I shrugged. “He’s only thirteen. He’ll change his mind a few times before he knows what he wants.”
“Probably. But someone like Trent could convince him to take a chance on the arts. He’s a good teacher. Probably better with kids than he is at being a bodyguard.” She chuckled when I narrowed my eyes. “Are you keeping him? I know it’s not my business, but I approve…if you care.”
“Hmm. Are you getting married again soon?” I countered teasingly.
Rita glanced over at her date-slash-serious-boyfriend-she’d-been-with-for-two-years. “I don’t know about soon, but…eventually. Maybe. I’ve told Oliver not to worry about it. He’ll be the first to know. I think Trent has softened him up to the idea of you or I having a significant other again, don’t you think?”
I was saved from responding when Chester shot between my legs. I hopped out of the way and bumped into Trent, who pulled me aside as Gray scooped his dog into his arms and cradled him like a baby. The three of them cooed at the renegade pup while I marveled at the weirdness of hanging out at a barbecue with three lovers—two past, one present.
Okay, maybe weird was the wrong word. But it was surreal.
And if I were prone to philosophical self-psychoanalysis, it might occur to me that they each marked three distinct phases of my life. Gray was my beginning. Rita represented my shaky midthirties identity crisis. And Trent was…now. He was solid and good, but unlike Gray and Rita, who I knew would always be part of my life, I was unsure of us.
I was mostly unsure of me.
I smiled awkwardly and gestured to the dog. “He’s a little menace.”
Gray kissed Chester’s nose. “He is indeed. Aren’t you, little schnookums?”
“Ew. Gag me with a fucking spoon. Are you really baby-talking to your dog? He’s smarter than that, Gray. He’s thinking you’re a malleable pushover who will deliver all the treats,” I warned.
“And he is correct,” Gray pronounced. “You should get a dog.”
I pointed at my chest. “Me? Who would take care of it? I have houseplants who beg for a new living situation. I couldn’t do that to an animal. What if I forgot to feed it or walk it or clean up after it?”
“Maybe start with a hermit crab.” Rita chuckled and stood on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “Anyone want a drink?”
“I’ll come with you. I need to mix the salads.” Gray handed Chester to me and at the last second shook his head. “No, he doesn’t water his plants, Ches. Better stick with Daddy.”
I scowled after Gray in mock irritation. “He’s changed.”
Trent snickered. “He’s cool. I figured he would be, but I was prepared to be intimidated.”
“Gray intimidates me sometimes,” I admitted. “But he also plays video games and acts like an idiot with his dog, so it all comes out in the wash. I’m glad you came today. I know Oliver insisted, but—”
“I’m glad he did.”
Trent set his hand on my shoulder in what might have been construed as possessive. Like a lazy, “He’s mine” gesture. I liked it.
I liked the idea of us fitting…together and with family and friends.
But I wasn’t sure I knew how to be part of a couple for any length of time anymore. It was hard work and when I messed up, someone I loved got hurt and—
Whoa. I didn’t love Trent.
I liked him.
A lot.
That was all.
And now I needed a change of scenery to shake off the L-word vibe.
“I’m going to grab a beer. Want another?”
“Sure. I’ll come with you. I’m dying to get a better look at this house.” Trent peered over my shoulder and into the house. The disappearing wall of windows had been retracted to showcase the full indoor-outdoor living effect. “It looks like something straight out of Architectural Digest.”
“It is. C’mon.”
I gave Trent a quick tour of the formal living area, music room, and the music library, pausing every so often to let him ooh and ahh over the amazing views and priceless art. My collection was equally impressive, but Gray’s home felt…warmer than mine. It made the art seem more accessible while parts of my house felt like a wing of a museum.
Which…I’d apparently said out loud.
“Yeah, your place is a little cold. Not in a bad way. It just looks like you need more personal touches. Like casual pics.” Trent wandered to the wall of tastefully framed photos of family and friends in the hallway near the entrance. “You have a ton in your office, but not all that many at home. Who’s this?”
I cocked my head and studied the photo of an older couple. “Gray’s parents.”
“They must have spent a lot of time with Charlie. They’re in a lot of these.”
“They did. They were good to him.”
“Hmm. Is this you?” He pointed at a photo of me holding a drink in one hand, smiling for the camera as if I’d just won the lottery.