Chapter 11
Anson
As we move into the living room, the pieces slowly fall into place, and I can see how Jarvis might have arrived at the conclusion he has.
But he couldn't be more wrong. I don't want things to end.
In fact, I'd love to do so much more than what we've done so far.
And not just physically. I want to get to know him better as a person, too.
But I can't let things go on. I can't be that guy, taking advantage of my wealth, position, and age to be dating someone decades younger.
I turn the TV off so there's no distractions. Despite years of navigating challenging conversations, negotiations, and boardroom showdowns, my heart is racing, and my palms are clammy.
Jarvis is such a special guy I'm going to be honest and direct with him because that's what he deserves. Even though I hate what I'm about to say.
"I'm sorry for acting strangely at lunch. Robbie only told me you'd be joining us after the doorbell rang," I say once we're seated, each at our own ends on the same sofa.
"I figured as much."
He's already dejected, like he can sense where this is going, and I haven't even gotten to the worst bit yet. God, this sucks.
"I don't regret what we did last week."
He glances up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You don't?"
"Not at all."
"Have you ever…been with a guy before?"
"No."
"Does that freak you out? At all? Like, even a tiny bit?"
"No. I have two gay sons and one who was recently in a triad with a man and a woman. That's taught me a lot about love and attraction and fluidity."
He nods. "Okay."
I want to reach over and take his hand in mine so badly, but I don't. That'd only be sending him mixed signals. So I bite the bullet and get to the point. "If I had my way, I'd like to continue spending time with you, getting to know you more and exploring even more things."
"Like sex in a Jacuzzi?"
I chuckle and instantly hate myself for loving how great that sounds, how quick my mind is at forming a fully fleshed-out image of that, how every single part of me is smitten by this once-in-a-lifetime guy sitting in my living room.
I clear my throat, fiddle with the sleeve of my shirt, then raise my head and look him dead in the eye. "But we can't take things any further."
"Oh."
"I'd like to, but…"
"But what? You said you're fine with the me being a guy thing."
"I am."
"Then what is it?" His voice rises.
"Twenty years."
"Huh?"
"That's the age gap between us," I say. "That's…not okay."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not."
"Pfft. That's a non-answer if ever I've heard one."
I'm not enjoying that he's making this even harder for me, but I like his fight. "I've judged men in my position for being with women so much younger than them."
"That's still not an answer. I want one, good, proper actual reason."
My mind flatlines. I look out the windows, searching the endless blue sky to come up with the good, proper, actual reason he's rightly asking for.
Finally, I say, "There's an inherent imbalance between us resulting from my age. I don't want to take advantage of you."
His response is instant, but he's deliberate with his words. "How exactly are you taking advantage of me? I want you, Anson. I told you my fantasy, and even though you were the one doing things to my body, I wanted it. I… I felt special."
"You are special."
"Then why end this? Because people will talk?
Let them. You don't strike me as the type of person who gives a shit what anyone else thinks.
And yes, there is an imbalance in our dynamic.
But I'd argue it has more to do with your money than your age.
I'm not a gold digger. I don't want anything from you.
These last few weeks, you've made me feel like no one else ever has.
And I'll take that a million times over your bank balance or what year you were born in. "
I stare at him in disbelief. I wasn't expecting to be hit with such a strong, coherent argument. Being on the defensive is unfamiliar territory for me, so I push to my feet and stride over to the window.
A few moments later, Jarvis joins me. "I get what it will look like to the world.
I do. They'll think you're a creepy old dude taking advantage of someone younger, and I'm some money-hungry, social climber.
But who the fuck cares? Do you? Because I sure as hell don't." I'm silent, his words mixing with ideas that, up until about five minutes ago, were firmly set in stone.
"You don't want me just because I'm younger, do you? " he asks.
"No. Of course not."
"Exactly. You like me in spite of my age. That's a key difference. That's what doesn't make this a situation where some rich old dude preys on someone younger."
The icing on the cake? He slips his hand into mine, and in a heartbeat, the rightness of what he's saying reverberates through me, rattling and loosening up decades of preconceived ideas and judgments I've been carrying around with me.
"I'm messed up," I confess quietly.
"Who isn't?" When he notices that didn't land as he'd hoped, he murmurs, "Anson, I've gone through a lot of shit, too.
I was bullied my entire childhood. My weight has fluctuated my entire life.
I wasted my entire twenties, depressed and unmotivated.
If my brother had given up on me and I hadn't gone to rehab, worked on my shit, done a PT course…
I'd still be depressed and unmotivated."
His vulnerability, his honesty, his rawness, unravels me. My gaze falls to our hands, still entwined. "So what do we do?"
He offers a hesitant smile. "One, you tell me you agree with me and that there's no reason why we can't explore this thing between us and see where it leads. Which would conveniently lead to number two."
"Which is?"
He blinks fast a few times, his eyes landing on my lips. "You kiss me."
My breath catches in the base of my throat, a rush of emotions unleashing within me. Excitement. Joy. Possession.
I run my fingers he's so enamored with lightly down the side of his face. "Any chance we can revisit point one in greater detail later and skip straight to the second part?"
His unsure smile blooms into something real, something fiery. "Fuck, yeah."
We have a lot to unpack. As much as I wish one conversation could miraculously undo decades of my thinking, I know that's not the case. But I—we—can deal with all that later.
Because right now, I don't want to waste any more time not kissing this amazing, surprising, sexy, and incredibly mature young man standing before me.
I swoop an arm around his waist and tug him into me, then I descend on his lips, catching the surprised sound he makes in my mouth.
Jarvis's tongue meets mine, and they engage in a delicate dance, tentatively exploring each other for the first time, before Jarvis grabs my hands, plants them on his ass, and escalates the kiss into a full-blown make-out session.
We stumble our way into the living room and crash onto the sofa, two bodies joining, becoming one.