The understanding and compassion in his gaze were too sweet, too much. Jax pressed forward and kissed him, deep and quiet as the night. Slowly, Ari guided him back to bed, not breaking the kiss until they settled back on the mattress. They rolled into each other and arranged their heads on the same pillow. They kissed some more, but it never turned heated. Not that Jax wanted it to.
He fell back to sleep between one kiss and the next, Ari’s arm around him grounding him as he drifted away.
Chapter Twelve
ARI PUTthe last touches on his recording of the latest song—working title “Golden Ratio”—sent it off to Noella, and stretched. He hated the computer side of composing.
A glance at the clock told him it was almost noon. Afra would be there any minute.
He contemplated the contents of his fridge and wondered if Afra would want a beer. It seemed like a beer kind of lunch.
Afra arrived with sushi and headed straight for the couch and coffee table. She said yes to the beer.
“What happened?” she asked once she was comfortably curled up with food in her lap and her drink within reach.
“They set me up. They brought over this doctor Baba knows.”
“They didn’t!” Afra’s eyebrows flew up.
“They did.” He stabbed at a tuna roll. “It was awful. They invited his parents too. And then everyone sat around and pretended like both sets of parents weren’t trying to sell us to each other.”
“Oh my God.” She pressed a hand to her cheek and shook her head. “Tell me he wasn’t terrible.”
Ari groaned. “No, at least he wasn’t that. I might have actually been interested if I’d met him elsewhere and, you know, two months ago.”
Afra smiled. “Yes, there isthat.”
“He was pretty understanding about that too.” He shoved the tuna roll into his mouth and chewed.
Afra sipped her beer and watched him. “What did they think would happen?”
“I don’t know,” Ari did not wail. “It’s not like I’d ever want to date some guy they brought home for me, even if Jax weren’t an issue. And a doctor? Seriously? It’s not like we’d have time to see each other. Our careers are totally incompatible.”
“True.” Afra shook her head. “Considering you never even liked it when someone else picked your ice cream flavor for you, I’m not sure why they thought you’d let them pick your boyfriend.”
Ari groaned and chewed another bite aggressively. “Then, when I told them how, how… not cool the whole thing was, I got another lecture about being old and single.” He pulled a face. The tune was wearing thin. Afra was lucky to have largely avoided that lecture, since she met Ben in her midtwenties, but she’d had to endure years of “So, grandchildren?” instead. He wasn’t sure he’d trade.
“Like most people aren’t getting married in their thirties these days.”
“Right? But even if they weren’t, even if I wanted to stay single for the rest of my days, that’s up to me.”
“Hear, hear,” Afra cheered and lifted her glass.
Ari’s mouth turned down, and he looked at his plate of rice and fish. “She said I needed to get a husband so I’d stop touring.”
Afra sat up straighter. “She did not.”
“Apparently all these years I’ve just been… killing time, waiting for a doctor to make me his househusband.”
“Ari, you know I’m sure she didn’t—” Ari gave her a look. “Okay, maybe she did mean it about the touring, but she probably doesn’t expect you to never play or work again. Just….” Afra shrugged.
Ari nodded. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand that his parents were getting older and worrying about how much time they had left to see Ari happy, but it didn’t make the judgment any easier to deal with. He’d wanted to tell Jax about it, but he didn’t want to take Jax’s moment, to make him feel overrun. And explaining why his parents thought he was single would take more than a few lines of explanation. Despite Jax’s issues with his mother, Ari wasn’t sure Jax would understand how intense his parents could be. It wouldn’t be out of character for them to show up at the bar to meet Jax should Ari fail to introduce him soon enough.
“I don’t know why I’m trying to defend them,” Afra huffed. “I know they love us, but you can’t just expect your kids to want what you want, to fit into the boxes you give them. That’s not how kids work—it’s not how people work!” She took an agitated gulp of beer. “And the more you push them to fill those roles, the more they either bend and contort themselves to fit in and lie and make themselves unhappy, or the more they rebel and—” She pressed a hand over her eyes.
When she didn’t continue, Ari prompted gently, “Afra?”
“Or the more they do both—rebel just for the sake of having something of their own, and then when they hit trouble, they hide the consequences and lie just to avoid disappointing my parents.” Her mouth trembled, and Ari felt on the edge of something important.
