“Have you been seeing anyone?” Ralph asked.
Again, George sensed where this was leading and feigned naiveté. He’d been out of the game for a while, but he still remembered the rules... and Ralph was used to winning. Evidence of that was abundant in local advertising.
“No. No, Ralph. I haven’t even considered it. I just... we were... I can’t explain.”
Ralph put his hand on George’s shoulder. “I know. He felt the same about you—told me often. I just hate to see you single, George. You’re a talented chef, and soon to be a local entrepreneur like myself. You should be enjoying life.”
“Says the man married to his career.”
“Touché. I’ve been getting the itch to settle down for real, though. It’s time for me to enjoy the fruits ofRealty-Man.”
“You should. David used to say so as well. You work too much, Ralph.”
“Says the man preparing to open his own business.”
George chuckled. “Yeah. But I need to throw myself into this... something new. Once I get rolling, maybe there’ll be time for—”
“It doesn’t stop. I’m warning you.”
“Yeah? Good. I need the distraction.”
Ralph stepped closer to him, reaching out and stroking George’s scruffy chin. “Flirting aside, I am serious. I would love to have dinner with you sometime. Just you, me... and themusic.”
George cleared his throat to suppress his laughter. “Good line,” he said.
“Thanks. I’ve been working on it for a while.”
“Ralph, we’ve known each other for what—the better part of a decade? I consider you a friend, and I am grateful for your helping me swing a deal on this place—”
“But—” Ralph said.
George reached out and mussed Ralph’s hair. He was handsome. All of DC knew it—especially the gay male population. His face was omnipresent, with those soulful brown eyes and that winning smile. He was maturing well too, sprinkles of gray just at the temples of his dirty-blond hair.
But Ralph Forrester was not what he needed right now. George sought validation from within, something only he himself could provide. Opening a restaurant was the first step, molding his confidence, repairing his weathered heart. David had been dead for two years now. Friends, including May, were encouraging him to move on. But George had inherited his father’s patience, sensing that things would run their course intrinsically and that he would know when the time was right.
“But—” he continued. “You’re my friend, Ralph. I don’t have many. I don’t ever want to jeopardize that. So, please understand when I tell you how important it is to me that we remainfriends.”
Ralph grinned, resigned. “I’ve had worse dismissals.”
“We could make one of those stupid promises. If we’re both still single by the time we hit forty-something, we’ll marry each other.”
“Oh, my God. What are we,Will and Grace?”
“Hardly.” George chuckled. “More like Jack and Karen.”
“You’re not like Karen at all.”
“That’s becauseI’m Jack.”
This time Ralph laughed, hearty and amiable. “No. Not you. You, my friend, are not an over-aged twink...at all. However, those lovely blue eyes of yours make me question the legitimacy of your Greek ancestry.”
“My mother’s indifference makes me question that as well.”
“You know, now that you mention it, I am alotlike Karen. I’ve got money and I like to drink.”
“You’ll meet the right guy, Ralph. And when you do, I’ll sing at your wedding.”
“And break plates too, no doubt.”
