Page 4 of Various Intentions
“And you need to give your other daddy a hug, because the car is from all of us.”
Taylor hung up his jacket again, slid into the booth beside Matteo and wrapped him in his arms. “Thank you, Favorite Dad. You are the best.”
Matteo chuckled, and I pretended not to hear the endearment. Matteowasprobably Taylor’s favorite. He was just so ‘Dad-like’—forthright and steady—whereas Vincent and I were more scattered and impulsive.
Taylor worked hard to contain himself through the meal, because he was dying to drive his ‘new’ car. So we didn’t order dessert, and Vincent went with Taylor in the new car while I drove Matteo back to our place.
We beat them home and waited outside the front door for Taylor to pull in. When he got out of the driver’s side, he was beaming.
“So? How does it drive?” I asked.
“Like a fucking dream,” Taylor replied. “Thank you, guys,somuch. It’s amazing.”
I wagged my finger at him. “No driving drunk or high. And you still have to be home by midnight if you’re not sleeping at Riley’s.”
“Fine.”
“And no texting while driving.”
“Duh.”
We went inside, and Matteo put on a pot of tea while Taylor phoned his boyfriend.
“Hello, babe,” Riley answered, on speaker.
“I got a fuckingcarfor graduation!” Taylor yelled into the phone.
“What? No way!” Riley replied. “You lucky ass.”
Taylor laughed.
“Newcar?” Riley said.
“Nah, second-hand. But almost new. A Honda Civic. Silver. Wait, I’ll show you.” Taylor got up and headed out of the door.
“Put on a jacket!” I said, as the door slammed behind him. I rolled my eyes. “Well, the car was a hit,” I said, leaning back on the sofa.
“Were you worried?” Vincent said with a smile.
“Not really. Carsaregenerally an impressive gift.”
My phone vibrated, and I fished it out of my pocket, knowing who it was by the tones ofSympathy for the Devilthat invaded the silence.
“Hey, Daf. What’s up?” I said, bringing it to my ear.
“Did you give Sparky his car? What did he say? Was he surprised?”
“He was surprised. Didn’t expect it at all. He repeated himself a lot. It was cute.”
“Nice! I’m so glad he’s happy. He’s worked hard.”
“Yes, he has.”
“Look… I need you to meet me for coffee. Soon!”
I recognized a certain something in the tone of Daphne’s voice—the same something that had been there when she’d called to persuade me to meet this ‘cute as shit’ client of hers who’d turned out to be Vincent. “Why?”
“I can’t explain it over the phone.”
