“Luckily, your bisexual husband is a fantastic teacher.”
He chuckles, finally smiling again. “Alright. Let’s start with the lessons.”
“On how to be gay?” I rub my chin and drop my voice near a whisper. “Let’s see. Taking my fingers in your butt the other night was a solid start.”
He glances toward the front of the restaurant. “Why would I assume brunch conversation would be polite?”
“Gay sex is polite. Sometimes.”
“Just do me a favor and keep the details out of the restaurant.”
“Got it. Nothing more about where the fingers went.” I lean forward and drop my voice lower. “You’re really going to hate this, I realize now. But I actually brought our wedding dildo along. Should I not have?”
I watch Spencer trying not to smile. “You didn’t bring our wedding dildo to brunch,” he says evenly. “And do you know how I know that? It’s because we don’t have a wedding dildo.”
I shake my forearm under the table. “Yes we do. It’s right here. It’s basically our ring.”
“Gabriel!” he hisses, almost laughing, but Spencer clips his mouth shut when the waiter appears and silently deposits our food. He puts on a perfectly composed smile as he meets the man’s eyes and thanks him before turning back to me.
“Maybe we should start with the other lessons,” he says, jumping back to business. “Personal history? I’m going to need a cheat sheet to keep track of your former celebrity flings. It was that actress most recently, right? The blonde one?”
“Faith,” I say with a nod. “We’ve known each other for years, actually. You might meet eventually. We both found ourselves in Paris at the same time. She had just finished a movie, and we were both eating oysters.”
Spencer blurts out a laugh. “Are the oysters relevant?”
“Always.” I grin as I start cutting up my steak and eggs. “Faith and I had a great weekend. Both left France very satisfied. But right after her was this other couple, married tech geniuses, I’ll refrain from sharing their name with you.”
“Finally, a little discretion,” Spencer deadpans, and I realize he’s teasing me.
I shrug casually. “They propositioned me at a fundraiser gala. Honestly, it wasn’t that fun. He was a bit too eager to please. But they had the most amazing home. Holograms and everything.”
“Excuse me. Holograms?”
“Not during sex, of course. Their love of gadgets ended at the bed, which is like, what’s the point?” I wrinkle my nose. “Tech people. You’d think they’d know how to have fun with all their billions.”
Spencer stabs his omelet, shaking his head.
“What?” I ask.
“We’re just very different. How do you have sex with people if you don’t even like them?”
This time, I frown. “I would never have sex with someone I don’t like,” I say, a bit defensive. “Jules is an old rhythm and blues fan. We talked music all night.”
“Oh my god, Spencer!” a man yells from the front of the café. He’s probably about twenty-five with short blond hair and wide eyes, and he puts his hand over his heart as he calls out. “Spencer! I love you!”
Before he can say anything else, the person working the front of the café has him out the door again.
I look to Spencer, who looks shocked.
“Does that happen to you often?”
“Never.” He scrunches his nose. “Has that happened to you?”
“Only on concert stages,” I admit. “Anyway, what about you? I know the basics. Hometown. Career highlights. All the stuff that’s available on your Wikipedia page. I need a few gems the rest of the public doesn’t know, though. Any secret hobbies?”
“Pro tennis doesn’t really leave time for hobbies.” He takes a bite of his omelet and gets the cutest expression on his face, lips pursed like he’s savoring it. “Fuck. This is very good.”
“You should let me order for you all the time.”
