DIFFERENT

35 -- Secrets And Lies

Dearest Darling Readers !

Say it isn't so !!  Prince Laurent is being cagey, again !!  When will he learn his lesson ?!  All is not well in the magic kingdom of N.Y.C., and will it ever be so ?  Read on, dear reader, read on ......

"Laurent, was that Caleb ?"  Larry asked quietly.

Laurent looked into Larry's eyes, not able to stop the conveyance of shock in his own, or what was so evident on his face.  Larry had scrunched up his face, his brows and mouth contorted, trying to stop the inevitable ugly cry about to make itself known.  But he would not cry, he told himself, he would not cry in front of this man that had made him feel this way, that had done this to him ....... again.

"I .... um....." then something occurred to him "How do you know ..... ?"

"Shouldn't I ?  Shouldn't I know, Laurent ?  It doesn't matter how I know, just answer the fucking question "  Larry violently wiped away his tears with his sleeve, cursing himself for doing exactly what had sworn not to do.  " Was.  That.  Caleb ?"

Laurent was trying to answer him, he really was, but the words wouldn't come out.  His addled, uncooperative brain was overriding his vocal cords, seizing up at the thought that Larry knew.  What did he know ?  How much did he know ?  And for how long had he known it ?  Guilt was the most evident feature adorning Laurent's face now, not because of the phone call that Larry had overheard, but because of the fact that he had hidden this  --  emotional betrayal  --  from him.  He didn't even have the balls to confess.  Confess anything, the kiss, his feelings for another man, that it had happened at all.  So when Laurent looked Larry full in his face again, and without any form of denial having fallen from his lips, and with guilt written all over his face, Larry took that as his answer.

Suddenly turning on his heels, Larry strode through the house, Laurent following him equally as swiftly.  They had a much larger house now, a lot more ground to cover, and Larry couldn't seem to get to where he needed to be fast enough.  Through the living room, the dining room, past the kitchen, the office, up the stairs, along the upstairs hallway, he eventually reached Michaela's room, entering and then quietly closing the door behind him, so as not to disturb his sleeping daughter.  Laurent came to a stop outside the bedroom door.  Of course Larry would go to Michaela, she was his heart.  Laurent had told him that himself, when he was mourning Michael's loss.  Laurent knocked quietly.

"Larry ?   Larry, can I come in, please, I need to talk to you. "  No answer.

"Larry ?"  Again, silence.  He tried the door handle, which gave way under his fingers.  Taking a deep breath, he quietly stepped into the room, seeing Larry holding a sleeping Michaela in his arms, rocking her in the rocking chair as he stared forlornly out of the window.  Larry sniffed and wiped his face as Laurent stood just inside the door, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.

"Larry, I..... "

"Don't wanna hear it."  

"It wasn't Caleb, my love .... "

"I don't care."

"It wasn't Caleb."  He said it more forcefully, as if saying it louder would make it matter to Larry more.

"Good."

"Larry, will you look at me , please ?"

"No.  What will I see, Laurent ?  Guilt ?  Deception ..... Lies ?  No, I will not look at you, I can't stand the thought of seeing your face right now .... "