“Nothing they can tell me that I don’t already know,” Apollo huffed. “They’re going to mention another surgery and no way in fuck am I going that route.”
“You need to at least think about it.” This would be the perfect moment to tell Apollo about the job, tell him that he could stick around and help in the fall if Apollo had the surgery, but somehow the words refused to reach his lips.
“Baba! I’m packing!” Chloe rushed into the kitchen dragging a backpack, making Dylan quickly drop his hands.
“I said I would pack,” Apollo said sternly.
“But I can’t find Bee Baby,” she whined. “What if you forget her?”
“We’ll find her after dinner. Right now, go wash your hands and tell your sister to do that too.” Apollo turned away to remove the casserole from the oven.
“The doll’s in the bathroom on the magazine rack,” Dylan offered as Chloe scampered away. “Where are they going?”
“Oh didn’t I tell you? They’re going to Disney this weekend with Pat and Marilyn.” Apollo said the words offhand but they stung like mosquitoes. Fine. If Apollo couldn’t think to tell him when something big was happening with the girls, Dylan wasn’t going to feel one lick of guilt over not telling him about the job application.
“That’s nice.” Dylan kept his voice as neutral as Apollo’s. After all he couldn’t really think his opinion mattered one way or another to Apollo. You’re just the help, he reminded himself. “You working?”
“Part of it.” The tips of Apollo’s ears colored. “I need to keep my mind off them.”
Dylan had a few ideas about how he could fill his time, but seeing as how he hadn’t been consulted, all he said was, “They’ll be fine.”
“I know.” Apollo sighed heavily. “It’s like my brain just won’t shut up—what if Sophia doesn’t eat or Chloe gets scared or the car breaks down? And I’ve got no idea why I’m unloading all this on you.”
“It’s okay.” Dylan resumed his massage of Apollo’s shoulders, unable to stay irked in the face of Apollo’s obvious worry. “You’re a dad. It’s your job to worry, but sometimes you have to let them go.”
“Thanks.” Apollo relaxed further into Dylan’s grip. God, Dylan loved watching this tightly wound man unkink, even a little. Apollo’s voice was huskier when he spoke next. “You’re ridiculously good at that you know?”
“Massage?” Dylan’s lips were millimeters from Apollo’s skin, and the urge to trace the tendons in his neck with his tongue was almost overwhelming. Heat gathered in his groin and for the first time he was aware of just how close they were standing.
“That too, but I was going to say calming me down.” Apollo spun, trapping Dylan against the fridge. His eyes were dark with an intent Dylan had only seen a handful of times. A shiver raced up his spine. “Maybe—”
“Baba! Where’s the food?” The girls rushed back into the room. Damn. He’d been so sure he was about to get kissed or propositioned or both. But instead he ducked under Apollo’s arm and grabbed the girls’ plates.
“Sorry,” Apollo said in a low voice. “Later... Or maybe tomorrow? After I drop them off?”
“Later,” Dylan echoed as all his good reasons for avoiding Apollo crumbled under the force of the promise of that word. Later they’d hook up. Later there would be all the messy complications they both wanted to avoid. Later he’d tell Apollo about the job. Later this thing would inevitably end. Later would be the time for regrets, but right now there was hot food to eat and a weekend to anticipate. Later could wait.
Chapter Fourteen
Apollo arranged to leave the base early enough on Friday to pick the girls up from day camp and drop them off at Pat and Marilyn’s house. They lived in a historic Mission-style home not far from either Apollo’s house or the day camp. It had been important to Neal to stay close to his parents, and since his trust fund was the one helping to buy the house, Apollo had conceded instead of pushing for something closer to base. The first few times he’d visited after Neal’s death had been hard—he saw Neal’s ghost everywhere in the house where he’d bounded up the steps to first introduce Apollo to his parents, the place where they had both raced to share the news of the surrogacy, the house filled with memories of Neal growing up.
Even now Apollo had to avert his eyes from the line of pictures on the wall of the entryway. Luckily, the girls were hopping around and swinging their backpacks and making the sort of distraction he needed.
“You sure you want to drive in Friday traffic?” he asked Marilyn as Pat greeted the girls and took their luggage. Pat had on a polo shirt and jaunty white visor. She looked like an aging cruise director, right down to the clipboard she toted in one hand.
“We’ll be fine.” Marilyn made an airy gesture. Unlike Pat’s efficient outfit, she was wearing a long vest over colorful leggings with donuts on them. “I’ve picked out several good spots to stop for dinner depending on how far we get. Healthy places before you ask.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Apollo said even though he totally was.
“Yes, you are.” Marilyn patted his cheek. “And we love you for it, and I promise to text you when we’re at the hotel.”
“I’m not sure they’ll sleep—”
“Apollo.” Marilyn’s voice was stern. “This will be fun. And you should have fun too. What do you have planned for tonight? Maybe head to the brewery for a beer or see if those friends of yours will go out—”
“Not the brewery.” Apollo wasn’t exactly proud of it, but he still avoided Neal’s favorite restaurants. And no way was he in the mood for the Brass Rail or another popular night spot. Truth be told, the only plans he had centered around the leap in his pulse every time he remembered that he got to be alone with Dylan that night. “I’ll come up with something.”
Dylan deserves more than Netflix and chill. The thought wormed its way into his head and refused to let go, even after he said goodbye to Marilyn and Pat and ensured that the girls were buckled up.
He sat in the car for long moments after the girls and their grandmothers departed, trying not to get all emotional about his babies going somewhere far away without him. Get a grip.
A sports car filled with young people zoomed into the driveway of the house next door to Marilyn and Pat. They piled out of the car, laughing and shoving, already well on their way to a toasty Friday night. Was I ever that young?
Man, he missed Dustin. Dustin who remembered who Apollo was before all of this. Dustin who could help him sort out the jumble of emotions... Dustin who would kill you if he knew what you were up to with his brother.
Okay, not Dustin. But someone. Apollo wished there was one person he could talk to without guilt or judgment or...