“Here you go.” He handed me a wineglass and sat beside me, leaning against my arm as he followed my gaze toward the heavens.
“So many stars.”
“Mmm.”
He kissed my shoulder and shifted to face me. “What’s on your mind, Matty?”
“Oh, you know…a little bit of everything.”
“Let me try that again. What’s wrong?”
I took a sip, then twisted the stem and shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing. Honestly. I mean, it bugs me that our neighbors might be homophobic, but that’s life, right?”
“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions. They were probably just surprised.”
“Hmph.”
“Anything else?” he prodded.
Silence.
Geez, I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want to ruin…everything.
“Uh…”
“Matt. Talk. You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry. I just…something has been in the works at my firm and I had my suspicions, but no confirmation. Till today.” I heaved a sigh and blurted, “They want me to move to LA.”
“LA?”
“Yeah, Kelleford mentioned something about a ground-floor opportunity with my name in lights. In Los Angeles.”
Aaron gasped. “Oh. That’s…wow.”
“I know.”
“Tell me everything.”
So I did.
I spilled the last few hours of my day in a concise tone as if I were reporting the news from the front line of a battlefield. Maybe it was a subliminal thing. I had a habit of thinking everything to death first so that by the time I shared my thoughts, I had a list of possible solutions. I didn’t want to give him problems. He deserved better than that.
“LA is a curveball. I don’t really know how to process it. My name on a building—Mendez-Sullivan. Hyphenated and extra-PC so that our clients know we’re inclusive and safe and that we can be trusted. Sue me, but I like that idea.”
“I do too.”
“Kelleford indicated it’s more money too. Of course, I just got a significant raise, so I think they’re really trying to sell me on this.”
“How much more?” he asked softly.
Aaron’s mouth fell open like a cartoon character when I told him.
“I know.” I shoved my hand through my hair. No doubt I looked like a hedgehog by now. “I’m questioning my decision-making prowess lately. Don’t get me wrong, I love our house, but are we supposed to be here? Did I steer us the wrong way? Did we do the right thing? Are we going to have regrets?”
The silence was back. It wasn’t heavy, but it definitely carried weight.
Aaron pulled the wineglass from my fingers and sidled closer to me. “Why would you have regrets?”
“We just moved in. You just did…” I pointed at the house, adding, “—all that work. We can’t do it again.”
“Matt…take a deep breath.”
I obeyed and gave him a shaky smile. “You think I’m a man on the edge?”
“No, I think you’ve bottled a lot inside because you’ve been trying to keep me sane when I was struggling.” He caressed my face with a sweetness that brought tears to my eyes. “I’m here too, Matty. You’re not alone.”
A single tear cascaded down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb and laid his head on my shoulder.
“I know. I’m just…so afraid of getting this wrong.”
“Getting what wrong?”
“All of this. Me and you…us. It scares me to think I could fail.”
“Matty…”
“I know I’m being an idiot. Is it me, or do gay people have to live up to a higher standard? Do we have to be better employees, sons, neighbors…parents?”
“Well…sometimes I think that’s true,” he admitted.
“I’ve been waiting for the partner deal to come through all year. Looks like they postponed it to use me for this LA deal. It doesn’t feel like a merit opportunity now. They want my gayness and my hyphenated last name to represent their brand. Maybe I should be honored. They’ll pay me handsomely, so there’s nothing to complain about, but it doesn’t feel authentic anymore. It’s…”
“Confusing?”
I squinted into the shadows in the general direction of our neighbors’ house. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Aaron about the whole exchange, but I didn’t want to ruin his evening. I was already doing a great job of it without bringing up the kid next door and potential future weirdness. Besides, when I repeated the story in my head, it sounded vaguely like I was tattling.
Nope. Definitely not in the right frame of mind to open another can of worms.
“Maybe,” I conceded after a beat.
“You don’t have to make a decision right away, do you? Weighing pros and cons is the best way to mull over life choices,” he replied, nudging my elbow. “That’s what you always tell me.”
I kissed the top of his head, fully intending to change the subject. But apparently my brain was locked on philosophical quandaries ’cause instead of making a move on my sexy husband or asking him what smelled so good in the kitchen, I blurted,
“If life is a series of choices, how do you know if you’re getting any of them right?”