Page 25 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

“I-I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Do you like it?” James worried his tongue over his lip. “Is the color too much or the light fixture not to your taste? I can make changes?—”

“It’s fucking amazing. Unreal.”

“Oh. Good.” His face lit up. “Thank goodness you like it.”

I had no idea what to say or do.

“What’s that thing?” I pointed to the large, flat circle on the pantry’s middle shelf. Two dozen bottles of spice were lined up on it.

James reached past me and, with a swipe of his fingers, had the circle turning. “It’s a lazy Susan.”

“A what?”

“A turntable that helps organize things, in this case spices. See, I stocked your kitchen with all kinds of spices, and you won’t have to scout for any of them. You just turn it.Some historians think Thomas Jefferson created one ’cause his daughter Susan was always served last at the table, but others credit Thomas Edison, and—what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” My eyes burned.

“You do like it all, right? ’Cause it’s important, and my feelings won’t be hurt if we have to change this or that. And I’ll be doing the other rooms soon, but this one I want to get right. The kitchen is really the heart of the house.”

Something sounded clogged in my throat. An unnamed feeling was there, rising from my chest. I didn’t want to give in to it. But I couldn’t seem to hold some tears back.

“God, you’re crying.” He was stating the obvious, but the warm concern in his tone was so real. It made the ache inside of me spread despite all my attempts to shut the emotions off.

Still, I was going to deny it as delayed tears from the smoke when James reached out and cupped the side of my face.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

My entire body went still. As much as I tried, his quiet touch got to me.

I broke. I fought for breath as my heartbeat pounded in my chest. It was no use. Silent sobs racked my body.

I reached for him. James murmured words I couldn’t hear, and I buried myself in his neck, inhaling his sweet scent, his wholesome goodness. He was so full of everything kind and gentle in this world.

“Was it the fire?”

“Yes. No. It was a rough fire, and I did CPR on this guy, who reminded me of my dad.” I barked out a laugh. “He was so warm and loving to his kids. Like they just mattered so much to him. His love was so absolute.” I hiccupped between sobs. Far too quickly, my tears were running down my face, snot forming at the corners of my nose. My crying was loud, messy, raw-sounding. “And since my dad died, I lost that. Never had it with my mom, and I’ll never have it again.”

“Oh, Phin,” James said, rocking me in his arms. His hand pressed into the small of my back, offering shelter, comfort. A fresh burst of tears came with his warmth.

“The guy—his kids. My fucking envy that I didn’t want to feel about it. And it made me sad. My mom… the things she said to me. Awful, terrible things.” My words tumbled out so fast I had no idea what James could make sense of. “Sometimes, though, I think maybe she’s right? About me.” My lips trembled. “But I don’t want to think about that shit. I guess, at some point, I might have to… And then Captain Smack was too nice to me. He’s only a decade or so older, but he called me son today. And fuck, this kitchen.” I pointed at the painted walls. “I see this kitchen. This beautiful kitchen that used to be so ugly. You did this for me. You—you got spices for the lazy Susan, and it’s painted so pretty. And it’s the whole thing. All of it. My dad would have fucking loved this kitchen.” I scrubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, fighting for control. “He was a chef. I miss him. His food. His… everything.”

“Of course you do. And that’s okay. Hear me? It’s okay to feel that. To keep on missing somebody you love, especially your dad. Don’t hold it all inside.” He hugged me, fiercely wrapping me into his grasp. And I sank into the embrace, shaking, more sobs wrung out of me, feelings I’d resisted for so long splintering. All the AA meetings where I wouldn’t talk. All the times I joked so I wouldn’t cry.

I was racked with crying, gushing tears, afraid I might not be able to fucking stop. And James was right there, kissing the crown of my head, making the gut-punching pain slightly better. I sobbed until there wasn’t anything left, until I was sagging with loss.

My mother didn’t cry much; not even at Dad’s funeral did she shed tears. Instead, she stood ramrod straight, her face brittle. And I hadn’t wanted to blubber when she’d acted so brave, so I held it all in. Tried to be a man.

But James acted as if nothing in the world was more natural. I burrowed deeper into James’ solid warmth.

Minutes later, I’d run out of words and sort of wished I was still breaking down. ’Cause now there was a weird silence as James held me, his hand rubbing my back in soothing circles. My heartbeat was so fast I wondered if James felt it. For sure, I’d soaked his neat shirt collar with my tears.

“I still need a shower.” I moved back, his comfort too much. “I reek.”

With James following me, I went to the bedroom. I felt guilty for breaking down. I was supposed to be big and tough. James hadn’t signed up for a sloppy mess of a person. The truth was, no matter how hard I tried, I was not quite good enough.

“It’s okay, Phin.”

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