Terrible for Gustave because, though he was the insensitive ying to Raf’s empathetic yang, he treasured his brother’s vulnerability, felt it was something he should protect, and so when it was not protected, he knew he had failed, and in his own resilient way, he was every bit as self-critical as his brother.

They had a row back in high school (over a girl) that I swear was more painful to go through than my divorce.  That bad.  Eyes were blackened, young hearts broken.  They hadn’t spoken to each other for nearly a month.

When they’d at last reconciled, we’d all been unutterably relieved.

They worked well as a team, and suffice it to say, anything else was unthinkable.

There were a tense few minutes, when I initially introduced Gustave, the younger, more volatile of my boys, to Heath, but all things considered, it was to be expected.

Me even having a love life was going to be an adjustment for them, and the reality of it in the form of a man like Heath, well, I just assumed that would not go smoothly right away.  I knew it would take time.

That being said, I could tell Raf had spoken to him, convinced him to behave, even if it was just with cool civility.

I’d take it.

I put the flowers in vases and set them as centerpieces along the middle of my large dining room table.

Without having to be asked, Raf began to set out plates and napkins, while Gus put out the silverware.

I hadn’t raised my boys to be idle little princes.  They always pitched in.  They’d moved out of my house knowing how to take care of themselves, and while Raf liked to tease his brother by announcing to me that Gus had girls doing his laundry for him at his dorm, I’d made sure he knew how to do it himself from the time he was thirteen.

Like tonight, for instance.  Since Heath and I had cooked, it was no question that the boys would be in charge of cleanup.  This was how I was raised and a system I’d passed on to them, because it worked perfectly.

My father would perhaps have cringed, but for convenience sake, we ate buffet style, filling up our plates in the kitchen and carrying them back to the dining room.

Clearly thinking the same thing, Raf smirked and muttered, “Grand-pere would have a fit,” as he carried his loaded plate out of the kitchen.

I entered the dining room last, but all of the men were still standing behind their chairs, politely waiting for me to sit first.

I felt near to bursting as I took them all in.  I couldn’t help feeling more than a twinge of pride at being surrounded by such magnificent men.

I said a quick prayer that they all wouldn’t kill each other and took my seat.

CHAPTER TWENTY

No fists flew.  No dishes were thrown.  No profanity was spewed.

All in all, I counted the evening a victory.

Of course it wasn’t perfect.  Gustave and Heath did not meet and hit it off.  They didn’t bump fists, talk about sports and become best friends, but I’d known they wouldn’t.

For the most part, Rafael and I kept the conversation going, light and easy.  Heath and Gustave were largely silent, answering questions when asked, but in general just eating in silence.  This, also, was how I’d known it would go.

Heath loved the pot pie; going by the way he cleared his plate and went back for seconds.

Gustave was not far behind him.

I was fairly preening, knowing that at least with my cooking I’d done well tonight.

We hit a slight bump in the road when Raf asked Heath in a friendly way, “What was it that you do for a living again?”

“I work in security,” was Heath’s typical vague answer.

Gustave took exception, instantly and obviously.

He set down his fork, eyes boring into Heath.  “What does that even mean?  What do you do in security?”

Heath was unfazed.  “Lots of things, most of them confidential for the sake of my clients.”

Raf, ever the peacemaker, promptly changed the subject to something else.

Another little bump occurred some time later when Gustave burst out with another question, delivered with a frustrated tone.  “How old are you, anyway?  And how did you meet my mother?”

Heath finished chewing his mouthful of food.  “I’m twenty-five, and I met her at the grocery store.”

“Are you usually into older women?”

“Gus!  Rude!” Raf’s voice barked, uncharacteristically sharp.  His brother had managed to offend him.

“Sorry,” Gustave muttered, and I could tell by the dark flush to his cheeks and the way his eyes darted to me that he was instantly remorseful of the rude remark.  I even knew why.

He’d only just realized that it was insulting to more than just Heath.

“No,” Heath drawled, his amused eyes swinging to mine.  “To be honest, I didn’t realize our age difference was quite so dramatic when we met, but I didn’t care when I did find out.  Have you seen your mom?”

It was my turn to bark out sharply, “Heath!”

The last thing he needed to do was egg them on, but thank God my sons just seemed to find his remark amusing.

“Do you live around here?” Raf asked, again trying to turn the conversation to something innocuous and friendly.

It was like my children had decided to approach the dinner with a good cop/bad cop dynamic.

“Not far,” Heath replied easily.  “I rent a place a short walk from here.  I’m in town on a job that’s turned out to be longer term than I’d expected.”