I let out a sigh, knowing the answer. Everything I’m doing. Every move is all for Jefferson. To show him that he’s the man of my life and I’ll do anything for him. That he’s not a dirty secret in the closet, because I don’t want them anymore. All they do is gnaw away at you until there’s nothing left but bones.
Tonight is the first step. It’s me breaking the ice.
“Help me carry the food to the table and we can chat while we eat. I was just about to pull the bread out of the oven when you arrived.”
“My favorite,” he all but purrs as he pushes off the counter and picks up the salad sitting on the counter beside me.
My eyes linger on his ass as he goes, and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself. I’ve never felt drawn to a man before other than Jefferson, but Bradley has my cock twitching.
I give him a moment, or rather myself a moment, before slipping on an oven mitt and pulling the pan of bread from the oven. Piece by piece, I quickly place them in a basket, filling itbefore carrying it and the casserole dish of lasagna to the dining room. Skillfully holding both dishes in my hands so I don’t drop them, I make my way to the dining room. It’s almost as if it’s muscle memory from doing the same for Jefferson so many times.
As I step into the dining room, I see Bradley frozen in place, staring at the setup. I might have gone a little overboard. There are candles burning in the middle, the table already set with wine glasses waiting to be filled. There are two heated pads waiting for the lasagna and bread.
I take a moment to really take him in. He’s young. I knew that already, having seen his age when I booked him. It’s not that there weren't older men who were available, but I saw this as a chance to kill two birds with one stone. One, I can work to get over my issues with coming out, and two, I could talk to him about how he’d handle it if his father was gay. How he came out and what his family’s reaction was to his sexuality.
Not gonna lie, the way he wrote about himself hooked me almost as much as that face.
“Hope it’s not too cliché looking,” I say as I step up behind him. A little closer than I normally would with a typical dinner guest. My assumptions are confirmed by the way his body shivers.
“Nope, it’s perfect,” he says, the small hitch in his voice evident, as he sets the bowl of salad in the center of the table.
I smile awkwardly, feeling the heat rising in me, no doubt turning my neck and face a bright shade of red when his eyes lock with mine. What is going on? No one but Jefferson should be doing this for me.
“Umm, I’m going to get my beer,” he spits out before rushing out of the room.
He needs a moment and so do I. Setting the plates on the table, I look around anxiously before deciding to check on him. He’sbeen gone a couple of minutes and while I know I rented him for a date, I want to make sure he’s not feeling awkward.
Needing to get my own beer and the wine I head into the kitchen. Standing at the counter, his hands placed firmly on it, head bowed, is Bradley. Instantly, the need to know he’s alright courses through me. “Are you okay, Bradley?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I just felt a little lightheaded.” He looks over at me before standing upright. He picks up his beer and turns to face me. “Anything else we need to take out before you tell me your whole sordid story?” He laughs, but it isn’t a heartfelt one.
Somehow, I don’t believe he’s telling the truth. But I’ll play along. For now.
“No, we’re good. I was just getting my beer and some wine in case you want some. I’ll meet you at the table.”
Bradley leaves and I quickly get the items and head back out. It’s time to get the night started.
He’s placing salad on his plate and I have to do a double take as there’s salad on my plate as well.
“I didn’t put any dressing on it. I wasn’t sure how much, if any, you liked, so it’s plain.” I drop down into my seat, my jaw slightly open at what he’s done. It’s truly unexpected.
“Thank you.” I don’t know why, but I wink at him. “For the record, just a little Italian or oil and vinegar if it’s available.”
“Noted. Now I’m dying to know why are we meeting at your house?”
I can beat around the bush to give him the answer, or I can just be straight and to the point. Time is ticking, and I need to work through my insecurities so I can get the love of my life back.
“Simply put, I’m not out. No one but my ex-wife and the love of my life know I'm gay.”
His eyes go wide, and he nearly chokes on the bite of salad he just placed in his mouth. Tiny pieces of lettuce and carrot spew from his mouth as he coughs, frantically trying to recover.
I slide back my chair, ready to perform the Heimlich maneuver, but he manages to recover.
“Shut the fucking back door. You have an ex-wife and a lover? What the hell am I doing here?” He begins to nervously look around as if some six foot eight bodybuilder with a gun in hand is going to burst through the doors at any moment.
“What are you doing?” I question him.
“Looking for the cameras. Obviously.” He throws his hand up in the air, waving them around. “Because if I'm not on a newly revamped episode of Punk'd, then I'm afraid someone’s going to come barging through the door calling me a homewrecker.”
