and probably count how many people there are; double that to the amount of hands that can touch her,” he explained. “They wanna be near people, always.”

“Does she scratch? Bite?”

He shook his head, taking her in; pure love shining in his gaze. “Nope. She likes to play, so she’ll paw at you, but she’s never scratched a person deliberately. If she does bite, it’s not hard; it’s because she likes what you’re doing, the attention she gets. They’re lovebites. Aww, she wants a belly rub.”

He nodded at her and I glanced down. Laying on her back, paws cutely held close to herself, she watched me. And when I reached out, she actually stretched and let me do that. Her coat was soft as a baby’s butt and she began purring loudly. I smiled down at her, stupidly. She was insanely cute.

“Aww, she likes you.”

He came over and rubbed her as well.

“Yes, she does. Oh, you like attention, don’t you.”

He spoke in that funny voice and I sniggered.

Glancing up, he stuck out his tongue. “Shut up.”

“She’s really big.”

“Mhm,” he said, stroking her head. He got a lick on his fingers as a reward. “They’re some of the biggest cats.”

“When did you get her?”

“She was a kitten when I got her. You think she’s cute now? Try a Maine Coon kitten. You’re just gonna die. She was bred for me.”

“Wow...expensive?”

“Five thousand.”

Holy...for a cat? He grinned when he saw my surprise.

“Breeding rights are quite expensive. They have a pedigree, passport, all sorts of other costs, the kitten itself; yeah, they’re expensive. Hence the cage and no free roaming on the street. They’re a popular thing to steal, because they’re so easy to approach and pick up.”

Easy? This monster had to weigh quite a bit. If Tom picked her up, I doubted I’d even see him.
As if she knew we were talking about her, she meowed; it sounded impatient.

“Ah, yeah, you can’t stop now. You’re acceptable to her, as her own personal rubbing machine. Rub, Mister. The pussy needs rubbing.”

I began to snigger. Jackass. Reaching over, I tugged him until he either had the choice to fall on his ass or seek balance on me.

“You just had to say that, huh?” I laughed, angling to press a kiss on his lips. Then we both got a bump on the chin when Silver got up and got her head between us. “Yikes, jealous much?”

“Oh yeah, she doesn’t like sharing. Sorry. She thinks you’re gonna eat me.”
I chuckled and stroked her head. Purring ensued again.

“Personal guard?”

“Mhm. Very effective.”

He rose to stand and disappeared into the room she’d come from, returning a minute later with a bowl, carrying it to the kitchen. And then I got a little show.

He spoke to her constantly while she stayed right beside him, not moving a muscle except her eyes, head and tail, which was swaying like a flag; she was closely watching him. She didn’t even try to get on the counter, where he was prepping her meal. Then he said Dance? Going upon her hind legs, she pawed the air and actually moved with him when he turned toward her and moved his hips, then held out his hands for her to lay her paws in and kinda danced with her. It was so funny to watch, I laughed out loud.

Finishing her meal, he brought the bowl over to the room and she followed him every step of the way, meowing.

She. Was. Adorable.

Tom reappeared in the doorway and closed it behind him. When I softly clapped my hands, he bowed.

“Thank you, thank you.” He grinned.

“So what’d you think; you like her?”

“She’s amazing,” I said and meant it.

“I know. I can’t imagine not having her. She’s so funny. Before I moved in here, I had asked if I could convert a room and have that cage built. If the answer had been no, I’d have stayed in New York until I found a place of my own.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he came over. Biting his cheek, he glanced at me.

“So…” he said slowly, “you want me to drive you back? Or...do you wanna stay for a bit? I can make some food, later on.”

Reaching out, I pulled him closer and right on cue, his hand came up and his fingers slipped between the buttons of my shirt.

“Why do you do that?” I asked.

“What?”

I looked down. “That.”

He chuckled. “I dunno. It’s something I do. I like feeling skin. I like that you don’t wear an undershirt. I also wear it like that.”

