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8
CONSTANTINE
There'ssomething Arlo isn't telling me.
I walk to the bathroom door and tap my knuckles on the frame. "Is everything all right?"
The water inside the bathroom is running, so I don't immediately hear Arlo's response. He turns off the faucet, then sniffles before clearing his throat.
"Yes." Arlo's voice is soft, weak. "One of my green rubber bands snapped on my braces. That's all."
I remove my hand from the door. "There's nothing to be ashamed about. You don't have to cry."
I think back to how Arlo ran from the breakfast table. My heart breaks when I realize that this poor boy is experiencing pain. I don't know for sure, but he's likely embarrassed that he's twenty-one and still has to wear braces.
Growing up in a world of wealth, I never worried about delaying what I deemed necessities. I got braces when I was eleven, like everyone else in my grade. But Arlo didn't. I imagine he deals with internalized shame over the fact that he still wears them.
It's sad… this boy doesn't knowhow stunning he is. But I get why he's embarrassed.
Arlo opens the door. "I'm fine." He points to his teeth and forces a smile. "I carry a spare package of elastic bands in my pocket wherever I go, so I put in a replacement. I'm better now."
Arlo closes the bathroom door behind him and pushes past me as he walks to the table. I stare at his beautiful body in the morning sunlight, and shake my head as I follow him.
Gentle, sweet Arlo. He has no clue how adorable he is. If he knew he was such a catch, and if he knew his braces made me want to cuddle him and never let him go, he wouldn't react this way.
As I follow Arlo to the kitchen table, I can't help but think about the events of this morning. When I woke up, I was excited to be with Arlo on the couch. Carlos never liked to cuddle, and he shunned my attempts at intimacy. He said he preferred rough sex, and then spent hours alone in the shower. Nothing I did got through to him.
Arlo is different. He was as cute as a button when he joined me at the breakfast table and saw the waffles. It warmed my heart when he complimented my cooking, praising the heart-shaped design.
It was better than sex. No boy in my life has reacted to my cutesy cooking this way. And when Arlo took things a step further and made a cute fruit smiley face on his waffles, my heart soared to the sky.
Slow down. You have thirty days to see if you're compatible. Don't jump the gun.
I need to watch myself. This is how I got into trouble with Carlos. I moved too fast, and lost myself because I didn't know who he truly was. My head wouldn't forgive my heart if I did that with Arlo.
Yet as I head to the kitchen table and pull out my chair to sit down, I realize there's something else on my mind. Something I haven't had the courage to think about.
Arlo has a medical condition. I blow out a breath and wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead. There's something serious Arlo isn't telling me. I haven't been a full-time Daddy since my breakup, but I know when a sweet boy is too ashamed to admit something.
What's Arlo hiding from me? He mentioned he couldn't eat bacon in the morning, even though it's tempting. I pray his condition isn't too serious and that I can help him.
God, I can't even imagine how awful he feels. I want to roll this boy into a ball, bury him in blankets, kiss him softly, and let him know he doesn't have to fear me, that he can trust me, that I'll listen to him with everything I have.
Lots of people in this day and age don't actually listen to others' problems. They wait until someone finishes speaking, and then chime in with advice. They're narcissists. That's not what I want to do with Arlo. I want to learn about Arlo's insecurities, so I can make him feel better.
I decide to text Gianluca when breakfast is over. Arlo needs a full medical checkup to make sure everything's all right.
"Cute boy." My voice is a low growl as I pick up my steaming mug of hazelnut coffee. "I love your braces. Don't be ashamed of them."
Arlo sniffles as he lifts his eyes up from the kitchen table. "Thanks." He reaches for his glass of apple juice. "I appreciate your kindness. But you don't have to be nice to me. I'm too old to have braces."
Once again, rage pummels me. I curse myself for bringing the subject up so matter-of-factly when I know the situation requires delicacy. I remember that mean kids at school bullied Arlo because of his crooked teeth, and I don't want to trigger painful memories.
"Come." I keep my voice low. Firm. Arlo needs to know he's safe with me. The only way to do that is to take control of the situation. "Sit on Daddy's lap. You'll feel better."
Arlo cranes his neck. "Really? I don't see how that'll make things better."
I scoot back, and pat my knee. "Bring your plate here, boy. There are questions I want to ask you."
