Cherish & Blessed (26 page)

T
HEY
GOT
the twins off to their last year of middle school.

They marked the date of Evan’s captain exam on the calendar.

Matt took on a new client, a friend of Daisy’s whose row house renovation in Harlem required a security system from scratch. He wrote up the proposal and e-mailed it off one late-September afternoon before calling it a day.

Business was good.

In the kitchen, he found Elizabeth, with her newly acquired smartphone, texting rapidly with one hand while the other rooted around a bowl of pretzels.

“Homework done?” he asked as he tried to remember what he was going to make for dinner tonight. Whatever it was, it better cook in ten minutes or less in the microwave.

“Uh-huh.”

“Chores done?”

“Uh-huh.”

Matt hummed “Another One Bites the Dust” as he started pulling black bean burgers from the freezer.

B
Y
THE
time Evan walked through the door, Matt and the twins were halfway through dinner. All apologies, Evan settled down in his chair as the conversation flowed.

He waited for a lull, then cleared his throat.

Three sets of eyes turned in his direction.

“So I talked to the committee this afternoon, and uh, it looks like Midtown South might be where I end up, so long as I pass the exam,” he said slowly, a half smile on his lips. The kids were happy in their congratulations, but the tiny lines indicating a frown on Matt’s face were hard to miss.

He was thinking exactly what Evan had been going over on his ride home.

Midtown South. Quiet residential neighborhood, mostly
commercial and entertainment oriented. It was a position that involved a lot of glad-handing and smiling and attending luncheons to keep good relationships with the business owners of the area.

Public relations quotient: high.

Damn high.

Actual criminal element? One of the lowest in the city.

And who better to stick in that position but the gay captain?

It signaled the biggest fear Evan had had when they approached him several years ago—that this wasn’t about him being a good cop and having the right stuff to be a captain. No, it was about public relations and elevating Evan as some sort of proof the NYPD wasn’t homophobic.

He sighed and went back to his dinner.

“T
HAT
’
S
GREAT
news about the precinct,” Matt said cautiously as they sat on the sofa. The news played quietly in the background, but it was clear neither of them was paying attention.

Evan shrugged. “We both know what it is.”

“You’ll be a captain, Evan. You can prove yourself, then move somewhere else….”

“Or I can be their token gay captain, paraded out whenever there’s a question about the police department’s diversity.”

Matt didn’t say anything to that. And Evan was grateful he didn’t bother to lie.

“It’s a soft job,” Evan said quietly.

“It’s a start.”

Matt felt the mood of the house settle into something chilly. No stress between him and Evan, just a lot of quiet as his boyfriend sorted out his feelings over the job and studied for the captain’s exam.

The kids had school and activities.

Matt had clients.

M
ATT
AND
Jim met for lunch in the city. Griffin was in Los Angeles; Jim had stayed behind to mind Richard.

Who kicked him out so he could get some quiet. Or so he said. Jim was convinced Richard had a lady friend his brood of children knew nothing about.

They talked about the Midtown South job and Matt’s growing business. They talked about the wedding plans, or at least what little Jim had gleaned from Griffin and Daisy’s daily phone calls.

“We’re looking for a house at this point,” Jim said, cutting through his chicken piccata. “Saw a few before he left for Los Angeles, but eh, I think I want to live closer to the city.”

Matt watched his friend for a moment and considered his predicament. “You’re gonna get bored, aren’t you?”

“Probably. As it’s already happened,” Jim said dryly.

“So come work for me.”

Jim regarded him for a moment, then put down his silverware. “Work with you?”

“Ah, I see what you did there.” Matt laughed. “Okay, work with me. Do security. Let clients take you out for expensive lunches, spend their money on high-tech toys, and bill accordingly.”

“It’s a little different than protect and serve….”

“Pay is great and I can guarantee nobody tries to shoot you.”

Jim leaned back. “Huh.”

As he considered it, Matt refilled his wineglass. “You can work from home, take the train into the city for meetings.”

“I don’t really need the money,” Jim said, and Matt pulled the bottle up with a scowl.

“Braggart.”

“But I need something to do.”

“There you go. You can even work for free if that helps,” Matt deadpanned.

T
HEY
SEALED
the deal over Italian cheesecake. By the time Jim made it back to Albany, he felt his juices flowing. Working with Matt would give him something to do, get him out of the house and keep his brain alive. He needed it desperately, because there was something he hadn’t yet shared with Matt.

Or Griffin.

The trial had been abruptly postponed again, much to everyone’s surprise. This time it was because Tripp’s lawyer quit—an interesting development. Why give up on potential money so late in the game?

Then Jim read about Tripp’s divorce from his wife, Tracey, the girlfriend who’d stayed faithfully by his side during the arrest and trial. The one he’d married a few months after he was found not guilty.

And his brain went into overdrive.

Why were so many people suddenly abandoning Tripp Ingersoll?

Griffin didn’t know about the alerts Jim got, the ones that scoured the Internet for information about the young man. Not even his ex-partner, Terry, had any idea about the unnamed files on Jim’s laptop that held the evidence and his notes from Tripp’s trial.

And his own reexamination of the case.

He thought it was over. He thought he’d let it go after Ed Kelly died. The entire Kelly family was dead, and double jeopardy meant Tripp couldn’t be tried again.

It was over.

But not for Jim.

“Hey. When are you coming home?” Jim asked later that night when Griffin called to check in.

