Finding You: The Complete Box Set (a contemporary MM romance series) Read online

  When the reply came to meet up this afternoon, I nearly jumped out of my seat with anticipation. I decided to get ready and see my grandparents before heading to the café.

  I had a brief catch-up with them, which also included a detailed account of what I had for breakfast. I had a feeling it would take my grandmother a while to remember I'd been living on my own for a number of years and my mom had made sure I was able to cook for myself.

  I also understood that now that her daughter was no longer with us, she felt she needed to make sure I was really here with them, healthy and happy. I was more than okay giving her that reassurance. I had missed them, and even though I had only just arrived, I knew it was going to be very hard when I had to leave in a few weeks. I needed to make more of an effort to visit them in the future. If I was really honest with myself, there hadn’t been any reason for me not to have come back for so long. Why had I allowed myself to get so busy with my studies and work that I almost forgot about my family?

  Deciding not to focus on something I couldn't change, I headed to the café to meet David.

  Teresa was behind the counter, filling the chiller with drinks when I arrived, and gave me the biggest smile when she saw me.

  “Joel! How nice to see you again. How are you? Can I get you a coffee?”

  “Hi, Teresa, I'm good, thanks. I'll have to decline the coffee, but thanks for the offer. I'm here to meet David. Is he around?”

  “He's just finishing up in the kitchen. We had a last-minute change on a cake order, so he's been working on that. How about a custard tart? I bet you don't get them this good in America. David's custard tarts are the best.”

  Teresa spoke so proudly of her nephew I could hardly resist accepting one of the delicious-looking pastries. Not that anyone would have to twist my arm very hard.

  “Now you're talking. How can I resist when they look so appetizing and I can smell the cinnamon all the way from over here?” They looked delicious all lined up on the tray. “By the way, thank you so much for yesterday's dinner. It was superb.” I took a bite of the custard tart, letting the delicious flavor of the custard filling and the flaky pastry fill my mouth.

  “Wow, this tastes amazing,” I said.

  “I'm happy you like it. David altered the original recipe. He won't tell anyone what his secret is and hasn't even written it down. I keep telling him he needs to make a recipe book. It would be a success.”

  “I'm sure it would, but wouldn't that mean people would stop buying them here?”

  “I suppose. Well, what do I know, hey? I was never any good at that stuff. I can run the café with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back, but that marketing stuff is not for me.”

  I couldn't help but laugh at Teresa's self-deprecating comment. She was a great businesswoman. My granddad had told me how she had single-handedly kept the café afloat until David was old enough to take over the business.

  “My ears are red, which can only mean one thing. My aunt is talking about me being a genius in the kitchen, and she's giving out custard tarts for free,” David said, coming out of the kitchen and giving Teresa a big kiss on the cheek. The petite woman leaned in to put her arm around her nephew with one hand resting on his chest.

  “Guilty as charged," Teresa said. "But I'm not lying, and Joel has never had one of your custard tarts. It would be a sin to let him miss out.”

  David gave a hearty laugh that went straight to my groin. Fuck.

  He said his goodbyes, and we walked out toward the beach and Pedro's.

  “Busy morning?” I asked.

  “It was as expected until someone decided to change their order on a birthday cake, and I had to redo the whole decoration. Fortunately, the customer didn't change the actual cake itself as baking it all over again would have kept me in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon.”

  “In that case, I consider myself very lucky that we were still able to meet. You got my curiosity piqued with that text. I hope it wasn't a ruse to get the Superman doll back,” I said.

  David winked and conspicuously tapped his nose, but then his smile left his face.

  “I do have something to show you. Something that my mom left me, but used to belong to both our moms. I haven’t looked at it yet. I was hoping we could do it together.”

  At the mention of our moms, I immediately understood why he became somber, but I was also quite intrigued. It couldn't be a bad thing, or he wouldn't have come to talk about it in a public place.

  I was glad to see Pedro wasn’t behind his bar. As lovely as it would be to see how he'd been, now that I knew the topic of my meeting with David, I just wanted to get to it and not get caught up in more hellos.

  We ordered our drinks and mixed tapas, which consisted of a few slices of bread, chorizo, Parma ham, deep-fried whitebait, and calamari. Everything looked delicious.

  “So, what is this thing you wanted to show me? I'm beyond curious.”

  David reached into his rucksack and took out a strange-looking parcel. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in a silk scarf that had a traditional Portuguese print of the Heart of Viana. It was a quintessential Portuguese symbol that I knew my mom had always loved. The extent of my knowledge about it was summed into its use traditionally in jewelry in the north of Portugal.

  David passed the item to me, and I found it to be surprisingly light. I laid it on the table and started to carefully unfold the scarf to reveal a spiral-bound school notebook with a dark blue cover.

  “Open it,” David said.

  The inside cover was full of colorful stickers, some of which I recognized as characters from cartoons. Others I didn’t know but likely had been on TV when our moms were young. One thing that stuck out was a large sticker of a ladybug on the lower-left corner.

