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Second chances in new port stephen
CHAPTER 3
December 16
Eli saw Nick again the very next day.
It wasn’t his fault. His parents surprised him by taking him to the Thirsty Manatee for dinner. “You always liked this place!” his mom tittered as they made the turn off the causeway, with Eli dreading every moment in the back seat. Maybe he should have mentioned running into Nick at the wine store, explained that going to the Manatee would likely make things awkward. But that would have opened up whole pallets of worms, and Eli didn’t really want to get into it with his parents.
Maybe they’d get lucky. Maybe it would be so busy, Nick wouldn’t even notice him.
As they walked toward the entrance, Eli’s mom leaned in to stage-whisper to him, “How’s it feel, being back at the old stomping grounds?”
Eli shrugged. He wasn’t really sure what to say. It felt weird. Everything felt weird.
The Thirsty Manatee had always been Eli’s pick for dinner if there was something to celebrate, like a straight-A report card or the end of a school year. Once they had their drivers’ licenses, it was where he and Nick would go after swim practice to chow down on cheesy loaded potato skins and do their homework. It was where they’d gone for their first date after seeing Fellowship at the movie theater, both of them splurging on the surf and turf and making a terrible mess when it came time to crack open the lobsters. It was one of those
rare places that was casual enough to hang out if you wanted to, but with a nice enough view of the waterway that it felt like a special occasion.
The restaurant itself was low and flat-roofed, surrounded by skinny palms and bushes of bougainvillea. The pink-and-yellow neon sign with the restaurant’s namesake manatee was lit, and as Eli watched, the sea cow’s martini glass flickered up to its mouth, then back down, over and over again. He’d always wondered how a manatee was supposed to hold a glass with its flipper. There were new touches, too, for the holidays. Thick garlands of silver tinsel outlined the glass double doors with the standard OPEN sign covered in shiny gift bows. Eli could smell the sharp tang of seaweed, not too bad, but it dug up his memory of how the waterfront stunk during low tide.
“Come on.” Eli’s mom threaded her arm in his and bustled toward the front doors. “I want to make sure we get a good table.”
“It’s six o’clock.”
“Exactly!” Wendall said. “Dinner rush for this town.”
They weren’t wrong, as it turned out. When they pushed their way into the restaurant, Eli could see that all the tables and booths inside were occupied, with the outdoor deck beyond packed to the gills. Behind the long wooden bar that lined the far wall, he spotted a bartender with a high pony slinging margaritas onto a serving tray. The gleaming espresso machine must have been a new addition. A group of older teens in Saint Stephen County High varsity tracksuits sat in a booth, splitting an order of mozzarella sticks. Everywhere he looked, tables were loaded down with burgers, broiled fillets of mahi-mahi, baskets of crispy conch fritters, and Eli’s longtime favorite, the fried grouper sandwich on a Cuban roll. It was nice to know that, even after the soulless national restaurant chains had swooped in to take over the town, the Manatee was still doing a brisk business.
The sweet-faced greeter informed them that there was a high-top available outside on the patio if they “didn’t mind the chill.” Eli bit his tongue; seventy degrees was chilly here, he reminded himself. As his parents murmured between themselves about whether or not they should wait for an indoor table to open up, Eli scanned the dining room for Nick. He finally spotted him in the farthest
booth in the corner, where Nick was bent over what looked like a bunch of paperwork.
Eli’s parents decided the patio would be fine. If anyone got cold, there was a sweater in the car, Cora pointed out. As the greeter collected some menus, Cora followed Eli’s line of sight, landing on Nick as well.
Cora squinted. She had glasses but rarely wore them when she wasn’t driving. “Honey, am I being racist or is that Nick Wu?”
Eli tried not to roll his eyes too hard. “Both can be true.”
Cora ignored the potshot. “We were just talking about him at the party. Shouldn’t you go over and say hi?”
“He looks really busy,” he improvised. “He probably doesn’t need me interrupting.”
As the words left his mouth, Nick picked up his head and spotted Eli from across the dining room. He smiled, lifted his hand, and made the universal signal for come on over; your mom is about to become insufferable because she is, once again, correct. Eli stifled a groan.
Eli’s mom nudged him toward the back booth. “Looks like he doesn’t mind being interrupted at all,” she said. Insufferably. “Don’t be rude, go on.”
“You can meet us on the patio,” Wendall said, already following the greeter toward the door that led outside.
Nick was still beckoning. Eli couldn’t ignore him unless he wanted to snub him like some period-drama villain. He moved toward Nick’s booth, awkwardly dodging servers and customers who pushed their chairs back without looking.
“Hey, you made it,” Nick called to Eli when he was within hearing range. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to blow me off like some New York big shot.”
Eli hoped his cringe was not too obvious. “No, definitely not a big shot. Not even a—” As he approached, a small, dark head peeked around the side of the booth. “Little. Shot,” he mumbled as he stared at the tiny figure sitting across from Nick.
It was a kid. Wearing a cartoon dog T-shirt and itty-bitty sneakers. Feet kicking way above the floor. Staring back at Eli with a distinctly unimpressed air.
“This is my daughter, Zoe,” Nick said.
“I’m going to be five in February,” Zoe said. “Who are you?”
“Eli is a… friend, honey. An old friend of Daddy’s.” Nick gathered up his paperwork in a neat stack and pushed it to the side. “We grew up together.”
“I’m going to be forty in July,” Eli offered.
Zoe considered this with a hum. “That’s old.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Daddy is going to be forty in July too,” Zoe said.
