Page 6 of Necessary Time

“Come before then?” she asked, hopeful but wary. “Let me make you a birthday lunch at least?”

I’d grown up in Orange County, about an hour and a half south of LA. It was an easy enough trip, especially considering traffic in LA, but I still didn’t get down to see my parents as much as they wanted. And with them getting older and me being the only child, I knew it was time for me to start treating them a little better in the familial relations way.

“Lunch would be nice,” I conceded.

“Colin said yes!” she called out to my dad, muttering something under her breath before bringing her mouth back to the phone. “Is eleven okay?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Wear something nice.”

“What?” My brow furrowed, the ask coming out of the blue.

“Love you!”

My mom hung up, and I dropped the handset back into the cradle, letting out an audible sigh.

“Bad news?” Hendrix’s voice from behind startled me, and I jumped, banging my elbow into the back of my chair. My fingers pressed into my back—one, two, three, four points of contact, and I quickly yanked my hand away as if the touch was proof of something I wasn’t ready to admit.

Of everyone I knew, Hendrix was the last person to care that I was attracted to men. He was gay, having just recently moved in with his boyfriend and everything. I liked Hendrix. He was a good guy and a good friend, even though we hadn’t really taken it outside of work yet. We got lunch together every Friday at a little deli on the corner. It had become a tradition, a routine, and I looked forward to it. There was no way I was going to let my birthday, or whatever my mom was up to, ruin that.

“No, just my mom being conniving.”

“In a bad way?” He scrunched his nose.

I shook my head and pushed away from my desk. Rolling the sleeves up on my shirt toward my elbows, I inclined my head toward the elevator, indicating my drama was no need for us to delay our lunch.

“No. She’s probably trying to get me to go out with one of her friend’s daughters again. It’s her favorite pastime.” We reached the elevator and I stabbed the down button. “She’s just trying to disguise it this time under the ruse of a birthday lunch.”

“Is your birthday tomorrow?” Hendrix asked, following me into the elevator.

“Today.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything?” Hendrix sounded positively offended that I hadn’t shared the date with him sooner.

“Not big on birthdays,” I admitted as the elevator stopped at the lobby level.

“Still. Now I feel bad.”

“You can buy me lunch if it’s that big of a thing for you,” I offered, which earned me a smile in return.

“It’ll do.” He cleared his throat. “I feel weird now.”

“Why?”

“Because my brother asked if he could come to lunch today and I told him yes, partially because he’s annoying and wouldn’t leave me alone about it, and partially because I’m not the hugest fan of his new roommate.”

“I don’t mind if your brother comes to lunch with us,” I said.

“But it’s your birthday.”

“It’s just another Friday,” I assured him. “I don’t mind. You’ve been talking about him for so long, I’m not against finally meeting the infamous Wesley Sutton.”

Together, we headed out of the building and down the street toward the deli, turning the corner side by side, and then I came face to face with a man with eyes the color of the ocean. My breath caught in my throat, and Hendrix let out a huff.