Maybe this was a crappy idea. Hell, he knew it was crappy to let Dharmaram anywhere near him, but maybe he shouldn’t be trying to protect Quentin. He had no certainty that Dharmaram wouldn’t just tell Mary Beth anyway. Of course, the guy knew he’d lose his meal ticket in two seconds flat if he did that.
Micah pointed to the extra room down the hall. “Put your shit in the guest room.”
Dharmaram stopped. “Guest room? I said I wanted to come back to you just the way we were.”
“Don’t push your luck, asshole. You’re fortunate I even let you in my house.”
Dharmaram put down the suitcase and walked closer to Micah where he stood at the open door. “Aww, baby, don’t be that way. I’ll show you I’ve changed. I’ll be a real steady boyfriend.”
“Keep your hands off me.” Micah stepped out onto the porch. “Boyfriend? You’re not even a friend friend—” He heard tires on the asphalt and looked up. Shit, the car. The car that had followed him on what he now thought of as the best night of his life. The car from which he saw a set of wide eyes staring from a pale face surrounded by a halo of wild curls.
Oh no, God. Micah looked at Dharmaram still standing in the doorway. What did Quentin see? What did he think? “Shit! Quentin!” He took off across the lawn as the new German car sped up and tore down the residential road. He almost caught it at the stoplight, but he missed the bumper as the car rolled through the intersection and disappeared down the hill toward the Pacific Coast Highway. Micah stopped, gasping for air. Had Quentin seen him and refused to stop, or did he just speed away after he saw—oh God—after he saw Dharmaram standing in the doorway with Micah? Oh no. How did that look?
Staggering a little, he walked to the curb and sat. Crap. He wanted it both ways. He wanted to protect Quentin from the asshole, but he couldn’t stand for Quentin to think that he didn’t want him.
He dropped his head in his hands. He did want Quentin. He did. He did. What a fool. To get mad at Quentin for making people happy, for commemorating his grandmother. God, I want to talk to Quentin. To explain. To apologize.
He took a deep breath. But this is for the best. If I don’t see Quentin anymore, Dharmaram will forget the whole thing, and eventually I can toss him out.
Can’t I?
He got up slowly and walked back to the house. Inside the entry he could see Dharmaram sitting in the living room with his feet on the coffee table, drinking a beer and watching television. Funny how that sight used to make Micah feel at home.
Dharmaram looked up. “What happened to you?”
Good question. “Nothing. Good night.” He grabbed his cat, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. At the moment, staring at the ceiling was better than staring at Dharmaram. This situation was truly fucked up. He didn’t have to do this. He had choices. But all of them seemed to lead to Quentin being outed. He could talk to Quentin, ask him what to do.
Micah flipped and pounded the pillow. If he did that, Quentin would definitely step up to the plate and tell his grandmother he was gay. That could be good. Maybe even for the best, but Micah didn’t want to force Quentin to make that decision. He needed to come to it on his own with no coercion from the Downward Dog. Shit. He tucked Furtwangler against his chest and settled down, expecting no sleep.
Chapter Six
A TEAR slid down Quentin’s cheek, and he stepped back so it didn’t fall into the cupcake batter. He squished the almond butter mixture through his fingers. Just that fast, Micah had gone back to his former boyfriend. Yes, and forgotten about Quentin.
Hell’s bells, what had he expected? That a handsome, together guy like Micah would want a weirdo like him? What had he been thinking anyway? What if Micah had wanted him? How could he have made that work with Mary Beth? Tell her he was gay? Jesus, the thought took his breath away.
He pulled his hands from the batter and rinsed them under the sink, then walked a couple of steps and looked out the back window. What if he told her? She’d love him still, he was sure of it. But it would change their relationship. Could he bear that? He wouldn’t tell her about the cross-dressing. He could stop that. He knew he could.
He blew out a long breath. Of course, with Micah out of the picture, why should he rock the boat by confessing?
Another tear pushed its way out. Maybe if he fessed up to being gay, he could find someone to love who loved him back. One more tear formed a little river. He sadly feared he’d already found someone he could love. The loving back was the problem.
“Quentin.”
Mary Beth’s voice came from the front. He wiped his sleeve across his wet cheeks, walked back to the counter, and dug his hands in the mixture of nuts and nut butter. “In here, dear.”
He heard her behind him. “Yes, I do agree that Samantha is doing the best job. Excellent choice, Quentin.”
“Thank you. I think so too.” He added vanilla.
“Ooh, is that a new recipe?”
He kept his face turned away from her. He always got so pink when he cried. “Sort of. I thought I’d try it and see if I can make it work.”
“What’s the flavor?”
”It will be vanilla with lime icing.”
“Oh, that sounds divine.” She stood beside him and watched as he added agave nectar. “What’s that?”
“A natural sweetener.”
“Oh.” She stayed quiet, then…. “Quentin?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Where’s the flour?”
“There is none. This cupcake is raw.”
“Raw?”
“Yes. It’s a raw-food cupcake.” He took a deep breath. Hope my face is okay. He turned toward her with sticky
