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He knew exactly what to say. That jaded part of my brain—my bruised heart and ego—urged me to keep my suspicions about his intentions safely in place. If Stanton just wanted to fuck me, I'd probably submit easily, but that's not what I wanted. For the rest of the day, I'd allow myself to learn more about Stanton, and then I'd decide. He'd done nothing but be gentle with me since the night he'd kissed me in the darkness at the edges of the patio.
For a man who looked like me, that was strangely addictive, at the same time it scared the fuck out of me.
The server returned and Stanton told me to order, and then he placed his for a sandwich and fries. Once we were alone again, that unyielding focus was back.
"What made you go for a legal career?"
"Family tradition. Nothing all that exciting. My parents are both corporate lawyers."
"Good relationship with them?"
"As with a lot of Queer people with conservative parents, it could be better, or a lot worse. I have an older brother and younger sister; both are married and successful, both have given our parents grandkids. You seem close with your mother." I changed the subject and hoped he wouldn't push. My parents weren't bad people, they just didn't know how to deal with having a gay son. When I'd come out in my teens during the nineties, they'd crossed their fingers and hoped it was a phase.
"My father hated me, okay, that may be a bit strong." He chuckled and then took a swallow of his coffee. "Mama and I were… I guess you could say we were best friends. Father had this belief that all the time I'd spent with her turned me gay."
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, don't be, love. Him and I had an unspoken agreement that we'd spend as little time together as possible. His opinion of me wasn't important, not then, and not now that he's dead."
"Is that why you don't have a presence in the company?"
"Very much so. Early on, I knew he wouldn't in any way want to bring me into the company. Mama doesn't even try. She knows I'm happy where I am."
"Is it stressful?" I asked, because I'd never really been around an event organizer before. That seemed like so many moving parts and I'd be overwhelmed before step one.
"It has its moments. Vendors that fall through. Family or friend drama. The few weddings I've done cured me of planning those, I hired two experienced wedding planners to handle that nightmare. And I'm completely unreachable on wedding nights."
"Not a fan of weddings?"
"It's not that, it’s more like… there's a certain amount of people demanding perfection when nothing in life is. The smallest inconvenience treated with the same intensity of the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. Weddings are ridiculous affairs, and my face can't hide my thoughts on them, so I make myself scarce and let the experts handle all that."
"Yeah, I got married by a justice of the peace and then we went back to work and left on a weekend trip that evening. When my sister got married it was like a Broadway production that in no way looked fun."
"Small and intimate, that's the way to go. I understand it's someone's big day… the one they'd dreamed of, but most of it is too pretentious."
We moved on to other subjects, mostly silly ones, everything from favorite colors to most embarrassing moments. I sensed myself relaxing the longer we sat there sharing conversation and having lunch, and then dessert. Stanton was attentive and sweet, intelligent and witty, and while he had a lot of mischief in his temperament it wasn’t malicious. I just enjoyed being with him and after a few hours I wanted more meals and conversations. Yet there was a compulsion I had to rein in, I wanted another kiss before our date ended.
Chapter 5
Stanton
Music played softly behind me, piping from my living room as I peeked at my boy standing on the back desk of my small house. I hadn't missed his shock when he'd taken in my small two-bedroom home in a quiet neighborhood filled with families. When I'd started house hunting a few years previous, my budget had my realtor showing me penthouses and condos. Instead, I'd chosen a peaceful place that would be a home and not a showpiece, and took advantage of renting a staged penthouse for parties and such when I needed to impress.
But my home was one I could see myself, and hopefully a partner, growing old in. The simplicity of my home was always shocking for people who knew me, made note of my suits and lifestyle, but it wasn't my job to police people’s perceptions of me. The only opinion that mattered was my boy's, and whether he wanted to spend more time with me.
We'd had lunch, talking for almost two hours, and then we'd taken a walk around the city's park, and talked some more. I'd urged him to the swings when I caught him staring and pushed him for a good twenty minutes. My baby boy was sweet, he'd tried so hard to hide what I knew was a neglected boy who hadn't received the love and care he needed for his security. I didn't know much about his ex except for a few things he’d let slip, but I knew I couldn't stand the man who'd hurt Brian.
I poured our wine; we'd had Chinese for dinner sitting on the floor at my coffee table. I knew he'd probably have to leave soon, and I wasn't prepared to let him go yet. Picking up the two glasses, I went to join him outside and he glanced over his shoulder at me.
All I'd ever seen Brian in were his suits for work and the party, but he had on a button down. The sleeves were rolled up to expose muscled forearms with a liberal dusting of silver hair. His clothes highlighted his tall, broad, and husky body to perfection. Everything in me wanted to cuddle him, give him teasing kisses and see what I had to do to always make him smile.
Keeping him comfortable with me was my only priority so that I could get a second date. It wouldn’t be an easy task with my impulse-control issues and my belief that I was all in for whatever he required. I'd always been the outgoing type—I lived to make people smile and laugh. Friends had always told me I was too bratty for being a Daddy, but that just meant I was fun. And that's what I wanted with the boy I eventually made mine, hopefully Brian. I needed our lives to be joyful and never boring.
"Here you go." I held out the glass and he took it.
"Okay, this is definitely not what I expected." He scanned the garden and flower beds that ran the entire perimeter of the privacy fence. "You looked more like the pretentious penthouse type; no offense meant."
"None taken." I slipped my free hand beneath the back of his shirt and stroked along his warm skin, tracing his waistband and belt. Ordering myself to keep my touch light and innocent, maybe with a hint of teasing. "My realtor was shocked too. I wanted a home that I could see myself growing old in… finding someone to share it with and not just some place to show off material things. This isn't for entertaining for work… this is my home."