Dipping my head, I sought his gaze. “You’re nervous…”

He worried his bottom lip with his teeth but he shook his head. “No. I just don’t know where to go from here. I don’t get nervous. Ever. I know what I want, and you might feel differently, perhaps find it too soon. I don’t know what you want.”

“What do you mean by ‘too soon’?”

“Staying the night…for the day not to end. Not just yet. Well, if I’m honest; I don’t wanna say goodbye.” He withdrew the fingers and made a fist, then softly bumped me on the chest.

“I didn’t expect...you. This man. You’re kinda great, you know.”

Oh wow…

“I know common sense would be to say goodbye but I don’t feel like saying that either,” I admitted, causing a relieved expression to appear on his face, “I didn’t expect you either and, to also be honest, when Kit set us up, I didn’t know who to expect or this...awakening. I’m feeling things I haven’t felt for a long time. Do I like you? Obviously.” Somehow, it felt right to say exactly that. Try to be as honest as I could. It was weird to say yet I felt…I dunno…free to say it?

“Awakening…”

I should have known he’d pick up on just that. I smiled.

“I can’t think of a better word. It’s like what you said last night; becoming. You said you needed to become the person you were meant to be. Well, with awakening, I mean these feelings that have been gone for a long time. And at some point, last night, I...I don’t know, it felt like someone pressed Play. Like I was on Pause for a long time. Am I making sense?”

“Yes,” he smiled, moving his hand to my cheek. “That makes a lot of sense to me. I understand that.” He pulled back a little. When I looked into his eyes, there was some glinting there. “So, that means you need time, right? No more kissing? And probably no touching…”

“Absolutely.” I pulled him closer. His fingers slipped inside my shirt again. “Definitely no touching.”

“Right. And no dinner, or lunch…”

“No breakfast…” I tilted my head a little, looking at his mouth. I really wanted to go for it. His eyes darted to mine.

“You have a full pantry now so you can just grab something.”

“Mhm…”

“And you’ll keep it stocked?” He leaned in a bit, his mouth almost brushing mine.

“Mhm. I may need a little help, though…”

“Right, right...I might know a guy.”

“Yeah? He any good?” My lips touched his.

“Yeah, but he’s a bit of a jacka…”

Covering his mouth, I sighed and slipped inside, relishing his taste as his tongue welcomed me, darting around and sliding against, then sucking me in. I felt both his arms circling my neck and pulled him close. His scent filled my nose and I delved deep and good god, I awoke. Like full-body senses flaring up. It became a bit of a hungry kiss that could easily lead to much more. Ending it a little abruptly, I bumped his forehead with mine, panting.

“Jesus,” he breathed, “damn. Go for it, man! What happens if you really let loose?”

I smiled. He might not want to find that out just yet.

“This is still not awkward.”

“Do you need it to be?”

“I dunno...I might.”

“I could do the Hokey Pokey in a tutu. I think that might be awkward…”

I guffawed and pulled away.

“God, help me. Where did that come from?”

He sniggered, shrugging.

“No idea. That just popped into my head. Oh! I know!” He slapped the side of his head. “Neighbor’s kid. She’s a ballet dancer. I sometimes see her twirling in their yard.”

“I’m kissing you, and you think about the neighbor’s kid? Your priorities are completely screwed up.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s sad. But hey, we agreed; no touching, and no more kissing.” He slapped my hands on his hips. “Off. Not allowed.”

I made a point to withdraw, clearing my hands.

“No dinner either, I guess?” I pouted, or tried to.

“Go check your pants. The pantry. I meant the pantry.”

I sniggered and pulled him closer again.

“You need to shut up.”

**********

He did make dinner. It was good, too. Tom made Lasagna from scratch, and I remembered he’d made that before, years ago. It was the worst dish one could ask Taylan to make. One day Tom had made it, and we’d gobbled it up like no tomorrow. There had been no leftovers that day. On another, I clearly remembered Taylan screwing it up on purpose; it’d been Tom’s birthday and this whole elaborate party had been dreamed up by him. He later told me his antics on the phone with the security company.

