29. Malcolm
Malcolm
W aking up with Jefferson in bed next to me is everything I've ever wanted. But things have changed. Not my wanting him, but now there's someone else who nips at my heart. It happened fast and unexpectedly, but I can't deny those feelings.
Bradley’s there. Even with Jefferson lying beside me, my thoughts drift to him. Is he okay? Feeling better? And that’s just a couple of the thoughts.
If love at first sight is an actual thing, then I really believe it's what I have with Bradley.
It's far more than lust or some ill-perceived notion of my feelings out of gratitude for him helping me. It’s not transferred love I was feeling for Jefferson that just latched on to him.
Bullshit. The yearning for Bradley is real.
“Morning,” Jefferson’s husky voice whispers in my ear, before kissing me. “How long have you been up?”
“Not long.” It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He kisses me again before propping himself up on his arm. His fingers dance along my chest, causing goose pimples to pop on my skin. He rubs tiny circles around my nipple, and I can’t help but whimper.
“I wish I had time for another round, but I need to get to work and run an errand before I get there,” he tells me.
I tap my fingertips rapidly on my leg. Bradley. I need to talk to him about him. He has to know before we go any further.
“Do we have time to talk?” I’d rather just rip the bandaid off.
He lifts his hand, cupping my face. “Tonight.” He kisses my forehead, then the tip of my nose, finally landing on my lips. “I promise. We have a lot to talk about, and we’re going to need uninterrupted time.”
“We can go to dinner, then come back here or your place.” I add, beaming as Jefferson smiles widely.
“Really?”
“Yes. I told you I’ve worked on myself. Being in public with you, kissing you, holding your hand—it’s what I want to do. And I plan to show you tonight.”
“Okay. I’ll pick you up at six and we’ll go to Lino’s and have some Chicken Saltimbocca a la Romana. I know it’s your favorite next to the pizza.”
I laugh, because he knows me well. But he’s right about the pizza. It’s the best I’ve ever had. “Can we get some pizza to bring home?” Even if he says no, I’m still doing it.
“Of course. But I’ve got to go now.” He kisses me again then turns away, getting out of bed. When he stands, I lift my finger to my mouth, biting on it as I groan. His ass is so fucking tight I could bounce a quarter off of it.
He leaves the bedroom, and I get up, stepping over to my dresser and pulling out a pair of boxers and stepping into them. Walking slowly out of the room and down the hallway, I see Jefferson, bent at the waist, picking up his clothes.
The hallway is filled with our scattered clothing, pants crumpled halfway down the hall, underwear kicked against the wall, and shirts thrown haphazardly.
The evidence of our recklessness to free ourselves of our clothing during our sex crazed frenzy last night.
A reunion between two people who finally overcame their issues.
My gaze drifts down Jefferson’s back, the way his muscles move beneath smooth skin as he reaches for his socks. The slight flex in his thighs, the shape of his ass, I pause, taking it all in.
He stands up, turning to catch me watching him like a stalker. “Enjoying the view?”
“I am. Not embarrassed to say it either.” I lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s the best view I’ve seen all morning.
” I wink before picking up my clothing and taking them to the laundry room.
When I come back, Jefferson’s dressed and sitting on the edge of the couch, putting on his shoes.
“So, when I come to talk about the remodeling plans, will it be you I’m dealing with?” I can’t help but smirk. “Or are you going to be hiding?”
“Keep on with the jokes, and someone won’t be coming tonight.” Jefferson’s threat is all I need to keep quiet.
He stands from the couch, smoothing out his pants, and heads over to me. “I’ll call you later.” He kisses me again, soft and sweet, then heads toward the elevator. He pushes the button and it opens immediately. Stepping inside he turns, lifting his hand and waving as the door closes.
I already miss him. Yet, the good part about him leaving is I don’t have the gut wrenching pain that it’s forever. Because he’s coming back. We’re a couple again. At least, I’m pretty sure we are. It’s part of that conversation we need to have.
Right now I need my phone and I know last night I had it here in the living room. I look on the couch, but don’t see it. Pulling the cushions out one by one, I check the grooves to see if it slipped into them. Nothing. Getting on my hands and knees, I look underneath it.
