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“Well, Maddy, how many of these fix ups do you need to attend each month?” He lifts my hand and places it on his arm. “This is my fifth.” He sounds more entertained than irritated.
“Five? You’re certainly holding up well. Let’s just keep smiling. We’d hate to crush their dreams in the first five minutes. Besides, how do you know I’m not the one?” I brush my fingers over a beautiful blown glass vase that is up for auction. The color starts black at the bottom and fades to clear at the top.
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sp; “I’m sure you’re a great girl, and you’re quite beautiful, but you’re not my type.” He picks up a pen and hovers his hand over the bid sheet.
“You’ve only just met me, how do you know?” Lord, I’ve been with this guy for less than a minute and he is already retreating.
He leans in and whispers in my ear. “You have a vagina.” He writes five hundred dollars on the sheet.
“It’s worth far more than that.” I take the pen and cross out his bid and replace it with a bid of fifteen hundred.
“So are you. I’ve just told you I’m gay, and you didn’t run in the other direction.” He pulls my arm and guides me down the table.
I burst out in laughter. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mom smile. Sadly, she’ll be heartbroken again.
“Mom always taught me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.”
He raises his baby blues at me. “Now we’re enemies?”
“A few minutes ago you were a love interest. Now you’re competition.”
His laughter reverberates through the room. It’s a genuine heart felt laugh.
“You’re safe with me. I’ve got someone.”
I swipe my forehead with an exaggerated movement. “Thank God. I didn’t want to have to take you out back and fight you for someone’s affections.”
“I like you, Maddy. I think we could be friends.”
I hug his arm. “We already are.” We move to the next table where a gift certificate for a private chef, masseuse, and chateau are being offered. “Do your parents know?”
He pens in a five thousand dollar bid. “No, it would kill my parents. They have dreams of grandbabies and a daughter-in-law.” I take the pen and scribble out his bid and write in ten thousand. Something tells me Malcolm and his lover could use this retreat.
“There’s always surrogacy.”
“Are you volunteering?” We walk down the row of offerings, stopping occasionally to bid.
“No. I mean, I want children, but I want to have them for myself. Tell you what. As soon as I pop one out, you can be an honorary uncle.”
“I get to babysit.”
“As an uncle, it’s a requirement.” Talking to Malcolm is easy. Too bad it isn’t that way usually. I’m not shy, but there’s so much pressure to marry and have kids, it makes me cautious. I don’t want to enter into a relationship out of desperation. I want attraction. I want connection. I want love.
“Your kid is going to be the luckiest little one out there. Me and Luke will be amazing uncles." He says the name in that dreamy way that people in love do.
“You and Luke shouldn’t hide your love. We can all learn something from love so passionate and pure.”
“How do you know our love is passionate and pure?” He picks up a signed tennis racket and mimics an overhand swing.
“Please… you nearly puddle on the floor at the mention of his name. You look like I do when I’m ready to devour a chocolate-filled croissant.”
He slides down three displays. “You like pastries?”
I run my hands down my body and over my flared hips. “Can’t you tell?”
“You’re body is perfect.”
