“Okay,” said Danny, his eyes narrowed, as if skeptical of Grayson’s sudden good mood.
Grayson downed the rest of his drink. “You wanna dance some more?”
“Yes. And if you aren’t gonna go home with that hot guy, I might.”
Chapter Twelve
NOLAN HADtold Grayson only that he had some business in LA. Restoration had agreed not to film anything that weekend. So by the time Nolan boarded the plane, he had freed his schedule.
When he landed in LA, he mostly wanted to retreat to his hotel room and hide from the world, but he’d made dinner plans with an old friend. Stepping back into the life he’d essentially abandoned felt surreal. The restaurant his friend had picked in West Hollywood was just the sort of place he’d eaten at with Ricky all the time. Good food, on the noisy side, lots of beautiful male servers. He enjoyed dinner but was happy to get back to his hotel that night. He took a sleeping pill and passed out.
He was anxious, so he arrived twenty minutes early for his appointment at the adoption agency the next day but had been left to cool his heels in the waiting room until, five minutes after his apartment was supposed to start, a large, bald man with a kind smile called him back.
“I’m Clyde MacDonald,” the bald man said. “I oversee some of our accounts. I believe we spoke on the phone last year?”
“Yes, probably.” The name seemed familiar. “Should I have brought in my lawyer? I called him this morning and he said he’d be reachable by phone, just in case.”
“That’s good, but try to relax. This is more of an informal meeting.”
“Relax, sure. You have clearly never spent two years on an adoption waitlist.”
“True. But we genuinely want to help find the best homes for these children. You’ve already been through the vetting process, and I know your home situation is different now, but also that you can still offer a good home. If this isn’t your child, one is still out there.”
It had been Ricky’s idea to go through a private, pro-LGBT adoption agency, but it still seemed odd that, with so many homeless children in the world, this Clyde fellow was feeding Nolan platitudes about his future son or daughter being “out there” somewhere. But then again, this wasn’t a sure thing. The way it worked was that the birth mother got to choose the family who adopted her child. And there was apparently no shortage of affluent gay couples in California competing for those children.
Clyde led him into a conference room. A very young pregnant woman sat there. She was nineteen, max, which likely explained why she was here. She stood when Nolan walked in.
“Mr. Hamlin,” she said. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Angela.”
Nolan shook her hand and took stock. She had a strikingly pretty face with big eyes and plump lips and thick black hair that hung loose to the middle of her back.
“Nice to meet you, Angela.”
“I was sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Thank you.”
“And Mr. MacDonald said you moved to New York?”
“Yes, I—” Nolan sighed and decided to let go of the formality. “It was too hard to stay in LA after my husband died. I’m not really meant for SoCal anyway. I grew up in the New York area, so I decided to go back there. I live in a loft apartment in Chelsea.”
“I’ve never been to New York,” said Angela. “Is that a nice neighborhood?”
“Yes, it’s great. It’s in Manhattan. I’m working at the Restoration Channel now, and their offices are just a quick walk from my loft, which is part of the reason I bought it.”
Angela giggled nervously. “That is very different from my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right. I live with my mama in an apartment in Huntington Park. Do you know where that is?”
“I do, yes.” Nolan’s recollection was that it was a working-class, mostly Latinx neighborhood.
“Well, anyway. I was dating this guy, and I got pregnant, and he freaked out and left me. I can’t afford to keep the baby, but I want to make sure she’s well taken care of. Um. It’s a girl, by the way.”
A girl.“Oh, wow. Okay.”
“I was hoping you’d be willing to tell me a little about why you want to adopt her.”