“I know. Our birthdays are only ten days apart.” Their moms used to throw them a shared party to save money.
“Really?” She seemed pleased. “You’re both old.”
“Sweetheart,” Nick said in a put-upon voice. Both Zoe and Eli turned their heads, and it was only after an embarrassing two seconds that Eli realized the appellation was not meant for him. That was another lifetime. “Can you please scoot over so Eli can sit down with us?”
Zoe groaned and flopped closer to the wall with a dramatic flail of her arms. Eli sat down next to Nick’s mini-me, still shocked at the unexpected reveal. A server arrived with a glass of ice water for Eli and a top-off from a pitcher for Nick. Eli picked up the paper-wrapped straw that the server had left without even asking—that never happened in New York these days—grateful for something to fiddle with.
“So…” He looked over at Zoe, who was now shredding her paper napkin into little bits, then looked back at Nick. “This is new.”
Nick’s lips parted. “Did I not mention I have a daughter?” He sounded honestly surprised at himself. “I could have sworn I did.”
“I think I would have remembered that.” Then, because even to Eli’s ears, that had sounded bitchy, he added, “Then again, we were being corralled out of the Wine Barn by a disgruntled employee, so I wasn’t exactly listening too closely.”
“What’s disgruntled?” Zoe asked, reaching as best as she could across the table, her fingertips mere inches away from Nick’s red pen.
“It means grumpy.” Nick plucked the pen from atop the pile of papers and handed it over along with his own intact napkin. “It sounds like a grumpy word, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Zoe smiled so that her nose scrunched up, then accepted the pen and paper like it was her due. “Thank you, Dad,” she singsonged, then uncapped the pen and began doodling on the napkin. It looked like nothing more than a ball of squiggles to Eli’s eyes, but what did he know about fine art?
“You’re welcome, sweetie.” It was impossible to miss the easy warmth in Nick’s eyes.
Wow, he was really good with kids. This kid. His kid. Nick was good with his kid. Eli had never pictured him as a dad, let alone a good one. Probably because his most vivid memories of Nick involved making him laugh so hard he lost his lunch in a Taco Bell parking lot. Hard to take someone like that as a serious candidate for fatherhood, but now that the evidence was right in front of him, Eli couldn’t deny it: Nick had grown up. Way more than Eli had, apparently.
“I’m here because someone got sick!” Zoe said.
Nick caught Eli’s confused look and said, “Tonight’s supposed to be my night off, but the assistant manager called out. Zoe’s mom is shopping for”—he mouthed the words Christmas gifts—“so the munchkin is hanging out here with me.”
“Oh.” Eli couldn’t help the instinctual glance at Nick’s hands, where they rested on the tabletop. No wedding band, but maybe he just didn’t like wearing one. But then why say Zoe’s mom when you could be saying my wife? Was he overthinking this? He was probably overthinking this.
“Mom and Dad are divorced,” Zoe said, not looking up from her tornado drawings. “That means they still love each other, but it’s in a different way, so they live in different houses now. But they love me the same because that doesn’t ever change.”
“Thank you for that… backstory,” Eli said.
Nick gave him a look that said, Kids. What can you do? “She really likes repeating things. Unfortunately.” He leaned in. “So what’s new with you?”
“Nothing big.” Eli watched as Zoe began stabbing the red pen at her napkin to make a shower of tiny dots around the whorls. When he looked up, he saw that Nick was staring at him with the disbelief that only a cis person could have when told by a post-transition trans guy that there was nothing new in his life. He decided to stick with the basics. “I mean, no kids, no husband. Just me.”
That got a polite nod of interest from Nick; Eli felt the need to elaborate for some reason. “My last serious relationship only went so far as sharing an apartment. And a gym membership. Oh, and a very mean cat. The other guy kept it after we broke up.” He took a big gulp of his water.
“And what do you do for work these days?” Nick asked.
Great change of subject, only marginally more embarrassing than his lack of a love life. “Started doing stand-up comedy, got a few writing gigs. Now I’m mostly working in television. Good, solid projects.” Eli was glad Nick couldn’t see the back of his neck. He tended to go all red and splotchy there when he was forced to bend the truth.
“Oh? Anything I would recognize?” Nick asked.
No way was Eli going to mention his last real job. “Right now I’m helping out a friend who’s developing a new show. It’s good. It’s about a queer commune, like an ensemble thing? If it ever gets made, it’s going to kill.” That part wasn’t a lie, at least. He had been filling the time looking over Margo’s stellar pilot script.
“Wow, exciting. And you helped write it?”
Eli shifted on the squeaky faux leather of the booth. “I mostly punched up some dialogue, came up with some character sketches. Nothing major.” Before Nick could ask any more probing questions, he turned it around with an interrogation of his own. “And you? You’re the boss of this whole place, huh?”
“Yeah.” Nick scratched at the back of his neck. “Came home for a bit after college and sort of…” He gestured to the kitschy manatee-themed junk that lined the walls. “Fell into this. My dad knows the new owner from back when they worked together at the power plant; heard he needed someone, liked that I was a local kid.” He gave that self-deprecating shrug that Eli could pick out of a lineup. “I just stuck with it, I guess. Not nearly as impressive as working in TV.”
Eli blinked. Apparently Nick was having the same reaction over the career question that Eli had had about the family-slash-relationships one. “Trust me,” he said, “it’s not that impressive.”
Nick leaned back in the booth and folded his arms across his chest. “So how are your holidays going?”
