Chapter six
Morgan
My alarm clock went off ages ago. I really should be getting out of bed. But I’m just lying here staring at the photos Ned sent me. Except he didn’t send them to me, Morgan, his boss. He sent them to WellHung45, a stranger he wanted to hook up with.
Therefore, I should do the honorable thing and delete them. They were never meant for me. So I should not be drooling over them now.
But I’m not strong enough. I cannot resist. I am a weak and despicable creature.
His face isn’t in any of the shots, but my mind is having no trouble at all adding it to the images. I thought the young man who agreed to meet up with me was stunning and I could not believe my good luck. Now I know it’s Ned I’m looking at, I’m completely blown away.
Ned’s body is beautiful. Incredible. Even hotter than I ever imagined. And that’s saying something.
An all too familiar, prickling and uncomfortable feeling of shame itches along my skin. What kind of monster imagines their young employee naked? And then keeps the photos they were given by mistake?
I’m going straight to hell. There is no doubt about that. I am a doomed soul.
Ned has been abused in the past. He doesn’t need any more predators in his life. That’s why I’ve spent the last year wistfully admiring, but keeping my distance.
It was the right thing to do. I need to be proud of it. And I need to keep on doing it. It is what any sane, decent person would do. I used to think I was such a person. I’m not so sure now. The evidence is certainly stacking up against me.
For a start, feeling giddy because he liked my body when he didn’t know who it belonged to, is unhinged behavior. I should not be thrilled that he can appreciate older men. It is irrelevant information.
And I definitely should not be incensed that he is on Grindr. It is hypocritical for a start. Nevermind the absurdity of the rest of my mixed up and messy emotions.
What I should be, is happy that he has healed enough to be seeking out random hook ups. It is perfectly normal behavior for a young gay man. This strange burning jealousy I’m feeling is utterly uncalled for. Ned is not mine. And he never will be.
I need to get that fact into my thick skull. Tattoo it on my face, if it would help.
And right now, I need to get out of bed and begin my day. Starting with a cold shower. I can’t lie in bed and angst all day. I’m not a teenager. I have work to do.
My original plan was to work from home today, but after the events of last night, it is so very tempting to slink out of the house to avoid Ned. Even though I know that avoiding the inevitable is only going to make everythingeven more awkward. So no. I’m going to be brave and stick to my original plan.
The sooner Ned and I see each other and get over the uncomfortable cringeyness, the sooner we can put this all behind us and get back to normal. Well, normal for us at least.
In the meantime, I’m going to have a cold shower. A very cold shower.
Time for more coffee. This spreadsheet is not making any sense and I think caffeine is the only thing that could possibly help.
As I get up from my chair, my back protests. Wow. I really am getting old. I always knew I would. Of course I did. I just didn’t expect it to happen so damn quickly. One minute I was young and carefree, then I blinked, and now I’m a middle-aged widower with three kids. It is a little disconcerting.
I walk carefully towards the kitchen. The last thing I need is to put my back out. As I make my way down the hall, I hear all sorts of commotion coming from the bottom of the stairs.
“I want my blue trainers!” says Oscar. “They make me run faster!”
“I know, sweetie, but we can’t find them right now, can we? And we can’t be late picking Noah up from school,” says Ned.
Is it that time already? Gosh. The day really has run away from me.
I step out into the entrance hall and find Ned, Oscar, and Lottie by the front door. Ned has thick dark shades on, a baseball cap with a wide brim, and an unopened black umbrella in his hand.
I glance out of the window. The sky is clear blue and the sun is shining brightly. A beautiful September afternoon. The nicest day since Noah started school a few weeks ago.
“Is your lupus playing up?” I ask.
Ned flinches and doesn’t look at me. “Yes.”
Shit. That’s not good. I can’t confess to the hours I spent Googling lupus after he told me he had it. But I also can’t ignore the knowledge that direct sunlight is going to make his flare up much worse. And I can’t bear the thought of that.
