I’m not naïve. Seeing him is going to hurt.
Butnotseeing him is killing me.
We’ll talk about blueprints and budgets, sure, but I’m going to bring us into that room too. Quietly. Carefully. But I’m not leaving until it’s clear I still want this. Still want him. And I’m not taking no for an answer.
Am I ready to take it public like he wants? No. I’m still scared. Still unsteady in the spotlight of being his for the world to see. Of my sexuality being out there for everyone to know. To make judgement. I’m not stupid enough to believe someone won’t. Hell, I know my parents will. Especially my father.
But I need him to know I’m working toward it. That I’m not giving up. That I plan on standing beside him one day without flinching.
I just hope he’s still willing to wait for me to get there.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling before catching myself in the mirror. My expression is tight as that worry wrinkle appears on my forehead.
“Get it together, Malcolm. You’re trying to win back your man. Don't have a heart attack before you even get there.” I take one last look and leave the room.
I grab my keys, slip on my watch—the one he gave me for my birthday, and stare at the phone on the nightstand for a beat too long. I know that there’s no text waiting from him. But, I keep hoping one will appear.
“Operation coming out is firmly in play,” I say out loud, as if doing that somehow makes it inevitable to happen.
The drive took longer than I wanted. Every single light between my office and his was red. As if fate is trying to keep us away from each other. Prolonging the torture I’m already feeling.
I park my car and head inside. With each step closer to him, the more anxious I become.
The building is sleek and polished—modern glass exterior, cool stone floors, the kind of place that hums with quiet ambition. I step through the revolving door, the high ceiling of the lobby swallowing the echo of my footsteps. My stomach coils a little tighter with every step. I keep telling myself it's just a meeting in an attempt to ease my nerves. But it’s a lie. My body and I know it’s much more than that.
I bypass the front desk and head straight to the elevators, hitting the button for the top floor like muscle memory. No hesitation. No turning back. Just me and a straight path to the man who has hold of my heart.
The hallway outside his office feels too quiet, like the air’s holding its breath. Helen looks up from behind her desk as Iapproach, her smile warm and practiced, fingers pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“Mr. Knight, how are you?” she greets, chipper as always. “How can I help you today?”
“I’m doing good, Helen,” I say, managing a small smile in return. “I’m here for my meeting with Mr. Silverfox. Should I head in?” Even though I ask, my tone lets her know right off the bat that I plan to head in.
At the mention of his name, her smile falters, not fully, but enough that I catch it. My eyebrow rises automatically as I glance toward his office door, closed, and no sounds of voices on the other side. Meeting my ass.
She clears her throat. “Of course. Have a seat.”
The hesitation in her voice sets something uneasy stirring in my chest. Still, I nod and step over to the small waiting area nearby, lowering myself into one of the firm leather chairs. I place the folder on my lap and open it, but my eyes don’t stray long from Helen. Something’s up and I’m starting to get worried.
Helen picks up the phone, her head dipped and hand cupping the receiver, murmuring something too soft to catch. My jaw tightens, and I fidget—one knee bouncing, fingers tapping against the folder’s edge as I wait for the outcome to happen. My eyes shoot to Jefferson’s door, but still no movement.
Five minutes pass. Maybe six. Nothing. I shift in the chair as I clear my throat. Helen shifts her eyes my way, but doesn’t let them linger long.
Footsteps echo from around the corner as one of Jefferson’s managers, Graham, comes into view. He’s all bright teeth and tailored confidence, moving toward me like we’re old friends. But we’re not. I can’t stand him. He’s nothing but a fucking ass kisser, doing anything he can to go further in the company.
“Malcolm,” he beams, using my name as if we’re besties, extending a hand. “So good to see you.”
I stand slowly, shaking his hand out of habit and professionalism. Pulling it away, I immediately wipe my palm on my khakis, not even caring if he notices.
“There’s been a slight change in the schedule,” Graham continues smoothly. “Jefferson is in another meeting right now, so I’ll be assisting you today. We’ve discussed the project thoroughly so I know exactly the vision he has for the renovations, and I’m fully capable of reviewing the preliminary drawings you brought.”
I bite back the anger boiling up in my throat.He’s not even going to face me? He knew I was coming. Knew what this meeting meant. Well, maybe not exactly what it meant, but that’s irrelevant.
“I wasn’t notified he wouldn’t be available,” I say, my voice low but sharp. “I can wait until his meeting is done. I’m not in a rush. Or,” I add pointedly, “we can reschedule.”
Graham’s smile twitches, just slightly. I don’t break eye contact. I’m not settling for this. Not today. Not when the silence between us has already stretched far too long.
Hewilltalk to me.