Eli was well-practiced at hiding winces. He shoved his instinctual reaction down. “Oh, you know how it is. Christmas is always kind of a letdown when you’re an adult. Nothing can compare to getting your first Huffy when you’re seven.” He took a sip of water. “Mom will have the whole family over for dinner, I’m sure. I’m not too up to speed on the details; this is my first time visiting for the holidays in ages. Or at all, actually.”
“Wow, really?” Nick’s eyes widened. “I just assumed you, uh, were still close with your family.”
“We are. But they usually come to New York to visit me.” Eli leaned back in the booth. “Yep. First time in a long time, being back in good ol’ Neeps. Does anyone still call NPS that?”
“Not since we were young,” Nick said. “You must be bored; it’s not like this place compares to New York.”
Eli made a face. “Now that you mention it, I am going a little stir-crazy. It’s only been a day and I’m, like, climbing the walls.” He paused. “No offense.”
A smile lingered at the edge of Nick’s mouth. He picked up his water glass and huffed a laugh into it before taking a sip.
Eli felt a thrill he hadn’t experienced in a while—the rush of making Nick laugh. His specific laugh was so satisfying. It felt like slipping into an old sweater that still fit somehow, all warm and cozy. Eli used to go on for hours back when they were teens, goofing off, joking around, anything to make Nick snort. They played off each other so well in those moments. Eli the clown and Nick his straight man.
Eli dropped his gaze to the table. Nick was still very much the straight man, he reminded himself. This was not a double act. And frankly, it was weird to even entertain a passing thought that, after all this time, there was anything between them. They shared a past, not a future.
“I’m bored,” Zoe declared. During the adults’ conversation, she had turned boneless and was sliding under the table, only her head and shoulders remaining on the lip of the bench seat. “Can we go out on the dock? Please?”
“Honey, Daddy is still talking with Eli, okay?”
“You can talk with Eli out on the dock,” Zoe said with a pout that was sadly underutilized, given that only Eli could see it from where he was sitting. He
imagined, as its usual target, Nick would be unaffected anyway.
“I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air,” Eli said. The dining room was pretty loud and crowded. “My folks got a table outside, so I need to get out there at some point.”
Zoe popped back onto her seat. “See, Daddy? Eli wouldn’t mind.”
Nick gave Eli a look that probably meant he should have kept his big mouth shut, but Eli wouldn’t apologize for teaming up with a fidgeting four-year-old. He could relate to her restlessness more than he cared to admit.
“Fine,” Nick said in that long-suffering way of his. “Let’s go.”
Zoe cheered and clambered over Eli’s lap without waiting for him to move, kneeing him in the bladder as she went. Eli stifled a loud woof as all the air was punched out of him. Nick gave him a bland look that said serves you right before following his cannonball of a daughter out onto the back patio.
One of the defining traits of the Thirsty Manatee was its dock, which stuck out into the brown water of the lagoon. Pleasure boaters and fishermen would tie up so they could enjoy a leisurely lunch before heading back out. Tonight the dock was devoid of boats, but it was still a welcoming spot for any restaurant guests who wanted to take in the scenery after their dinner.
The sun had already set—a sign of winter, even here where the air was warm and humid—but the rays of gold and pink were still painting a twilight picture of the sky. Night was creeping up in purples and blues oceanward, the first stars winking against the dark. Eli craned his head back to take it all in. You didn’t get nights like this in New York. Then again, you did get decent bagels, so it all balanced out.
Zoe ran to the end of the dock at full speed, her tiny sneakers pounding against the wooden slats, lights on the heels flashing.
“Don’t lean out too far, please!” Nick hollered after her. To Eli, he said in a quieter tone, “She likes to look at the fish.”
“Who doesn’t?” Eli smiled to himself. His eyes tracked along Nick’s face. His features had sharpened in places, softened in others, but he was still recognizable as the Nick Wu he’d known. “You seem like a good dad,” he said, because it was true and apparently needed to be blurted out.
Nick blinked rapidly in that way he used to when he was pleasantly surprised. “Maybe reserve judgment. You haven’t seen one of Zoe’s epic meltdowns yet. I’m the worst father in the world when that happens.”
They meandered along the old dock, hands in their pockets. Zoe was a pinkand-blue dot in the distance. The wind picked up her hair and made it dance around her head.
“Does it feel weird to you?” Eli tipped his chin toward the end of the dock, where Zoe was sitting on the edge with her legs kicking out over the water. “Like, being a grown-up. Having a kid depend on you. Being mature.”
“Well, I am pushing forty.” Nick gave him an appraising glance. “You are too.”
“Yeah, but I’m pushing a queer forty, which is like a straight twenty-six,” Eli quipped. “I didn’t come into my own until, like, five years ago. And even then, I still feel like I’m just pretending to know what I’m doing all the time.”
“Oh, I promise you, I feel like I’m faking it pretty much every day.” Nick dragged a hand through his thick black hair. “All adults are, even us straight ones. I bet our parents were just pretending like they knew what they were doing when we were kids.”
“Really?” Eli snorted. “That’s comforting.” He turned to look over his shoulder. His parents were seated at their table with all of their attention on a huge platter of the Manatee’s iconic pineapple pulled-pork nachos. As he watched, his mom fussed with a speck of salsa that had landed on Wendall’s shirt collar, swiping at it with her napkin. They were too far away for their conversation to be heard, but Eli could fill in the blanks: Cora complaining about Wendall being a messy eater, Wendall protesting. He loved his folks, he did, but they sure were a certain way.
His gaze must have said something that Nick picked up on, because he said, “If you’re ever feeling trapped at your parents’ place, I can give you a ride somewhere, get you out of the house.”
