11. Bradley
Bradley
T he man can fucking cook. Honestly, if I had the money, I’d pay to date him just for a home-cooked meal.
We spend some time breaking the ice. I tell him about my Nana passing and that being the reason why I left school.
He tells me about his recent breakup and his family.
It is a bit nerve-wracking to know that he’s got children who are close to my age.
“That was delicious,” I tell him as we both push away our plates. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in ages. It had to have been before my Nana got sick.” I fight back the tears that threaten to fall, remembering I’ll never taste her cooking again.
“Thank you.” He takes a moment, looking at the food still sitting on the table. “Would you like to take some home with you? It’ll go to waste otherwise.”
“I’d gladly take it.” I smile. “Want me to help you put it away?”
“It will only take me a few minutes. You can have a seat in the living room if you like.” He pauses. “Unless you really want to help me?”
Pushing back my chair from the table, I stand, picking up my plate, then his.
“I do.” Not even waiting, I start heading to the kitchen, straight to the sink.
Turning on the water, I begin rinsing the dishes.
I hear his feet on the tile floor as he steps up beside me. “Do you want these in the dishwasher?”
“Yes,” he answers simply, his voice deep and gravelly. He reaches down, opens the cabinet door and pulls out a few tupperware containers. Malcolm meticulously divides up the remaining pasta and fills the plastic containers, then hands the casserole dish to me.
I quickly rinse and place it in the dishwasher along with the other pans still on the stove.
“We make a good team. You cook and I help clean.” We both laugh and it feels natural.
Being here with him, in his home. It doesn’t feel as if I’m a bought date but instead someone he chooses to spend his time with.
Malcolm places the lids on the containers, then puts one in the refrigerator, leaving the other where it is.
“This is for you, so don't forget it.” He winks. “Let’s get something else to drink and head to the living room to finish our conversation from earlier.”
“Sounds good.” I toss my empty bottle into the trash as he hands me another beer, choosing to get a glass of wine for himself.
We settle onto his black leather couch, angling toward each other.
“Okay now, spill. Tell me the tea.”
“Simple. Like I told you, I’ve not come out with my sexuality. My ex is fully out and wants our relationship to move forward. I wasn’t ready. He ended our relationship.”
“Shit, that sucks. How long were you together?”
“As a couple, a little over a year after my divorce. But we’ve known each other longer.”
I let out a sigh, my finger tapping on the cold green glass of my beer. The hard thing is I feel for Malcolm, but I get his boyfriend’s position as well.
“It’s obvious you’re still in love with this man, so why am I here?”
His face goes slack as he goes white. Something tells me it’s not for him to move on. Or for a casual hookup after our time ends tonight.
“Let me preface by saying it might sound bad, but it really isn’t.” Malcolm takes a sip of his wine, lowering his gaze so that he’s looking at his lap instead of me.
“Well, when you say something like that, it makes it seem like it is. But I’m not your boyfriend, or a love interest. Just a man you rented for the night, so you don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings.” Why did that sting a little bit?
“I just don’t want you to think I’m an asshole.” He glances away, but not fast enough to hide the flicker of regret in his eyes.
“Malcolm, I don’t and honestly, I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will make me have that opinion of you.”
“You say that now. I want to win him back, but I need to come out. I figured using Foxy’s, I could get used to dating a man, then slowly move to being open with my sexuality in public. Once I can do that, I was planning to tell my family.” He pauses, breathing heavy.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yeah, I was wondering how you came out to your family? Were you always out? Did you struggle with it? While I worry about telling my parents and hope the shock doesn’t kill them, I’m more concerned about my children.”
“Is that it? You just want me to tell you my story?” Somehow, I don’t think that’s it. I can see the pensive look in his eyes, the slight way his lips part, and I know he’s about to tell me what I’m thinking is a hundred percent true.
“I wasn’t sure at first if I wanted to ask you this or if I just wanted to continue to see others on the site.
But I feel comfortable with you. The conversation is easy, and well, you seem to understand.
Honestly, I’m not sure if I could be this open with anyone else.
And I was wondering if I could use you to get past my insecurities.
Obviously, I’ll pay for your time through Foxy’s. ”
I don’t answer right away. I let his words sink in. Malcolm is vulnerable at this moment, and it’s evident he’s in love with this man. Do I want to be his—for lack of a better word—rebound, priming him to be the man that can win back the heart of the man he loves?
My mind runs over and over how I feel about it.
But what hits me the hardest is that Malcolm hiring me would be steady income, getting me one step closer to paying off the debt I owe.
He’s easy on the eyes, so it’s not like it’s a hardship and I’d be doing a good deed.
