“See you,” Kade says, his eyes dark.
“See you,” Felix answers, but he wishes Kade were staying longer, wishes he could burrow into Kade’s arms. The weekend seems like a month away. To the baby, he thinks, Your other dad is the most gorgeous man.
Kade steps out of the store, and Felix wants to be right next to him, Kade’s smile a promise for the future.
14
Felix
Two days later, Felix steps off a bus and follows the winding, orange-lit sidewalks up to his father’s mansion.
He glances down at his phone. I’d rather be at the gas station. But it’s not as though I can find the painting anywhere else. He wishes Taylor was with him. Taylor talks to their father and charms his attention away from Felix, but Taylor has gone dark again. Felix shivers in the cool breeze.
The things I do because of you, Kade.
Felix quells the uneasiness in his stomach as he walks up to the wrought-iron gates, nodding at the guards. They nod back and heave at the tall gates open, and they open like a giant’s maw ready to swallow him down. He grits his teeth and steps in.
No one greets him along the ascending driveway, or at the towering front doors. Felix twists his key in the lock, holds his breath, and pushes the door open.
Inside, the marble-lined foyer stretches out before him, exquisite spotlights reflecting in their surfaces. Felix shuts the door softly behind him, listening to the quiet footfalls of the servants in the other hallways, the clink of dishes in the far-off kitchen. He takes the stairs on the right, treading on ivory carpets to mask his footsteps, and his heart thunders in his chest.
At the top of the stairs, he turns down a long corridor, following the carpet past carved wooden doors, the high ceilings arching over him. It feels like he’s stepping through a hotel, almost, even though he lived here for the first twenty years of his life. He’d moved out and shared a home with Kade for five years—
“Sir,” a voice says at his shoulder. Felix’s heart slams into his chest. He jumps, guilt prickling his skin. He shouldn’t be sneaking like a thief through his childhood home.
“James,” he says, wheezing. The butler by his side smells like hay, calm eyes studying him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“A good butler is never heard,” James says, his mouth curving into a kindly smile. “Might you be looking for your father?”
“Actually, no. I was just back for a painting. Do you... know where my father is?” Felix relaxes his face like the thousand times he’s seen his father grin for cameras, but he’s certain that James can read beneath his smile, anyway.
“He has retired to his study for the night. I believe he has a meeting with the council tomorrow.”
Which means he’ll be occupied, not coming out to judge Felix. Felix sighs. “Thank you.”
James nods, turning down the next hallway. Felix pads through more corridors, gaze darting to the closed doors for the slightest sign of movement. He relaxes slightly when he turns into the west wing, where he and his brother had rooms on opposite sides of the hallway, and they’d wait until the lights were off, before tapping on each other’s doors.
The silver doorknob to his room turns easily. He slips into the shadowy suite, flipping the light switch. The bed is made, and the room smells very slightly musty, as though no one has visited in months. Felix glances longingly at the bed, and heads instead for the row of framed paintings in the corner, next to a solid oak desk.
You’re okay with this? Kade had asked a decade ago. Leaving your dad’s place to live with me? I can’t... provide all of that.
I don’t care about furniture, Felix had said. I care about you.
Felix touches the curve of his abdomen through his sweater. “And look where that has gotten us,” he murmurs. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
There had been no space in their tiny apartment for all his previous work. Felix pulls the thick sheet of cotton off the paintings, flipping through them: a whale surfacing in a harbor, a crooked log cabin tucked into a snowy pine forest, a shadowy boat shop with giant propellers on the floor.
“Look at these,” Felix murmurs at his belly. He imagines a baby girl, with Kade’s dark hair and eyes, laughing as she waves a paintbrush around. “I hope that when you grow up, you’ll love to paint, too.”
He finds the painting of the bay right at the end, tucked into the awning of larger frames. Felix lifts it out carefully, studying the crooked planks of the boardwalk, the hazy people behind the restaurant window, the sea sparkling beyond the railings. He slips his phone out of his pocket, snaps a picture of it, and hesitates.
Kade had typed his number into the contacts list. Felix had never sent him a message or called, but... he wants to hear Kade’s voice, suddenly.
He scrolls down the list, to where Kade had typed his name as “Kade Brentwood”, as though Felix will label anyone else as just “Kade”. Felix bites his lip. Before he second-guesses himself, he hits the call button.
The dial tone rings four times, and Kade answers. “Hey.” His voice sounds tinny over the phone, and it steals Felix’s breath, just hearing him again. “Felix?”
Felix’s heart thuds. He hadn’t realized that Kade has his number. He had to have seen it when they gave postcards out at the lemonade stand, but it isn’t as though he can’t look it up on the website. And so Felix can’t pretend that he’s calling the wrong number, or that this is a prank call. “I found the painting,” he blurts. “I just wondered if you want a picture of it first.”
“Sure. Thanks,” Kade says. Felix wishes he would talk more, so he can close his eyes and listen to Kade’s voice. “I’ll pay for