Eli turned back to him. “Really? You’d do that?”
“Yeah.” Nick scratched his ear. “It’s not a big deal. I like to go down to the beach in the mornings sometimes. Get a quick jog in before the day starts.”
“Jogging? You?” Eli couldn’t help but sound incredulous. Back when they were on the high school swim team, their least-favorite thing was the coach’s once-a-season foray into running laps around campus. “What happened to ‘swimming is the only exercise you need’?”
“That’s still true.” Nick bobbed his head. “But swimming is a whole thing; you need a pool and at least two hours for the changing and the workout and the showering and the drying off. After Zoe was born, a quick run was the best I could do.” His lips twisted to one side. “Though I haven’t made the time lately even for that, if I’m honest.”
Eli grimaced. “I can’t ask you to go out of your way like that.”
“No, really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’d give me a reason to get back in the habit.” Nick stopped in the middle of the dock and turned to face him, so of course Eli had to stop too. “I’m not offering to be polite, okay? I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” A glimmer of good humor reached his eyes. “I’m not like those posers you hang around with in New York City.”
They shared a laugh, and Eli ducked his head so his wide smile was directed at his shoes and not his very straight ex-boyfriend. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this might be flirting. It had been a long time since he’d flirted with anyone.
“All right,” he finally said once the giggle fit passed. “I’d really appreciate a ride to the beach. I’ll even join you on that jog, if you don’t mind me slowing you down.” Eli’s workout schedule had been sporadic at best lately. He didn’t harbor any delusions about his land speed.
“I won’t mind at all,” Nick said. “Pick you up tomorrow at, say, seven?”
“In the morning?” Then, because he didn’t want to lose his only chance to get out of the house without his parents, he hooked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans and feigned a nonchalant stance. “I mean, cool. That works.”
A subtle smugness worked its way into Nick’s smile. “Your folks still live in the house on Pineapple Top?”
“Yep, just around the bend.”
“I live out past Palmetto, near the canal. Not far at all.”
Eli nodded, mentally shaking off the dusty map of his hometown. Palmetto, near the canal. Their bus had gone along that route back in elementary school. A whiplash memory: their assigned bench seat, fifth on the right. Nick at seven years old, knees scraped up from dodgeball, showing Eli the bruise on his knobby elbow. It really hurts, but I didn’t cry.
Eli came back to the present with a slow exhale. “Good. That all sounds good.”
A small smile spread across Nick’s face. “Okay, then. See you at seven. Make sure to bring a bottle of—oh.” His head whipped to the side as he squinted at the end of the dock. “Excuse me.”
Before Eli could even blink, Nick was gone. Like, he moved so fast he could have left a Nick-shaped dust cloud in his wake à la Wile E. Coyote. He barreled toward the end of the dock, his boat shoes slapping on the old wood. In the distance, Eli could see that Zoe had somehow climbed atop one of the pilings and was executing a dizzying series of pirouettes. Then Zoe’s feet tangled and she began to falter, almost in slow motion. Eli’s heart was in his throat: the kid was either going to fall several feet onto the dock, or she was going to fall much farther into the water. And who knew how rocky it was beneath the surface.
As Eli watched in horror, Zoe tripped off the piling—and right into Nick’s arms.
“Whee!” Zoe squealed.
Nick set her on her feet. “Please don’t climb up there, all right?” he said, but she was already scampering away to examine a bug that was inching along the dock. Nick put his hands on his hips and heaved a sigh, then glanced back at Eli.
Eli stood frozen in place with a hand pressed over his mouth in the gayest stance possible. He was pretty sure he’d just had a heart attack. Maybe a series of heart attacks. He’d witnessed Nick Wu transform into some kind of Super Dad with real swooping rescue action.
“What was I saying?” Nick swept a lock of hair off his forehead, calling down the dock to Eli. “Right. Bring a bottle of water.”
The hand fell away from Eli’s gaping mouth. “Seriously? You snatched your daughter out of thin air and all you’ve got to say is remember to stay hydrated?”
Nick gave a self-conscious roll of his shoulders, ambling back toward him. “I guess I’ve developed a sort of sixth sense when Zoe’s getting into trouble.” He cleared his throat, then gave Zoe another cautious glance. She was still enamored with the beetle. “Part of the job.”
Eli studied Nick’s face as he watched his kid play a few yards away. There was worry in that gaze, but also pride, and fondness, and a bunch of stuff that Eli couldn’t even identify. It made his whole face—already handsome—soften into something wonderfully tender.
Eli straightened with a jolt.
Oh no. Nick hadn’t just grown up. He wasn’t just a father. He was a Hot Dad.
Competent, nurturing… and hot. So hot. And still so painfully straight.
“Eli?” Nick’s hand waved in front of his face. “You okay?”
He snapped back to himself. No more thinking about his former childhood friend or whatever in that context. At least not in public. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. Totally fine.”
Nick looked unconvinced, and pointed to the restaurant’s deck. “I was saying, your folks are trying to get your attention.”
Eli spotted his mom and dad waving at him. Cora pointed at her menu and mouthed time to order.
“Right, yeah. I should get going,” Eli said. “And I guess you—”
“Should get back to work.” Nick walked over to where Zoe was crouched on the dock and picked her up like she was a sack of potatoes. Zoe screamed with laughter. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” Eli watched Nick head back inside with Zoe squirming under his arm. His shoulders looked so broad under his plain buttondown. So capable.
And Eli was so thoroughly screwed.