“Two days. We’re almost done with this sequence, and then they’re going to Tacoma for a few days. I told Lori she can handle it, you know?” Griffin sounded tired and distracted, a common occurrence these days. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Jim flicked around the channels, the television on mute. “And uh—I got a job.”

Griffin perked up. “What?”

“Bagging groceries at Aldi’s,” he teased.

“No way. All the little old ladies will be following you home.”

“True. Okay, I’m going to be working with Matt.”

“Oh! Security,” Griffin said happily. The tone of his voice said he was genuinely pleased, and Jim let out a breath he had been holding for far too long. “That sounds great—you’re going to be so good at it. But I still figure old ladies are going to be following you home.”

“Which isn’t a problem because my hot fiancé will scare them off.”

“I’m buying a big broom and everything.”

T
HE
HOUSE
search seemed to be taking forever until one weekend, driving through Duchess County, Griffin happened upon a town called Lagrangeville. He stood in front of a real estate office, phone in hand, begging Jim to drive down to meet him.

Halfway between Albany and New York City.

Enough businesses to feed and clothe them. Small enough to give them some space away from the people in their lives while keeping them close.

The brown-shingled house on Woods End Lane took Griffin’s breath away.

Four bedrooms, three baths. Big, bright, airy rooms. Two and a half acres of trees and privacy. A four-car garage that Jim scoffed at until Griffin started talking about a home gym and office. Maybe a workroom?

Then Jim got out the measuring tape and let them continue the tour on their own.

By the time Griffin and the real estate agent got to the tree-flanked backyard and kidney-shaped pool, he was making notes on his phone regarding paint colors.

“We’ll take it,” Griffin said, envisioning friends and family filling the yard with laughter.

“Don’t you want to know the price?” the man in the neat suit asked.

Jim joined them a second later, crunching October leaves under his boots. Griffin turned to find his future husband grinning with delight.

Griffin managed not to tackle him to the ground.

“He’ll take care of the money side of things,” Griffin said breezily, shaking the agent’s hand. “I’m going to go look at the master bedroom again. I have to make sure the bed fits.”

T
HE
BED
—shipped all the way from Seattle—fit perfectly.

They finally pulled Jim’s furniture and Griffin’s out of storage, and set it up in a tentative union in the new house. Daisy, with Sadie in her stroller, gave an extensive critique of the space and the decorating scheme; the gorgeous kitchen took her breath away, and she immediately gifted Griffin with cooking lessons.

“Someone needs to use this space correctly,” she said, breathless, and she and Griffin held hands in front of the sliding glass doors that led to the deck.

“Okay, so I learn to cook. Already know how to swim. Anything else this house needs?” he asked, teasing mostly, but he knew that look in her eyes as soon as the words left his mouth.

“I think you know exactly what it’s missing.”

Griffin let go of her hand and turned away.

“Griffin….”

“I want your opinion about the master bathroom,” he said, heading for the foyer. “I’m thinking of retiling the walls.”

“Honey….”

At the stairs, Griffin paused. Daisy was following him, pushing a sleeping Sadie across the hardwood floor. Her expression told him everything he needed to know: there was worry and concern and a laser focus that he was sure could force him to tell the truth about anything.

“One thing at a time, okay? We have a wedding to finish planning and bathroom tile to obsess over.” Griffin leaned against the railing, incredibly grateful that Jim was off on a business trip with Matt. Every second in the new house made that siren’s call to parenthood a bit sharper. It was like he picked the perfect home to support his fantasy of Jim and two point five kids.

Maybe a dog too.

“Right. There’s plenty of time. But I think you not telling Jim is going to bite you on the ass in the end.” Daisy walked to stand next to him. She reached out to touch his arm. “Take it from me, okay?” She laughed, self-deprecating in a way he wasn’t entirely used to. “Lying because you think it’s going to stop a fight from happening only results in a bigger fight.”

“Full disclosure, huh?” Griffin smiled down at her. She’d come a long way.

He’d made the journey himself.

“Bennett is well aware that our relationship is built on a 100 percent honesty policy. A lie is a betrayal.” Daisy dropped her gaze to the floor. “And that’s as much for his benefit as mine. I never want to be in a relationship again where I’m lying about how I feel or what I want, and letting my partner do the same.”

Griffin stepped down the stairs until he could take her into his arms. “You’re so wise and settled. Whatever happened to my silly starlet? I used to be the brains of this operation.”

Daisy thumped his back, then hugged him back tightly. “You get to be pretty now—I’ve got this.”

J
IM
SAT
on the bed in his hotel room, scanning down e-mails on his phone. He and Matt were spending the night in Cape May, consulting on a job for a couple that were friends of Shane’s. Matt had turned in early, but Jim couldn’t sleep.

Fifteen alerts about Tripp Ingersoll.

Some were stories about business restructuring of his family’s corporation. Two were brief mentions in gossip columns about who was where with whom. Tracey, his ex-wife, already had a new beau, a fashion designer in New York.

Tracey had moved to the East Coast.

Another story mentioned their upcoming divorce in a piece about high-profile divorces. Tracey, it seemed, was very interested in getting at as much money as she could.

Seemed like Mrs. Ingersoll was feeling a little bitter about her time spent with Tripp.

It made Jim curious.

Jim’s lawyers—the PBA guy and the woman Ben
recommended—both told him that the delays from Tripp’s camp were clearly signs that they had no case. And his book deal had quickly died on the vine; preorders were nonexistent and the whole thing stalled, the book unreleased.

Jim desperately wanted to get his hands on that manuscript.