Rebuilding a broken love. I could add Cupid to my list of attributes on the website.
“Seems like we’re going to be getting to know each other well. But, while we’ll go at your pace, you have to be willing to step out of the box. Otherwise, this isn’t going to work, and you’re going to lose your man to someone else.”
“That’s why I’m doing this. I know he loves me, but I don’t expect him to wait forever.” I can see the love in his eyes when he talks about him. The tiny flicker and the way his lips turn up into a smile.
“Okay then. Let’s get down to the questions before we concoct our ‘Malcolm coming out like a rockstar to win his man back’ plan.
First of all, my grandmother pretty much raised me, so it was her I came out to, not my parents.
Not that I think they’d have minded one way or another.
” I turn more toward him, resting my arm on the back of the couch, my fingertips grazing his arm.
“What happened to your parents?”
“They were killed in a car accident.” I really hope he doesn’t push for more. I really don’t feel like going down that memory tonight. While it’s been a long time since it happened, it still hits hard.
“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Malcolm places his hand on mine, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze.
“It’s okay. Even though it’s been a long time, it still hurts like it was yesterday. But my Nana was awesome. She took great care of me and made sure their memory lived on for me. She made it like they were there for every big occasion in my life. I’m going to miss that.”
Malcolm doesn't rush to speak. He just looks at me as if he were my shelter in a withering storm. His eyes soften, the tension in his face easing into something gentle, like he’s holding my pain in his hands along with his.
There’s no fear or pity in his expression. Just quiet understanding. Compassion. Instead of pulling away from me with what I told him, he gravitates more toward me. His brows pull slightly inward.
“Your Nana sounds like an amazing woman. One I wish I could’ve gotten the chance to know.”
“She’d kick you in the ass for being afraid to be who you are,” I choke out with a mix of laughter and fighting tears.
“Maybe that’s what I need. How did she take it when you came out?” he asks again.
“Actually, I don’t think it was that I came out to her. When I was sixteen, she took me to a club—”
“She what?” Malcolm blurts, interrupting me.
“Yeah, she knew the owners. It wasn’t just any club; it was an LGBTQ+ club here in town.
Back then it was considered to be underground, but it was commonly known that’s what it was.
It was then that she set me down and explained that she knew who I was and reassured me that I was perfect.
That I didn’t need to care what anyone else thought of me or how they saw me, that I needed to be me. To own it and live my best life.”
“Did it happen that night?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“No. I still wasn’t ready to be open. It was hard in high school.
It wasn't until I went away to college that my journey of self-discovery and happiness began. If it weren’t for Nana and her support, I don’t know that I would’ve.
I’d probably be sitting here in the same boat as you twenty years from now. ”
I lift the bottle of beer to my lips and take a deep swallow, my throat parched from talking so much. When I glance upward, I can see him gazing off into space, maybe regretting some of the choices he’s made in his life. He can’t do that, though.
“Stop,” I tell him harshly.
“Stop what?” he asks.
“Second guessing.”
“It’s hard not to,” he sighs, his voice cracking at the end.
“Look at it this way. Your choices were right for you at the time. Think about it. If you came out years ago, you wouldn’t have met Paige, your best friend, the mother of your children.
Which leads to them. They wouldn’t be here.
Can you honestly imagine your life without them?
We make choices, good or bad. But the wonderful thing is no matter which one you make, something great can come from it.
So never regret hiding who you are until you’re ready to be you. ”
He doesn’t say a word, just leans forward, wrapping his arms around mine, resting his face in the crook of my neck as he breaks down. The tears freely falling, soaking my skin.
“Thank you,” he mumbles. “I needed to hear that.”
I wrap my arm around him, careful not to spill my beer and comfort him, happy that I’m able to give him a little of what he needs at this time.
We stay like that for a few minutes before he pulls away.
“I’m just so scared of how my kids are going to take this. What they’ll think of me.”
“I think you’re worrying for nothing. So what’s your first step, coming out to your kids or stepping out in public?”
He takes a deep breath. “Public,” he states boldly. “I want to be carefree stepping out with a man on my arm, and show him affection without fear or hesitation.”
“Then what do we do next? Do you want another date with us hanging out here? Do you want to jump right into going somewhere in public? We can go to another town.”
“You’d do that? Maybe go somewhere for the weekend?” he asks.
“Yeah. But we’d have to work around the Rent-a -Date website. You can only book eight hours a day. But what Foxy doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” I tease him.
He just grins widely, biting on his lower lip as he stares right through my soul. I think I’m going to have more fun helping him than I originally intended. It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot as hell. My very own daddy dream comes true.