Paper Hearts Read online

“You do realize it’s Friday.” Jordan poured wine for each of them.

  Sam delivered their plates and sat beside Jordan. “Is it really? Well crap. It’s been a long week.” He raised his glass. “The good part of it being a long week is that it’s over. Here’s to a good weekend of good company, good food, and good riddance to the rubbish of the week.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Jordan happily clinked his glass against Sam’s. He knew Sam had been dealing with some ugly fan backlash to the firing of an actor on one of his shows. The backlash came from a small minority of fans, but those fans were loud and they would stop at nothing to get their way.

  “The studio had to be evacuated again today,” Sam groaned. “Can you believe it? These aren’t hoaxes, either. They’ve sent three bombs to the studio this week, saying we ‘forced them’ to do it by getting rid of their favorite actor.” He made a face. “Would you believe my boss doesn’t want us to involve the police? He thinks it looks bad for us to be pressing charges against fans, even fans who cross lines.”

  Jordan recoiled. “Uh, does he realize that when the bomb squad gets involved, he doesn’t get a choice anymore? The bomb squad is the police.”

  “I know, right? Fortunately, I’ll leave it to the legal department to explain that to him. That’s what they’re for, am I right?” He grinned wickedly. “Anyway, hopefully the police will put a stop to it and we’ll all be a lot safer soon.” He cut into his steak. “So how was your week?”

  Jordan shrugged. “Nothing so dramatic as the bomb squad getting into it. An angry father getting denied custody of his kids pulled a gun in the courtroom on Wednesday—”

  Sam paled visibly. “Oh my God. I saw that headline go by, but there weren’t any details. That was your case?”

  Jordan nodded and washed down his steak with a sip of wine. “Yeah. He killed any chance of appeal by taking a potshot at the judge and at our side of the courtroom. He got tackled by his own lawyer, who used to be a Green Beret before he decided to become a divorce attorney.”

  “Thank God.” Sam’s shoulders sagged with visible relief. “You know that lawyer?”

  “I dated that lawyer,” Jordan laughed. “It didn’t work out, obviously, but yeah. The guy now doesn’t only not get custody, he doesn’t get visitation either—he’s going to jail. The judge obviously denied him bail.” He smirked and took another sip of his wine. “I don’t know how he got the gun into the courthouse. There are metal detectors and stuff. Any security system can be gotten around, though, so whatever. All’s well that ends well and at least his kids weren’t in the room to see it.”

  Sam shuddered and looked away. “I don’t know. That whole scene is a whole lot scarier than you make it sound. I mean some guy was shooting at you, Jordan. That’s not an everyday courtroom occurrence, not even for a divorce lawyer.” He took a deep breath and settled himself into his seat. The smile breaking over his face looked plastered on, but Jordan didn’t put any particular meaning onto it. After all, plenty of people put their best faces onto a bad situation. Jordan himself had done a lot of faking it until he made it on Wednesday.

  “So,” Sam continued, brightly. “Thanksgiving is next week, and so starts the annual holiday rush. Not that they haven’t had Christmas crap in the stores since August.”

  Jordan grinned and took another bite of his dinner. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes it seems a little cheap—is the holiday really all that special when you’ve had Christmas trees up your nose since the All-Star Break? But I keep hoping that means they’ll put Valentine ‘s Day stuff out early, but they always disappoint.” He exaggerated his sigh and shook his head ruefully.

  Sam scoffed. “Lord. If they’d just get rid of Valentine’s Day altogether the whole world would be better off. It’s got to be the single fakest holiday, right? I mean how exactly do we get a holiday for fake romance out of an early Christian bishop who almost certainly had no part in any such thing.”

  Jordan put his fork and knife down. He grabbed his glass, but carefully. He didn’t want to seem like he was pitching a hissy fit. “Valentine’s Day isn’t fake. I’m sure there are some people who are completely fake about it, and some of the merchandise goes beyond the label of good taste. But I don’t think there’s anything fake or even wrong with a holiday dedicated to celebrating love and romance.”

