He shimmied into the bedroom and entered his seldom used closet in search of a button-down shirt, totally at odds with his normal attire of band T’s and blue jeans. Tonight was a special night, and he’d even taken extra time showering and shaving, hoping Michael might appreciate his efforts.
He paired a light-blue dress shirt with dark-blue slacks, then slid his feet into a pair of loafers to complete the outfit. Next, he picked his way over piles of laundry, both dirty and clean, a discarded paperback, and four pairs of shoes on his way to the bathroom mirror for a cursory inspection. His normally straight and cooperative short brown hair stuck up at odd angles. Seth wet his hands in the sink, attempting to rearrange the mess to acceptable levels. He pulled back his lips and performed a “teeth and nose” check, or rather, in his case, a “teeth and beak” check. Both passed muster.
A splash of cologne and then Seth darted across town, parked two blocks away, and trotted to the front door of Swanky’s—a place he’d normally consider out of his price range. Michael arrived by cab a scant moment later. “Perfect timing.” Michael pulled Seth into a somewhat stiff hug. “Let’s go in, shall we? I’m starving!” He held the door open for Seth. “I’ve missed you,” he said, voice dropping to a murmur. “I’m glad you agreed to see me tonight.”
The maître d’ tilted his head to the side, regarding Seth with interest. “Do you have a reservation?”
Seth shook the man’s hand, passing over the tip he’d promised for securing a reservation on such short notice. “McDaniel. Table for two.”
“Right this way, gentlemen,” the man said after taking a discreet glance at Seth’s payment. He led the way to a table at the rear of the restaurant, snapping his fingers at a passing waiter.
Michael muttered something to the waiter too low for Seth to decipher no matter how hard he listened. The waiter shuffled off. “I ordered us a bottle of wine,” Michael replied to Seth’s raised-brow query.
“Is this a special occasion?” Seth scrolled through his mental appointment calendar, hoping he hadn’t somehow missed a birthday. Nope, they’d celebrated Michael’s birthday in March, three months ago, the last time they’d been out on an actual date. Maybe Michael intended to come back for good. A flush crept up Seth’s cheeks. Maybe he should have cleaned up his apartment a bit.
“Maybe.” A smug smile played around Michael’s full lips.
Seth loved Michael’s smile; it certainly boded well for later. “What’re you going to order?” Seth stared at the handsome man seated across from him.
The waiter approached with a bottle of wine. “Sir,” he said, holding out the bottle for inspection. Seth glanced up, nearly swallowing his tongue when he noticed the vintage. He wasn’t well versed in wine, but any bottle bearing such a fancy label had to cost well over a hundred bucks. What could be special about this evening?
They sipped wine and studied their menus over a plate of crudités. “How have you been?” Michael asked.
“I’ve been okay, I guess. It’s been awhile. What’ve you been up to?”
The waiter returned and Michael placed his order. “I’ll have the veal scaloppini with braised asparagus and artichokes, and a baby field green salad with raspberry vinaigrette. Hold the olives.”
That was one thing Seth liked about Michael—except for their now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t love affair, he always seemed to know exactly what he wanted, even if those wants changed rapidly and without notice.
Throwing caution to the wind, Seth pinched the extra inch around his middle and thought,I’ll do extra time at the gym tomorrow. To the waiter he said, “I’ll have the same.”
They enjoyed pleasant small talk over dinner. Michael showed pictures of his sister’s new baby, and Seth shared a few anecdotes from his model shoots.
At the end of the meal, Seth grew impatient. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something,” he prodded.
Michael didn’t quite meet Seth’s eyes. “Do you remember me telling you about Luther?”
“Luther from New York? The older guy who broke your heart?” A sheepish smile crept across Michael’s face. “Yeah. I wanted commitment, but he never quite seemed ready.”
“And?” Seth felt certain this story came with an “and.”
“And he wants me back. I’m leaving next week to move to New York. We’re getting married. I wanted to tell you face-to-face.” He reached across the table, grasping Seth’s hand. “I want you to be happy for me.”
Married? What the fuck?Seth bit back a confused jumble of hurt and anger.Married?
Noting the pleading look in Michael’s eyes, Seth swallowed his wounded pride, dreams of getting back together vanishing. “Of course I’m happy for you,” he lied.
“And you’re not angry with me?”
“Angry? Why would I be angry?” Seth ventured, forcing a smile. “Well, you knew I liked older men….”
And I hoped I’d be the one who changed your mind.“I’m happy for you, I truly am,” Seth managed to say, fighting a grimace.
“Good, you don’t know how much that means to me.” Michael insisted on picking up the tab, despite Seth’s halfhearted protests, and practically skipped out of the restaurant, a weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders. Too bad that weight fell directly on Seth.
ANEARLYempty wine bottle (much cheaper than the bottle Michael had ordered at Swanky’s) sat on the coffee table. Seth sprawled a few feet away on the couch. Married. Michael was getting married, dashing any hopes Seth had of them together on a more permanent basis.
Okay, honestly, he’d never actually believed they’d be together on a lasting basis, despite a bit of bliss-induced postcoital pillow talk. Michael came and went like a breeze. And he wanted to get married? He’d never mentioned marriage to Seth.
