14. Jefferson
Jefferson
B radley’s killing it so far tonight. Three and a half hours into the event, and he’s charming the pants off everyone.
The night has been flawless. From the cocktail hour, to the speeches and presentations.
Dinner was delicious. Steak, steamed vegetables, with garlic and Asiago potatoes.
We can’t forget my favorite, the bread. Every morsel was mouthwatering.
The meat was cooked to perfection, just close enough to well done that it wasn’t bleeding but also not tough as a piece of bark.
Bradley opted for the cajun grilled salmon.
“Is it as good as it smells?” I lean into him, whispering.
He spears a bite, holds it to my lips. “Try it.”
“Aren’t they cute?” I hear the older woman sitting across from us at the table whisper to her husband. He nods, turning his eyes to her and smiles. I can feel the love they feel for each other radiating around them.
“Shh, Annabelle. They’ll hear you,” he tries to whisper, but it comes out louder. Maybe due to the hearing aid I see in his ear. One day, I hope to be a part of a couple that’s just as cute as they are.
“Oh pish posh,” she scolds him, tapping him lightly on his hand, before turning her attention to me. “The two of you are so cute together. How did the two of you meet?”
I don’t even get a chance to answer before Bradley’s speaking up. “We met on a dating site. I kept sliding into his messages, and he kept turning me down.”
“Now, why would he do that? You’re such a good-looking man.” She shoots me an evil side eye and Bradley speaks up again, gaining her attention.
“He said I was too young for him. What he didn’t know is that I have an old soul. But I eventually wore him down and he said yes. The rest is history.”
“That’s so sweet.” She clasps her hands together, bringing them to her chin as her eyes glisten. “Now he just needs to pop the question.” She shoots that comment to me, looking down the length of her nose, telling me she means business.
“Oh, I asked him and he turned me down. Said I had to prove to him that I love him.” I can’t help but feel smug being just as clever as Bradley in his responses.
“Yep. Told him I needed to be treated like a queen. I want a house with a white picket fence, and I still need to finish college. I had to un-enroll to take care of my ailing Nana. She took care of me most of life, and there wasn’t any way I wasn’t doing the same for her.”
The smile slips from my face before I can stop it. It’s subtle, but the tone in his voice changes—less teasing, more personal. This isn’t part of the bit. I lean in, brushing my lips against his ear, my words meant for him alone. “Is that true?”
He doesn’t answer, just nods. Shit. That must have been so hard, I think, for a minute.
Giving up all you're trying to achieve to care for someone else. But it’s not a hard choice.
I would do the same for my family. For Malcolm.
Even now with us not together, if he needed me I’d be there in a heartbeat, no matter how badly being close to him and not being with him would kill me.
“You, my boy, were raised right.” She raises her napkin, gently dabbing at her eyes, before glaring at me. “You better hold on to this one.” Then, to drive the nail in deeper to make her point, she adds, “It's not like you're getting any younger.”
“Yes ma’am, I'll make sure I do. There's nothing I'd hate more than losing my sweet Bradley.” Laying it on thick for the woman, I even slip my arm around his back, gripping his shoulder, pulling him closer to me as I press my lips to his temple, kissing him.
“Promises, promises,” Bradley chastises jokingly as he wiggles his finger back and forth.
The older couple smiles and before the woman can say anything more, her husband speaks up. “Let them be, Annabelle. I'm sure they can navigate their relationship without your meddling.” She pouts, giving us a wink before resuming eating.
“Guess we should start planning our wedding and future together.”
“I want a destination wedding. Maybe somewhere like Greece.” Bradley’s eyes fade out, as if he's looking at something just out of his sight. “Greece has always been on my bucket list.”
“Noted,” I state poignantly. “You should go.
I've been there a couple of times. It's breathtaking.” I don't add that one of those times Malcolm lied to his family and said he was on a work trip.
Even then, unless we were in the safety of our room, he showed no affection or love to me. Every interaction was purely platonic.
That last visit was three months ago. I should have seen it for what it was, an omen for the future.
The vibrations of the microphone echo through the room as the organizer for the evening taps on it.
“Wasn't that a delicious dinner?” he asks, getting a round of applause and ‘yes’ from the crowd.
My eyes glance to the side, catching Bradley’s movement, lifting his wineglass to his lips.
“As you know, I'm Henry Scott the Third, and I'm so pleased with the turnout tonight for Children Fighting for Hope.”
A round of applause fills the room as I join in with it. Henry raises his hands, moving them downward, encouraging us to quiet.
“Now, even though dinner is over, the night is still young.
Please continue to drink, and the dance floor is opening.
The auction will continue for the next hour and a half, so if you haven't checked it out, now is the time. Winners will be announced shortly after the closing.” He pauses, slowly letting his eyes scan the room, lingering on the guests for a moment.
“Go have fun, and open your wallets and your heart to this amazing cause.”
The room erupts in applause as everyone stands in appreciation of his words.
“Shall we check out what’s in the auction?”
Bradley lifts his napkin, wiping his mouth, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“I'd love to help you spend some more of your money.”
We both laugh. There is something magical about only the two of us being in on the joke of that statement.
I reach out and Bradley doesn't hesitate to slip his hand in mine. An action I could get used to.
We weave through the crowd, our hands never breaking apart until we reach the entrance to the room containing all the items. The attendant at the door hands each of us a pen.
