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Although it was a lousy spot for self-reflection, I searched my memory for anytime in my life where another person brought out absolute joy in me. My family, because we’re so close. But with someone I found attractive and wanted more than one night with, I couldn’t say that I have. Not even my first kiss, or any sexual encounter since then.

Lust, the primal inclination I’ve experienced with my other partners, paled compared to the overwhelming exuberance of seeing the man who wiggled his way into my heart and, most impressive of all, my thoughts. I was an expert at compartmentalizing different aspects of my life. Work, sex, home and family. Never once had any the encounters I had interceded into my private life. Because the people I slept with understood where they stood with me, and I spelled it out before we even touched.

Nothing more than the one night together.

While the truth was I lusted after Ollie, there was also a tentative bond between us building. And rather than freaking out about the possibility of being tied down to one person, a little reminder that the person was Ollie I was falling for and my mind and body relaxed. I found myself intrigued with every aspect of our dynamic and wanted to rush. Take him to bed, get him so addicted to me he never wanted to leave me.

And that was the crux of the issue.

The heathen inside me craved the idea of debauching Ollie. As I claimed him with my mouth, hands, fuck, even the hope of him coming inside me, me inside of him, and it opened up a side of me I hadn’t suspected existed. The possessive asshole whose body throbbed with a sense of need as I imagined Ollie clinging to me as he sought to sate himself by using me for hispleasure preened whenever I remembered all the sexy moments we shared through a video screen.

But there was the overwhelming sense of protectiveness as well. I wanted to be the man he turned to when he had good news to share, the one he came to when sadness overwhelmed him and he needed a shoulder to cry on. It wasn’t something I’d ever wanted before, but to be there for Ollie would be a privilege, not a burden or an inconvenience I once believed happened between couples.

Maybe it’d been so long since I thought about how mama and papa were when they were together, I’d forgotten what love looked like. Although papa was busy with his medical practice, he still made time to come home every night and talk to us over dinner. And when Saturday night rolled around, they’d have someone they trusted babysit us as he took mama to dinner and to whatever they decided on for the rest of the night. They loved dancing; salsa or ballroom. It didn’t matter as long as they were together. They both loved comedy, so when dancing didn’t appeal to them, they often went downtown to the Comedy Store or the Laugh Factory for a show.

What I hadn’t remembered all these years later were the quiet moments of conversation, mama’s shoulder pressed against papa’s chest as they spoke in low tones, figuring out a problem or telling a story about an experience one of them had that day. The camaraderie they shared, even with seven kids and being pulled in a million directions, their marriage took priority.

Mama’s eyes dimmed, but the light never abated after his death. I realized it when it happened, but close to seven years later, I know for a fact I would not have been as strong. The pain was palpable in our family, all the more because mama lost her soulmate. But as a kid of nineteen, I remembered the pain of losing one of the two pillars of strength in my life and no thought extended to my other siblings.

Something in me recognized the younger version of myself avoided feelings or attachment of any kind after the sadness lifted bit by bit. It was easier to sleep with whomever I wanted and give myself an arbitrary timeline of one night rather than risk my feelings. But part of me, even back then, craved the type of relationship my parents had. Fear of losing myself was minor compared to the terror of exposing myself and allowing any part of me showing vulnerability in front of another person.

It wasn’t even my trepidation of someone knowing me inside and out, but the dread of losing them.

Another lightbulb went off as I made the correlation after all this time and my mouth tilted up in an ironic smile. Most men I knew in Hollywood, with both fame and money, lived alone. Hell, Kaid lived in his giant glass and metal monstrosity you could see from space by himself. Even Spencer, before Lee and he gave into the attraction they’d felt the moment they met, lived in a mansion by himself with Lee in an entire separate house behind it. I mean, who needed eight bedrooms to themselves?

The moment I brought home my first paycheck from a summer blockbuster action flick, I conferred with my family and we purchased a home in the hills where all of us could stay. Never once did it occur to me to break away from my siblings and make a life away from them, despite being a selfish asshole. We were a package deal and when one of us succeeded, we all did.

Sam was still in medical school, so I paid off all his bills, including tuition. When Emilia and Omi decided where they wanted to go to college, money wasn’t an issue. And when the triplets decided on their future in the next few months, I had money set aside for them.

And those were two sides of myself I strove hard never to merge. Well, until I brought Ollie home.

Another squeal of laughter came from Ollie’s booth, pulling me from my musings. There he was, knelt down in front of a toddler, holding out a stuffed whale. Instead of taking the toy, the boy threw himself into the man’s arms and hugged him with all his might.

Ollie stood, cuddling the little one close, before he turned toward the boy’s parents and smiled, shaking his head.

After a brief conversation, the boy reached for his whale toy and blinked, giving a jaw cracking yawn; the universal sign of nap time. When Ollie leaned down to hand the boy over to his mom, the baby gave a screech and held on for another minute, until he drifted off to sleep and gave up the fight.

As the parents and adorable boy walked off, I sidled up to Ollie and waited.

“Hey, there,” I said.

Ollie turned to me, recognized me in a split second, before he let out an endearing little squeak. He threw himself into my arms and cuddled into me.

“You’re home,” he breathed out.

For two tall men, we fit together and my body started humming when he buried his face against my neck.

With a huge smile on my face, I asked, “So, I take it you missed me?”

Ollie pulled back, radiating sheer joy as he put his finger and thumb together, showing an inch. “Maybe, a little.”

He laughed at my disgruntled expression. But before I leaned down and waited with bated breath to press my lips to his, a high-pitched screech interrupted us.

“What happened to my stock?”

Ollie, ever the charmer, pulled back and stepped up to the man, who, by the looks of it, ran the carnival. Or at least the prize booths.

“It’s strange. All the little ones hadthebest luck with popping the balloons. It must have been the barometric pressure since I heard the meteorologists predicting a La Niña. But thanks for the opportunity to run the booth, I had a lot of fun and we raised over the amount they required for the charity donation, so it’s a win all around.”