Second chances in new port stephen
CHAPTER 3
December 16
Eli saw Nick again the very next day.
It wasn’t his fault. His parents surprised him by taking him to the Thirsty Manatee for dinner. “You always liked this place!” his mom tittered as they made the turn off the causeway, with Eli dreading every moment in the back seat. Maybe he should have mentioned running into Nick at the wine store, explained that going to the Manatee would likely make things awkward. But that would have opened up whole pallets of worms, and Eli didn’t really want to get into it with his parents.
Maybe they’d get lucky. Maybe it would be so busy, Nick wouldn’t even notice him.
As they walked toward the entrance, Eli’s mom leaned in to stage-whisper to him, “How’s it feel, being back at the old stomping grounds?”
Eli shrugged. He wasn’t really sure what to say. It felt weird. Everything felt weird.
The Thirsty Manatee had always been Eli’s pick for dinner if there was something to celebrate, like a straight-A report card or the end of a school year. Once they had their drivers’ licenses, it was where he and Nick would go after swim practice to chow down on cheesy loaded potato skins and do their homework. It was where they’d gone for their first date after seeing Fellowship at the movie theater, both of them splurging on the surf and turf and making a terrible mess when it came time to crack open the lobsters. It was one of those
rare places that was casual enough to hang out if you wanted to, but with a nice enough view of the waterway that it felt like a special occasion.
The restaurant itself was low and flat-roofed, surrounded by skinny palms and bushes of bougainvillea. The pink-and-yellow neon sign with the restaurant’s namesake manatee was lit, and as Eli watched, the sea cow’s martini glass flickered up to its mouth, then back down, over and over again. He’d always wondered how a manatee was supposed to hold a glass with its flipper. There were new touches, too, for the holidays. Thick garlands of silver tinsel outlined the glass double doors with the standard OPEN sign covered in shiny gift bows. Eli could smell the sharp tang of seaweed, not too bad, but it dug up his memory of how the waterfront stunk during low tide.
“Come on.” Eli’s mom threaded her arm in his and bustled toward the front doors. “I want to make sure we get a good table.”
“It’s six o’clock.”
“Exactly!” Wendall said. “Dinner rush for this town.”
They weren’t wrong, as it turned out. When they pushed their way into the restaurant, Eli could see that all the tables and booths inside were occupied, with the outdoor deck beyond packed to the gills. Behind the long wooden bar that lined the far wall, he spotted a bartender with a high pony slinging margaritas onto a serving tray. The gleaming espresso machine must have been a new addition. A group of older teens in Saint Stephen County High varsity tracksuits sat in a booth, splitting an order of mozzarella sticks. Everywhere he looked, tables were loaded down with burgers, broiled fillets of mahi-mahi, baskets of crispy conch fritters, and Eli’s longtime favorite, the fried grouper sandwich on a Cuban roll. It was nice to know that, even after the soulless national restaurant chains had swooped in to take over the town, the Manatee was still doing a brisk business.
The sweet-faced greeter informed them that there was a high-top available outside on the patio if they “didn’t mind the chill.” Eli bit his tongue; seventy degrees was chilly here, he reminded himself. As his parents murmured between themselves about whether or not they should wait for an indoor table to open up, Eli scanned the dining room for Nick. He finally spotted him in the farthest
booth in the corner, where Nick was bent over what looked like a bunch of paperwork.
Eli’s parents decided the patio would be fine. If anyone got cold, there was a sweater in the car, Cora pointed out. As the greeter collected some menus, Cora followed Eli’s line of sight, landing on Nick as well.
Cora squinted. She had glasses but rarely wore them when she wasn’t driving. “Honey, am I being racist or is that Nick Wu?”
Eli tried not to roll his eyes too hard. “Both can be true.”
Cora ignored the potshot. “We were just talking about him at the party. Shouldn’t you go over and say hi?”
“He looks really busy,” he improvised. “He probably doesn’t need me interrupting.”
As the words left his mouth, Nick picked up his head and spotted Eli from across the dining room. He smiled, lifted his hand, and made the universal signal for come on over; your mom is about to become insufferable because she is, once again, correct. Eli stifled a groan.
Eli’s mom nudged him toward the back booth. “Looks like he doesn’t mind being interrupted at all,” she said. Insufferably. “Don’t be rude, go on.”
“You can meet us on the patio,” Wendall said, already following the greeter toward the door that led outside.
Nick was still beckoning. Eli couldn’t ignore him unless he wanted to snub him like some period-drama villain. He moved toward Nick’s booth, awkwardly dodging servers and customers who pushed their chairs back without looking.
“Hey, you made it,” Nick called to Eli when he was within hearing range. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to blow me off like some New York big shot.”
Eli hoped his cringe was not too obvious. “No, definitely not a big shot. Not even a—” As he approached, a small, dark head peeked around the side of the booth. “Little. Shot,” he mumbled as he stared at the tiny figure sitting across from Nick.
It was a kid. Wearing a cartoon dog T-shirt and itty-bitty sneakers. Feet kicking way above the floor. Staring back at Eli with a distinctly unimpressed air.
“This is my daughter, Zoe,” Nick said.
“I’m going to be five in February,” Zoe said. “Who are you?”
“Eli is a… friend, honey. An old friend of Daddy’s.” Nick gathered up his paperwork in a neat stack and pushed it to the side. “We grew up together.”
“I’m going to be forty in July,” Eli offered.
Zoe considered this with a hum. “That’s old.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Daddy is going to be forty in July too,” Zoe said.
