Incandescent

My chest was crowded with all sorts of emotions I couldn’t make heads or tails of. “Is this too much for you—our friendship and you getting to know my kid?”

“No, of course not. I’m probably enjoying myself a little too much. I look forward to seeing you—both of you. I’m only saying I understand you better, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” But I could still see the melancholy in his eyes, so I stepped closer and crouched down by him. “For what it’s worth, sometimes I wish…fuck, never mind.”

What in the hell was I saying? Way to muddy the waters even further.

I stood up and backed away, my pulse going crazy.

“Wish what?” he asked over his shoulder. “I thought you said communication was important, remember?”

He was right. I took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wonder what it might be like if the timing wasn’t off.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I’d date you?”

Our eyes met and held. “Maybe I am.”

“Eh, I’d have to think about it,” he said, waving me off with a cocky smirk. “I’m pretty particular about who I choose to spend my time with.”

“You dickhead,” I said with a laugh.

“I’ve been called worse.” He grinned. “Now let me get back to work. You’ve already distracted me with the Xbox.” He laughed when I scoffed. “Don’t you have dinner to make?”

“I do.” I turned toward the bag of spices I’d left on the table. “Did you want to stay? I’m going to try and make—”

“I actually have plans with my mom and sister. And no, that’s not an excuse because you asked to date me.”

I barked out a laugh. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

He winked. “I look forward to it.”

Later that night, I still couldn’t shake our conversation. I didn’t know how to do this. How to juggle the task of keeping Grant’s new normal intact with no major disruptions, yet also enjoy my friendship with Marcus without letting messy romantic feelings or desires get in the way. I lifted my cell and scrolled to Marcus’s number.

Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?

I held my breath as I waited for his response.

Why?

My chest throbbed as I typed: Because the p is silent.

LOL. I’ve been craving your corniness tonight.

Fucking hell. I’ve been craving you too.

Glad to deliver. We missed you for dinner. Shit. I probably shouldn’t have worded it that way.

Missed you and your home-cooked meal too.

That just shows how hard up you are if you miss my awful cooking.

It’s not terrible. But I’m definitely hard up.

As if I’m not.

There was a long pause, and my gut churned over our conversation. Sometimes it was easier to share my deepest fears when he couldn’t see the bald emotions in my eyes.

I typed: I’m sorry if you think I’m not being brave enough, regarding Grant and my sexuality. Or dating in general. And maybe you’d be right. Maybe I can’t muster the courage right now when things between Grant and me feel like we’ve found some common ground on the sharp edge of a knife.

My pulse throbbed as I waited for his reply.

I don’t think brave is the right word.

What do you mean?

I adjusted the covers, wondering again what it might be like to have him beside me for an entire night. My chest ached with so much longing, I could scarcely breathe.

You’re already brave. It takes so much fucking courage to carry on and raise an amazing kid after such a devastating loss. I think the right word is love. You love Grant so much that you’re willing to protect him at all costs. To make sure life is a little softer for him, even if it’s you absorbing the shock. And if it were me, I’d probably do the same.

My eyes burned, and I blinked away the tears as I typed with shaky hands.

Fucking hell, Marc. How do you do that…see inside me so well…

I could ask you the same.

I exhaled roughly because fuck, this conversation hit me square in the chest. I didn’t want to disappoint Marcus any more than I did Grant. Not for anything in the world.

Night, Lane.

Night.

20

Marcus

Delaney texted that the countertops were being delivered. It was two days before Thanksgiving, which meant a shortened workweek. But I didn’t mind because the kitchen island was finished and ready to be loaded in my truck. Luckily, I got some help from Marian and her husband, who’d come by to take her to lunch. Normally I could handle hauling stuff on my own with the help of a furniture dolly, but this sucker was heavy. It would be a perfect addition to their kitchen, though, that was for sure.

As I drove to his place, it struck me that the kitchen was nearly finished, so I’d no longer be spending every Saturday at their house like I had for the past two months. Although, they would probably be thankful to not be living out of boxes and skirting around drop cloths and paint cans any longer.