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“Oh, of course. Connie has my number. Reach out next week,” Ms. Harmon responded before Bridges moved me to another group of folks.

“Malcolm and George Greene, this is Weston Aames. I think Mom told you about West’s upcoming cycling adventure.” Bridges held my hand like a grounding rod, probably to keep me from freaking out, and I appreciated it.

The taller man smiled. “We have a foundation that supports the mission of the Rainbow Equality Alliance. Maybe you’ve heard of it, The Greene Foundation. We provide educational grants to homeless gay youth. We’d be proud to become part of your ride.”

I couldn’t speak. Why the fuck had the Eaton’s invited people to dinner who were willing to support my mission? Something didn’t seem right, but if I questioned it, maybe I’d wake up and find out it was all a dream.

“Uh, thank you, sirs. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your support.”

Bridges released my hand, only to put his on the back of my neck and lean forward to whisper in my ear. “Keep talking, baby boy. This is exactly what you need to do. Tell them about the meetings you’re setting up across the country.”

I glanced to my right to see the reassuring grin on Bridges’ face. His support was all I needed before I turned to the Greene’. “It would be great to hear more about your foundation. I’m setting up meetings with LGBTQ+ organizations as I cross the country to create community awareness of some of the issues facing our brothers and sisters under the rainbow umbrella and how anyone can help. I’d love to highlight your foundation as a community partner.”

Bridges squeezed my shoulder. “Good job. Let’s sit down.”

With a reassuring hand on my back, I took a seat next to Bridges, while Mom sat at the end of the large table next to Constance and Daryl. It was good to see the smile on Mom’s face. It was as if she was back in the haze of when she and Claude were members of the elite set.

I glanced toward Bridges for any guidance he could give me to maneuver the minefield we were sitting in. I was grateful for the support I’d heard from the guests, but why the fuck had the Eaton’s invited those folks to Thanksgiving?

It wasn’t because they liked me, especially Daryl. Of that, I was sure.

Chapter Eighteen

Bridges

I wanted to hug my mother for inviting the Greenes and Renee Harmon and Josh. Mom was on a few boards of one thing or another with George Greene and Renee Harmon, and when I’d broken down and met her for lunch at her favorite spot a week ago, it was my golden opportunity to convince her to do me a favor.

Nougatine at Jean-Georges, One Central Park West, New York City

“You’re never free for lunch,” Mom said. “What gives?”

I stood outside Nougatine waiting to escort her inside. A lady never goes into an eatery alone was something I’d been taught since I was five.

Once we were inside, a server took us to Mom’s favorite table and I held her chair—another thing I’d been taught since I was five. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

Once I was sitting in my chair, I sucked in a deep breath. It’s now or never. “I’m dating Weston Aames, and I want you to help him get sponsors so he can pass the vote from the Board of Aames Investments.”

Dating? It was what we were doing, right? We didn’t explicitly say “Let’s go on a date,” but we spent time together—clothed and not clothed—so it was just fine to say we were dating, right?

“Dating? You’re dating Claude’s young son? How’d this come about?” Mom was surprised, of course, but I’d expected her to be happy, not skeptical.

“After that bullshit at Claude’s will reading, I was worried about him, so I reached out. Did Dad know what Claude had in mind with his will?” My parents didn’t keep secrets from each other as far as I knew. If Dad knew, he’d have told her, I was sure.

The server approached our table with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Eaton. I’m Jacque, and I’ll be your server today. Would you like water? Still, sparkling, or bottled.” He handed each of us a menu.

“Still water, please, and a white wine spritzer.” Mom then glanced at me.

“I’ll have an unsweetened iced tea, please.” I opened my menu and perused the lunch offerings.

Nougatine was the more casual offering at Jean-Georges, a New York City staple for Mom and her friends. We sat inside versus on the outdoor patio because the temperature was in the mid-sixties with a bit of a breeze, and Mom had already made her salon trip for the week. I knew better than to ask the host before we were seated.

The server returned with our drinks and we ordered lunch. When he walked away, Mom took a sip of her drink and then steadied her gaze at me. “So, tell me about Weston Aames and you.”

Where to start? My mind’s eye produced a picture of West’s gorgeous smile and sleep-tussled hair from the previous morning and how happy I’d been when he hurried under the blanket and slurped my cock into his mouth. That probably wasn’t something I should share with my mother.

“It’s still new. We’ve been on a few trips together for him to train and experience some of the things he should expect next June.”

“What’s next June?”