  Sam burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Jordan, you’re a divorce lawyer. Would you listen to yourself? You of all people know how ridiculous everything you just said is. All you do all day is watch people tear themselves apart. How can you even spout that stuff with a straight face?”

  Jordan’s hand and feet felt cold. “I can ‘spout’ it because it’s true. Love is an actual thing, Sam. I’m sorry to hear you don’t believe in it.”

  “Do you believe in Santa Claus too?” Sam took a big gulp from his wine glass. “I mean yes, love is real, and there are plenty of different ways to love a person. But what you’re talking about isn’t love, it’s infatuation. It’s building up an absurd and unreal expectation that only comes around and hurts people in the end. It’s a thousand times better to just enjoy people while you’re together, and not sit there and make plans, then to fuss and fret and expect you’ll still be the same people months or years from now. Come on, Jordan. If you have to sit there and build up one night to being the end-all, be-all of a relationship, don’t you think the relationship probably isn’t much to begin with?”

  Jordan pursed his lips. He could hear his pulse, thundering in his ear. He didn’t know if he was angry, or scared, or ashamed. Maybe it was a combination of all three that had him wanting to run from the room, but good lawyers didn’t run from a fight. “I think the opportunity to celebrate your relationship is something people who love each other should probably welcome. Maybe if the people in question lived out in the middle of the forest of out in never-never land or someplace, where they had low-stress jobs and easy lives and whatever, it would be one thing.

  “I don’t know anyone, of any gender or orientation, whose life is uncomplicated. Everyone is pulled in a thousand different directions on any given day, and there is exactly one day out of the entire year when people’s clients, bosses, subordinates, and other constituents will generally give us the leeway to focus on our partners. It’s not somehow noble or superior to ignore that. It shows a callous disregard for our partners and our relationships to say, ‘No, my clients are more important,’ or, ‘No, this other thing is more important.’ It sends a message to the people we’re with, if we can’t put them first for one damned day.”

  Sam wrinkled his nose. “Maybe we shouldn’t have set the expectation with our partners that we would do that to begin with. You told me, the first time we had sex, that you didn’t believe in hiding or holding back. I believe in letting my partners know where they stand in my life—not on one day set aside for that sort of thing, but all the time, every day. They shouldn’t have to wait until a crappy day in the middle of February when no one wants to go outside anyway to find out how I feel, just so some company can make a pile of cash from me.”

  “It’s not about spending money.” Jordan took a swig from his wine. It gave him a moment to think. “You could have a fantastic Valentine’s Day without spending a dime. It’s not about an ostentatious show, it’s about taking the time to care for your loved one.” He took another swig from his glass. “I take it you won’t be joining us in Jersey for Thanksgiving?”

  Sam blinked at the non sequitur. “Um…no? Sorry, I’m going to spend it with Dinesh and the kids.”

  Jordan bit his tongue on a retort. Pointing out that a family Thanksgiving would probably be too romantic for Sam would be unkind, considering his background. Jordan wasn’t sure he wanted to bring Sam home anyway, after this disagreement. He didn’t want to deal with his mom’s questions, when after meeting Sam he never showed up to anything again.

  * * * *

  Sam knew something was wrong when Jordan started getting twitchy about Valentine’s Day. Sam himself had
never been a big fan of the holiday, and he’d never given Jordan any reason to think he would be, but apparently Jordan had pretty strong views on the subject and Sam had trampled on all of them.

  Not that Jordan came right out and said so. He’d expressed himself well enough on the subject, but he hadn’t gone any further into it. He hadn’t stayed the night, either, even though they’d both gone into that night with every intention of Jordan sticking around. He’d helped clean up, because he was generous that way, but he hadn’t stayed to get dirty again.

  They didn’t text much during the week heading into Thanksgiving, either. Sam wrote it off as workload, for both of them. The work week was shorter, and so they both had to cram five days’ worth of work into three days. That was enough to make anyone lose track of a few texts here and there. If Sam was honest with himself, something he tried to be whenever he could, he didn’t reach out because he felt a little betrayed.

