I'll sacrifice my own life if it means keeping Mabel safe, which is why the world needs to believe I am Mabel's father. It's my best shot at protecting her.
"Hey." Rove nudges my arm, jolting me back to the present. He speaks softly. "I may not know the full extent of what you've been through, so I understand your need to be cautious. But Clayton is a good man. And so are you. Don't hold yourself backfrom what could potentially be a really great thing. And, hey, if you ever need a babysitter for some quality alone time…"
He's smiling, so I make myself do the same.
As much as I'dloveto take things to the next level physically with Clayton, that can't happen. Even bold-faced liars have their limits, and I won't allow things between us to progress until I'm fully honest with him. And as much as I like him and trust him, I'm just not there yet.
I made a huge, potentially fatal error taking Mabel out of this sanctuary, and I need some more time to make sure I'm exercising sound judgment. I can't be ruled by my dick on this matter. There's too much at stake.
But maybe I can open up to Clayton alittlemore?
"Are you sure I can't do anything to help?" Clayton asks as I move around his kitchen like I own it. I don't,obviously, but I've spent enough time here, and placed things in the right spots, that it almost feels as if I do.
"I'm fine, thank you," I say, checking on the roast chicken in the oven. "Besides, looks like you've got your hands full there."
He looks up from the game of peek-a-boo he's playing with Mabel and smiles. "I sure do."
We enjoy a nice meal in the dining room, and afterward, instead of retreating to the salon—boat speak for living room—to make out like we normally do, I suggest we head to the upper deck. "It's a beautiful night," I offer by way of explanation.
"Sounds good," Clayton says with an easy smile, carrying Mabel as he climbs the stairs with painstaking, almost reverent, care for her safety.
"You're not going to say we have to stop seeing each other, are you?" is the first thing he says once we settle on the giant daybed with Mabel between us.
"Why would you think that?"
He shrugs, staring out over the ink-dark water. "You were quieter than usual over dinner. Thought something might be up."
"Something is up, but it's not that. I assure you."
He turns his head, forehead still furrowed. "Really?"
"Yes, really. I like what's happening between us."
"You feel it as well?"
"Of course I do." I reach out and slide my finger up and down Mabel's chubby arm a few times. "But I've been applying a mental handbrake to things progressing any further."
"I thought so." He turns back toward the ocean. "Any reason why?"
"You can probably guess."
He turns slowly, those brown eyes glowing with sincerity as he says, "I know they're just words, but I want you to know you can trust me, Vaughn. You and Mabel are very important to me. And if you need help, any help whatsoever, I have resources available. I don't want you to ever be afraid again."
"I've been afraid my whole life," I confess. "That's why Evie and I left our homeland. The threat of what the government would do to me if they found out about my sexuality…" I explain the precarious political situation to him, how 'LGBT rights' is an oxymoron, and that people even suspected of being anything other than entirely heterosexual and cisgender are jailed. "Or worse," I add, glumly.
"I had no idea," Clayton says, bracing my arm.
"In your defense, you didn't even know where Montanaia was," I tease.
"That's embarrassing but true," he replies with a small grin.
"We came to Australia to start a new life."
His grin fades as the pieces fall into place. His gaze falls to Mabel. "So if you're gay, how did it, you know, work with you and Evie?"
Crunch time.
I've got two options—tell Clayton the truth, or at the very least some of it, or bail like a coward.
