Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM)

since the dawn of time.” He threw himself backward on the bed and sighed. “Straight men, at any rate.”
    I stopped with my shirt halfway off, considering his words. It actually took me a moment to piece it together. “Are you saying—”
    “We left them in that condo, like some kind of sweet German love shack in the middle of the cold Munich winter. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised.”
    The idea of my father having sex was bad enough. The fact that it was with Grace? “Oh my God. Let’s not talk about it anymore. It’s too horrific to consider.”
    “If it were anybody but my mother, I’d be happy for him. I wonder who made the first move?”
    “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Let’s never speak of this abomination again.”
    “It’s funny when you think about it.”
    “‘Funny’ isn’t the word I’d use. More like, nauseating.”
    “Jonny, don’t be cruel. Are you telling me we’ll be done having sex in another twenty years?”
    “I hope not.”
    “Exactly.” He grinned at me. “Just think how horrified our daughter will be.”
    It was easier to laugh about it when he put it that way. Still, my father and Grace? The thought made me shudder.
    I finished undressing and lay down on the bed next to him. He moved over to rest his head on my shoulder. “What are you going to do?” I asked.
    “About us having sex?”
    “No, smartass. About your mother?”
    “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”
    “I don’t know either.” I felt lost. I wanted to help him, but I had no idea what to suggest. I couldn’t imagine how it must feel to have to weigh one’s need for a mother against the ability to forgive them, or to balance being alone against being right.
    But I knew somebody who did.
    “Maybe you should call Angelo.”
    Cole pondered it for a moment. “He probably can sympathize more than most.”
    “Zach told me in Paris that Angelo’s mom had gotten back in touch with him.”
    Cole nodded. “You’re right. He avoids the subject, but….”
    “But I’m sure if you asked, he’d answer. Especially for you. Especially if he knows why you’re bringing it up.”
    “His situation is different—”
    “I know. And he probably doesn’t have the answer either, but it might be nice to talk to somebody who knows how this feels.”
    “You’re right.”
    “Wow,” I laughed. “Really? That doesn’t happen very often, does it?”
    “Just often enough, and far more often than I like to admit.”
    “So you’ll call him?”
    “Tomorrow.” He turned to kiss me. “But for now?”
    “Yes?”
    He slid his hand down my stomach to caress my groin. “Let’s do things that would horrify our parents.”
    “Sounds good to me.”

Chapter Nine

    Date: January 28
    From: Cole
    To: Jared
    The baby is due in one week. I’m so nervous and excited, I can barely sit still for more than a minute at a time. Of course Thomas and Jonathan keep warning me not to get my hopes up. After all, Taylor has three days after the birth to change her mind. She’s a lovely girl, and I know she’s sincere about this adoption, but everything could change when she sees her daughter. I know Jonathan worries about that possibility constantly. He’s cautiously optimistic. Me, on the other hand? I can barely keep my feet on the ground. It’s good he’s here to keep me grounded.
    I told you about George’s request that I try once again to reconcile with my mother. He swears that she’s sincere in her desire to mend our relationship. I was hesitant at first, but then I talked to Angelo. That conversation changed everything.
    For Angelo’s part, he pointed out to me that agreeing to spend time with her doesn’t mean the past is magically forgiven. It just means I’m willing to consider the future. But what really changed my mind was simply listening to what he’s been through. I’ve often felt my mother abandoned me, but hearing his story, I realized I’ve been kidding myself for years. Real abandonment is something far more painful. It’s true my mother has never been perfect, but as George pointed out to me, no parent is. As difficult as things have been between my mother and me, at least I always knew where she was. I was fifteen when my father died—not quite an adult, but not so far off either—and I already knew more of the world than most people learn in a lifetime. I had a house (several, in fact), and the means to care for myself, and most importantly, I still had adults