The house did have a small stash of wine and he sent me off to get something; I found a nice Pinot Noir. It would go perfect with it, and I was right. Of course, he gave me crap about it, but dinner was great, the wine did what it was supposed to… and the cat would not be denied.

As soon as she knew, or smelled, that something was cooking, the racket from the room she stayed in was unbelievable. Plaintiff cries, pawing at the door; it sounded like she was breaking down the room at one point, until Tom asked me to let her out. She immediately jumped onto a chair at the dinner table and wouldn’t budge; not until we actually sat down to eat.

Silver had her own chair. Tom confirmed it actually was her chair. No one was allowed on that chair, not even himself. She’d just harass you until it was vacated.

Looking from him to me as we ate, she even joined in on the conversation whenever her name was uttered and I learned quickly that mentioning her name was not always wise. I spent half my dinner with a cat right next to me, begging for a bite.

“Meow.”

“Your own fault,” Tom sniggered, carrying the dishes to the kitchen. “She’s not going to leave you alone now.”

He was right. She followed me everywhere, and when I finally sat down on the couch, hoping to nurse the last of my wine, I was covered in cat within seconds. And seriously, that was a lot of cat. Her nails were where a man in general wouldn’t appreciate sharp nails, appearing and retracting at regular intervals, her purring loud. At long last, even Tom took pity on me and with a curt ‘Silver, off!’ she immediately moved off.

“Your pants are ruined now,” he chuckled. “I have a gadget for it. Should take care of most of it.”

She left me alone after that and disappeared in her room. Closing the door behind her, Tom joined me on the couch, bringing his glass, which he set on the table, and a plastic tool that proved to be an amazing cat hair removal thing. Shaped like a wiper, it removed a lot of the hairs in no time.

Leaning back, I closed my eyes as he gently removed the hair from my shirt, then my pants. He’d chosen some nice chamber music which played in the background. The overhead lighting was off, with soft recessed lighting illuminating the living room. It was less harsh and during dinner, he’d lit a few candles on the table that were currently flickering in the background.

The couch was very comfortable. It was a huge one and perfect for someone my height. Deep-seated, it actually reached all the way to my knees. Firm. Very nice. And when Tom curled up beside me, stroking that thing all over my front, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening. Imagine that, for a second; nothing relaxes you more than sitting on a couch with someone removing cat hair from your clothes. It sure relaxed me. With him tucked into my side, we talked with the music softly going in the background.

We talked about a lot of things. Taylan, Tom’s sisters, his brother, who’d caused a lot of grief back then. And Kit, Mischa and their kids.

“They’re cute little heartbreakers. I see them pretty often,” he commented.

“You do?” I hadn’t known that.
I did know Kit and Tom had remained good friends, though right after their breakup, there had been a long while of less contact for obvious reasons. As I recalled Kit telling me, they had met up again somewhere in Europe. Coincidentally, on the same trip where he’d met Mischa and in hindsight, he’d realized his feelings for Tom had been puppy love; the real thing, which he’d been in the middle of discovering with Mischa, had been far more real, more intense and scary.
“Oh yeah, I see them almost every week.” He hesitated. “Mischa asked me if I would consent to become their godfather. Very formal; you know what he’s like.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. This was indeed news. The boys hadn’t been baptized yet; something that especially irked Mischa and about which he had been increasingly more vocal. Because of his roots and pressure from his parents on the subject, it’d been somewhat of an issue lately. It had Kit worried, I knew that. Mischa wanted to have this done in the foreseeable future and before any more kids came. I knew they were ‘trying’ already, with the same birth mother as the boys.

“Mischa’s eldest sister, Olympia, has consented to become their godmother.”

Tom nodded. “I know. I spoke to her.”

Olympia came over to the US every three months, together with Mischa’s mother, Juliana. They’d stay for two weeks, then return to Greece, having done this like clockwork since Noah was born. The boy was absolutely crazy about his aunt and grandmother, who taught him Greek and French. They’d also begun that with Julian, who was less easy to teach. But he knew some words already, like giagiá (grandma) and theía (aunt), though he usually referred to the latter as Limpy, which Mischa especially had found hilarious and now named her that as well. She always gave him a slap for it, when he used it to address her.