“Finally.” I blurt, as I stretch my arm, reaching underneath the couch, my fingertips tapping at the edge of my phone, inching it forward until I can wrap my fingers around it and pull it out.
I click on the message icon and open my thread with Bradley, wanting to see his reply. I should’ve checked last night, but with everything happening so quickly with Jefferson, I didn’t.
But when I check, there’s nothing. Just the little check showing that it’s been read.
Me: I did it. I finally told my parents and my kids. It was a mixed reaction.
Me: I need to see you. Can I come over tomorrow? I know you’re not feeling well so I want to check on you, anyway. I can bring food. If you’re up to eating.
Is he okay? Did he get sicker? My mind runs through a thousand scenarios.
Me: Are you okay? You didn’t answer my messages. I can be right over. Just need to get dressed.
I wait to see if he answers. But there are no dots dancing. Nothing to tell me he’s seen it. What if he’s passed out in a pool of vomit? Mind made up, I head straight to my bedroom to shower and change so I can head over there before going to work.
Jefferson
I wait until the elevator doors shut and pull my phone from my pocket. I hated leaving Bradley last night, especially when he seemed off. Something changed from the time he fell asleep until he handed me my phone.
I know it’s because he saw Malcolm calling me. Bradley would’ve seen the picture. We’re not dating, so he shouldn’t have been upset, yet he appeared to be. It’s the only valid reason for his behavior.
My plan was to come see Malcolm last night, then go back to Bradley so we could talk, even if it was only on the phone. Last night though, I don’t regret it. Malcolm is out and we can finally be a couple. I’m still in awe that we’re going out to dinner tonight. Not as friends, but as a couple.
Opening it the first thing that catches my attention is an email from Foxy’s.
Dear Mr. Silverfox,
I hope this email finds you well. You recently booked services through our site and we were informed by the employee that the appointment needed to be canceled due to sickness.
We are sorry to hear of this and hope it posed no inconvenience to you.
We have issued a full refund and a discount off any upcoming need you have for us.
If you have any questions, feel free to contact us.
Sincerely,
Foxy
What the fuck!?
I told Bradley I didn’t want him to refund the money and the only way they would know is if he told them, because I sure as hell didn’t.
Immediately, I call him. This is not something to be handled by a text. Straight to voicemail. Hanging up, I call him again only to find that the automated message comes up.
Your call has been forwarded…
“Bradley, it’s Jefferson. Are you okay? Did you forget to charge your phone?” I pause, as if in my head he’ll answer me. “Can I come by later? I need to run into the office and handle a few issues, but I really want to talk to you.” I take a deep breath. “Please call me.”
Not happy with just leaving a voicemail. I text him.
Me: Hey Bradley. I got an email and I told you last night I didn’t want the money back. It’s for you. Me: For your time .
No, I back that out and start over. Telling him it’s for his time makes it sound dirty. Like it was purely sexual and it wasn’t.
So, I start again.
Me: I don’t care about the money. I care about you. Please just message me.
The elevator doors open and I step into the lobby of the apartment building.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the envelope I took from Bradley’s last night.
One thing Bradley won’t be able to return is the debt I’m about to clear up for him.
While I’m not a millionaire by any status, the amount he owes isn’t even a blip on my account.
And I’m not letting him run away from me either. I need to clear up the confusion between us, and talk with him about Malcolm. Then have the same conversation with Malcolm about Bradley.
Me: I’m going to be there in 2 hours.
That gives me time to go to the bank, pay what he owes on the mortgage, then head home and shower before running by the office to sign the contracts I need to.
The response is immediate.
Bradley: I’m fine. Busy. Won’t be home. The money wasn’t mine to keep.
“What the actual fuck?” I bark as I exit the building, making my way to my car.
My finger is hitting the call button as I unlock my doors and slip into the driver's seat. Voicemail. He forwarded me again.
Bradley: Can’t talk. Busy.
That’s his reply. I can feel the anger boiling up inside me. How can my life be this insane? The moment one thing changes trajectory, another goes spiraling off the rails. I don’t care if he’s busy or not. He’s going to talk to me. I’ll camp out on his doorstep until he does.
First, I need to pay a bill.