“I know. Our birthdays are only ten days apart.” Their moms used to throw them a shared party to save money.
“Really?” She seemed pleased. “You’re both old.”
“Sweetheart,” Nick said in a put-upon voice. Both Zoe and Eli turned their heads, and it was only after an embarrassing two seconds that Eli realized the appellation was not meant for him. That was another lifetime. “Can you please scoot over so Eli can sit down with us?”
Zoe groaned and flopped closer to the wall with a dramatic flail of her arms. Eli sat down next to Nick’s mini-me, still shocked at the unexpected reveal. A server arrived with a glass of ice water for Eli and a top-off from a pitcher for Nick. Eli picked up the paper-wrapped straw that the server had left without even asking—that never happened in New York these days—grateful for something to fiddle with.
“So…” He looked over at Zoe, who was now shredding her paper napkin into little bits, then looked back at Nick. “This is new.”
Nick’s lips parted. “Did I not mention I have a daughter?” He sounded honestly surprised at himself. “I could have sworn I did.”
“I think I would have remembered that.” Then, because even to Eli’s ears, that had sounded bitchy, he added, “Then again, we were being corralled out of the Wine Barn by a disgruntled employee, so I wasn’t exactly listening too closely.”
“What’s disgruntled?” Zoe asked, reaching as best as she could across the table, her fingertips mere inches away from Nick’s red pen.
“It means grumpy.” Nick plucked the pen from atop the pile of papers and handed it over along with his own intact napkin. “It sounds like a grumpy word, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Zoe smiled so that her nose scrunched up, then accepted the pen and paper like it was her due. “Thank you, Dad,” she singsonged, then uncapped the pen and began doodling on the napkin. It looked like nothing more than a ball of squiggles to Eli’s eyes, but what did he know about fine art?
“You’re welcome, sweetie.” It was impossible to miss the easy warmth in Nick’s eyes.
Wow, he was really good with kids. This kid. His kid. Nick was good with his kid. Eli had never pictured him as a dad, let alone a good one. Probably because his most vivid memories of Nick involved making him laugh so hard he lost his lunch in a Taco Bell parking lot. Hard to take someone like that as a serious candidate for fatherhood, but now that the evidence was right in front of him, Eli couldn’t deny it: Nick had grown up. Way more than Eli had, apparently.
“I’m here because someone got sick!” Zoe said.
Nick caught Eli’s confused look and said, “Tonight’s supposed to be my night off, but the assistant manager called out. Zoe’s mom is shopping for”—he mouthed the words Christmas gifts—“so the munchkin is hanging out here with me.”
“Oh.” Eli couldn’t help the instinctual glance at Nick’s hands, where they rested on the tabletop. No wedding band, but maybe he just didn’t like wearing one. But then why say Zoe’s mom when you could be saying my wife? Was he overthinking this? He was probably overthinking this.
“Mom and Dad are divorced,” Zoe said, not looking up from her tornado drawings. “That means they still love each other, but it’s in a different way, so they live in different houses now. But they love me the same because that doesn’t ever change.”
“Thank you for that… backstory,” Eli said.
Nick gave him a look that said, Kids. What can you do? “She really likes repeating things. Unfortunately.” He leaned in. “So what’s new with you?”
“Nothing big.” Eli watched as Zoe began stabbing the red pen at her napkin to make a shower of tiny dots around the whorls. When he looked up, he saw that Nick was staring at him with the disbelief that only a cis person could have when told by a post-transition trans guy that there was nothing new in his life. He decided to stick with the basics. “I mean, no kids, no husband. Just me.”
That got a polite nod of interest from Nick; Eli felt the need to elaborate for some reason. “My last serious relationship only went so far as sharing an apartment. And a gym membership. Oh, and a very mean cat. The other guy kept it after we broke up.” He took a big gulp of his water.
“And what do you do for work these days?” Nick asked.
Great change of subject, only marginally more embarrassing than his lack of a love life. “Started doing stand-up comedy, got a few writing gigs. Now I’m mostly working in television. Good, solid projects.” Eli was glad Nick couldn’t see the back of his neck. He tended to go all red and splotchy there when he was forced to bend the truth.
“Oh? Anything I would recognize?” Nick asked.
No way was Eli going to mention his last real job. “Right now I’m helping out a friend who’s developing a new show. It’s good. It’s about a queer commune, like an ensemble thing? If it ever gets made, it’s going to kill.” That part wasn’t a lie, at least. He had been filling the time looking over Margo’s stellar pilot script.
“Wow, exciting. And you helped write it?”
Eli shifted on the squeaky faux leather of the booth. “I mostly punched up some dialogue, came up with some character sketches. Nothing major.” Before Nick could ask any more probing questions, he turned it around with an interrogation of his own. “And you? You’re the boss of this whole place, huh?”
“Yeah.” Nick scratched at the back of his neck. “Came home for a bit after college and sort of…” He gestured to the kitschy manatee-themed junk that lined the walls. “Fell into this. My dad knows the new owner from back when they worked together at the power plant; heard he needed someone, liked that I was a local kid.” He gave that self-deprecating shrug that Eli could pick out of a lineup. “I just stuck with it, I guess. Not nearly as impressive as working in TV.”
Eli blinked. Apparently Nick was having the same reaction over the career question that Eli had had about the family-slash-relationships one. “Trust me,” he said, “it’s not that impressive.”
Nick leaned back in the booth and folded his arms across his chest. “So how are your holidays going?”
