4. Chapter Four #2
Oh well. He liked the quiet and the ex was gone, so who cared about jealousy anyway? He hated the self-loathing and embarrassment when he let the green-eyed monster get the better of him.
“What are you thinking?” Jack asked. “You’ve got rib juice on your chin.” He offered up a napkin. “I probably do, too.”
“Sorry.” He wiped his face. “I’m thinking it’s a nice night and the ribs are wonderful. Thank you. I’m partial to the dry rub method, so you made my day and made me have to run a few extra miles over the next couple days.”
“Do you run?”
“I do on my treadmill. I’d run around the development, but there are enough judgmental people that I feel less exposed in my little home gym.”
Jack pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth. “Thanks for bringing over the taters and salad. It was all good.”
“Thanks.” He finished the last of his dinner, then matched Jack’s pose.
“You’re not chatty, but when I get you going, you don’t stop. Are you okay?”
“I’m a quiet person. I like to observe,” Henry said. “I learn a lot by just watching.” He shrugged. “For all the talking you do during the day, it’s all for orders and to say yes or no to the people ordering food. You seem to listen to all those stories.”
“No one wants an opinion when they can have a confessional instead.”
“Is that why you don’t talk about the people who come to the shop? You barely spoke when your ex was here,” Henry said. A touch of the jealousy came back.
“It’s easier with Dexter to let him talk than to argue or speak.
If you speak up, he’ll argue louder and get angrier, so instead of escalating, I just let him go.
” Jack fiddled with his napkin. “I didn’t think he’d show up.
Normally, no one comes to visit me. Today, he showed up.
I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. ”
“I was cooking.”
“Did him being here bother you?” Jack tipped his head. “I have friends and exes who sometimes drop by.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” Did his jealousy show? He knew he was fine enough as a person, but he’d never match the flash or the volume of Dexter.
Jack stared at him. “But?”
“But nothing.” He and Jack weren’t a couple. He had no reason to be jealous or to get angry. They had pasts.
“But what? I can tell you’re upset. You don’t like when you’re ignored?”
“No.” He should speak up. “I want whoever I’m with to be honest. If I’m acting like a dick, then tell me. If I’m making things tough, then say so. I might not enjoy what you have to say, but I respect being told. I respect honesty over silence.”
“I see.”
“You don’t like that.” He should’ve expected this—things were going too well.
“I never said that.”
“Then it’s my turn. But?” Henry asked. “I’m sure there’s more.”
“No buts. It’s nice to hear someone be so open. It’s refreshing.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Nope.” Jack reached across the table and held Henry’s hand. “I like it. I like you.”
“You do?” He hadn’t been sure.
“Yeah. You haven’t asked me to spill everyone’s secrets. You don’t treat me like I’m less than you because I have a shop. It’s nice. I’m respected and it’s good,” Jack said. “I haven’t had a date respect me in a long time.”
“That’s terrible. You deserve better,” Henry said. “I like you, too. I don’t know what you see in me, though. I have gray hair and I’ve got to have ten years on you.”
“Henry, I’m forty-five.” Jack rubbed the back of Henry’s hand. “Really.”
“No, you’re not.” He couldn’t be.
“Forty-five. You?” Jack narrowed his eyes. “I’d say…forty-six.”
“Forty-seven.”
“Then there we go. I have a thing for older men.” He rounded the table and sat beside Henry.
“Stop worrying.” He kissed him. “Dexter and I broke up, and he’s with someone else.
He didn’t want to be with a shop owner. Said I should’ve been a restaurateur, not someone who sells hotdogs. When I said get bent, he left.”
“Why would he come by?” He scooted close to Jack and rested his forehead against Jack’s and palmed his thigh. He liked the intimacy.
“To show off. His boyfriend owns a restaurant, I think.” Jack shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You own one, too.”
“Mine’s just a small hole-in-the-wall joint. His is fine dining, I believe.”
“Oh well.”
Jack kissed him again. “I need to make sure the coals are out. Why don’t you carry this stuff inside, and we’ll find a movie?”
“Sure.” He disengaged from Jack, not wanting to end their quiet moment.
He busied himself with carrying the remnants of dinner into the house, then came back out to retrieve the bottles and the rest of the silverware.
He wasn’t sure what to do next. Go home?
Stay? Did Jack even want him to stick around after the movie?
Jack strode into the kitchen and closed the sliding door.
“Let me put this stuff in the fridge.” He moved the rest of the ribs into a plastic container, then switched things around in the refrigerator before adding the ribs, the salad and the potatoes onto the shelves.
He arranged the plates and silverware in the dishwasher.
“I’ll turn that on later. It’s nice to have a full load for a change. ”
“I bet.” Henry hesitated. This was the point he tended to get confused. Jack said a movie, but for all he knew, it was just a thing to say.
“What?” Jack rounded the island and threaded his arms around Henry. “You’re pensive again.”
“Nothing.” How was he supposed to say he’d forgotten how to date?
“Look, I’m not good at love and I’m not great at dating, but I want you to stay,” Jack said. “Yeah? Do you have to be somewhere?”
“Right here’s where I have to be.” He couldn’t contain his joy. He had someone who liked him—the fumbling and awkwardness weren’t a turnoff. “I’m not headed anywhere.”
“Good.”