  Maybe it was stupid to feel any sense of betrayal just because his boyfriend got all wrapped up in Valentine’s Day. It was a stupid holiday, but it obviously meant a lot to Jordan. He’d be a fool to let someone like Jordan go because of a stupid holiday.

  At the same time, he’d come to appreciate Jordan because he believed they were so like-minded. They were both lifelong bachelors. Sure, it was nice to be with someone, but Sam had never felt the need to tie himself to someone in the long-term. He admitted he came closest with Jordan, but he knew better than to make promises or plans. Even though they hadn’t discussed it, he believed Jordan had felt the same way. Finding out he didn’t was like a stab in the back.

  He tried to push the thoughts away from his mind when he went to Thanksgiving dinner. The Mishras were facing their first Thanksgiving dinner without Ida, and Sam was happy to be there for them. He’d thought about inviting Jordan, but given the way things were with the divorce, he wanted to keep this holiday just for family right now. Besides, with whatever was going on in Jordan’s head, it was probably for the best if they took their holidays separately.

  Even though meeting Jordan was the one thing he was most thankful for this year.

  If Sam expected the Mishras to be adrift without Ida, he was sorely mistaken. Ida’s activity within the cult had made interaction with her children difficult for a while, and now that she was gone the kids seemed to have recovered their spirit and sunshine. They delighted in turkey, stuffing, and potatoes, while teasing each other and watching the parade on television. If they worried about having to return to Ida, they didn’t mention it.

  That right there was the problem, as far as Sam was concerned. Sure, romance was all grand and wonderful. But where had it gotten Ida and Dinesh? They’d been head over heels for each other, but it hadn’t kept Ida from losing her damn mind and now here was Dinesh, looking gaunt and exhausted as he struggled to care for three children on his own.

  Why would Jordan even want that?

  Once again, he pushed the thought of Jordan and his ridiculous fixation out of his mind, only for Dinesh to bring him up specifically when the kids had all gone to bed. “So how come you didn’t bring Jordan? I know the two of you have been getting attached, and the kids are just crazy about him ever since that apple picking thing.”

  Sam looked away, over toward the window. “He’s in New Jersey with his family. He invited me along, but I wanted to keep things as stable as possible for the kids.” It wasn’t the full story, not even half of it. It would have to be enough.

  Dinesh wasn’t buying it. His eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? That would have been amazing. You could have met his parents. It would have been the perfect opportunity, Sam.”

  Sam rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “Perfect opportunity for what, Dinesh? I like him a lot. I’m not going to marry the guy.”

  Dinesh’s eyes bulged, and his cheeks puffed up. “Okay there, you don’t want to wait and see how things turn out? You’ve already decided to split up with him?”

  Sam stood up and walked over to the window. The whole room felt too hot, to small. “I didn’t say that. I said I wasn’t going to marry him. Have you ever, in all the years we’ve known each other, ever heard me say I wanted to get married?”

  “Well, no, but I mean you’re in your thirties, you’ve got a guy you get along with so well it’s almost gross, and I guess I just can’t understand why you wouldn’t want to commit to him. It’s not like you’re polyamorous. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you’ve always been monogamous. Why wouldn’t you want to follow the natural progression here? Move in together, see how well that works, and then get married. Spend the rest of your lives together.”

  “We’ve been together since August. Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun?” Sam gritted his teeth. What was it with everyone wanting a commitment these days, anyway? “And I respect that it seems natural to you, man, but look what happened with you and my sister. You were convinced you were going to be together forever, and then she went off and joined a weird cult. Don’t you regret it?”

  Dinesh sighed. Sam still wasn’t looking at him, but he could hear the way his best friend shifted in his seat. “Am I thrilled about the way things turned out? No, of course not. I’m angry, and I’m sad. I think the kids are losing out, and I think anyone who brings children into the world should put them first in any decision they make. Ida didn’t do that—but people who join cults have gotten caught up in something. I’m trying not to be judgmental. I left because I had to put the kids first. I’m sad, because I lost the love of my life.

