“Essentially we’re developing tools for early detection of ovarian cancers via in vitro diagnostics and in vivo molecular imaging,” Emily Johnson said.
She stared up at Dylan with big blue eyes, the spitting image of Alec’s, completely unaware that Dylan had no fucking clue what she was talking about. She continued to ramble on with barely a pause to breathe.
Like mother, like son.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on one’s perspective—the conversation didn’t require Dylan’s participation. He half listened as he scanned the crowd milling about the reception, searching for Alec.
Nearly one hundred and fifty people filled the spacious hall, the chatter bouncing off the high, ornate ceilings and polished wood floors—Brazilian cherry, Noah had whispered, as if Dylan actually cared. Lined with bay windows overlooking the city, the site represented some primo San Francisco real estate.
“These include adoptive T cell immunotherapies and small interfering RNA molecules,” Emily droned on, tucking her brown, chin-length hair behind her ears.
Clutching his beer, Dylan remembered to smile. “Fascinating.”
She blinked up at Dylan in what he’d begun to recognize as a sign of approval.
As promised, Alec had served his parents drinks and appetizers at his house before the event. Noah, of course, had invited himself along. And thank God too because, from the moment Emily Johnson arrived, she’d sat next to Dylan and proceeded to ask him about his work. In great detail. Then she’d proceeded to share random, statistical facts about small businesses until Dylan’s head swam with numbers. Noah provided a much-needed buffer, and Dylan had been relieved when the time came to make their way to the event.
Nobody argued when Dylan suggested they take two cars.
Whether her intellectual ramblings were a nervous habit or standard operating procedure, Dylan wasn’t sure. After several hours in her presence, Dylan finally understood Alec’s tendency to babble when stressed. His father, currently listening to Noah chat about plans for the clinic, was tall, black-haired, and blissfully quiet. Or maybe he simply lacked opportunity.
Dylan had noticed the pride and adoration in the man’s eyes as his son accepted the plaque and a check for one hundred thousand dollars for the Front Street Clinic. Alec had clearly inherited his father’s tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve.
“Most people don’t realize homosexuality occurs in the animal kingdom,” Emily Johnson said.
Whoa, he’d really tuned out for a moment. When had the topic changed? To cover his confusion, he lifted his beer to his mouth.
“Animals masturbate too,” Emily went on. “And some primates have been known to use sticks for genital stimulation.”
Mid sip, Dylan coughed on his drink. Fortunately, Alec had inherited only a fraction of his mother’s questionable social skills. But the subject of discussion had taken an interesting turn, and the woman was really starting to grow on Dylan.
He bit back a grin, racking his brain for an appropriate response—if one even existed—as she went on.
“Homosexuality is quite common among the species Cygnus atratus,” Emily said. “And male-male pairings can last a lifetime.”
A lifetime… Wait, what? Jesus, was this Emily’s way of asking about Dylan’s intentions toward her son?
A vise clamped around his chest. Hell, he could barely wrap his mind around Alec’s I love you. In fact, Dylan had been studiously ignoring the memory.
Love.
Seriously, how was he supposed to respond to that? He’d been worried Alec would ask him to move in, and then the man had lobbed the L bomb instead. Dylan figured, hoped, the words had simply been triggered by his fabulous technique while sucking Alec off.
Maybe Emily was fishing because Alec had told her how he felt about Dylan.
And what if Alec started to push? What if he began to expect more? When Dylan told him no, Alec might end things again. Not that Dylan could blame him. Alec thrived in a domestic setting, and he certainly deserved more than Dylan could ever give. Fiddling with his motorcycle at Alec’s was easy. With Alec there, the company was easy too, filling a long-standing void Dylan hadn’t even known existed.
The thought of returning to his lonely garage left him feeling empty and depressed. He could feel a mother of a melancholy mood looming in his future.
But every day after work he headed to Alec’s because he chose to, not because he had to.
Alec weaved his way through the crowd and came to a halt at Dylan’s side. “You two okay?”
“We were just discussing the sexual practices of Cygnus atratus,” Emily said.
Alec tossed Dylan an I’m-sorry look, and Dylan sent a small shrug back.
Oblivious, Emily went on. “Alec, have you seen Tyler? I had a few things I wanted to discuss with him.”
Dylan thought he heard Alec sigh.
“Mom,” Alec said, “you have to let go.”
“Let go?”
“Grieve,” Alec said. “Move on with your life.”