My head drops down, jaw tight, as I try to control my anger. The pain I’m feeling at this moment. “So, what—I’m just a chapter you’re hoping to keep hidden in the margins? The spicy erotica book you don’t want your family knowing about?”
“No,” he says quickly. “God, no. Jefferson, you’re everything. But I have a life that was built around a different version of me, and ripping that life apart, coming out as the man I am, I don’t know if I can.”
A long silence stretches between us. Neither of us speaking. Our eyes, anywhere but on each other.
I swallow hard. Reality hitting me in the face. I force the words out, past the knot forming in my throat. “Then tell me this isn’t forever.”
Malcolm finally looks up at me, his eyes teary, full of anguish. “I can’t.”
“Then tell me yes,” I beg him. “Tell me I’m not just a silent comfort for you. A face in the dark. That someday, I’ll be more than the man you only love behind closed doors. That you’ll want to come clean and tell everyone you love me.”
Malcolm looks wrecked. His lips part, but no words come. His eyes dart between mine and the floor, like he’s searching for an answer that doesn’t exist… A part of me wants to reach out, wrap my arms around him and pull him into my embrace, comforting him. But my heart won’t let me. It’s broken.
“I want to be brave, to tell my family I’m gay. That I’ve always been that way. That my marriage was a sham the entire time,” he whispers. “I just don’t know how yet.”
“Will you ever be able to?” I ask, a part of me already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.
Malcolm just sits there, head down, shoulders shrugging. “I don’t know,” he whispers.
My brows draw tighter together, as if they’re trying to force some type of clarity from Malcolm’s words. My eyes—wide, unfocused—glimmer with a sheen of moisture, but no tears fall. Not yet. They’re held suspended in that impossible middle place, where either choice I make feels like a betrayal. Even though I’m the one who’s been strung along. I’m the one coming out of this broken.
My jaw clenches, muscles twitching with tension. My lips press into a tight, pale line, then part as if to speak, only to close again with a soft exhale that sounds almost like defeat.
I give Malcolm one final look, eyes pleading with him to see the love I have for him. That I’d be there right by his side, supporting him as he comes out to his family. A moment of hope rushes through me when he looks up, reaching out, taking my hand in his.
“I don’t know that I can ever tell them. Why can’t we just keep things the way they are?”
With that one question, my mind is made up.
I lift his hand, kissing it gently. There’s no smile, no tears. Just a heavy feeling. I’m done. Tired of fighting for something alone.
“Because I can’t do that. I’ve given you time. An entire year, to be exact, of us being exclusive. And however many years before that, while you were still playing the dutiful husband. I thought once the two of you divorced that it would finally beourtime.” I drop his hand, then stand slowly from the bed. “But clearly, it’s not.”
“Jefferson—”
“No. You’ve had your time. I need a boyfriend. A partner. Someone who wants to be with me, not hide me. And I don’t have that.”
Malcolm comes up on his knees, hands reaching out to me.
“Please, Jefferson. I just need you to be patient. I promise I’ll tell them. I just need time. Just give me that.”
I close my eyes, knowing that if I look at him, I’ll crack and give in.
“I’m done, Malcolm. I’m tired of being with someone who doesn’t want to be with me. Who’s ashamed of who he is and our relationship. I’m going to take a shower. Use the time to get your things and leave. Don’t be here when I’m done, and leave your key.”
With those words, I turn and head to the bathroom. I don’t look back, not even to shut the door behind me.
He doesn’t follow me. Try to plead with me to change my mind. Instead, he just lets me go.
Chapter 5
Malcolm
Isittherewatchinghimwalk away from me. My heart prays he’ll stop, turn around, and tell me it’ll all be okay.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t even look back.
