Maurice sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I met someone. Or… almost met someone.”
David leaned in, eyes bright with interest. “Ooh. Tell me everything.”
Maurice hesitated, then let the words come. “He was the cute blond. Young. Gorgeous. And he used gestures inviting me to talk to him like he actually wanted to know me. Then he disappeared.”
David’s eyes widened by a hair. “Disappeared? Like poof?”
“Like poof,” Maurice echoed. “One second he’s there, the next he’s gone.”
David grinned. “Maurice Dubois, falling for a man he’s known for thirty seconds. Classic.”
Maurice groaned. “I’m not falling for him.”
“You are absolutely falling for him,” David said, waving the menu like a fan. “You’ve got that soft, tragic look. The ‘Mr. Right slipped through my fingers’ look.”
Maurice stared at his water glass. “It just… felt different. I don’t know. He made me feel—” He stopped, searching for the word. “Wanted.”
David’s expression softened for a moment. “Hey. That’s good. You deserve that.”
Maurice nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. I just wish he hadn’t disappeared.”
David let the silence hang for a second, then smirked. “Well, if he’s a professional flirt, maybe he’s just doing his rounds. Like a very gay Roomba.”
Maurice barked out a laugh. “A Roomba?”
“Yeah,” David said, deadpan. “He bumps into people, flirts, spins around and moves on. Eventually he’ll circle back to you. Just stand still and wait.”
Maurice shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re an idiot.”
“And yet,” David said, placing a hand over his heart, “you keep me around.”
The server arrived with water and bread, and Maurice leaned back in his seat, the knot in his chest loosening. David always did that—let him feel things, then cracked a joke before it got too heavy.
Maurice tore off a piece of bread, still thinking about Finn. The blond smile. The spark. The way his stomach had flipped like he was twenty again.
Maybe David was right. Maybe Finn would circle back. And if he didn’t… well, Maurice wasn’t done looking.
Dinner had just been set down with roasted chicken for Maurice, some quinoa-vegetable thing for David he insisted he liked, when David leaned in with that conspiratorial glint in his eye.
“So.” David stabbed a carrot. “While you were off brooding about Blondie, I met someone.”
Maurice’s brow rose before he could school his expression. “Already? Who?”
“Guy with thick green glasses,” David said, gesturing as if the glasses were the size of dinner plates. “Name’s Theo. Cute. Nerdy. Exactly my type. He looks like he alphabetizes his books by emotional impact.”
Maurice snorted. “That’s your type?”
“Absolutely,” David said. “I want a man who can explain the Dewey Decimal System to me in bed.”
Maurice choked on his water. “Please stop.”
David grinned. “Anyway, Theo said he’s going to the Meet-a-Daddy Party after dinner. Told me I should go. Then he said we should both go.”
Maurice blinked. “Both?”
“Yeah,” David said, shrugging. “Apparently I give off ‘responsible friend’ energy. And you give off… well.” He waved a hand at Maurice. “Whatever it is you give off.”
Maurice narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”