  Right in the middle of the inside cover was printed "This notebook belongs to:" followed by three black lines. On the lines in pink ink and children's handwriting, it said, “Paula Lima and Sílvia Pereira—best friends in the world forever. Travel Journal, March 1979.”

  I looked up at David again. “Have you read it?”

  “No. I remember seeing my mom looking at it and sometimes writing in it, but I never paid any attention. I just figured it was a notepad for recipes.” David shrugged. “I didn't even find it until last year when I was going through some old stuff. It was in a box wrapped in that scarf. At the time, I opened the first page as you did just now and considered reading it, but it was too painful seeing her handwriting like that, so I put it aside. Your mom had just gone back to New York again, so I couldn't ask her about it, and then I decided I was going to wait until she came back this summer.” David looked down as he said it.

  I felt my heart tightening at the thought of my mom never returning to this place. I wasn't the only one who would miss her and wondered if wherever she was, she would have found her way to her best friend.

  A few tears escaped my eyes, and I was glad to be wearing sunglasses.

  David dragged his chair closer and leaned toward me, wiping my tears using both his thumbs over my cheeks. It was such an intimate and comforting gesture that I almost leaned into his touch.

  “Are you okay?” David whispered, still so close to me.

  “Yeah, sorry, I...um... I'm still getting used to this. I know that I will always come across stuff that reminds me of her, of them, but it’s still hard.”

  “You don't have to be embarrassed. I know how it feels. I've lived with my mom's stuff in the apartment ever since she died. It wasn't easy, but eventually, I donated anything that wasn't important and chose to keep only the best memories of her. I mean, I don't need to keep the old dish drying rack just because it was hers, right?” he chuckled.

  I smiled and nodded in agreement.

  “It must have been hard to find out my mom had died without having a chance to show her the journal.”

  “I only thought of you,” David said, looking right at my sunglass-covered eyes. “I knew it was going to be hard for you, losing both
your parents at the same time, and I wished things had been different, that we were still friends, and that I could comfort you in the same way your mom had comforted me when mine died.”

  I looked down at the journal, and an idea formed in my head. I must have been quiet for a moment too long because David sounded worried when he asked if I was okay once again.

  “Do you want to read the journal together?” I asked. “I mean, they were ten years old when they started it, so I'm sure we're not going to find anything embarrassing.”

  “Yeah, that's a great idea. Do you want to take it home to read it first and then pass it on to me, or do you want to read it together, together?” David said, and I thought I saw a slight blush on his tanned skin.

  “Let's read it at the same time. We can meet up and read out loud in my apartment or yours.”

  “Okay. Do you want to finish the drinks and come over to mine, then? We could have a look at the first couple of entries.”

  “Deal!"

  I was wrapping the journal in its scarf again when Pedro arrived and spotted us immediately.

  “Jesus Cristo, if this is not a blast from the past,” Pedro said, walking toward us. “Joel, I haven't seen you in years. How are you, my man?” he said as he gave me a one-armed hug and a firm pat on the back.

  “I'm good, thanks, Pedro. How are you?”

  “I’m great, thanks,” Pedro said. before he turned to David. “And you master chef, I don't see you often enough. You might as well be living in America too.”

  “That's quite an exaggeration, Pedro. You see me run past at least a couple of times a week.”

  “Running past here won't help me feed my kids. You need to stop and get a drink.”

  “You don't have any kids, Pedro,” David deadpanned.

  As I observed the exchange between the two men, I was both sad at the years I missed this easy friendship and happy that I was here now.

  “I could have kids.” Pedro insisted, unwilling to lose that particular argument. “Anyway, what's that you got there, Joel?” He leaned closer. “I have a feeling I've seen it before.”

  “It looks like our moms wrote a travel journal together, and David found it recently. We were just talking about it.”

  “It is truly a day of memories. I remember Paula and Sílvia taking that notebook everywhere we went. They would see something and write it down immediately. I asked to read it once, but they said I wasn't allowed. It upset me for a whole hour before I forgot about it and went to play football outside.” Pedro sighed. “I miss those two girls.”

  Pedro ran his hand through the silky material of the scarf. “They bought this scarf when we went on a school trip to Viana do Castelo because they really liked the pattern and the color. Their birthdays were close together, so on the same trip, I bought them each a keyring with the Heart of Viana.” Pedro smiled as he recounted the day of the trip.

  “I wonder what happened to the keyrings?”

  David started fumbling around in his pockets and then put a set of keys on the table.

  “Is this it?” he asked.

  “Oh my God, David, you still have it. And I see the key is still on it.” He turned to me. “I guess you still have your mom’s, too, Joel.”

  I hadn’t paid much attention to the set of keys my grandma had given me, but I pulled them out of my pocket and put them on the table too. There was no doubt my keyring matched David’s.

  Pedro let out an excited laugh. “You both have the keys too!”

  “What are they for?” we asked at the same time.

  “Do they actually open something?” David asked. “I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find anything that fits this key.”

  Pedro explained that when they were seventeen, our moms spent a summer working hard to save money to buy a car so they could travel together as soon as one of them got their driving license.

  “They didn’t have all the money they needed by the end of the summer, so my uncle, who owned this place before me, gave them a job after school in their senior year.”

