Chapter Eleven #2
I was in charge of putting the laundry away if he folded it, or folding it if he threw it in.
Doing all the dishes if he cooked and tidying up the place as much as I could.
He was the one scrubbing weekly. My tiny apartment had never been cleaner since doubling the number of men in residence.
There was a sense of peace to it, too. Clean space, clean mind.
Alec also took over cooking for us almost as soon as he moved in. Then, grocery shopping, and soon, all household goods. I wasn’t charging him rent, so he felt he had to contribute something. He didn’t, he already did so much, but I hated grocery shopping and he liked it, so I let it be.
The longer we lived together, the more domestic we became. I saw patterns that reminded me of my parents, and was scared we resembled his marriage, too. Part of me wanted to believe that’s just what happened when people lived in the same space and fucked all the time. But I knew it wasn’t.
I let it slide for as long as I could. There was only one way to solve it: talk to him like a man and ask.
But bringing up the “what are we” conversation and hoping the other person lands on the casual side felt stupid.
Stupider than moving my boss into my place and letting him fuck me without thinking things could get complicated.
Was it complicated? Or was I overthinking it?
I’d never been in a situation close to this before.
I never lived with a girlfriend, or even had one since college.
The most logical option was probably the truest—I was a soft landing after his divorce.
And a launching pad for man-sex, as he was for me.
Anything else would be crazy. We weren’t dating in secret. We were exploring.
I needed to figure out his thoughts without letting him know mine. Like a mature, grown-up would. I didn’t want to seed anything in his head or confirm my fears. Things were going too well to blow up because I was being crazy.
We were devouring his cheeseburger meatloaf as the TV droned in the other room, when I said, “This is better than my mom’s,” with a full mouth.
Alec chuckled and said, “Thanks, man. Better than mine, too.”
“Viv was lucky to have such a five-star chef in the house.”
Alec’s face darkened as he skewered a piece of loaf. “Nope.” He looked up. “She hates it… well, used to hate it when I cooked. All but banned me from the kitchen because she said my cooking was childish and worse than my mother.”
“Your mom was a big cook?”
He laughed, letting the piece fall off his fork. “No way. That was the joke—she didn’t cook at all. Mom used to say the best thing she makes is reservations.”
“So, your dad?” I asked, nervous he’d say yes.
“The man didn’t even own a grill.” He chuckled. “No, neither of them cooked.”
I laughed. “Where’d you learn then?”
“Taught my damn self.”
“What? No way. This has a certain… grandma’s depression recipe quality to it.”
He glared at me. “It’s not good? You don’t like it? You said you were neutral to pickles, and I used bread and butter, so they just add sweetness.”
“No! It’s good,” I said, laughing. “Just that, your ex is wild for many reasons, but thinking you can’t cook is now my favorite.”
He grunted with a forced smile after taking a bite.
That was a relief. Alec wasn’t parroting his parents or his marriage. Meaning he thought our dynamic was closer to fuck buddies. I was about to ask if he was the house cook for his roommates in college—the ideal scenario for us to reenact—but I didn’t.
“You guys ate out a lot growing up?” I asked.
He gulped his food, causing him to take a breath. “Not really, no.”
“Ordered out a lot?”
“No.” He was done looking at me.
That didn’t make sense. Where did little Alec get food if his parents didn’t cook, they didn’t go out, or order?
“Then how the hell did you eat?”
He rolled his eyes. “I fed myself. I just told you I taught myself to cook.”
“Even as a kid?”
“Yup, even as a kid.”
“Like a little kid?”
He tensed his eyes. “What’s with the third degree, Blackwood?
That look and tone would never lose its effect on me. I swallowed, then said, “I don’t know. Just curious.”
“Curious about what?”
“The man living in my apartment and fucking my butt daily.”
That was true. Regardless of what was happening, I was curious about Alec.
We were close, but there was so much I didn’t know.
Which helped to relieve even more of my stress—if he hadn’t shared things about his background, how could he see us as anything more than sex roommates?
It didn’t occur to me that asking about it might undo that barrier.
He looked at me for a moment, then sighed. “I’ve told you before we moved around a lot, right?”
“Yup, a military brat, but for Pharma salespeople.” I chuckled, not knowing where he was heading.
“Something like that. But I never told you they were never around. I wasn’t a latchkey kid.
I was a make-my-own-breakfast-and-dinner, pack-my-own-lunch, and hope-I’d-see-my-parents-sometime-that-week, kid.
