Page 28 of Binding Their Hearts

Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t—“Hey, Peggy.”

“That’s a fine way to greet your sister after you tried to ruin her life. ‘Hey,’ he says. Have some courtesy, Jay Michael.”

He counted to five in his head, nice and slow.

“Are you listening to me? You have so little consideration—”

“I have to get back to working, Peggy.” Honest and direct, those were the goals, and not letting anyone force him to go at a conversational pace he couldn’t handle. Keeping up, that’s when he always stumbled. “It’s the middle of my workday, and I have a bunch of stuff to get through.”

“Too busy to apologize to your sister. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Just fling your chaos everywhere, then. Sabotage me, turn people against me—but don’t you think I won’t hear about it, Jay Michael. I know what goes on in this family.”

Good for her, because he didn’t have a clue. Nobody told him a thing except what to do and who to be. “I have to hang up now. I’m about to be in traffic.”

“That foolish bicycle nonsense—”

“Bye, Peggy.” He thumbed the disconnect, his hand shaking. Lunch sat awkwardly in his stomach, sour and sloshing.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Three times he repeated the words—one of the things he’d worked on with Danny. Affirmations, he called them. Little pats on the back to quiet the mean voices in his head when they got on him about everything being his fault. Hypocrite, the voice whispered. Fraud.

He’d acted like he could give Alice advice on managing people, and he couldn’t even manage to stop answering the phone when Peggy called.

A slide and a tap, and he opened the notes app. One more bullet point for the list to cover tomorrow with Danny.

Chapter fourteen

Henry

Jay twirled Alice on the dance floor, their bodies loose and relaxed amid the other couples swaying to the effervescent jazz flowing from the stage.

Henry eased his chair back from the table and tracked their movements with a satisfied hum. He’d danced with Alice earlier, before their entrees had arrived, and quietly suggested Jay do the same after they’d placed dessert orders. The music from the bass and drums lay thick as fog, wrapping around ankles and bare calves while the horns and piano floated above. He could watch Alice and Jay for hours and be content, recognizing in each flirtatious smile, each soft exchange, how many millions of moments had needed to go exactly right to lead them here.

But given that it was a Friday night, he would settle for watching a short while longer before taking them home and listening to them cry out in pleasure until they all fell asleep in a tangled heap.

That they could even partake in such an evening came as a grand relief. Alice had run herself ragged at the office all week, sometimes arriving home mere minutes before dinner reached the table. Jay, after seeking his assistance to procure appropriate materials, had smartly maneuvered her into conducting their room check Tuesday and presented his desired reward—giving his beloved mistress a full-body massage—as a fait accompli. Alice had slept for hours afterward, groggily waking only long enough to come to bed with them. If her stress continued to rise, Henry’s arsenal would require more extensive options for relaxation.

Their server, an androgynous twentysomething with baby-fat cheeks and a starburst of teal and silver curls above a buzz cut, deposited their desserts and discreetly departed.

The little hole-in-the-wall restaurant off Clarendon had quite obviously grown trendy. Back in the day, when Henry had been a newly minted college graduate with art credentials and no client list to speak of, a round table in the corner under the balcony had been his hideaway. With a small booklight clipped to his sketchpad, he’d breathed life into shadowy figures, creating art no less than the musicians did. Always in new variations, leading and teasing and following the notes, the players collaborated to birth something uniquely theirs, belonging purely to the moment before it faded into memory.

Only Henry’s long-standing acquaintance with the current owner—back then a busboy with ambition and discretion—had secured him a table to celebrate Alice’s promotion. Passing at the near edge of the floor, Alice laid her cheek against Jay’s shoulder, and Jay folded their joined hands against his chest. They’d learned their lessons well.

Jay, in particular, seemed to be thriving in therapy. Throwing himself into the exercise with unexpected openness, he’d already begun reaping rewards. Intuition and empathy had long been Jay’s strong suits, but listening to Jay beginning to trust himself had been nothing short of miraculous.

On Wednesdays, Jay recounted his therapy insights at the dinner table, giving his lovers unrestrained access to the shards of his soul as he painstakingly pieced together his true self. His tentative conclusions grew more confident with their encouragement, much as his origami creations had grown faster and more complex. Jay’s time spent with his brother last weekend had been an unqualified triumph, a testament to Jay’s compassion, loyalty, and perseverance—and to the importance of preparation and managed expectations. Jay had returned home buoyed by his success and the beginnings of a sibling relationship on fresh footing.

The only failure this week had been Henry’s.

Though he’d successfully signed two new commission clients, he’d failed utterly to locate a suitable home. The house would be the first step in the next stage of his life with Jay and Alice. Without it, step two, the proposal, would be delayed.

Unacceptable. Alice and Jay deserved the certainty of the full measure of his devotion, his love and commitment to them on this and every day. But they ought not to settle for a home whose deficits would grate year upon year. He intended this home to be the vault of their memories, a permanent repository with their lives painted into its walls. Nothing less than perfection would do.

The song tapered to a close, the final note overlain by applause. Jay and Alice threaded their way back to him, their hands clasped—no, clenched surprisingly tightly. Tension climbed Jay’s arm as Alice rubbed a soothing thumb across his knuckles.

But they smiled as they approached, Jay with his gaze skittering to the floor, and Alice beaming with a high-intensity wattage that washed out the rest of the room with its glow. “I’ve decided I like dancing.” She waited as Jay pulled out her seat, then smoothed her skirt as she sat. “We should do this more often.”

“I have no objections.” He raised an eyebrow at her and got nothing more than the Cheshire grin. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?”

“Very much.” Her hair bounced against her shoulders as she peered toward the stage, where the saxophonist’s patter had transformed into the opening notes of a new piece. “You can learn a lot by listening.”

---