Sawyer
Sunday morning, I dropped Addison back at her car so she could spend the day making favors with the bridal party.
She stood beside my bike with the spare helmet tucked beneath one arm, looking far too polished for someone who had fallen asleep against me after takeout and a long foot rub.
“Thank you for last night,” she said.
“You already thanked me.”
“I know.” She smiled. “I’m doing it again.”
The night had been simple. Dinner on the couch, her feet in my lap, her head eventually resting against my shoulder. Nothing dramatic. Nothing complicated. Just good.
“I’ll see you soon?” she asked.
“Definitely.”
She kissed me before handing over the helmet, slow enough to make me wish she didn’t have somewhere else to be.
“Go make wedding favors, Sunshine.”
She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
I watched her climb into her car and drive away before meeting up with the crew for our Sunday ride. Afterward, I spent a few hours in my shop, cooked dinner, and watched tv as I ate.
Later I climbed into bed with my phone in hand. Addison and I texted until her replies slowed, then stopped altogether, and I knew she was asleep.
* * *
Monday morning, Benji dropped an egg-and-cheese sandwich onto the workbench beside me. I had been at the shop for an hour, and already deep into the project I was working on today.
“You’re in early,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.
“I’m always early.”
“Not this early.” He leaned against the counter and studied me. “Couldn’t sleep?”
I peeled off my gloves and reached for the sandwich. “Something like that.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “This about my sister?”
I took a bite instead of answering.
Benji grinned. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“You brought me breakfast to interrogate me?”
“Breakfast was a kindness. The interrogation is a bonus.”
“You’re a good man.”
“I try.” He took another sip of coffee. “So, what’s going on?”
I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before answering. “Addison.”
Benji nodded like he had already guessed. “You good?”
“Yeah. I just…” I leaned against the workbench. “I feel like she’s stuck between two worlds. There’s who she is with me, and then there’s the version everyone else expects her to be.”
His expression softened. “Yeah.”
“She wants this. I know she does. But she can’t tell her friends about us. She can’t let me into that part of her life.” I looked down at the sandwich in my hand. “I’m not mad at her. I just want her to feel like she can be herself everywhere, not only when she’s alone with me.”
“And you want to be part of her life,” Benji said.
“Yeah.” I let out a quiet breath. “Not hidden away in some separate corner of it forever.”
Benji studied me for a second. “You really like her.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah. I really do.”
“Then give her a little time.”
“I am. I’m not trying to rush her.” I set the sandwich down. “I’m okay with the way things are. I just want her to be happy, and I can’t help feeling like she isn’t when she’s in that world. Like she has to split herself in half.”
Benji went quiet, his gaze dropping to his coffee.
“I get that,” he said after a moment. “Wanting all the pieces of yourself to finally feel like they belong together.”
Something in his voice made me look at him more closely. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve just been thinking about my transition. Where I’m at.”
I nodded slowly. “You want to talk about it?”
“Maybe.” He stared down into his cup. “I’ve had top surgery. I’ve been on T for years. Most days, I feel good. Like this body is mine.” He paused. “But I’ve been thinking about bottom surgery. Not because I hate what I have. I just wonder if I’d feel more whole.”
I didn’t rush him or fill the silence.
“That’s a big thing to sit with,” I said finally. “But wanting to feel aligned makes sense. There’s no wrong reason to ask that question.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m not sure yet. Just thinking.”
I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I’ve got you.”
His smile softened. “Thanks.”
We sat there a moment with the shop buzzing quietly around us, the space feeling full even in the silence. It never really felt empty with Benji around.
I nodded toward the railing. “Help me finish this before lunch?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, already pulling on his gloves.
We worked side by side with our torches humming in tandem. Rebuilding the angles so the curves flowed just right wasn’t fast work, but I liked that part of it.
The care it took. Patience. Underneath it all, steady as a pulse, the thought of Addison stayed with me.
Later I’d text her. For now, this was enough.
* * *
When I got home that evening, I showered, changed, and headed downstairs to the bookstore.
Once a month, Hollis and Soren hosted a Monday night meetup with wine, charcuterie, and enough appetizers to count as dinner. There was no agenda. Just a bunch of queer people talking about books, catching up, and existing together without having to explain themselves.
By the time I walked in, the shop was already filling up.
They had pushed the display tables aside to make room for mismatched chairs, and music played softly beneath the conversations.
Bottles of wine sat open beside trays of cheese, crackers, fruit, and tiny pastries Hollis had probably spent all afternoon making.
“There she is,” Soren called from behind the counter.
Hollis appeared beside them with two wineglasses. “We were starting to think you were going to hide upstairs.”
“I said I’d come.”
“You also say you’ll stop working at a reasonable hour,” Hollis replied.
“And yet you keep believing me.”
She handed me a glass of red. “No girlfriend tonight?”
“She’s not my girlfriend…yet.” I shrugged. “And no she’s working late.”
“Hopefully next time.” Soren smiled. “Go socialize. We will interrogate you later.”
I took the wine and made my way through the room, stopping to greet people I knew from coming to these things over the years.
A couple from the neighborhood asked about a metal sign for their garden.
One of the regulars showed me pictures of the bookshelf she had finally finished building.
Near the romance section, three women were loudly arguing about whether a fictional breakup had been emotionally necessary or just bad communication.
“It was lazy writing,” one of them insisted.
“It was realistic,” another shot back.
“It was avoidable,” I said as I passed.
All three turned toward me.
“Thank you,” the first woman said, pointing at me like I had settled the matter.
I laughed and kept moving.
It was easy here. No one watched the way I dressed or cared about the colors in my hair. No one needed me to soften my edges or explain why I had grease beneath my nails even after scrubbing them twice.
I found an empty chair near the back and people watched.
I found myself wishing Addison was here with me.
I could picture her beside me with a glass of wine, quietly taking everything in before relaxing into it.
Hollis would feed her too much. Soren would ask what she was reading.
And she would chat with everyone. By the end of the night, someone would have pulled her into an argument over a romance novel she had never heard of.
She would fit here without having to change herself.
The thought settled heavier than I expected.
“You’re doing the face,” Hollis said, dropping into the chair beside me.
“What face?”
“The one where you’re in a room full of people but thinking about one person.”
I took a drink of wine. “That specific, huh?”
“Painfully.”
I glanced around the bookstore. “I was thinking Addison might like this.”
“She probably would.”
I just nodded.
Hollis studied me for a moment. “Ask her to come next time, you can’t know if you don’t invite her.”
“I know.”
I looked down at my phone again just as the screen lit up.
Addison: Longest Monday ever. Please tell me your day was better.
A smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.
Hollis leaned over to look. “There she is.”
I turned the screen away. “Mind your business.”
She laughed and stood. “Invite her next month.”
I looked around the room again, then down at Addison’s message.
“I will.” I told her. And I meant it.
* * *