We clamber off the chair, and each other, to help the guys clean up, which mostly involves gathering all the used cups from the night so Albert can bring them inside and wash them later. We also sweep and vacuum a bit, then blow out all the candles. Finally, we head for the stairs, Albert with a bin of used mugs in his arms.

  “Hey,” Rhett says before we can escape the basement, “thanks for what you did. I mean, all of it. Saving this place, making it official, standing up to your parents. You didn’t have to do any of that. But you did. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who appreciates it.”

  Albert shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  “I merely … did what I believed to be correct,” he says.

  “You did a lot more than that,” Rhett says.

  “You literally saved us,” Gabriel says. “You’re, like, the café’s guardian angel or something.”

  Beside him, Trent nods his agreement. Even having spent so little time around those two, I find myself insatiably curious about whatever is up with them. Albert told me that Trent is their token straight guy in this group, but the way he’s always right there at Gabriel’s side has me wondering. I don’t know too many straight guys who are quite so possessive about their buddies.

  But that’s a mystery for another time. For tonight, my most pressing concern is embarrassing the heck out of Albert before he can retreat inside.

  “You have no idea how hard he worked,” I say. “We spent so much time in the library. He might know more about law than me at this point.”

  Eyebrows raise. Heat seeps into Albert’s cheeks.

  “Th-that is certainly not true,” he says to his feet.

  Rhett just smiles, a long-practiced gesture. The fact that they’ve known each other from their first day of college is obvious in every little smile and glance they share, but I can hardly be jealous when Rhett’s boyfriend comes to pick him up. The guy couldn’t be much more different from Albert. The only thing they have in common is the darkness of their hair and eyes, but in every other way the frat bro who slings his arm around Rhett’s shoulders is the antithesis of all things Albert.

  The arrival of Rhett’s boyfriend grants Albert a reprieve. Everyone is exhausted. They trudge out of the basement, flicking off the fairy lights criss crossing the ceiling as they go. Albert locks the door behind us and bids everyone a final farewell. They offer him more kind words, which he struggles to accept gracefully, then it’s just me and him in his back yard.

  “Shall we head inside?” he says.

  I’m only too happy to follow him around the house and into the warmth of the foyer. The cold has deepened to a sharp bite since I walked here, but the inside of Albert’s home wraps me in a warmth that’s a lot more than just good insulation and heating. Being here already feels natural and comforting. I follow him to his kitchen, taking what has become my usual spot at his table.

  Albert is silent as he unloads the bin of mugs into his dishwasher. I don’t interrupt him. I’ve already learned that he’s the type of person who needs some time to mull over his thoughts, and that that mulling takes place in silence.

  Besides, a lot happened today. The café. His parents. Us. I need a second or two to process as well.

  The dishwasher is rumbling to life when Albert joins me at his kitchen table. He takes my hand in his, but still doesn’t speak for a moment, simply rubbing his thumb along my knuckles and staring at the place where we touch.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

  “How are you doing?” I say. “Are you alright?”

  “I am fine,” he says.

  “A lot happened today. It would be pretty reasonable if you weren’t entirely fine. I hope you know that.”

  He smiles a little to himself. “Yes, I am aware.” His dark eyes flicker up to meet mine. “But I’m being honest. I am truly fine. Surprisingly fine, in fact. That is what I’ve been musing over this whole time. After what happened, it would be reasonable for me to feel … something. But I find that I mostly feel content.”

  He squeezes my hand as he finishes, sending a wave of reassurance through me. That contentment is because of me, that grip says. It’s because of us. A surge of happiness streaks through my chest, almost too much to bear.

  “Okay, well, in that case,” I say. “Your friends. They seemed like they knew about us.”

  His gaze flits away. “I apologize. I meant to have that conversation at the end of the night with everyone, you included. Things … did not turn out the way I’d hoped.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say. “Not at all. I texted with Rhett back when you left, so he probably had his suspicions. Actually, um…” Boy, is this ever not the way I imagined this moment going, but it doesn’t need to be perfect to be precious. “I guess we’re an official thing now, huh? Like, dating and everything?”

  A sliver of a smile dances along his thin lips. “If you would like that.”

  “Would you like that?”

  “Very much.”

  “Oh. Then… Then I guess… I guess it’s a thing. You’re … my boyfriend?”

  The smile widens. “I am, if you’ll have me.”

  It takes an effort not to leap across his table and tackle him. “Of course, you dork.”

  He laughs and rises enough to lean over and kiss me. We settle back in our chairs, hands still clasped, and my heart is racing. That felt a lot more subdued than I might have guessed, but I’m not complaining. It was very … Albert. And I like Albert. I like being in his space. I like his quiet way of doing things. I like how the most understated, subdued pronouncement can make my heart feel like it’s going to explode.

  But then another thought I’ve been avoiding rises to the fore.

  “Are things going to be okay with you and your parents?”