Eli was well-practiced at hiding winces. He shoved his instinctual reaction down. “Oh, you know how it is. Christmas is always kind of a letdown when you’re an adult. Nothing can compare to getting your first Huffy when you’re seven.” He took a sip of water. “Mom will have the whole family over for dinner, I’m sure. I’m not too up to speed on the details; this is my first time visiting for the holidays in ages. Or at all, actually.”
“Wow, really?” Nick’s eyes widened. “I just assumed you, uh, were still close with your family.”
“We are. But they usually come to New York to visit me.” Eli leaned back in the booth. “Yep. First time in a long time, being back in good ol’ Neeps. Does anyone still call NPS that?”
“Not since we were young,” Nick said. “You must be bored; it’s not like this place compares to New York.”
Eli made a face. “Now that you mention it, I am going a little stir-crazy. It’s only been a day and I’m, like, climbing the walls.” He paused. “No offense.”
A smile lingered at the edge of Nick’s mouth. He picked up his water glass and huffed a laugh into it before taking a sip.
Eli felt a thrill he hadn’t experienced in a while—the rush of making Nick laugh. His specific laugh was so satisfying. It felt like slipping into an old sweater that still fit somehow, all warm and cozy. Eli used to go on for hours back when they were teens, goofing off, joking around, anything to make Nick snort. They played off each other so well in those moments. Eli the clown and Nick his straight man.
Eli dropped his gaze to the table. Nick was still very much the straight man, he reminded himself. This was not a double act. And frankly, it was weird to even entertain a passing thought that, after all this time, there was anything between them. They shared a past, not a future.
“I’m bored,” Zoe declared. During the adults’ conversation, she had turned boneless and was sliding under the table, only her head and shoulders remaining on the lip of the bench seat. “Can we go out on the dock? Please?”
“Honey, Daddy is still talking with Eli, okay?”
“You can talk with Eli out on the dock,” Zoe said with a pout that was sadly underutilized, given that only Eli could see it from where he was sitting. He
imagined, as its usual target, Nick would be unaffected anyway.
“I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air,” Eli said. The dining room was pretty loud and crowded. “My folks got a table outside, so I need to get out there at some point.”
Zoe popped back onto her seat. “See, Daddy? Eli wouldn’t mind.”
Nick gave Eli a look that probably meant he should have kept his big mouth shut, but Eli wouldn’t apologize for teaming up with a fidgeting four-year-old. He could relate to her restlessness more than he cared to admit.
“Fine,” Nick said in that long-suffering way of his. “Let’s go.”
Zoe cheered and clambered over Eli’s lap without waiting for him to move, kneeing him in the bladder as she went. Eli stifled a loud woof as all the air was punched out of him. Nick gave him a bland look that said serves you right before following his cannonball of a daughter out onto the back patio.
One of the defining traits of the Thirsty Manatee was its dock, which stuck out into the brown water of the lagoon. Pleasure boaters and fishermen would tie up so they could enjoy a leisurely lunch before heading back out. Tonight the dock was devoid of boats, but it was still a welcoming spot for any restaurant guests who wanted to take in the scenery after their dinner.
The sun had already set—a sign of winter, even here where the air was warm and humid—but the rays of gold and pink were still painting a twilight picture of the sky. Night was creeping up in purples and blues oceanward, the first stars winking against the dark. Eli craned his head back to take it all in. You didn’t get nights like this in New York. Then again, you did get decent bagels, so it all balanced out.
Zoe ran to the end of the dock at full speed, her tiny sneakers pounding against the wooden slats, lights on the heels flashing.
“Don’t lean out too far, please!” Nick hollered after her. To Eli, he said in a quieter tone, “She likes to look at the fish.”
“Who doesn’t?” Eli smiled to himself. His eyes tracked along Nick’s face. His features had sharpened in places, softened in others, but he was still recognizable as the Nick Wu he’d known. “You seem like a good dad,” he said, because it was true and apparently needed to be blurted out.
Nick blinked rapidly in that way he used to when he was pleasantly surprised. “Maybe reserve judgment. You haven’t seen one of Zoe’s epic meltdowns yet. I’m the worst father in the world when that happens.”
They meandered along the old dock, hands in their pockets. Zoe was a pinkand-blue dot in the distance. The wind picked up her hair and made it dance around her head.
“Does it feel weird to you?” Eli tipped his chin toward the end of the dock, where Zoe was sitting on the edge with her legs kicking out over the water. “Like, being a grown-up. Having a kid depend on you. Being mature.”
“Well, I am pushing forty.” Nick gave him an appraising glance. “You are too.”
“Yeah, but I’m pushing a queer forty, which is like a straight twenty-six,” Eli quipped. “I didn’t come into my own until, like, five years ago. And even then, I still feel like I’m just pretending to know what I’m doing all the time.”
“Oh, I promise you, I feel like I’m faking it pretty much every day.” Nick dragged a hand through his thick black hair. “All adults are, even us straight ones. I bet our parents were just pretending like they knew what they were doing when we were kids.”
“Really?” Eli snorted. “That’s comforting.” He turned to look over his shoulder. His parents were seated at their table with all of their attention on a huge platter of the Manatee’s iconic pineapple pulled-pork nachos. As he watched, his mom fussed with a speck of salsa that had landed on Wendall’s shirt collar, swiping at it with her napkin. They were too far away for their conversation to be heard, but Eli could fill in the blanks: Cora complaining about Wendall being a messy eater, Wendall protesting. He loved his folks, he did, but they sure were a certain way.
His gaze must have said something that Nick picked up on, because he said, “If you’re ever feeling trapped at your parents’ place, I can give you a ride somewhere, get you out of the house.”
