Better Than Home: Better Than Good Novella

“I will,” I replied softly.

James paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Just remind Aaron that it’s LA, man. Have you seen Hughes’ new house in Brentwood?”

“I saw the pool.”

“Sick, right? Trust me, you’ll want to sell your place and relocate in a hot second. The pool, the view, the weather. Trey’s husband is happy, and their kids love it.” He squeezed my shoulder and opened the door. “I bet you would too.”

I stared at the closed door for a long moment.

Ground floor, more money…another move.

Fuck.

Traffic was terrible on my way home and for once, I didn’t mind. I cranked the volume on a murder mystery podcast in an effort to keep my thoughts at bay. It didn’t work. My brain tripped over body parts hidden in a basement to wondering if any homes in LA had basements.

Weird. I know.

Then I started thinking about how much Aaron and I loved our basement. We hadn’t done a thing to it yet, but we had big ideas to make it into a game-slash-music-room or a bonus room. When I was growing up, ours was a kid space. We’d watched TV, played videogames, and even rode skateboards from one end to the other. What did kids do in California?

And why did I care? We didn’t have kids, for fuck’s sake.

By the time I pulled onto our street, I’d sufficiently freaked myself out. Were basements important or were they just spider-infested, creepy places to hide dead bodies? And had there ever been a dead body in ours? Had we checked?

Aaron’s car was parked smack in the middle of the driveway. I didn’t think there was enough room for mine, and I wasn’t in the mood to take a chance. So I parked at the curb and hiked my computer bag over my shoulder, absently admiring the newly planted flowers lining the path to the entry to the house.

We’d hired professionals to paint the outside a light shade of gray. The front door was cherry red and flanked by round topiaries in tall concrete planters. Aaron found a cool retro light shaped like a star to hang above the door to provide a funky, yet modern touch. His words, not mine. He’d been responsible for—well, everything. And it was gorgeous.

Now we just had to get the furniture out of storage and—what? Return it in a month or two to move across the country?

“Hello!”

I started, knocking my bag from my shoulder as I turned to the minivan idling behind me. I stepped forward to greet our neighbor. We’d been waving at each other for weeks and though this wasn’t exactly ideal timing, I couldn’t be rude.

I pasted a smile on my face as I approached the vehicle to greet the friendly-looking man with red hair and glasses. “Hi, there. I’m Matt.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Todd, and this is Jess.” He gestured to the pretty brunette on his right, then hooked his thumb behind him. “We’re on our way to a soccer game for Billy, our youngest. His sister, Kate, is his number one cheerleader.”

“Dad…”

Todd snickered. “Say hi, kids.”

I smiled. “That’s awesome. I love soccer.”

“You’ll have to come kick the ball around with us sometime.”

“Sounds like fun.” I inclined my chin toward the house. “We’ve been painting and doing basic updates, but we’re almost ready to move our furniture into the house. That should free up some time.”

“I love what your designer has done,” Jess piped in. “He’s very talented. I’ve been meaning to get his card.”

“You’ll have to get that info another time. We have to run or we’ll be late. Nice to meet you again, Matt. We’d love to have you and your wife over soon.” Todd flashed one last neighborly grin as he turned his steering wheel.

Jess stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on, honey. They have a baby on the way. When is your wife due?”

“Baby? Uh…no, I don’t have a baby. Or a wife. But my husband and I would love to get together sometime.”

Boom…mic drop.

The minivan jerked comically. To their credit, Todd and Jess recovered quickly.

Jess cocked her head, leaning farther over the console. “Oh. But the pregnant woman we saw here is…”

“A friend.”

“So you and the designer are…married?”

“That’s what he said, hon. And that’s cool.” Todd’s chuckle had a nervous edge, but he seemed sincere.

“Of course, it is. Of course,” she agreed emphatically. “We look forward to meeting your husband and welcoming you both to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks. We’d love that.”

I waved as I stepped aside, thinking that had gone reasonably well.

I supposed I could scratch my low-key worry that our neighbors were prejudiced assholes off my list. Good to know and something we’d never thought twice about in DC, where we’d literally lived in gay central. But this was suburbia, and this slice of heteronormative quiet left us exposed in a way I hadn’t experienced in the eight and a half years I’d been out.