by
Paul Xiao considered himself lucky. He'd lost his husband after a grueling battle with cancer, but they'd had twenty-two years together. After six months, he started to live his life again, the parts of it he'd lost touch with during that five-year battle, the parts he could carry on with alone.
Then he went to a fine-art miniatures show and met the painter Kevin Park. Before he knew what he was doing, Paul had invited Kevin to join him and his friend Patrick for dinner. And Kevin, who'd been so strongly attracted to Paul that he'd held those two paintings, hoping he would come back around and they could talk, said he would.
Three months of cautious dates later, Paul asked Kevin for help with his home yoga practice. It was logical; that was Kevin's profession. But he was hoping that opening the door to his home would mean opening other doors too.
After a lifetime of compromised relationships, Kevin was almost afraid to hope. There was just so much between them that was right. If they could find the right balance and breathe into this, maybe they'd both find space in their lives for love.
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Publisher: Independently Published
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 46-65
Protagonist 2 Age: 46-65
Word Count: 23,000
Setting: Los Angeles
Languages Available: English
It was great to be in that environment again, to be surrounded by others who shared his appreciation for 1:12 scale art. He’d given himself a strict budget, knowing that otherwise he’d be tempted to buy too much art for rooms he wasn’t even building yet. There’s always next year, he thought. And there was always the Internet. But it was so satisfying to see the tiny treasures up close. He went around the whole showroom once, making notes, then took a break for a cup of tea and a snack. The room he was building was in the Beaux Arts style, which meant nearly anything would be suitable as long as it wasn’t Art Deco or later. There were several artists in the show with work that he liked. If the pieces he wanted were still there when he made a second trip around, he decided, he’d get one piece of pottery, one piece of sculpture, and two paintings.
READ MOREOn the second round, Paul found the tiny porcelain vase he wanted, and then a tiny bronze copy of Rembrandt Bugatti’s ‘Gazelles Apprivoisées, Face à Face.’ That one wasn’t for the current work-in-progress; he simply had to have it. He’d included a fine miniature sculpture in a room he’d donated for a fundraiser, years ago. He didn’t consider that a mistake, precisely, but he’d always meant to find a comparable piece for his own small collection. It was one of those things he’d forgotten about under the onslaught of cancer.
The first painter he went to no longer had the piece he’d made note of, so he took a business card and told the artist he would keep an eye on the website. Hoping the other paintings he liked were still available, he went straight to the last artist on his list.
“Hello again,” said the artist when Paul got there. “I was hoping you’d come by.” Paul raised his eyebrows in a question. The artist stood up, offering a hand to shake. “Kevin Park. You didn’t ask me to hold anything, but I did anyway.”
“Why?” They were still making eye contact. Part of Paul’s mind was saying ‘look away’ but he couldn’t seem to.
“I wanted you to have it.” Kevin opened a velveteen box on his table and lifted out not one, but two paintings. “Or them, I guess.”
“Why?” Paul said again, deeply confused. This had never happened before. These artists put a lot of time, training, and talent into their work; the prices rarely came close to ‘fair’ in view of the countless hours involved. Generally, they were a few dollars more than a gift. He had never asked anyone to hold a piece, much less expected them to do so without being asked, because he knew every sale was important.
“I don’t know.” Kevin shrugged, smiling a little. “Sometimes I get these ideas. It’s okay if you decide you don’t want them.”
Paul didn’t know what to say. His gaze went to the two little paintings on the table. One was a copy of Fragonard’s ‘The Swing.’ There was no doubt he wanted that for the current project. The other was Whistler’s ‘Crepuscule in Opal, Trouville.’ Both were in beautiful gilt frames. The Whistler had been third on his list, after the piece the other artist had already sold. It wouldn’t work in the same room with the Fragonard, but … he pulled a box out of his pocket, the box containing the Bugatti sculpture. He opened it, removed the bronze from its cotton padding, and set it on the table by the Whistler. “Perfect,” he said. “I’ll build the next room around them.”
He looked up; Kevin was still smiling, his expression warm. He was a little taller than Paul and looked much younger. He had excellent posture (which made Paul conscious of his own tendency to slump), tanned skin, and a shaved head. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Paul rubbed his thumb across his own, remembering with a sort of shock that the anniversary was very soon. He hadn’t thought of it for months. Wasn’t sure why he thought of it now. Then he realized that warm expression was interest, and his eyebrows went up all over again. Really? He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tested to see if he was upset, if anything felt wrong. It didn’t. He consulted his inner sense of ‘what would Bob think;’ it answered with ‘live your life,’ one of the last things Bob had said to him. He packed away the bronze again, saying, “Yes, I’d like them both, please.”
Kevin nodded, starting the process of packing the artwork, writing up the sale, running Paul’s credit card. “I live in Los Angeles,” he said. “Do you ever get down that way?”
“I live there too,” said Paul. He looked up from signing the receipt, making eye contact again. “A friend came with me, his husband was away and he thought a wine-country weekend was in order. We’re staying at the Wine & Roses in Lodi. Would you like to join us for dinner?” He would never have thought he could be so bold. And he’d forgotten about his wedding ring again.
Kevin hadn’t. He glanced at it after taking the receipt and his pen. “Are you married?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Paul said. “My husband died in December. We were together for twenty-two years. We waited so long to get married, I never thought of taking off the ring.”
Kevin’s expression changed, still warm, but full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. Thank you for these.” He took the bag with the paintings and started to turn away.
“What time?” Paul turned back. Kevin added, “For dinner.” His smile was mostly in his eyes now.
After a moment, Paul said, “Eight o’clock?” Kevin nodded. “I … we’ll see you there.” After a slight hesitation he walked away, wondering at himself. He couldn’t remember if he’d smiled. He felt a bit panicked now that they weren’t face to face, so close together. It had been a very long time since he’d dated, and he hadn’t even considered it since January. But this wasn’t exactly a date. It was dinner with friends. Anyway, he still couldn’t feel that anything was wrong. Live your life.
COLLAPSE
