Chapter Eleven
Maurice
Maurice hadn’t meant to sound jealous. He really hadn’t. But the words slipped out anyway. “You went to the Meet-a-Daddy Party. Does that mean you’re looking for a Daddy/boy relationship?”
He tried to keep his tone casual, as if he were just making conversation.
Inside, though, he was bracing himself. Finn was young, bright-eyed, and curious—exactly the kind of man who should explore before settling on anyone.
Especially someone like Maurice, who’d already lived a whole life full of mistakes and false starts.
“I’m looking,” Finn said. “I’ve had one before.”
Maurice hadn’t expected that piece of personal information. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“He was an older man from Denmark, I’d tried to get him used to living in America. He was in control of everything, and he gave me rules and spanked me if I didn’t follow them.”
Maurice smiled before he could stop himself.
The image of Finn draped over his lap flashed through his mind—too vivid, too easy.
God, he liked this boy. Liked him more than he should after knowing him for barely a day.
But that was exactly why he needed to slow down.
Finn deserved the entire week and the full Pride Train experience. Not just him.
“Do you mind sharing what happened?” Maurice played with Finn’s hair.
“He returned to Denmark. I failed at my job and as his boy, I guess.”
Maurice shook his head. “I doubt that. Not everyone feels comfortable in a foreign country, and I’m sure you were doing your best.”
“I was, or so I thought.”
Maurice heard the line, “I was, or so I thought,” and something in Finn’s voice snagged his attention. The words were flat, almost practiced, but the end of the sentence dipped like he was trying not to let it crack.
Finn didn’t look at him when he added, “My parents told me not to take it personally. He was just homesick.” Instead, he focused on the floor, thumb worrying the edge of his sleeve as if he needed something to do with his hands. A tiny, nervous habit Maurice hadn’t seen from him before.
Finn delivered it all as if it were ancient history, but the way he kept blinking too fast, the way his shoulders curled in just a little as if bracing for someone to argue with him which told a different story. Maurice wanted to smooth away his hurt with his hands. Dangerous idea.
“I live in Virginia,” Maurice said, trying to shift the mood.
“I know that.”
“Let’s talk about geography for a bit.” He needed something neutral, something that would ease Finn. “Would you ever move from Boston?” Maurice asked.
“If I had a good reason,” Finn said. “But I would have to be sure it was for the right reason.”
Maurice nodded. His answer was precisely what he had hoped for: a simple display of his reflective and cautious nature. Finn wasn’t someone who jumped blindly. Good. He shouldn’t jump for Maurice either. Not yet.
“We’re on this train for a week,” Maurice said. “We both need to socialize to be sure of what we want. How do you feel about that?”
He hated saying it. Hated the idea of Finn going off to meet other men, laughing with them, maybe liking one of them more. But it was the right thing. Finn needed options. Maurice needed to know Finn chose him because he wanted him—not because he was the first man who paid attention.
“I guess you’re right,” Finn said. “I have a breakfast date in the morning.”
Maurice was afraid of losing Finn before he even had him. He kept his face neutral. “Wow. With who?”
“Jacob.”
“Jacob Gates?” Maurice tried not to react. Jacob was handsome, polished, and confident. The kind of man who didn’t second-guess himself the way Maurice did.
“Yes. He stopped me at the party and asked if we could meet.”
“Do you know he’s a doctor?” Maurice said. He wasn’t trying to sell Jacob, but maybe a part of him wanted Finn to see his options clearly. He wanted Finn to choose from a full deck.
“No, he didn’t tell me.”
The train slowed, then stopped. Maurice exhaled, grateful for the distraction.
“Look outside,” he said. “That’s West Virginia. Have you ever been there?”
“No.”
Finn’s face lit up as he looked out the window—curious, open, beautiful.
It hit him again, the same as earlier; he already liked Finn more than he should.
He’d let Finn walk into tomorrow with someone else.
Because wanting him wasn’t the same as deserving him.
And Finn deserved the chance to find exactly what he needed.
Finn pressed closer to the window, his breath fogging a small patch of glass as he stared out into the dark hills.
Maurice focused on him rather than the scenery.
He couldn’t help it. Finn’s curiosity lit him up from the inside, made him look younger, softer, almost untouched by the disappointments that had already shaped him.
Maurice wished he could protect that softness. He also selfishly wished he could be the one Finn chose at the end of the week. But wanting and deserving weren’t the same thing, and he’d lived long enough to know the difference.
The train lurched forward again, humming beneath their feet. Finn turned back to him with that open, earnest expression pulling at something deep in Maurice.
“I should get some sleep,” Finn said. “Breakfast is early.”
Right. Breakfast with Jacob Gates. The doctor. The handsome, put-together, age-appropriate doctor. Maurice’s smile was a strained affair, tugging uncomfortably at his lips.
He looked at his gold watch, and it was after one in the morning. “Of course. Big day tomorrow.”
Finn hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else. For a heartbeat, Maurice let himself hope, a ridiculous, reckless hope that Finn might change his mind, might stay, might choose him tonight even if he chose someone else tomorrow.
But Finn only said, “Goodnight, Maurice.”
Maurice nodded. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
The endearment slipped out before he could catch it. Finn didn’t seem bothered; if anything, he looked a little flustered, a little pleased, but he didn’t comment. He just gave a small wave and headed down the narrow hallway toward his cabin.
As Finn left his cabin, every step tugged at something low and stubborn in his chest. He liked that boy.
More than he should. More than he’d planned to.
It scared him a little—how fast Finn had become important to him, how easily he could picture a future with the kid, how clear the image was of Finn tucked against him on quiet mornings or laughing in his kitchen back in Virginia.
But Finn deserved to experience as many daddies as possible before making his final selection.
Maurice leaned back against the window, exhaling slowly. He hated this part—the waiting, the not-knowing, the possibility that Finn might find someone better suited, someone younger, someone with fewer scars and fewer regrets.
He hated it, but he also knew it was right.
If Finn chose him at the end of this journey, Maurice wanted it to be because he’d seen every option and still wanted the man from Virginia with the too-big heart and the too-many worries.
Maurice closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of the tracks. He wondered what Finn was thinking as he walked away. Wondered why Finn had gone to the Meet-a-Daddy Party.
Did Finn feel even a little bit of what Maurice did?
He hoped so. God, he hoped so. But for now, he’d let the boy sleep. Let him explore. Let him find his footing.
And he’d face whatever it brought with as much grace as he could manage.