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The 485th Day of March
The 485th Day of March
The 485th Day of March
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The 485th Day of March

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Part of the Inches of Trust universe

February seems like the perfect time for architect Brian Townsend to give notice at the big firm he’s been working for and get his own business off the ground. But February of 2020 is dropping hints that the future is neither bright nor rosy in New York City, or the rest the world.

As the spring develops into a disaster of unimaginable proportions, Brian’s husband Tristan Blake is on the front lines. As an NYPD detective, his job suddenly involves risks it never had before. Can he keep himself safe, and Brian too? What happens when the universe drops a very small gift into their lives in the middle of all the chaos?
LanguageEnglish
PublisherJMS Books LLC
Release dateJul 31, 2021
ISBN9781646568475
The 485th Day of March
Author

A.R. Moler

A.R. Moler is a chemistry professor at a community college, a homeschooling mom and an avid science fiction fan. She is a devotee of first hand research for her writing whenever possible and to this end has - learned to fire a handgun, been rappelling, ridden with both EMS and the police, flown a helicopter, bought a motorcycle and learned to ride it. She has traveled to nearly all the places where her stories are set and taken hundreds of photos for documentation. She has been writing since her high school years, but only recently has become published. Her website can be found at http://armoler.com

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    The 485th Day of March - A.R. Moler

    Chapter 1

    Australia’s still on fire, Brian said, pouring coffee in a travel cup for Tristan. Outside, the sky was still relatively dark.

    Really? How many weeks has that been going on now? Tristan came into the kitchen, tie flung over his shoulder, as he worked on buttoning the top two buttons of his dress shirt.

    Five or maybe actually more, I confess I only started paying any attention once the holidays were done. Brian Townsend, architect, turned around and leaned back against the counter, his own coffee cup in hand.

    Tristan Blake drank a few sips from the cup and pulled his tie into the correct position for tying it. As a detective for the NYPD, his usual work mode involved a shirt and tie, and often a jacket, too. Is today the official day?

    "Yeah, and that will mean that thirty days from now I will be officially unemployed." Brian had been second guessing his decision for the entire month of January. He had spent a substantial chunk of the past few years frustrated by the use of his architectural degree to design stores and office buildings and other corporate steel and glass ugliness. When you worked for a large company, you mostly got stuck with whatever assignment you were given. What he really wanted was to specialize in remodels of older structures, mainly houses, finding ways to preserve elegant historic features. After much discussion with Tristan, he was finally preparing to take the leap and start his own business.

    Not unemployed, babe, self-employed.

    Considering the two year non-compete I’ll have to sign chances are there’s going to be precious little income for at least a couple of months. Guess it’s a good thing I have some money stashed.

    Which you don’t really actually need to rely on at all. Tristan glanced at the clock on the microwave. I gotta go. He grabbed the lid for the coffee cup and pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips. I’ll text you around five and let you know what time I might be home. And Tristan went out the back door toward where the cars were parked.

    * * * *

    Not long after Tristan got to the precinct, a colleague flagged him down and told him Lt. Giannotti was looking for him. That could indicate anything from a missing piece of paperwork to an impending ass chewing. Tristan gulped down the last of his almost cold coffee before going into his boss’s office. You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?

    Yeah, just a quick question. I got a back ground check notice…for you. You have some deep dark secret that you’re hiding?

    Tristan relaxed. Brian and I applied to become foster parents.

    Oh. Okay. That was not what I was expecting, Gianotti said.

    In what way?

    Uh, er, I guess I didn’t think you were the two point five kids kind of guy, but, no offense, I didn’t think you were a -get married- kind of guy either.

    Because I’m gay?

    No, more because of history…that other guy you lived with for a while left you high and dry when things got just a little tough.

    Yeah, Gianotti had been around back when that was going on. Even though they had only talked a small amount at the time, Gianotti did have some comprehension of those events. I know you haven’t met Brian except once for about five minutes, but he’s…significantly different, Tristan said. And we still haven’t exactly committed to becoming parents but the process takes a while, so we thought we’d start the ball rolling.

    I guess that makes sense.

    Was there anything else?

    You’re going to be in court Thursday not Wednesday. I just got an email about the change.

    Yes, sir.

    * * * *

    Near the end of the day, Alicia came by Brian’s cubicle and sat on the corner of his desk. I know you said you were going to do it, but I thought you meant in the summer. She had worked with Brian for nearly five years.

    My thirty days’ notice?

    Yeah that. Damn, Bri, I’m going to miss you.

    I’m not dying, Brian said with a grin. We can still go out and grab lunch or have a drink. And unless you’re planning on banning me from your parties…?

    Oh, hell, no. You’re a required guest. On a related note, have you finished remodeling the third floor of your brownstone yet?

    Brian opened his mouth to say it wasn’t his brownstone, but then realized that since he was legally married to the man who did own it, that did more or less make it his. Either way, it was home now. "No. It’s a work in progress since I’m doing everything but the electrical work myself. I redid the walls of the stairway in some gorgeous white wainscoting, and have most of the evil nasty wallpaper stripped off in the rooms. Underneath it’s plaster and lath. I’ve watched about six hours’ worth of YouTube videos on how to

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