“Will you do it?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s a responsibility I’m not sure I can perform.”

“How so?”

“Well...for one, I don’t visit church. Like; ever. I used to, but not anymore and I know Mischa values that. A lot.”

He did, yes. We attended service every Sunday.

“Mischa’s family is orthodox, I think you know that. Growing up, he’s got those values ingrained on him. When he moved here, he was careful in selecting what church he wanted to attend.”
And we switched to that, when he’d made his choice, including my father.

“Yeah, I know. Not like you guys; you were always a bit more…relaxed. But they go every friggin’ Sunday…he even makes Kit fly back for it. I mean, c’mon!”

I chuckled. Not entirely correct; I remembered the incident he was referring to and it happened only once.

Last year, Kit had promised his sons to be back before Christmas weekend but a meeting had been rescheduled beyond his control; Mischa would have absolutely none of that and demanded he return; his sons were promised that daddy would be home, and no one made a promise to his sons and failed to keep it. He raised all hell about it really, demanding Kit fly back from Europe at once; if he didn’t, he might as well stay there. It was then that I heard him swing his multilingual skills, spitting fire at my son from the moment Kit returned; a scathing rebuke. Kit had been white as a sheet after and I didn’t dare interfere; Mischa on a rampage was magnificent and no…not going anywhere near that.

“He’s got deep religious roots. He feels strengthened by it. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“No, of course not. But I remember we went like every other week. It wasn’t that big of a thing. We didn’t go every Sunday. I mean; he’s got Kit whipped about it. Like they can’t skip; ever.”
He was very perceptive.

“I know. He values it a great deal. I happen to agree with him. Does that bother you? I go every week…”

Giving children a strong moral compass and guidance was a good base to start them off in life; I believe this, so does Mischa. We were very much on the same page there. From home, we had visited church weekly, and after Kit was born, I’d felt the need for guidance and received it there, sometimes even more than from my parents. As Kit grew up, he’d engaged in a lot of activities through church as well and I’d like to believe that he was a better man because of it.

“Taylan didn’t always go,” Tom interjected.

“No. But he respected it and agreed to come with us, when it suited him.” I smiled. Between us, that had been a bit of a thing too, back then. I’d never forced him; you can’t force anyone to do that, but I wore him down about it. Eventually, he gave in and came along. Occasionally. Maybe two, three times a year but he did come. The one date I would never budge on was Christmas. It had been the only thing I ever forced the issue on, from the first Christmas we spent together. He’d come, grudgingly. But he had come. We never had an issue about it again.

“Hmm,” Tom murmured, “growing up, we went when my mom felt like going. Dad not so much. We went like twice a month, probably less. Mischa said he won’t accept it, if I were to go…what did he say…recreationally?”

Sounded like Mischa, yes. Tom seemed to contemplate that.

“He’s gotta understand that not everyone has the time that he does. He’s a fulltime, stay-at-home dad.”

True.

“Yes, before they agreed on having children, he wanted to be certain they would be raised that way; always one parent home. And that they believe in God.”

“Right. Well, like I said; I’m not sure. Part of being a godfather is teaching about catechism. I’m a lot of things; a teacher isn’t one of them. And I can’t be there, every week. Nor do I want to. I don’t feel that need.”

Okay…

“Are you opposed to going to church?”

“No. I just don’t visit like I used to. These days, like I said, that means never, really.”

“I see…do you believe in God?”

“Yes, but in my own way…”

No hesitation there, that was good. I wondered what this ‘own way’ was, though.

“Are you willing to learn?”

“Of course. But I’m not suddenly going every week, even if I agree to do it. It’s...just not me. And if Mischa has a bug up his ass about it, then they might have to go find someone else.”

I chuckled at that. It was like hearing Taylan all over again. That bit of defiance, kicking against a commonality. He defied it just enough to not comply fully, yet not enough to go without.

“Fair enough. That decision is yours alone, to accept or refuse. Mischa has very strong convictions. Maybe talk to Kit, before you decide? Mischa can be bullyish but he doesn’t decide anything without Kit. I know that.”