  “I don’t regret committing to Ida. I don’t feel even a little bit chagrinned about falling in love with her, or about cementing our love with a formal and legal document. The day we got married is still the happiest day of my life. I still look back at our wedding portrait, even though it’s not out, and I smile. I still remember all the hope we had for the future, and all the joy we took in each other. I wouldn’t give that up for the world, even if I knew how it was going to turn out.”

  Dinesh cleared his throat, and Sam turned around. Dinesh was wiping a tear away. Sam felt like a heel. He’d made his best friend cry.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He bit his lip and looked down.

  “Hey, I’m the one who brought it up.” Dinesh chuckled. “Come on, let’s watch some football and relax. It’s a holiday. We’re still family, whatever’s going on out there. There’s some good beer in the fridge, why not grab it?”

  Sam could do that without much trouble. He brought beers back into the living room and watched the game with his brother-in-law. They stopped discussing the benefits of marriage and commitment, but Sam couldn’t quite erase the memory of the discussion from his head.

  He texted Jordan the next day, after he got home. We should get together and talk things out. Are you around tomorrow?

  He still didn’t know if Jordan was in town or in New Jersey, but Jordan replied five minutes later. Yeah. I’ll be there. What time is good for you?

  Say, noon? Noon would let Sam say his piece, and hopefully they would have the rest of the day and Sunday to fool around and go hang out. Maybe they could do some window shopping on Fifth Ave. It would be a lot more fun after Black Friday.

  Okay. I’ll be over then.

  Sam had coffee ready for both of them by noon on Saturday when Jordan showed up. He had pie, too, leftovers from Thanksgiving. Jordan looked tired when he got there, and Sam gave him a hug. When Jordan stiffened in his arms, instead of melting into his touch, he understood it hadn’t been travel causing his fatigue.

  “So how was your family?” he asked, retreating to the breakfast bar.

  Jordan didn’t sit down. He did take a mug of coffee, though. “They’re good. Parents, you know. They’re pretty normal for parents.” He took a deep breath. The shadows around his eyes seemed to deepen by the second. “So. You, uh, you wanted to talk.”

  Sam swallowed. For one brief, horrifying second, he regretted sending that text. He forced the reg
ret back into its locker and spun the lock. Sam Sheehan didn’t do regrets. When he’d been younger, he hadn’t had the luxury. Now he didn’t have room for regret. “So yeah. I think we’re coming at this whole…thing…from a couple of different angles. And I think we need to just touch base and make sure we’re both looking at things the right way, you know, understanding where each other is coming from and that we’re both working toward the same thing. I don’t want either one of us to wind up feeling disappointed, you know?”

  “Hm.” Jordan didn’t say anything else. He took a gulp from his coffee and looked at Sam with a perfectly neutral face. It was the same face the guys from Legal gave him when Sam proposed something that gave them fits.

  Sam plowed ahead, just as he would have with the guys from the Legal department. “So, the last time we saw each other we spoke about Valentine’s Day, and it seemed to me that you were speaking in the context of a long-term commitment or partnership. And I feel like I need to correct the record. I’ve tried to be pretty upfront about this, but I apologize if I’ve given the impression that I’m here for that. I’m not the kind of guy who thinks about that sort of thing.”

  “I see.” Jordan’s expression didn’t change. He put his coffee down and folded his hands together on top of the counter.

  Sam’s collar felt too tight all of a sudden. He hadn’t planned to say more than that, but Jordan’s silence almost demanded explanation. “I like what we have now. I like that there aren’t any demands or expectations on it. We’re together because we want to be, because we’ve chosen to be. And when the time comes that we no longer want to be, we’ll walk away perfectly content with the time we had. We don’t need the fuss, the hassle, or frankly the deception of trying to make promises or declarations or any of that.”

  Jordan pursed his lips. “Okay. Well, I suppose that’s good to know. Most people pursuing monogamous romantic—I’m sorry, I know that’s not a word you like—sexual relationships intend for that relationship to evolve and grow over time. If I’m understanding you correctly, what you seem to prefer is more of a monogamous friends-with-benefits situation.”