“Does processing include fantasies of you pushing a kid in a swing or walking around the craft center with a baby in your arms? Because that’s what I’ve been thinking about.”
I laughed. “I’ll definitely be thinking about that craft center picture later. I just keep obsessing over how great it will be to live in a family that treats each other right. Whoever my kids are, I’ll be able to love them and support them. Iknowthat’s a thing I can do, and I’ll figure out a way to make it happen no matter what.” I paused, then grabbed the eggs from the fridge. “I just really, really want Marco and Demir to be there with me.”
“Hell yeah. Me, too, Grayson. I’m dying to see the three of you show up to park day with a stroller and a toddler.”
I laughed again, imagining Demir with a baby in his arms and Marco drawing with our toddler. It just felt so right to me, so good and true I couldn’t imagine the guys saying no to it.
“Ugh,” I groaned into the phone. “I can’t believe how much I want this. These next couple days are going to be torture.”
“Want to come by my place later? Alex was going to pop by and maybe watch a movie with me and Claire. I’d love an excuse to make even more popcorn.”
“That sounds nice. I’ve got a lot of work and some meetings today, but if I have the energy later, I’ll make sure to give you a call.”
“Counting on it,” Alyssa yawned.
I finished with breakfast and getting ready for the day, then spent a frantic thirty minutes answering emails and tidying the little bit of work I’d left out the night before, sorting and packing everything back into its proper place. After tugging on a nice pair of chinos and a simple gray shirt, I grabbed some of my sample materials and headed across town.
Most of my work came through the internet, which was fairly typical these days. But when there was a local client with a big enough order, I had started going to the meetings in person. I knew I didn’t have to feel self-conscious about my gender and figured it was good practice if I were going to keep building my business.
With Demir’s offer to help fund the studio and shop with Marco, though, I was feeling a lot more drive and purpose than usual. Instead of just dreading the appointment and sitting in my car outside for fifteen minutes before, I was eager to show off my samples and try to secure a healthy and consistent deal.
“Dunham Shower and Sink.” I read the name of the store as I stood in front, a briefcase in my hand and a box under my arm. Summer was finally starting to dip toward fall, and the clouds scattered across the sky were threatening to turn gray.
You could tell the business had been established for decades, and when I walked inside, I wasn’t surprised to see a combination of new displays, old shelves, and eclectic products. A woman greeted me at the counter before escorting me to the back, where an office was tucked to the side of a storage room, warehouse-like and stuffed with old toilets and tubs.
“Mr. Dunham? Your appointment, sir.”
The owner was in his fifties, likely, and judging by the photographs behind him, he had inherited the business from his father. “Grayson,” he said, rubbing his hand over his beard but not bothering to stand up. “Come in.”
I noticed that he wasMr. Dunhamandsir, but I was just my first name.Probably sees himself as a patriarch… I grumbled internally.
“So you have, what, hand-painted tiles? Let me see.”
I bristled at his brusque tone but kept a smile on my face anyway. “Custom tiles,” I said, lifting the box to my lap. “I work in a variety of techniques. You’re likely familiar, but I can talk you through the styles, if you’d like.”
He gestured for me to hand over the samples, and when I did, I saw his eye linger on my hands. My nails were still painted that light gray color. Like I had told the guys, it wasn’t really the right look on me, but I had kept it on anyway. Whenever I looked down at my hands, I felt happy, remembering the soothing feeling of Marco painting my nails while Demir made us dinner, and how included that had made me feel.
Mr. Dunham harrumphed, then started pushing his way through the tiles, roughly tossing them back and forth in the box and making me cringe.
“We get requests for special orders all the time,” he said, then dropped the box on the table. “My daughter thought it would be smart to partner with someone.”
I nodded, glad we were turning toward some specifics. “I spoke with your daughter on the phone,” I reminded him. “She’s wonderful, by the way. And yes, I’d be able to meet the volume she described. We’d just have to work out a retainer and some other details.”
He held his hands in the air. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his arms were thick with gray hair. “Not so fast, buddy.” I clenched my teeth, hating the condescension in his voice. “My customers are a very specific bunch. You sure I can send them to you?” He glanced down at my nails again. “I need someone professional, and I’m not sure you’re it, kid.”
The irritation in my gut threatened to grow into anger. I tried to focus on the amount of money the gigs would pay, but then Mr. Dunham curled his face into a sneer.
Fuck. That’s the exact sneer Dad always used to make.
I looked down at my hands, then back up to Mr. Dunham. I’d faced so many homophobic and transphobic people over the decades. There had been many points in my life when I had no choice but to swallow my feelings, force a smile, and beg whatever work or services I needed out of the assholes anyway.
But as I rose to my feet, I remembered that this wasn’t one of those times. This man would never give me a fair break, and if I signed up to work with him, I’d just be signing up for years of petty insults and unnecessary arguments.
“Thank you for your time,” I said, “but this isn’t going to work out for me.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Excuse me?”
“I remember the way out,” I said, not wanting to give him a second more of my time. “Have a nice day!”
I nodded to the woman at the desk on the way out, then tossed the box of samples in the back of my car. I held my hands up toward the cloudy sky and felt the breeze against my skin. A year ago, the idea of walking away from all that work would have made me sick or anxious. But now, I just felt happy.
I had better things to worry about, and men like Mr. Dunham could stay in my past, right where they belonged.
