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“Okay, okay, I won’t push. But there was a reason I called. I feel like I need to be honest with you.”
Holy shit, this conversation has turned serious quick.
Stone lets out a long deep breath on the other line. “You there, Teach?”
“Yeah, honesty. Right. Go ahead,” I counter.
“I like you, Gibson. I’m a lot of things, and honest is at the top of the list. Along with cocky, egotistical, a fucking awesome dad, and the list goes on. But I learned early on, when I’m not honest, I hurt those closest to me. And maybe I’m being presumptuous, but I feel like there is something with us. More than just a fuck. I mean, I talked a little about Katherine and I never do that.”
Stone stops, as though he’s collecting his thoughts. It’s what I do, too, when I have more to say and need a second to get it out.
“So, am I right, there’s more with us?” he asks.
For some reason, I don’t want to dick around. He’s being honest. It’s time for me to return the honesty.
“I really wasn’t looking for anything, but I won’t lie. I was in a foul mood because I wanted to see you and didn’t know how to go about it.” Shit, I sound like a pussy. But I don’t have to wait long for his response.
“Yeah, I want to see you, too, but here’s where I’ve got to be honest. As you know, I’m bisexual. It’s one of the reasons my marriage didn’t last with Katherine…” He trails off, but part of me knows there’s more to the story, but he doesn’t seem like one to open up often, so I take what I can get.
“Okay.” Now it’s my turn to pause to collect my thoughts. “Yeah, I remember, with the conversation we had. But—I’m assuming there’s more. I’ll say I’m similar, I love who I love—gender be dammed. My last relationship, I thought I’d marry her. She of course had other intentions that involved sucking another man’s dick. But I can’t say I’m too broken up over it.”
I hear a long, deep breath on his end. “All right then, here’s the tricky part. I’m not looking at anything serious, not yet. Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to continue to see you. And there may be a time that I want to move to serious, and exclusive. But right now, I don’t want anything that’s exclusive. Because there’s something I want, specifically.”
I stop dead in my tracks. The conversation had been going so well. I guess he didn’t have to be this honest with me. The truth is I didn’t think we’d get to this part, but now that it’s said out in the open, it’s like a tube of toothpaste. Once you squeeze it, you can’t put the unused paste back in the tube.
“Gibson, you there? I’m not talking about a slew of people, and I don’t sleep around. Sure, I guess I’m not presenting the best case for myself, considering how quickly we came together. But there’s someone I’ve had my eye on for a while, and then you happened. And it seems like I’m having my cake and eating it, too. But…”
“Let me stop you there, Doctor. We fucked. That’s all we thought it would be. And I guess that’s all we’ll ever be. So don’t sweat the small stuff. Got it. I’ll see you around.” I click the phone off, throwing it down on the bed until it falls in a huge thud on the floor. I can hear what sounds like intentional steps from downstairs, the door opening from off the kitchen.
“You okay up there, mate?” This time it’s Simon. His accent, though British, certainly reminds me of the Irishman, as Stone explained himself as Irish with a touch of English.
“Yeah, man. I’m fine. I’m calling it quits for the night.”
The door shuts and maybe Simon understands the tone of my words. It’s the hurt I have no right feeling. I didn’t have this type of reaction with Marcie, but a man I’ve known less than a week has me all jumbled up inside.
* * *
I guessa simple barbeque isn’t quite a simple barbeque, not when it comes to Simon and Bridget. “How did you know I needed help?” Bridget’s voice carries with whoever she’s talking to. Simon’s outside, spouting orders to Brandon.
I bring my lazy butt out of bed, and beside Bridget’s voice, the smell of coffee carries, too. I can’t go downstairs without brushing my teeth. Three minutes later and a quick change of my clothes and ballcap to cover my bedhead, I’m down the steps, making my way to the coffee pot.
“Ah, Mr. Grumpy Boots is up, finally,” Bridget says, but I can’t be cordial, not until I have my coffee. “Oh, Care, I’ll introduce you in a second, he’s a little bit of a sour puss in the morning.”
I see the woman from the corner of my eyes who’s cutting tomatoes near me, her back to mine. “Hmm, Bridge, you say something?”
I turn around, my coffee to my mouth, as the stranger’s face in the kitchen comes into view.
I’m looking straight ahead, when the girl I only know as Care, which is a strange name, lets out a strangled gasp.
“It’s you.” Her voice strains, an almost quiver, and I turn my attention to the petite dishwater blonde, with deep green eyes, an emerald so pure they almost pierce my own orbs.
I recognize her after just a mere second, her words resonating from four nights ago.
“It’s you,” I repeat her same words, as her stare stays locked on my own.
“What is going on?” Bridget’s question breaks our connection with one another, and the girl clears her voice.
“Remember how I told you,” she begins, squaring her attention on Bridget, “about the guy who scared Jimmy off the other night? Well, this is him.”