“Bullyish is an understatement. The guy is a stubborn mule and bossy as all get out. I sometimes wonder how that relationship works because… y’know… Kit isn’t someone to mess with, either. I used to know the boundaries, but with them, I don’t know who’s leading. I’ve never seen Kit go docile until Mischa. Well, and you. He went there when you raised your voice. Meek as a kitten.”

I chuckled at that.

“Back then, maybe. Not so much, now. He's not afraid of me, or intimidated. Not anymore.”

Well, maybe if I truly got angry, but that was very rare; Taylan once saw it, when he was careless with his own life; and that was the only time. With Kit maybe twice, and that might include the instance where Taylan and I got into it.

I didn’t know how Kit and Mischa’s relationship worked either, I just knew that it did. I didn’t need to know the intricacies of it, but it was incredibly strong. They matched in a way I’d never seen, it worked like cogwheels were supposed to work, effortless and easy. How they managed it, both strong willed and stubborn, with kids who had inherited those traits, was something I never questioned; I only watched and enjoyed from afar. And it was a treat to watch them live as a unit, even more so when the tables were turned on them. Adults challenged by infants with personalities that were similar; usually a source of recognition and lots of snickering on my part.
Retreating a little, I felt Tom’s gaze on me.

“He never was afraid of you; he respected you. Still does,” he said.

Good, because the goal never had been to scare or intimidate my son.

“Did he…bully you? Into going on that date with me?”

“No, he went with emotional blackmail.”

“Oh, did he… you wanna know what he said to me?”

“What…”

“He told me that he had this friend, an Executive Advisor, who’d helped him a lot and who was looking to get back into the dating game…”

My son, the great liar. I chuckled.

“Well, what would you have said if he had told you it was me?” I asked.

“Umm..hell no?” Tom replied, snickering when I tightened my grip. Ducking out from under my grasp, he slid his leg over mine and moved onto my lap, putting his arms over my shoulders, knitting his fingers behind my neck. “I’m sorry, okay? Had he told me it was you… I had a ‘you’ in my head from back then; this stern, austere father figure. You were distant to me.”

“I’m not distant…” I objected. I’d argue I’m far from it.

“Not now; back then,” he chuckled, “back then you were. I remember you telling me to be responsible…”

I did not…had I? When I showed a frown, he nodded fervently.

“Oh yes. In your office, at your house. You told me you expected me to be the responsible one, because I had more experience. You told me ‘don’t hurt my kid’. Little did you know it was actually Kit who was the responsible one; he brought a condom on our first date.”

I chuckled at that. And I remembered!

“Ah, yes, I remember I told him in the car, to be safe. I didn’t know he had already taken precautions. Well, good. I’m glad he was being safe, even back then.”

“He can do no wrong, can he?” Tom snickered.

No, not really.

“I tell you he brought a condom to our first date, and nothing happened by the way, but you just go ‘oh, I’m glad’ and that’s that? Shit; what I would’ve given for that level of trust, back then.”

“You didn’t really give much to go on, did you?”

He weighed next to nothing on me and I moved my hands a little, letting them rest on his hips.

“Fair enough,” he grinned, “I guess I didn’t. So, did you bring rubbers? This being our third date and all?”

I pinched his sides then.

“You’re an ass! You knew I had no idea what you were talking about.”

He laughed straight in my face, squirming from my fingers in his sides; it was infectious and I joined in.

“You were just too cute. “Absolutely!” He mimicked my voice from the previous night. “Oww! Fuck! I’m sorry! Sorry! Stop! Haha!”

I stopped and his laughing subsided, his arms returning to my shoulders. As he did, he glanced at his watch.

“Ah, crap. It’s getting pretty late; I should take you back.”

Stealing a glance at my own watch, I was surprised to see it was already 10:30pm. Yes, it was definitely time to go, even if I didn’t want to. Tom went quiet, chewing his inner cheek again.

“Or you could stay…”

“I shouldn’t…”

“Why? Because it’s too soon?” He said the ‘too soon’ part with some disdain.

