Page 34 of Say It Again

An empty silence filled the car, or it could have been his dad disconnecting the call. That might have been the wedge that finally split their relationship’s foundation, but either way, it’d been shoddy craftsmanship from the start. He wouldn’t let himself do what he wanted to do, which was to begin to hope.

Even if this was maybe the one place hope could grow after all, within the confines of a business proposition was where Robert felt most comfortable. Perhaps the silence meant he was weighing the outcomes in his numbers-over-people managerial style and had discovered the value in owning a dance studio as adored as Madeline’s.

Daniel wrung his fingertips together and asked, “Hello? You there?”

“Unfortunately,” his dad finally responded with a heaviness he didn’t have before. “I cannot believe my ears. Are you absolutely insane?”

“Yeah.” He tried to keep his chin lifted enough to nod, but it wobbled like a balloon on a stick. “Figured you might say that.”

“Even if you didn’t have to take out another loan to buy it, you don’t know the first thing about running a business.”

“Madeline thinks I do.” It was a weak argument, and he knew it. “Madeline says I run it already.”

“Lord, how are you still this naïve? I’m sure Madeline would say a lot of things to get out from under a bad investment, and of course she’d prey on someone like you.”

Someone like you. It stung worse than venom. Someone like him was someone always a little too young to be taken seriously, a little too old to not have his shit together, and a little too naïve to own a business. Daniel, settle down, you’re too anxious. Daniel, stop crying, you’re too emotional. You’re too amateur. You’re too gay; too dramatic; too annoying. Daniel, you’re too much.

He hated being too much.

“All I want to do is help you,” his dad said, sounding exhausted. “That’s all I want, and I’m trying, but you need to listen. I have a real plan. A friend of mine might be willing to hire you at his accounting firm. You can’t show up to work in damn yoga pants, but—”

“As always, Robert, great chat.”

“Wait—”

A headache the size of a Buick rolled from the crown of his head and down his forehead, crashing behind his eyes, but it was nothing a hot bath, half a box of wine, and a good linoleum floor cry couldn’t fix.

A few minutes later, he pulled into his driveway and dragged himself out of the car. With his bag slung over one arm and Aaron’s calla lilies in the other, he trudged up his walkway when he heard a plink. He sighed down at his keys on the concrete. Because of course he dropped his fucking keys. He could join them. Just lie down. Give up.

“Shit,” a voice hissed from the shadows of his front porch.

Daniel jumped enough to spill the lily water. His heart galloped over itself as he focused through the darkness on the figure of a man crouched on the porch.

“I’m sorry,” said the figure, scrambling upright. “I wasn’t expecting you to come home—not, like, in a stalker way!”

Which sounded exactly like something a stalker would say. His heart careered faster when the stalker stepped into the light, and then he froze.

Rich chocolatey brown, striking blue ice, and more dusty cashmere, Aaron looked like the first snowfall of the season—it never sticks, that snow. It just covers the streets and grass in beauty for a while.

“Did I scare you?” Aaron asked. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” Daniel asked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so comforted to see someone. What he really wanted to ask was How did you know I needed someone here?

“Um.” Aaron blinked down at the small white box he held in his hands. Something looked different about him. Beyond his fidgeting, he looked a bit weary. Even his hair insisted on falling from its style and pawing at one of his eyes. He tried to rake it back into place, but it broke loose again. “I was planning to leave this on your doorstep.”

Daniel’s eyebrows raised as he zipped his gaze from the box and back to Aaron. “Why? What is it?”

“It’s a nothing.”

“A nothing?” He dipped his head to the side. “Is it a nothing for me?”

Aaron pursed his lips like he was embarrassed it was a nothing for him, but he nodded.

“Can I see it?”

No. No, apparently not, because Aaron gave him the strangest look, like Why would you want to see it? How dare you ask me that? Back, swine. Then he twisted around to literally shield him from whatever he was doing. Daniel pushed up to his toes and tried to peek around his frame as shuffling sounded like maybe he was opening the box, and crinkling followed like maybe he was… eating paper? Who knew? He spun back around and thrust the box into the space between them.

Oh. Well, this was progress. Daniel dropped his things, took the a nothing, and pulled on the silver ribbon wrapped around it until it unraveled. He pried open the lid, dug into white spring-fill paper, and wedged his fingers around something heavy, round, and cold. He fished it out and held it up to the streetlight.

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