“Well, you’re not attached now. Go. Be free. Find some hot young thing to stick that monster of yours in,” I said and choked on my saliva. I guess I was more drunk than I thought.
“No. I’m not,” he said, looking into his cup and ignoring the comment about his dick.
It got quiet, and I considered joining one of the other groups, or making the rounds by myself, when he said, “I asked her for more time. That’s what the fight was about. She said I had a year already and needed to be gone. Not gone.Move on. I need to move on. Fuckingsucks, man.”
“A year? I thought you said this was a new development?”
“It is. Or was. Or isn’t really new. She asked me to move out a year ago when we officially found out I couldn’t have kids. What’s new is that she’s already dating and wants to host them at our—her—house, so I’m off to a hotel. Fuck, man.”
“Fuck… Wait, didn’t you know she was dating? You downloaded, uh…” My face got hot.
So did his. “She said she wanted to date months and months ago, but wouldn’t ‘till I was gone. I, uh, downloaded that app when she said she was gonna get Tinder.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah…” He swirled his drink around his cup. “I think some part of me thought we’d salvage it, or something would change. Her heart, her mind, anything. It didn’t. I procrastinated on purpose.” He looked at me, and I saw the most real version of Alec yet. “I don’t want my marriage to end. But at the same time, I don’t want to be married toheranymore, either.”
“Do you think it might get better when you move out and give her some space? Maybe she just needs to realize what it’s like without you to know how much she wants you. Bio kids or not.”
“I tried, dude. For years.Yearsand years. No one knows hownastyshe got when we found out the problem was mine and couldn’t be fixed. It was fucking awful.” He stared at his drink. The ten-year-old pop song ended, and another began. “It killed whateverlove-love I had left for her.”
“Damn. Then you know what? It’s better if you move out and move on. Right?”
“I guess. Yeah… No, you’re right. And it’s not all Viv’s fault. Not at all. I…” he looked my face up and down before retreating to his cup again. “I think I resented her for a long time, or forever, because,” his voice dropped to just above audible, “I was always curious about guys, and never had time to explore it. I know that’s not her fault. Just another reason why I gotta go. But it’s still fucking hard, man. So fucking hard.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. It might not be the best look to console my boss in such a public setting, but I couldn’t help it. I cared for him, and his pain was so clear it seared into me. Anyone would think he got a little too drunk, and I was helping him. Which was true.
He said, “I know it ended years ago—if it wasn’t DOA after theI dos—but I feel like once I move out, not only will my marriage be over, but my grounding. I’ll be afloat with no anchoring.”
I rubbed his back a little. “You don’t need grounding, man. You need to fly. You’re young and hot. Let’s make this the year of Alec!”
He looked at me and laughed. I moved my hand. “Yeah? Coming from you, that sounds like a perfect way to become an alcoholic and a slut.”
I laughed harder than him. “An alcoholic slut sounds better than beingtied down. Just have some fun, man.”
Alec glanced at me as his face changed. With a low grumble, he said, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you tied down. Or tying you up myself.”
It took a second to process. In doing so, my cock went from flaccid to half mast. My heart stopped, I leaned back, and my face burned so bright it hurt. I wasn’t used to getting hit on like that. I did that to others. A vulgar suggestion I knew they couldn’t resist, in my deepest, most gravely man-voice, with a filthy face to match.
Was that how they felt when I did it? Unmoored, unsettled, and unnerved? A little dizzy with blood rushing in their ears? But so fucking horny I’d blow him on the spot if he asked.
Alec’s face fell at my reaction. He blinked twice and shook the arousal away. “Holy fuck! Sorry! Jesus fuckingChrist,that was out of line.”
I swallowed twice before I could speak. “No, uh… No. Tell me more.”
He evaluated me, not unlike when I said something he was about to challenge in a meeting, giving me a chance to explain and show everyone else I wasn’t full of shit. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Only the very corner of his mouth changed. “You know what, I’m kinda beat, and too drunk. Want to head back to the room?”
“Uh… I mean… are we…”
In monotone, “Just say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ Blackwood.”
“Yes! Yeah. Let’s go. I’m beat, too.”
The curl stretched the length of his lips. “Good.” I swore he was about to sayboy.