“Gentlemen, just some information. This is a silent auction. At each item, there will be a tablet. It will have the current bid on it. However, you will not see the bidders’ information.
If you wish to go higher than that bid, simply input your information.
Increment increases are in hundred dollar amounts.
” Bradley’s breath hitches as she looks between us, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “Any questions?”
Bradley simply shakes his head.
“We’re good. You've been very informative.”
She steps back, ushering her hand out for us to enter. The room is dimly lit, with lights shining down over the auction items, spotlighting them.
People move through the room, pausing at each item, lingering for a few minutes as they decide if they want to bid or not. Bradley and I step up to the first item, a beach house in the Hamptons for five days. The high bid of forty thousand showing.
“What the fuck?” Bradley blurts before composing himself and lowering his voice, looking around like he's checking if anyone heard his outburst. When he's confident no one has, he speaks again, keeping his voice low. “I get that this is for charity, but that's insane.”
“It'll go for more. Pretentious people love to flaunt going there.” Bradley snorts at my revelation.
“Are you bidding on this?”
“No. It's not my scene. Let's see what else there is.” Then it dawns on me that he may think he can't bid if there's something he's interested in.
“You know if you see something you want, you can bid too.
I'm sure you make a good income with…” I stammer, not wanting to say anything about the website. “With what you do.”
I mean it as a compliment, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I catch the subtle shift. Bradley’s smile dims just slightly. He doesn’t say anything—just looks away and steps past me to the next display. Shit. That landed wrong.
I step up beside him, close enough that our arms brush, and gently slip my hand into his. “Hey,” I say softly. “If that came out wrong, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“You weren’t,” Bradley says, eyes still locked on the item in front of us—some overpriced interior design package neither of us is interested in.
He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more, then closes it.
The silence stretches between us. “The money’s good,” he finally says.
“Just not the job I imagined myself doing.”
Something's going on, and the mood of the night is suddenly changing. Not wanting a great night to hit a solemn note, I take his hand and pull him off of the side, away from everyone, into a private corner.
I take one more look, making sure no one is within earshot.
“Bradley, there's nothing wrong with what you do. You provide a service. Never look down on yourself about it. If it's not what you want to do, then go back to school.”
“I can't. Not yet, anyway.”
“Are you still taking care of your Nana?”
He shakes his head, his body shuddering slightly. “No, she passed away a little over a month ago.”
Fuck, I feel like an idiot.
“Bradley, I'm so sorry.” I debate for a moment, not sure if my next words should even be spoken, as they may be insensitive. “Then what's keeping you from going back to school and putting this job in the past?”
He sighs heavily, biting on his lower lip so intensely, I'm afraid it's going to start bleeding.
I run the pad of my thumb over his lip, stopping him. “Talk to me. Believe it or not, I can be a pretty good listener.”
“My nana was amazing. But when she died, I found out she was in debt.” He runs his hand through his hair and bites his lip yet again.
“No more biting your lip,” I scold.
“She got behind on the taxes and the fool put additional mortgages on her home just to put me through school. I took the job at Foxy’s to save her house. My house.”
Damn. Bradley has real issues, and I was worried about coming here alone tonight.
“Did you?”
Bradley clears his throat while shaking his head. “Save the house? Not yet. I took care of the back taxes, but not the mortgage.” His voice softens for the next part, like he doesn’t want me to hear. He’s not successful; each word reaches my ear. “And time is running out.”
“I have faith it’s all going to be fine.
” I lift my hand, letting the tips of my fingers trail along the side of his face, along his jaw.
“Let’s put everything else to the side and enjoy the rest of the night.
I want to bid on something and hopefully win.
If not, I’ll be making a donation. Will you help me decide? ”
Bradley pauses—only a second, maybe two—then just nods his head, before a ‘yes’ slips from his mouth.
Our gazes lock, and the world narrows, creating a bubble around the two of us, blocking everyone else out.
The surrounding stillness is so intense my body hums. Bradley stares back at me with a kind of look that makes me feel like I’m standing in a doorway, knowing that once I cross it, nothing will ever be the same.
Bradley’s chest rises with a sharp inhale, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but thinks better of it.
We don’t need them. I’m positive I’m feeling everything that he is. I shouldn't. I didn’t come here for this. But with him, it doesn’t feel like pretending.
I lean into him, slightly at first, allowing his body to adjust to my closeness. Bradley doesn’t pull away, and it’s the invitation I need to continue. My breath catches as my pulse quickens. The air between our mouths warms as our faces come close to each other, our lips barely touching.
My hand moves without thought, allowing my fingers to slip through his hair as I grip the back of his head, pressing my mouth firmly against his.
And then—finally—we kiss.
Slow at first, then deepening with each passing second, more sure, more urgent.
Our mouths move together gently at first, then become greedy, begging for more.
Bradley’s hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling us closer until there’s no space left between us, only the soft grind of bodies and the heat rising fast between us.
The rest of the room blurs into nothing, this kiss between us sparking something I’d thought only belonged to one other person. Someone who wasn’t ready for the same level of commitment as me. I’m not sure how to process it, but I’m not running.
We pull our lips away from each other, both a panting, breathing mess.
“That was…” Bradley seems at a loss for words as his face turns the cutest tinge of pink.
“It was for me, too. Now let’s go spend my money.” I drop my hand from his head, gripping his hand as I pull him along back over to the auction items without a care in the world that we were just making out in view for anyone to see.