Eli turned back to him. “Really? You’d do that?”
“Yeah.” Nick scratched his ear. “It’s not a big deal. I like to go down to the beach in the mornings sometimes. Get a quick jog in before the day starts.”
“Jogging? You?” Eli couldn’t help but sound incredulous. Back when they were on the high school swim team, their least-favorite thing was the coach’s once-a-season foray into running laps around campus. “What happened to ‘swimming is the only exercise you need’?”
“That’s still true.” Nick bobbed his head. “But swimming is a whole thing; you need a pool and at least two hours for the changing and the workout and the showering and the drying off. After Zoe was born, a quick run was the best I could do.” His lips twisted to one side. “Though I haven’t made the time lately even for that, if I’m honest.”
Eli grimaced. “I can’t ask you to go out of your way like that.”
“No, really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’d give me a reason to get back in the habit.” Nick stopped in the middle of the dock and turned to face him, so of course Eli had to stop too. “I’m not offering to be polite, okay? I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” A glimmer of good humor reached his eyes. “I’m not like those posers you hang around with in New York City.”
They shared a laugh, and Eli ducked his head so his wide smile was directed at his shoes and not his very straight ex-boyfriend. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this might be flirting. It had been a long time since he’d flirted with anyone.
“All right,” he finally said once the giggle fit passed. “I’d really appreciate a ride to the beach. I’ll even join you on that jog, if you don’t mind me slowing you down.” Eli’s workout schedule had been sporadic at best lately. He didn’t harbor any delusions about his land speed.
“I won’t mind at all,” Nick said. “Pick you up tomorrow at, say, seven?”
“In the morning?” Then, because he didn’t want to lose his only chance to get out of the house without his parents, he hooked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans and feigned a nonchalant stance. “I mean, cool. That works.”
A subtle smugness worked its way into Nick’s smile. “Your folks still live in the house on Pineapple Top?”
“Yep, just around the bend.”
“I live out past Palmetto, near the canal. Not far at all.”
Eli nodded, mentally shaking off the dusty map of his hometown. Palmetto, near the canal. Their bus had gone along that route back in elementary school. A whiplash memory: their assigned bench seat, fifth on the right. Nick at seven years old, knees scraped up from dodgeball, showing Eli the bruise on his knobby elbow. It really hurts, but I didn’t cry.
Eli came back to the present with a slow exhale. “Good. That all sounds good.”
A small smile spread across Nick’s face. “Okay, then. See you at seven. Make sure to bring a bottle of—oh.” His head whipped to the side as he squinted at the end of the dock. “Excuse me.”
Before Eli could even blink, Nick was gone. Like, he moved so fast he could have left a Nick-shaped dust cloud in his wake à la Wile E. Coyote. He barreled toward the end of the dock, his boat shoes slapping on the old wood. In the distance, Eli could see that Zoe had somehow climbed atop one of the pilings and was executing a dizzying series of pirouettes. Then Zoe’s feet tangled and she began to falter, almost in slow motion. Eli’s heart was in his throat: the kid was either going to fall several feet onto the dock, or she was going to fall much farther into the water. And who knew how rocky it was beneath the surface.
As Eli watched in horror, Zoe tripped off the piling—and right into Nick’s arms.
“Whee!” Zoe squealed.
Nick set her on her feet. “Please don’t climb up there, all right?” he said, but she was already scampering away to examine a bug that was inching along the dock. Nick put his hands on his hips and heaved a sigh, then glanced back at Eli.
Eli stood frozen in place with a hand pressed over his mouth in the gayest stance possible. He was pretty sure he’d just had a heart attack. Maybe a series of heart attacks. He’d witnessed Nick Wu transform into some kind of Super Dad with real swooping rescue action.
“What was I saying?” Nick swept a lock of hair off his forehead, calling down the dock to Eli. “Right. Bring a bottle of water.”
The hand fell away from Eli’s gaping mouth. “Seriously? You snatched your daughter out of thin air and all you’ve got to say is remember to stay hydrated?”
Nick gave a self-conscious roll of his shoulders, ambling back toward him. “I guess I’ve developed a sort of sixth sense when Zoe’s getting into trouble.” He cleared his throat, then gave Zoe another cautious glance. She was still enamored with the beetle. “Part of the job.”
Eli studied Nick’s face as he watched his kid play a few yards away. There was worry in that gaze, but also pride, and fondness, and a bunch of stuff that Eli couldn’t even identify. It made his whole face—already handsome—soften into something wonderfully tender.
Eli straightened with a jolt.
Oh no. Nick hadn’t just grown up. He wasn’t just a father. He was a Hot Dad.
Competent, nurturing… and hot. So hot. And still so painfully straight.
“Eli?” Nick’s hand waved in front of his face. “You okay?”
He snapped back to himself. No more thinking about his former childhood friend or whatever in that context. At least not in public. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. Totally fine.”
Nick looked unconvinced, and pointed to the restaurant’s deck. “I was saying, your folks are trying to get your attention.”
Eli spotted his mom and dad waving at him. Cora pointed at her menu and mouthed time to order.
“Right, yeah. I should get going,” Eli said. “And I guess you—”
“Should get back to work.” Nick walked over to where Zoe was crouched on the dock and picked her up like she was a sack of potatoes. Zoe screamed with laughter. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” Eli watched Nick head back inside with Zoe squirming under his arm. His shoulders looked so broad under his plain buttondown. So capable.
And Eli was so thoroughly screwed.
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