Page 46 of Counterpoint
“Yes, yes you do.” Adrian tipped Dominic’s chin up and took those lips into a sweet kiss. Not a long one, though, because they were in public—and he needed to finish his story.
Dominic settled against him, and he fell back into it. “For all that I made money, had decent jobs, and found myself in California, I wasn’t happy there. I missed New York with every bone in my body. The scant time I’d been back had only increased that ache. I’d already lost large portions of my family and I felt like I was losing touch with all my roots, too.”
The disdain some of his West Coast acquaintances—even the few people he’d dated—had shown to the city of his birth rankled every time. Especially since most of those people were transplants like him. The traffic, the car culture, and the lack of actual seasons also got on all his nerves. He’d glimpse the skyline of New York on TV and the reaction, the deep longing, had been so visceral every time.
“I would occasionally float my résumé out in New York, but the economy wasn’t great at the time, so I either got no nibbles or ones that wouldn’t bring in the income I needed to help mom.”
“But you did come back, eventually.”
Adrian nodded. “Six years ago, my mom died.”
Dominic took a breath. “Oh.”
Adrian closed his eyes for a bit. He’d mourned her the way he never could for his dad. Patrick had still said the Mass and he’d still been locked out, but he’d been there for her when his other siblings hadn’t.
“She was sick leading up to it. Didn’t tell anyone right away. Finally told me. I had vacation stored up, so I pretty much dropped everything and ran home.” He grunted. “She was—well. A week later, she died. I was there, holding her hand in the hospital.”
“I’m so sorry.” Whispered words.
Adrian stroked Dominic’s hair. “Thank you.” He coughed to clear out the sudden tightness in his throat.
“What changed everything was Mom’s will. She left me the house. Me. No one else. Everything else had been divided equally between the four of us, but the house was mine.”
Dominic sat up. “Makes sense. You were paying it off.”
He nodded. “I’d actually completely paid it off by then. But my siblings didn’t know that. Patrick—good, loving priest that he is, so open to forgiveness and all that shit—was convinced that I’d somehow taken advantage of Mom and had her change the will. Even though it had been that way for a pile of years.”
“I think I hate your brother.”
Adrian’s chuckle was dark. “Every last one of my friends does.” He sobered. “I can’t even blame the Church entirely, because not everyone’s like that. He just...clings to the most conservative parts that he can without actually being in schism.”
His own feelings were so much more complex. Patrick had been kind to him when he’d been a boy and he couldn’t quite forget that, even if Patrick had shut the door completely as an adult.
“The other problem was that the gentrification of Brooklyn had begun and the housing prices shot up. That house is worth quite a bundle now.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dominic laughed. “All too well.”
Because he’d bought in Brooklyn. On a musician’s salary. Adrian turned that over in his head again, then set it aside.
“My siblings contested the will. All of them. Took forever for it to get resolved, but it was, and the judge ruled in my favor. Sean was disgusted that I was so—money-grubbing, he said. Moira didn’t talk to me until about a year later. Her husband dug into the house and figured out Mom couldn’t have been paying the mortgage, and realized I had. They called and apologized. Said she’d speak to the others, but...no word from Sean.” Adrian shrugged. “So six years ago, I quit my job on the West Coast and moved home. Lived on savings until I got a job here, renovated the house, and moved in.”
He stroked a hand down Dominic’s thigh. “That’s my story.”
“That’s a lot of story.” Dominic sat on the edge of the sofa and put his head in his hands. “Wow.”
Adrian looked around the coffee shop again. Yes, he’d come back here. But right now? “I think I’d like to walk some more.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
They gathered up the dishes and placed them in the bin near the front, then headed back out into the warm summer day.
It was, Adrian realized, slightly unfair of him to drop all of that into Dominic’s lap. But another part of him was utterly curious to see what he might share in return.
Because there was so much behind those brown eyes and that sometimes shy, sometimes wicked smile, and Adrian longed for it the same way he’d longed for the very streets they now walked.
He could wait, though. He was very good at waiting.
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