  Pedro went on to explain that his uncle had died suddenly of a heart attack that year. Since Pedro was the only relative, he had inherited everything that belonged to his uncle, including an old red Citroen 2CV.

  “I didn’t need it since I already had a car. The girls were the best friends I could have asked for at the time and helped me here until I was on my feet again. Remember, I was only eighteen at the time. A kid really. Anyway, to repay them for their kindness and support, I gave them the car and told them to use the money they saved to travel.”

  Pedro told us our moms named the car “Ladybug” after a sticker that was stuck on the back trunk door next to the handle. They thought it would be funny that everybody driving behind them would be following a ladybug, so they left the sticker on and named the car after it.

  “I wonder what happened to the car,” David said.

  “It would be really old now, so maybe it’s not around anymore. I can ask my grandparents if they remember.”

  “Shall we go, then?” I was happy to see David was as curious as I was to read the journal, so I nodded in agreement.

  “Please don't be strangers and come over when you can, okay?"

  “Thanks, Pedro, we will,” I said as we got up to pay the bill and leave for David's apartment.

  “Not a chance,” Pedro said as we got our wallets out. “It was a pleasure seeing you both, and it’s me that has to thank you for the memories. This one is on the house, okay?”

  We shook hands with the promise to return soon and left.

  7

  David

  The walk to my apartment was filled with contemplative silence, and I found myself wanting to reach out for Joel’s hand. Seeing him upset when he saw the journal was like lead in my heart, and I wished I’d been able to pull him into my arms and hold him until he wasn’t sad anymore.

  I wasn’t sure why I had such an intense yearning to comfort Joel. He hadn’t been here for me when my mom died, he hadn’t kept contact all those years, and we were now adults with probably nothing in common other than a shared childhood.

  For all intents and purposes, we would now just be acquaintances, so why did I feel like wrapping him tightly in my arms like a protective shield that wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him?

  I was grateful my apartment wasn’t too far from the beach. The sun was baking hot, and I could feel the beads of sweat running down my back already just from the short walk.

  Fortunately, my apartment was refreshingly cool due to the shutters being almost all the way down. Small pockets of light still streamed in, trying to penetrate the darkness, but it wasn’t enough to let the summer heat in. I pulled the shutters all the way up and opened the balcony doors in the living room. Light and warmth finally entered my space.

  Suddenly I felt timid and slightly apprehensive. Joel hadn’t been to my home since we were kids. He was probably used to those New York loft-type apartments, all fancy and full of expensive stuff. Mine was simple, but it had my memories, and it was my sanctuary. The place where I could be myself without judgment, and I loved every square inch.

  “Take a seat. You can pick the sofa or the chair. Make yourself at home.” I pointed to the sofa and the loveseat that I’d placed to face the balcony.

  “This place feels different,” Joel said, looking around. “It’s the same but also different, and it’s not just because of the furniture. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, I guess. It is mostly the same. I think it’s because it has more of my personal touch and the things I like rather than my mom’s stuff. Anyway, can I get you anything to drink? A beer? Water?” I asked as Joel sat on the big sofa. I felt a small pang of disappointment that he hadn’t chosen the love seat.

  “No, thanks. Shall we get started?”

  “Sure.” I sat next to Joel, pulled the coffee table closer to us, and placed the journal on top of it. We both leaned forward as though we were either about to uncov
er a hidden treasure or trigger an explosive device.

  Joel made the first move by unwrapping the journal and opening it straight on to the second page where the first entry was written in swirly childlike handwriting. Silence descended between us once again as we both read.

  7 February 1979 - School trip to the Planetarium, Lisbon

  Dear Journal,

  We had so much fun today. We went to the Planetarium in Lisbon. On the way there, we sat in the back seats of the school bus and spent all the time waving at the people behind us. Some even waved back! We also sang a lot of songs.

  Our friends were doing it, too, but José Paulo felt sick and threw up in his lunch bag. It was gross, but fortunately, it didn’t go anywhere else. Our teacher, Mrs. Olivia, had to buy him lunch because his was ruined.

  We learned a lot about the stars and the planets today. We decided that our favorite constellation is the Ursa Minor because it looks like a kite in the sky.

  Under the text there was a drawing of the Ursa Minor constellation, which, as they stated, looked like a kite, complete with bows.

  “So, Mr. Teacher, what do you think?

  “I’d give them an A for effort and creativity and a C for accuracy. I’m positive the Ursa Minor doesn’t have pretty bows on the tail.” He laughed.

  “It’s a bit strange seeing the world from their perspective as kids, isn’t it? After all, we only knew them as our moms,” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess. I’m used to young children at work. They never cease to amaze me with their innocent wisdom. You present them with a problem, and they give you a solution. They aren’t tainted by the world yet, or at least a lot of them aren’t.”

  I liked hearing Joel talk about his job. He became so passionate and animated as he spoke. I was pretty sure he wasn’t aware of how expressive he was, how he used his hands to communicate what his words alone couldn’t.

  “Do you know what these stickers mean?” Joel asked. There were a few small stickers scattered around the page. Some had names under them.