  He sobers immediately, that sliver of a smile vanishing. “I am not sure,” he says. “But I find I do not much care, either. They were never very warm toward me or my sister. I can hardly mourn a relationship that was more like a business transaction than anything familial.”

  “A business transaction? It sounds like your dad wants you to take over the family business, but is that really how he acts even at home?”

  Laughter explodes out of Albert. He actually has to let go of my hand to wipe at tears. I’ve never seen him laugh so hard in all our time together.

  “What in the world did I say?”

  “‘A family business,’” he says. “David, my parents own one of the largest shipping companies in the world. It is an international conglomeration worth more money than entire countries. That is what he is saying I am not fit to run thanks to my actions here.”

  My mouth falls open. “Wait, you said something about a shipping company, but you never said…”

  “My parents are two of the wealthiest people you will probably ever encounter in your life. They have jewelry as expensive as some people’s homes. And they groomed me from birth to follow in their footsteps, to become the heir of the Carrington name.”

  I’m blinking, trying to remember how to breathe. I knew Albert had some money, but I never in my life would have guessed it was that kind of money. That kind of money sounds like something they make up for reality TV. Surely no one actually lives like that? When he said his dad was the CEO of a shipping company, I imagined a nice house and maybe a few cars, not wealth on that sort of scale. It’s hard to fathom.

  And Albert has all that money in his future. Or he did. He might have just given all that up to save the café.

  “Albert, did we just ruin your life?” I say.

  “Hardly,” he says. “I was never fit to take over for my parents. I never truly wanted it. My largest betrayal was choosing to come here instead of going to an Ivy League school for my business degree. They never got over that disappointment, but I didn’t regret the decision. I still don’t, even as I sit here.”

  I believe him. How could I not, when he only ever speaks with such certainty, such conviction? Tonight, he gave up a fortune I can barely fathom, but there isn’t a shred of doubt within him.

  “So your sister will get it?” I say.

  “Most likely. She is more suited to the job anyway. She always wanted it more.”

  “Then why didn’t they give it to her from the start?”

  He shrugs. “Because that is not the way things are done. My sister and I are not children to my parents so much as assets. We are expected to act in accordance with that. I am the older, so I should inherit the company, and likely hire my sister for some prestigious and high-ranking position.”

  “Sounds really … warm and loving.”

  He snorts a bitter laugh. “Warm and loving was not a big concern growing up. Legacy, however, was.”

  I shift in my seat. I wasn’t really planning to have this conversation so early, but, well, the time simply feels right.

  “You know, I, actually, I’m adopted,” I say.

  Albert quirks an eyebrow. “I did not realize.”

  “Yeah, my parents, they were having trouble conceiving. So they thought about adoption. And, well, they found me. I don’t remember ever not being with them, to be honest. And they’ve never treated me like anything but their son. Even when Macy was born — my sister, though she’s way younger than me — but even when they found out they could have their own kid and Macy happened, it didn’t change anything between us. I’m still their son just as much as Macy is their daughter.

  “Which is all to say that … that, well, I think it’s really messed up that your family treats you like … like some kind of financial asset. I mean, you’re their son, but I didn’t even realize that when they were standing there with you. If anyone ever saw me with Mom and Dad, they’d never doubt I was their kid. It’s just … it’s different. And it kind made me sad. That’s all.”

  I’m out of breath when I finish. This isn’t a conversation that should be happening mere moments after we’ve agreed to start dating, but here we are, getting way too deep way too soon. If anything I’ve said put Albert off, however, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he doesn’t react at all for so long I worry he didn’t hear me.

  “Your family seems very warm,” Albert says finally. “I should like to meet them some day.”

  Heat washes into my cheeks. “I’d really like that too. I’m sure it’d be a lot less fancy than what you’re used to, but they’d love meeting you. I mean, once they know you exist.”

  Mom will definitely ask too many questions, and Dad will definitely make way too much food, and Macy will definitely break out the cringey photo albums, but they’ll all be doing it because they love me and they want to love anyone I love. So how can I really complain?

  “I do not think it will be worthwhile for you to meet my family in return,” Albert says eventually. “Though, I suppose you already have. I’m sorry. I know that’s not the usual way of these things.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “I did meet your family. And they were wonderful.”

  His brows furrow.

  “Not your parents,” I say. “Rhett. All the guys at the café. I met your real family tonight, the one that actually counts, the one that has your back, that cares about you, that will make sure you’re taken care of if I’m not around to do it myself.”

  “You want to take care of me now?” Albert says with a little grin.

  I swallow, realizing what I said. “I mean, we should take care of each other, right? That’s how this stuff works.”

  “I suppose it is,” Albert says. “And I suppose Rhett and the others truly have become my family. I certainly have received more warmth from them than from my parents.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “Which is why you also need to let them in more, like you did with me. They’re the family that counts, the one that’s never going to abandon you. You owe them your trust.”

