But he’s not Brady. Now, more than ever, I want to see him. I don’t want to meet other people. Hang out around pools looking for other lonely gay dads. Whatever is going on with Brady, I need to find a way to fix it.
“Dad.” Karter appears out of nowhere, tugging at me with a soggy hand. “Will you come swim with us?”
Public pools are still not my favourite, but Karter’s request makes for an easy escape.
We stay at the pool for a few hours, until both boys are wrinkled and shivering. Silver Hair quietly excuses himself, and I see him across the crowd once or twice, but he doesn’t approach me again.
After we’ve dried off and gone home for lunch, I load the boys into my car. It’s earlier than I usually take them back, but I text Dominic to say we’re on our way, and he replies that he’s home. He gives me a look as I carry overnight bags in through the front door.
“What?” I say.
“Something come up at work?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“No.” But I’ve been sleeping with a guy who is fourteen years younger than me and who technically works for me, and somehow it’s gotten complicated, and I need to fix it. “I have things to take care of.”
He arches an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything as I kiss Jacob and Karter goodbye. For their part, they don’t seem upset about cutting their weekend with me a few hours short. They’re too busy telling Dominic about the trip to the pool and who won each of the twenty-seven cannonball contests they held before the lifeguard told them to stop jumping so close to the other children.
I call Brady as I get back on the highway.
“Good afternoon, Brady speaking.” His voice is oddly formal.
“Shit, did I call the football phone?” I say.
He laughs, and it’s followed by a smacking sound like he’s eating something. “Nah, I’m just screwing with you.”
He does it so well, in every sense of the word.
“You busy?” I ask.
Does he pause before he says, “No. You coming over?” Or is it my imagination?
“Yeah. Just dropped the boys off. Be there soon?”
“Whenever. I’m free. And I have something I want to tell you.”
Apprehension prickles over my scalp and down my back, but I say, “Great. See you soon.”
“We need to talk.”
Such a cliché, and yet that’s how Dominic started.
“It’s not working. The counselling. Everything. It’s not enough.”
He looked apologetic while he said it, but nothing I said after mattered. No more promises to do better, no offers for more counselling. He didn’t want to hear it anymore. Too late.
I can’t be too late with Brady.
Except, as I enter his apartment, he greets me with a smile that practically splits his face in half. He takes a running leap, and I have to stumble backward against the closing door to catch him.
“Jesus Christ,” I say, as he flings himself at me, wrapping his arms and legs around my shoulders and hips. My hands slide on instinct around his ass, pulling him to me. “Be careful. My back.”
He laughs, sucking wet kisses on my throat. “I’ll get the Epsom salts when we’re done celebrating.”
“Celebrating?” I can’t help my sigh of relief as he sets his feet back on the ground. “What are we celebrating?”
“I think I found someone. To hire.”
“You did? That’s great! When?”
