KnotMyProblem: You wanted to gouge your eyes out when we were talking about Gwynn at his wedding, but you want all the dirty details about xV?
TeenDad2: Uh, yeah, because I know that xV isn’t going to overshare or try to gross me out lol
Tires crept across asphalt. Vincent lifted his chin and watched as a car rolled by on its way to the street. He didn’t recognize the individual inside—several other businesses shared the same parking lot with the clinic—but he refrained from returning to the Single Dad chat until the car was gone.
xVerity: I’ll give you guys an update later. I owe you for finding a babysitter for me.
TeenDad2: woo!
TeenDad2: I really hope you guys have a nice time tonight. Mal is so lovely.
Sunlight beat down on Vincent’s shoulders. He lifted his head and looked across the parking lot, expecting to find someone watching from afar, but saw no one. He was safe.
A vibration redirected his focus to his hands. Harley had tagged him in a comment.
LoveHarley: @xVerity, Mal is very lovely. I think you’ll be a good match for him.
TeenDad2: ??? Harley, do you know Mal, too?
LoveHarley: oh haha no, not really. Just… uh, a feeling, I guess? :)
TeenDad2: ???
KnotMyProblem: Harley, so spooky. What’s with you, being all prophetic? First, knowing that Gwynn’s on the way to the venue without looking out the window, then, knowing mysterious things about xV’s new beau…
LoveHarley: Nah, it’s not all that big a deal. I just meant that it seems, from what I saw, that he’ll be a good match.
KnotMyProblem: … riiight.
TeenDad2: Well, I agree.
The conversation was thriving without him, gradually moving on to other topics. Vincent closed the chat window, then thought better of it and turned off his phone. Until he got things squared away with Mal later tonight, he wouldn’t put himself at unnecessary risk. The less his phone rang, the better. If it didn’t ring at all, he was golden. Nikki’s daycare would call the clinic if they needed to get in touch about an emergency, so there was no reason to keep it on.
Lunch concluded, he left his vehicle and headed back to the clinic. Thebeepof the locks as they engaged snapped him back into the right frame of mind. There were still individuals from group three to treat this afternoon, and Vincent would give them his full attention. No matter the excitement in his personal life, he was still a physician—a professional—and he had a duty to his patients.
It just so happened that to one, he was more invested than usual.
19
Mal
The second floor of Bistro Chatelaine accommodated few tables, but the intimate seating kept down noise levels and allowed a modicum of privacy. Its high-glassed walls met with domed glass ceilings, showcasing downtown Aurora on the horizon, and the sweeping night sky overhead. Rows of grape-sized globe lights hung in looping strings overhead, casting a dim glow that supplemented the stars, and sending shadows plummeting from the lush leaves of the gardens that divided the floor into sections. Broad-bladed scandent vines crept up strategically placed trellises and flowered in stunning purples and whites. Some had begun to grow along the wires of the globe lights, wrapping each luminous orb in foliage. Whether it was a product of overgrowth or clever design, Mal didn’t know, but he appreciated the sight all the same.
At seven on the dot, Vincent was escorted up the stairs by a kind hostess and led to Mal’s table. He wore a pale gray shirt, the weave of its fabric textured, the top button undone flirtatiously. Black slacks showed off the shapeliness of his thighs and—Mal wagered, at the correct angle—the curve of his ass. His hair was coiffed and his beard was neatly trimmed, kept so that it was barely past the stage of scratchy stubble. In feeble lighting, he looked younger, and for a moment, a pang of apprehension detracted from Mal’s enjoyment of his presence.
Vincent was young—maybe young enough to be his son, if he fudged the numbers. What was he doing coming to see Mal for dinner?
Destructive thoughts like those faded quickly enough when Vincent arrived at the table, his eyes on Mal, his smile for him, and him alone. The same affectionate mirth that shaped his mouth danced in his eyes. He wasgladto be at dinner. The expression on his face told Mal that he was worth Vincent’s time.
“It’s good to see you again,” Vincent said as Mal stood. He held out his hand, and Mal shook it. When the handshake broke, Vincent gestured at the restaurant at large. “Nice pick.”
“Thanks.”
“How did you hear about it?” Like it was nothing out of the ordinary, Vincent showed Mal to his chair and saw him seated before he went to seat himself. The moment had passed casually, but Mal was too aware of everything Vincent was doing to overlook it. Vincent was making an effort to create conversation and put Mal at ease. It was so seldom that anyone wanted to listen to anything Mal had to say that the gesture made an impact. More than ever, Mal regretted having left during the early morning hours after the wedding. Vincent was kind in ways he’d seldom seen in others—focused on the comfort of those he was with before his own needs, even when those individuals had wronged him in the past.
Mal would find a way to make it up to him. This time around, he wouldn’t leave.
“A long time ago, I was a gardener.” The memories were fragmented, but the parts that remained were still vivid. The scent of rugosa roses in late spring, the feel of cool, loose dirt between his fingers, and the sensation of sunlight soaking into his hair all the way to the root. They were happy, for the most part. The parts Mal didn’t care to remember were blissfully obscured in the darkness of his mind, lurking in the shadows in wait for the moment he grew foolish enough to plumb their depths. “In the spring, I’d always have to go make these large purchases for soil, and mulch, and all kinds of stuff you probably don’t care about.”