  Albert is smiling ruefully at himself, his eyes unfocused as he muses over something. I know things have gotten a little heavy a little quickly, but hopefully I haven’t pushed too far. When I found out those awful people were his parents, though, and that they had such heavy and unreasonable and cold expectations of him… It hurt something inside me. I’ve never felt less than loved. I’ve always had my family around me, no matter what. But Albert, for all his other privileges, has lacked that crucial, essential piece of human connection. It makes my heart ache just thinking about it.

  “David,” he says.

  I blink, realizing I was just as lost in my thoughts as him. He seems like he’s come to some sort of conclusion, but even at a moment like this, I don’t expect some grand speech or declaration from him. That’s simply not who he is.

  After all we’ve both said tonight, he responds with a single quiet question:

  “May I sculpt you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Albert

  I LET MY HANDS work on their own, mind blank, breathing shallow. It’s like watching myself work rather than doing the work myself. My body knows what to do better than my mind ever could, so I let it take the reins, just for now.

  Perhaps that’s what I’ve always found so calming about sculpting. It is the one time my mind isn’t racing or trying to solve something.

  I glance up from the clay. My subject sits on a stool nearby, one knee pulled up into his chest, the other leg hanging down. The glare of a lamp limns David’s naked body, throwing every curve and shadow into stark relief, painting him in dramatic slashes of black and white. It makes it easier to see where every muscle connects, where every crease of skin meets the next smooth plane.

  It also reveals how hard he’s breathing.

  David has only that one propped up leg to cover himself with. Although we’ve seen each other naked many times, modeling before me in my garage studio makes his skin flush with a rare bashfulness I haven’t witnessed in any of our other adventures. It is as though my seeing him still and on display like this is too much for him to bear.

  “Are you comfortable?” I say. “We need not continue. I only asked because…”

  Because it felt right in the moment. Because after that talk we had, I yearned for some new, deeper level of connection. I did not expect it to manifest this way, but the moment I requested that he model for me, it felt right. Still, I would not continue if he didn’t want to.

  “No,” he says. “No, I’m fine. It’s just … awkward. You’re sure I’m doing this right?”

  I rise from my chair, briefly breaking my state of flow to kiss him on the forehead. “You’re perfect,” I say.

  He smiles a little, a nervous gesture that flits across his mouth, but I accept it and take my seat again.

  I focus on the clay figure before me. The face I started carving from memory is a bit more defined now. It looks more like him than it did a few hours ago, at least. The body is still coming together, however. It’s mostly a lump with a vague suggestion of a shape carved into it.

  I focus on that piece next, my tools skimming along a clay leg to define the shapely calf and digging in to create the crease where his thigh meets his hip. It’s delicate work, but the longer I pick at the clay, the more I fall back into that trance-like state where my hands are moving without any conscious effort from me. They know the shape of David’s body in a way that words will never quite define. They have felt it, have touched every inch of him. Now, they attempt to reproduce that feeling in clay.

  Nothing disturbs the peace of the studio except our quiet breathing. I tend to work without music or other accompaniment, enjoying, for a brief time, utter silence in my mind. But it occurs to me that this might be increasing the awkwardness for David. We’ve tackled many of the big talks in a very short timeframe, yet these small things wait to be discovered.

  “Do you want music?” I say.

  “Oh, no,” David says. “The quiet is kind of nice, if you don’t mind.”

  “I prefer it, in fact.”

  David smiles a little to himself. “Yeah, I figured you might.”

  I return the fond expression. “I won’t make you sit that way much longer, I promise.”

  “I don’t mind,” David says.

  But he’s still a little flushed, still breathing a little harder than necessary. Even with his knee up covering himself, I can tell he’s a bit self-conscious about this whole arrangement.

  I dive back into my task, trying to sketch out the shape in broad strokes. I can refine it later without the need of a model if get the basics all set in place. The face will be the hardest, but I’m starting to commit that to memory. And I suspect I’ll get many more chances to study David’s features in the coming months, perhaps in the coming years. I may have ostracized my parents today, but I’ve gained something that could prove even more valuable. My parents’ love has always come with terms and conditions; David has never required anything but my presence. It took a moment of extreme contrast for me to realize that, a moment in which David leapt in to defend me against people he didn’t even know, people who could crush him if they so chose.

  I won’t let that happen. However my parents might want to hurt me, they won’t hurt David. I will do whatever I must to ensure that.

  I sit back, examining my sculpture. It bears a passing resemblance to its model, though it will never live up the real thing.

  “I think that will suffice,” I say, “if I might take a photo for future reference.”

  “For reference or for personal use?” David says.

  I pause, taken aback by the quip. With him seeming so bashful about this, I did not expect it.

  “I suppose it’s a sort of personal use, though not the type you’re implying,” I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “Oh my God, Albert. Just take the damn picture.”

  I pull out my phone and do so, getting a couple close ups as well so I’ll be able to refer to specific features on his face, the way one particular part of his elbow creases, the precise curve of his belly.

 

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