Malcolm
Ididn’twanttodropBradley off at his house this afternoon, but bringing him home with me wasn’t something I could do. Tonight is the night I’m coming clean with my family, and I don't know how everyone is going to take my news. Bradley being forced to be a witness to that fiasco is absolutely out of the question. However, it still doesn’t stop my worrying about him. I messaged him earlier, and he said he was taking more medicine and going to bed. Depending on how tonight goes, I may just pop up on his doorstep to take care of him.
I slide the oven rack out, the grating sound of the metallic scrape sending shivers down my spine. The heat licks at my forearms as I bend down and carefully balance the weight of the first large pan as I place it on the rack. The thick layers of pasta, cheese, and rich meat sauce give off a mouthwatering aroma even before baking. Once I have it positioned, I reach for the second pan on the counter; the foil crinkling as I adjust my grip. I set it down beside the first, push the rack back in, and shut the oven door with a gentle click.
Picking up the dish towel, I wipe my hands before tossing it haphazardly on the counter. I made two pans, unsure if I’ll even need them. Whatever is left over, I’ll box up in a container and take to Bradley. He’s told me how much he loves a good home cooked meal.
Just as I step over to the refrigerator and pull out the prepackaged salad bags, I hear it. The low chime of the elevator just before the doors open. If they made it to my penthouse, then they have the code.
Heels clicking on the tile floor echo down the hallway, just before I hear her familiar voice, “Please tell me that’s your infamous lasagna I smell?”
A crooked smile tugs at my lips as I glance at the sleek designer watch on my wrist. Right on time. Of course she is. Paige wants the gossip, and to give some moral support before everyone else arrives.
I turn, leaning against the counter as she steps into the kitchen, her flowery perfume tugging at my nose as she steps into my waiting arms, hugging me.
“Hope you’re hungry.”
“I am, but not just for food. Tell me about this weekend and this mystery man since I had to lie to the pharmacy and write you a prescription because you didn’t wanna spill the beans.” She steps back, slapping my chest lightly with her hand. “Since when do you do weekends with people, especially men, and not know basic details about them? And what about Jefferson?” She doesn’t even take a breath until she’s done speaking.
“Want some wine and we can sit down, and I’ll tell you everything before the kids and my parents get here.”
She steps over to my cabinet and pulls out two glasses while I set the bags of salad back in the refrigerator and pull out the bottle of white wine. She heads straight for the living room, and I follow in step behind her.
Paige sits down on the couch, placing the glasses on the coasters, already having removed the cork in the kitchen and fills them, before sitting down beside me. She reaches out, taking hers in hand and lifts it to her lips, taking a small swallow.
“Okay, spill,” she orders, giving me a pointed glance.
“I love Jefferson with all my heart. My still being in the closet was a strain on our relationship and unfair to him. He wasn’t able to have the relationship he wanted and I understand why he ended things.”
Paige doesn’t say anything. She just listens. It’s what she does best. Listen and give great advice.
“I knew that if I was going to try and get him back, I needed to work on myself. Not only to be what he needed, but to truly be who I am. Hiding my sexuality is taking a toll on my life as well.”
She reaches out, placing her hand on mine. “I am so happy you’ve finally realized it.”
“Yeah, it took me a while, and possibly losing the love of my life, but I did.”
“Okay, so tell me who you were with this weekend.”
I can feel my face heat, already knowing this is going to be an uncomfortable situation to explain. Paige won’t judge me. She never does. But his age is something I’m not sure she’ll understand, or my unlikely attraction to him.
“I knew I had to get comfortable being with a man in public. So I…”—I run my hand through my hair nervously—“so I went on this website called Foxy’s Rent-A-Date and paid for one. His name’s Bradley. He’s great. Nice, charming, smart, and he’s been helping me. He’s telling me all the same things you have for years. This weekend he had me out in public, showing affection, and I was okay.”
“So, you like this guy?” she asks sheepishly. “And Jefferson? Where does that stand?”
Fuck, that’s the big question. Where do we stand? I can’t even get him to answer my messages. He refuses to see me at work, and I doubt he’d open his door to me if I were to show up at his house.
“I still love Jefferson, but he’s shutting me out. I’ve messaged him, and let him know that I still want there to be an us. He’s read the messages, but he hasn’t answered. But somehow along the way I’ve had feelings for Bradley stir within me. I’m not sure how he feels and he’s so much younger than me.”
Her eyes go wide, before the corners of her lips turn up in a devilish smile. “So you’re the female version of a cougar. I’m loving this for you.”
I snort, lifting the glass to take a swallow.
“You have options. If Jefferson continues to ice you out, then pursue these feelings for Bradley. Either way, you’re making a big step, the right one, and your life is going to change in all the best ways. You’re finally going to be your authentic self. The Malcolm that I know and love.”
“Yeah,” I nod my head. “You always see the positive.” Lifting my hand, I take a quick look at my watch and almost choke on air when I see we’ve been sitting here talking for about forty minutes. My parents and the kids will be here any second, and I still need to prepare the salad and set the table.
“Want to help me finish up in the kitchen?”
