Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(44)

Making him ask permission to get up and leave at the end of their now-daily counseling sessions.

Sometimes making him wait to do that, if Doyle didn’t feel they were done.

And Mevi adapted to it as if he knew this was how it should be, which in some ways terrified Doyle.

Because it did feel that was exactly how it should be.

At least Doyle had come up with the perfect gift for him. So when he told Mevi to dress in slacks and a button-up shirt for dinner that night, he didn’t even get a question about it, even though from wishing him happy birthday that morning Mevi had to suspect this was a birthday dinner.

And while Mevi was showering, Doyle tucked the present in the trunk of the car. It’d arrived from Amazon and since it’d been for Doyle, Mevi hadn’t even asked what it was, much less opened it.

On the drive to the restaurant, Doyle kept finding himself wanting to reach over and hold hands with him and knew he couldn’t do that.

He’d specifically requested a corner table, or along the wall, with a view of the water, if possible. He wanted something inconspicuous, and they obliged by putting them at a booth at one end with a nice view. Doyle sat with his back to the water, wanting the birthday boy to have the view.

And while they were waiting for their drink order to arrive, Doyle leaned in. “I’ll be right back.” He tapped the table with his finger. “Don’t get up, do not leave. Understand?”

Mevi nodded, smiling. “Yes, sir.”

He’d done that more and more, too, the “yes, sir” answers. The lower-case s obvious, but still tugging on Doyle’s heart just the same.

Doyle hurried down to the car and got the package, bringing it back up and holding it behind him as he returned to the table.

Mevi didn’t look like he’d so much as moved.

Doyle walked up from behind him. “Close your eyes.”

Mevi did.

He sat the wrapped box in front of Mevi before retaking his seat. “Open.”

He did, nearly making Doyle cry when he started blinking back tears.

“Happy birthday,” Doyle said. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you!” He seemed hesitant to open it.

“You can open it.”

He stared at it, then met Doyle’s gaze. “Do you know how long it’s been since I got a birthday present? I mean, from someone I’m close to?”

Doyle shook his head.

“Since I was a kid. We decided early on with the band we don’t exchange gifts every year. We get together and do a group donation to their favorite charity, and on Christmas we do a band donation to a charity and play for them for a fundraiser.” He started to reach for it and hesitated. “Can you take a picture for me, please?”

Doyle was struggled not to cry for the poor guy. “Sure.” He pulled his phone out and got ready, snapping one before he started.

As he opened it, Doyle took pictures, capturing perfectly his tearful gasp when he saw the books inside.

“Oh, Doyle! Thank you!” He got up and rounded the table, hugging him, before retaking his seat.

All the while, brushing away tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Doyle had bought him the print versions of the Ron Chernow book Hamilton was inspired by, Hamilton: The Revolution, by Lin-Manuel Miranda, which was a behind-the-scenes look at the production, and several books of sheet music from the production.

“I hope the music books are okay. I know how much you really loved it.”

“This is great, thank you.” He blinked away tears, smiling. “Really. I’m not kidding. This is awesome.”

Doyle reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You’ve worked hard. I wanted to get you something that might mean something to you. I want you to be able to remember how hard you’ve worked. You should be proud of it.”

He nodded, smiling. “My own mom didn’t call me. Clark checked my mail and said no cards, either.” His smile faded. “Not that I expected any. I call her on Mother’s Day and her birthday and Christmas. I send her a check every year before her property taxes and homeowners insurance is due. I paid off the house when Dad died. I guess I’ll never be the son she wanted.”

He stroked the books and took a deep breath. “Thank you for this, Doyle. I know I was kind of bitchy at the beginning, but honestly, I think you’ve saved my life.”

He met Doyle’s gaze. “I know you’re right. I would have eventually started drinking again. But even though I sometimes crave it, lately? No. I get a craving and think about what you said. That I have a hundred percent survival track record so far, and worse days than that. So I can get through it.”

“I’m very proud of you for that. It takes a lot to admit that.”

“I started researching twelve-step stuff again. It was the religion part I always had a problem with. My parents went to a ‘gays are bad’ church, so I didn’t want any part of that. But now I can see what you meant about using what I need and ignoring the rest. I’m going to need to make amends to Bonnie and the others. Especially Bonnie.”

“Be prepared for her to maybe not accept your apology.”

“I know.” Another deep breath before he set the box on the seat next to him. “If you’d told me a couple of months ago that I’d actually be enjoying life again, I’d have decked you and called you a liar.”