Dangerously so.
He meets my gaze. “That’s not your preference.”
I shake my head. “It’s really not. If you think that’s where this will lead, then it’s all the more reason for us to take things slowly.”
I let him think for a moment, waiting for him to speak.
“I’m fine with the secrecy. I get it. Eventually, I want to meet them and hear from them they’re fine with this.”
I nod. “It’ll take a while, but sure.”
“And they don’t get to set rules about what you and I do.” He lifts his chin a little. “I won’t try to interfere with you and them. But that goes both ways.”
I nod, but don’t speak, because I sense he’s not done. This is good, though. It’s refreshing that he’s taking control of his part of this.
My dangerous slide toward the point of no return continues.
“Does there ever come a point where they reach a part of their life when they can be out with you?”
“I don’t know.” It makes me sad to even admit that. “I always hoped yes, that we could get married and be…normal, whatever the fuck that is.”
“But six years.”
I nod. “Six years. And it will be many more.”
“What about us?”
I’m still processing how sad it makes me feel to know I could be looking at sixteen years before Elliot’s finally ready to publicly be with me.
Ifthen. And that thought saddens me, too. “What do you mean?”
He points at me, then him. “Do we ever have a chance of getting married? If they’re too chickenshit to step up? Do I get to be that guy and they have to take second place to me?”
I don’t mean to chuckle, but I can’t help it. “There’s always a chance. But marry you or marry them, it wouldn’t give either of you exclusivity to me.”
“Could we ever at least live together?”
“That’s a definite maybe. I don’t expect you to want to ditch your degree tonight. You might hate me by January.”
“Or you might hate me,” he says in that quiet tone that just fucking guts me.
“I think there’s very little chance of that happening.”
We talk for a few more minutes before he excuses himself to the bathroom. It’s not even nine yet, and I use that opening to text Elliot.
How’s My pet tonight?
He’ll likely know why I’m texting him this early. He’s not stupid, even if he is stubbornly myopic about himself in many ways.
He texts me back almost immediately, when I wasn’t expecting that.
Miss You, Master.
Fuck.
This is hard on him but, dammit, it’s what he said he wanted me to do.
Do I need to stop by tonight?