Since I was ten. So, I had to learn to cook.
Mac and cheese is easy as fuck, even at eight.
Eventually, I broadened my horizons to chicken finger ranch parmigiana, and cheeseburger meatloaf.
I promise the recipe has improved since I was eleven. ” He chuckled. I didn’t.
“Holy shit, Alec. What the fuck?”
“Yeah.”
“Where were they?”
“Working. Always working. We traveled all the time, so they ‘homeschooled’ me when I was little,” he used air quotes.
“When I turned ten, they bought a house and enrolled me in an actual school because I was old enough to leave alone. By the time I was thirteen, they were divorced, and I’d go weeks without seeing them. It sucked.”
“Jesus, that’s fucked up.”
He chuckled through his nose. “It was, yeah. At least it was a unique childhood.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
He shrugged and returned to his plate. A few beats passed as we ate.
He said, “What about you? I never understood how people function with big families.”
“Not well.” I chuckled, feeling awkward.
“Yeah? How so?”
“Now you’re giving me the third degree?”
“Only fair,” he said with a smirk.
“Well, with a couple siblings, a stay-at-home mom, a bunch of aunts and uncles, and tons of cousins, I didn’t know what privacy was until I got to college.
” I chuckled. “You were lucky. I would’ve killed to have the house to myself for even a single night…
” Alec’s brow fell, and he looked at his food.
“But being alone like you were must’ve really sucked, man. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m over it,” he said, not sounding over it. “Not your fault. What kid doesn’t wish to have run of the kingdom? Especially when it’s a full house all day, every day. I get it.”
“Yeah, but... Sorry.” I smiled, and he returned it. “Did you ever tell them how you felt?”
“Yes. Many times. They’ve apologized, and I’ve forgiven them. I sort of understand where they were coming from, but it was still a shitty thing to do to a kid. Yeah, I was smart and responsible, but being fucking ten and walking into a cold empty house sucked. It fucked me up.”
“That would fuck anyone up. How did they get away with it? Didn’t a neighbor or something notice? Or call child services?”
“Nope. If anything, the neighborhood moms were in on it. They’d come and check on me, bring me dinner, that kind of stuff.
But they’d find the house clean, mac and cheese cooking on the stove, and my homework in front of me.
They were like, ‘ok, the kid is fine.’ I was fine.
Physically. But I wasn’t. Never had a sense of security.
Or permanence. And I was a scared little kid, man.
It really fucking sucks to wake up from a nightmare and not have a parent’s bed to run to.
I slept with a flashlight because of monsters under my bed until I was in eighth grade. ”
That broke my heart. How could it not? Little Alec, terrified in an empty house, was not an image I ever wanted to conjure again. I might have been bad with that stuff, but I wasn’t an unmovable bastard.
I couldn’t remember if we had ever held hands before, but I reached out to grab his. “It’s okay. If you have a nightmare now, just wake me up. I’ll beat up any motherfuckers for you, real or imaginary.”
He squeezed tight, looking both sad and relieved—like that was hard to say but wonderful to do. “Thanks, Mason.”
“Hell yeah, man. I got you.”
He let go to pick up his fork. “I told you why they broke up, right?”
“Infidelity.”
“Infidelity. What a word that is. You know it means without loyalty?” He laughed. “No, that’s not why. They cheated. Over and over. Didn’t even hide it. Some of it was just for fun. Some was to hurt the other. All of it was because they couldn’t care less about anyone or anything. Including me.”
I’d always thought Alec’s aversion to cheating was harsher than usual. No one likes cheaters. Some hate them, but Alec despised them.
He shoved the piece of food waiting on his fork into his mouth.
“They were shit parents, but I know they loved me in their way. They’re just selfish people.
Took me a long time to come to terms with that.
I didn’t speak to them at all in high school.
Not that I saw them much, but when I did, I’d ignore them.
Ships passing in the night kinda thing. And what’s most fucked up is that they’re the reason I got into sales. And why I’m good at it.”
“What do you mean?”
“My whole sales persona is a mix of my parents. The slickness of my dad and the flirtatiousness of my mom. That, plus how good I read people, makes me an excellent salesperson. To outstanding success, I might add.”
Alec looked so sad, gazing at me. But that wasn’t it. Not all of it. There was so much to him I found it hard to see all of it at once. The longer we lived together, the easier it got, but it was still tricky.