I shook my head.

I wasn’t even going to feign ignorance at what he was alluding to. That was somehow…diminishing everything. We both knew what could happen if I stayed. Denying that was lying to ourselves. I didn’t want to even try nor did he, obviously. It did feel good to know that.

“No. Like you said last night; if you feel something…well, I do. But we’d have to get up pretty early so I can get home, shower and change.”

He frowned.

“What time is church again? Still at 9:30am?”

“9:45…”

“And you leave at…?”

“8:45. Kit and Mischa pick me up at my place, then we go to my dad’s, pick him up.”

“So? You can shower here, then I’ll take you there. I get up around 6am for a run, every day, it’s my internal clock. I’ll run a little less far, then wake you at seven when I get back, you can shower, we go over to your place, you’ll be there 8.15-8:30 tops. Plenty of time for you to change.”

I sighed, finding myself wavering. He sensed it, too; a triumphant grin appeared.

“C’mon, stay. I don’t wanna say goodbye, neither do you. If we both feel it…Oh, and I will put out, just to let you know.”

“You don’t play fair, do you. You know I want to stay.”

He grinned, rather devilishly and nodded.

“Uhuh. I’ll play any card at this point. You, sir, are not going anywhere tonight.”

Now why did that feel insanely good? I couldn’t help but smile. Why was this so easy?

“You could just join us, you know? Then we don’t have to say goodbye at all.”

It was an offhand idea that formed in my mind and came out. I frowned. That actually was a great idea. He hesitated then.

“Huh?”

“Come to church with us.”

Hah! First time I saw him flustered.

“No, I can’t…. huh? But… what will Kit say? I mean…”

I chuckled. This was quite funny to watch. His confidence left him here. His hands slipped to my shoulders, his brow frowning. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Kit has no say here. For one; he’s the one who sent us on a blind date, didn’t he? If he has objections about it, he shouldn’t have done that in the first place. So he can’t. He has no argument. Nor do I need to explain myself to my son…or you to him.”

I could tell he liked that answer; his expression just brightened with that and he flipped like a leaf.

“Oh! That’s true! Okay, this church of yours...it’s not one where they have them sermons of thunder, sin and hell though, right? Where love is forbidden except between a man and a woman? Because then I’ll walk out.”

His idea of current day churches were somewhat outdated or, at least, the one I went to.

“No, this church is progressive. Even Mischa wouldn’t go to such a church you described,” I chuckled. “And our pastor is a woman. She’s married to a man though, so that might be something to hold against her?”

“Hah! Alright, yes, then I’ll come,” he grinned.

“Then I’ll stay,” I gave in, smiling too.

I liked that he would do that, just so that we wouldn’t have to say goodbye just yet. I liked that very much!

"Great. So tell me; how many Hail Marys is is a fuck? About 20? Oh, and blowjobs? 5? Do I get a discount if I do em in advance? 'Cause if I do, I'll get started right away…"

That mouth on him, honestly. I grabbed him, growling and he laughed, his arms tightening around my neck. Then he grew serious.

"I'm kidding. We don't have to do anything…"

"Thank you, but I'm not making any promises I know I can't keep."

"Oooh, I like a realist," he sniggered, leaning in for a long kiss. A very long one. "Hey, you wanna know something?” He then asked, withdrawing.

“What?” I smiled.

“I never experienced it so easy with someone. It’s like ticking boxes; is he cute? Yep. Sexy? Hell yeah. Helpless? Yep. Do we have great conversation? Yep. Can he keep his paws off me? Nope. Good kisser? Yep, very. Can I be myself? Yep. Ready to say goodbye? Fuck no.”

I belly laughed at that.

“I’m not helpless, thank you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh please. If I hadn’t come along, you’d still be flailing around in an empty kitchen. Now you have… stuff.”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way…”

He snickered and climbed off, then got the bottle and finished it off in the glasses; there wasn’t much left, and handed me mine.

“And you do know your wine. This is pretty good shit. I might have to hit you up for what to get whenever I have dinner guests over. I usually just grab something. I just know; fish means white, meat means red.”

