Clueless Cabot by André D. Michaels

Author:André D. Michaels [Michaels, Andre D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, friends to lovers, first time, hurt-comfort, gay, bi, family drama
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2019-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The Mothers

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND why you can’t just come over,” said Dr. McCrae.

Cabot was glad she couldn’t see his eyes roll over the phone. “Because Lloyd’s asleep, Mother.”

“Well, wake him up. Sunday dinner,” she sighed.

“Sorry. I forgot. It’s been…a busy week.”

“You forgot Sunday dinner.”

The first Sunday of the month, without fail, meant dinner at the McCrae household. Shirt and tie, vegetarian pot roast, mashed potatoes, and only the most exquisite wines. Inés McCrae maintained the tradition even after Cab’s father died. Sunday dinner was sacrosanct, a national holiday for four people. Neither Cabot nor his brothers ever missed it, except when they were away at college. Lloyd often joined them too.

“I didn’t forget Sunday dinner,” Cabot protested. “I forgot this was the first week.” Truth to tell, he did forget. Last night’s horrendous date with Malcolm, and the ER and the slashed tires, had driven everything else out of his head.

His mother’s tone brought it all back. “I don’t see the difference.”

“Well, Cameron and Chance are there, right? And Cam’s girlfriend. It’s not like it’s ruined.”

“It’s a family thing, Cabot.”

Cabot rubbed Stella’s belly. “Tell you what. Lloyd should be better next week. We can come then.”

Even over the phone, his mother’s voice felt like an icy draft. “I don’t see why you can’t leave him there now and come to dinner.”

“Because he’s hurt, Mother. And…”

“And…?”

Cabot refilled his wine glass. “And I don’t have a car.”

“What? What happened to your car?”

“Tires slashed,” Cabot said, cringing. Here it comes.

“Cabot Manuel McCrae! How many times have I told you to keep out of shady neighborhoods? Dios. If your father were alive—”

For the next twenty-three minutes (Cabot timed it), Inés McCrae barely inhaled as she detailed all the dangers that could befall a nice boy in a shady neighborhood, all the ways a car can be vandalized when you leave it unattended, all the ways Cabot disappointed her with his reckless ways, and all the ways she considered Lloyd and his family to be bad influences on Cabot and beneath his breeding.

This was his mother’s way of venting stress. When she calmed down, she’d apologize in a painstakingly worded and elegantly penned note on tasteful stationery, and Lloyd would be praised to high heaven for his good manners and good looks and good peasant stock (though not in those exact words), and all would be forgiven.

“Mother.” Cabot attempted to break in now and then, but she plowed right on. Finally, when she paused long enough for him to manage more than a single word, he said, “Mother. The pot roast.”

“Oh my goodness!” she cried out. “See what you’ve done? Fine. Next week. Don’t disappoint me, Cabot.”

“Love you, Mother.”

He set Stella on the floor and padded into the living room. Lloyd took the full dose of painkillers this morning, and they’d taken the predictable effect.

He stood above Lloyd’s sleeping form, gazing down at that stubbled, rugged face. A powerful urge to kiss Lloyd’s half-open mouth washed over him. He shuddered, fighting back the urge. His buddy wouldn’t welcome his advances.

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