Chapter 40
Nick
Mamá? Would you mind taking Abbie inside to pick out a tiara for Tristan? He’ll need one if he’s going to stay for dinner,” I say, smiling at my mother.
She nods sagely and ushers Abbie back towards the living room, which currently looks like an explosion of pink.
When they’re gone, I step out onto the stoop and close the door behind me.
“I’m staying for dinner?” Tristan asks softly. His eyes are a little swollen, like he’s been crying more, but he offers me the smallest hopeful smile.
“I’d like it if you did,” I admit.
His smile widens. “Pink’s a good color on you.”
“Right? I thought so, too.” I shift my weight a bit. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting this.”
His eyes twinkle. “Would you have dressed differently if you were?”
I spread my arms. “What? This outfit doesn’t scream dom top?”
“I don’t know… maybe to some people.”
He falters, like he doesn’t know what to say next.
“How’s your dad?” I ask gently. Maybe he needs some more time to get his thoughts in order. I can give him that.
Tristan seems relieved. “He’ll be okay. A sprained wrist and nothing else. He got lucky, and he knows it. He agreed that it’s time to think about hiring a home health aide.”
“That’s good.”
He nods. “I’m glad he’s accepted it.” And then he releases a sigh.
“I had a good talk with Bobbie, too, and she reminded me of some things I need to hear. Look, Nick, I’m sorry for how I acted when I got the text.
I wasn’t angry at you. I was just scared, and I took it out on you.
That wasn’t fair of me, and I knew that immediately. ”
I don’t want to minimize his apology by telling him it was nothing—and besides, it wasn’t nothing.
“I forgive you,” I say instead, because I do. Wholeheartedly. “Thank you for saying that.”
Tristan takes a deep breath, barrels on. “I shouldn’t have just said it was about fulfilling sexual fantasies. I… I know that’s not all it is.”
I nod slightly. I really had begun to wonder if it was more than that for him, too. I’ve been feeling the growing interest for a while. I didn’t know if he felt the same.
“It’s not just that for me,” I say quietly. “Not at all.”
“Me, too,” he whispers. When he looks up at me, his eyes are freshly wet. “Nick, that scares me, too.”
All at once, I feel a rush of such intense affection for Tristan. I want to wrap my arms around him right now, hold him, comfort him, but I don’t know if that’s what he needs right now.
Instead, I say, “I get it.”
I keep my voice low, gentle. These are things I need to say, even if they scare me a bit to admit.
“You don’t think I’m scared?” I chuckle.
“I’m a thirty-year-old gay guy with an eight-year-old daughter.
I met a guy at a fetish bar and thought he was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, and I wanted more than anything to take him out.
And then I realized he’s my coworker. Now, I’m lucky enough to call him my friend, and I get to have incredibly filthy sex with him regularly?
And he’s proving to be someone I can be completely myself around?
One of the most interesting, funny, attractive, bravest people I know?
Hell yeah, I’m scared. I’m scared out of my mind. ”
Tristan looks down at his shoes and is silent for a long moment. My words hang around us.
I wonder if I said too much, but then Tristan whispers, “I need to tell you something.”