I grin.
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” he continues. “What they think should have no bearing at all. It’s how it makes you feel. And how do youfeel?”
“Cute,” I admit. “I like the idea of presenting femme. I just”—I hesitate, biting the corner of my lip—“well, let’s face it, I’m a bear. Bears can’t really pull this look off.”
Caleb shakes his head. “They can, because you are. Furthermore, you could be setting a positive example for those who are also too afraid.”
“I can’t imagine wearing anything like this back in Ternbay and not being ridiculed.”
“You only really tried to on Halloween.” He gives me an unimpressed look.
I sigh. “Let me work on it. Maybe I will. Eventually.”
He pops a shoulder, casually. “I’m not forcing you to do anything. I just wanted you to know that I think that you’ve been very brave in doing it today. That’s pretty damn big.”
A sheepish smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Thank you.”
He grins back, kissing the air in my direction. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“After we leave here, do you want to go look for more outfits?”
My brows zip together. “You’d go clothes shopping with me?”
“Only if you walk the runway for me.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I smirk. “Deal.”
Chapter Twenty-One
In my early twenties, before I thought I was settling down to become a family man, I used to do so many impulsive, borderline reckless, things in my life without giving it too much thought other than just how many endorphins I was getting during the time of the activity. Now that I am in my thirties, a different kind of family man, I am realizing just how much those activities have evolved—still rather impulsive though. That much has not changed.
For example, I am literally in the most cramped dressing room I’ve ever laid eyes on, with a man who easily eclipses me when I’m behind him… like I am now, as he admires himself in front of the full-length mirror. He has got on a form-fitted stretch-knit, halter-top dress in the most ravishing shade of royal purple. The hem of the pencil skirt lands just below the globes of his bubble butt, and I’m sure—if there were room to bend—the view from behind would be downrightscandalous.
It’d go great if we ever went out clubbing or something, which is one thing we did once, you know,before. That was an absolute blast of a night. I’m glad he kept the videos of it for all these years.
Anyway, back to the present. He looks absolutely stunning in this dress, and I managed to sneak in undetected, under the guise that I had found some matching boots that I needed to deliver, for a very up-close seat for the fashion show. So up close, in fact, that Iamthe seat. I peer around his body and catch the reflection of him admiring the way his brand new nipple piercings stand out behind the fabric.
I reach around his waist so I can sign to him. “The boots actually fit?”
He scoffs. “Not even close. The shoe part fits, but there’s no way I’m zipping them up any further than mid-calf, much less up to my thigh.”
Pity. They would have looked so fuckin’ good. “Do you suppose, if we get you this dress, we could find some online in your size?”
“Oh”—he blinks at the mirror—“I’m not actually buying this dress.”
“Of course you’re not,” I agree. “Because I am.”
His head whips around to look at me, rather than my reflection. “You’re not buying me this dress,” he says matter-of-factly.
I bring my hands up between us. “I certainly am.”
He stands up, smoothing his hands down the fabric on his hips.
“Turn around and look at yourself, Marcus,” I go on. “You look radiant in it. Gorgeous. Stunning.”
He bites his lip and slowly turns to face the mirror again. He turns one way, looking back over his shoulder at his ass, and then repeats the process from the other side. “It’s not too short?”
