Page 145 of Icing on the Cake

We’re so lost in each other that we don’t hear the door open. It’s not until a sharp gasp fills the room that we spring apart, and our heads whip toward the sound.

Standing in the doorway, utterly shocked, is Gerard’s mom.

“Holy snickers!” Gerard yelps, scrambling to cover himself with the towel. In his haste, he loses his balance and tumbles off the bed, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

My face burns with embarrassment as I yank the comforter up to my chin, wishing I could disappear beneath it forever.

To my complete amazement, she laughs. It starts as a slight chuckle, then grows into a full-bodied laugh that shakes her entire frame. Tears stream down her face as she clutches her stomach, gasping for breath.

Gerard peeks out from behind the bed, scowling adorably. “Mom! I know I don’t live here anymore, but did you forget how to knock?”

Anna’s heavy laughter finally subsides enough for her to choke out a response between fits of giggles. “Oh, honey. I’ve seen your little bum more times than I can count. Who do you think bathed you from the time you were born until you were seven?”

Gerard’s scowl deepens, and he stands up, clutching the towel around his waist. “Mom, that was like a million years ago. Things have changed since then.”

Anna waves her hand dismissively. “Please, you’ll always be my little boy, no matter how big you get.” She turns to me, wiping tears from her eyes. “Did you know that when Gerard was a toddler, he used to run around the house naked after his baths? He’d giggle and shriek as I chased him with a towel, trying to catch him before he peed on the carpet.”

Gerard groans, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Mom, I’m begging you. Please stop.”

But Anna is on a roll now. “And then there was the time when he was five and decided to give himself a haircut. He chopped off a huge chunk right in the front and came crying to me, saying he wasa monster.”

She chuckles fondly at the memory while Gerard buries his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Anna finally decides to take pity on him. She walks over and pats his cheek affectionately. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop embarrassing you in front of your boyfriend.” She winks at me conspiratorially. “But know that I have plenty more stories where those came from.”

With that mic drop, she walks out, closing the door behind her.

Still incensed, Gerard yells, “And my bumisn’tlittle anymore!”

He turns around and drops the towel, revealing his bare backside in all its glory. I let out the howl of laughter that I’d been holding in since Anna started her trip down memory lane.

I collapse back against the pillows, clutching my stomach as tears stream down my face.

Gerard scowls at me, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. But if you want to have your wicked way with my bum someday…” I immediately stop laughing, and he winks. “Atta boy.”

And then, with a woof, he jumps onto the bed, caging me in, and we pick up where we left off.

Standing before Gavin’s office,I stare at the door as if it’s my executioner. Sixty-nining with Gerard was only delaying the inevitable. I have to face the music, no matter whether it’s good or bad.

I take a deep breath and knock.

“Come in,” Gavin calls.

I turn the knob and step inside, my heart in my throat.Here goes nothing…

The study is a shrine to hockey, with framed jerseys, old sticks, and team photos covering every inch of the wood-paneled walls. Gavin sits in his leather chair behind a massive oak desk, looking the part of a powerful patriarch.

“Have a seat, Elliot.” He gestures to the plush armchair across from him.

I perch on the edge of it, my leg bouncing with nerves. I feel as if I’m about to be interrogated or given a pop quiz on hockey stats, for which I’m woefully unprepared.

Gavin steeples his fingers and regards me over them. “So, Elliot. Tell me. How is Gerard doing these days?”

I blink at him, puzzled. That wasn’t the question I expected. “Uh, he’s good? I mean, you saw him this weekend. He seems happy, no?”

Gavin hums noncommittally. “Yes, but I’m not referring to what I can see, but what I can read.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow…”

---