Yikes! I had some work cut out, right there!

“I’d be happy to. Does that happen often?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I like to cook for people. Couple of times a month? I had Kit and Mischa, your connaisseur apprentice, over last week. He’s like you when it comes to wines. Told me you guys go on trips, to buy? Just him and you?”

I chuckled.

Little did Tom know but I’m actually the apprentice of the two of us, Mischa’s knowledge far outpaced mine, except when it came to Californian; then we were evenly matched. Ask him anything about French wines though, and he was my superior by far. He owned some bottles that were idiotically expensive.

Every year in the early fall, we went up to Napa for a nice long weekend of tasting. We usually bring back quite a haul. We prefer buying American, supporting our industry and it’s a nice way of bonding with my son-in-law, it’s only us two. We’d begun it before the boys were born and Kit was out of town on a business trip. Mischa had come over to the house, a bit lost in a strange new country (to him, still), trying to find his footing and perhaps a bit bored. At Taylan’s urging, so that we could bond, I began to look for things we might have in common and within maybe half an hour, we found we were both oenophiles. It was a small hop from there to booking a weekend in Napa, going wine tasting. That was the first weekend he’d called me ‘papa’, asking if he could because he missed his family. He had no one here, except us and Kit, of course. We hadn’t skipped a year ever since, until Covid hit; we hadn’t gone last year but he’d told me not too long ago that he was looking forward to us going this year, now that restrictions were a lot less.

“Yes. I enjoy our trips. And it’s a vacation for him. No kids.”

Tom chuckled at that.

“I bet he’s on the phone, Zooming them as soon as he closes the door. The man is besotted with them.”

Yes, he was. They both were.

As soon as Noah was born, they had a flow between them that was amazing to watch, with an ease that was bordering on, ‘okay, now you’re just showing off’. They literally knew everything, especially Mischa, right down to growth cycles, quirks, likes and dislikes. They rarely made use of nannies, if at all. Sitters, sure, nannies, no. The same thing again with Julian, though that kid was gonna be trouble. I can tell.

“They’re good fathers.”

“Did they ever find out who is whose? We can’t go by hair or eye color, they both have the same amazing violet. That’s so rare.”

I shook my head.

“They don’t want to know, unless it’s absolutely necessary; in case of a medical emergency. There’s an envelope with DNA results in a lawyers’ office somewhere, if the boys ever want to know when they’re older. For them, there is no question; they are the parents.”

We could only go by character; Noah possibly was Kit’s because he was an extrovert, much like Kit had been when younger. Julian was somewhat more introverted, like Mischa had been in his childhood, according to his mother.

As for the eyes, some research revealed it probably had to do with albinism, yet the boys weren’t quick to sunburn, which would be likely in that case, due to lack of pigmentation. They were a mystery. Their mother, the same for both boys, had also been unable to give answers but it stood to reason that she was the common denominator there.

Their eye color was rare, I knew that. Mischa once said a famous actress had the same color but I’d forgotten her name. I mentioned that to Tom.

“Yep. Elizabeth Taylor. The woman with purple eyes.”

Ah, right! That was it.

“They’re both my grandsons,” I said with some pride, “and I could care less. I love them equally.”

“Little vermin,” Tom muttered, finishing his glass, but he said it with affection. I chuckled, emptying mine, handing it to him when he reached for it and stood. “I’ll put these in the dishwasher. Why don’t you go up? It’s the first room on the left. You’ll find what you need in the bathroom cabinets, feel free to look around. I’ll be up in a minute, I need to check on Silver as well.”

Nodding, I rose and paused; I was tempted to check the doors, turn off the lights and such but there was no need. This wasn’t my house. Not doing any of that; it felt like I was skipping something but I headed to the stairs and went up. About halfway there, I came back down. Nope, I had to.

“Do you mind? I have this thing about making sure everything is locked…”

Tom waved his hand.

“Go for it. Double check the front door, please, it tends to get stuck. Oh! And my car! Plug it in, please? Thanks!”

I caught his car keys as he threw them from the kitchen.