Twice Shy

by Sally Malcolm

  “You like Thai?”

  He nodded, leaning into Joel, his forehead dropping to rest on his shoulder. “But I was talking about you.”

  With a soft huff of laughter Joel’s arm came around him, and Ollie groaned in relief. This was what he’d needed all afternoon: simple human comfort. A hug. “I wanted to do this earlier,” Joel said into his ear. “You looked like you needed it.”

  “I did.” He slipped both arms around Joel’s waist, smiling as Joel tightened his hold on him. “I wish you had.”

  Joel squeezed. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole this afternoon. It’s just so difficult to— But that poster boy crack was stupid. And offensive. I’m sorry. I wish…” Whatever he wished, the thought trailed off into a sigh as he brushed a kiss against Ollie’s ear instead. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  As he led Joel upstairs, Ollie remembered with a blush the mess in the apartment—especially the unmade bed which dominated the living room. “I wasn’t really on top of things this morning,” he explained, picking up the load of kids’ laundry from the floor and hugging it for want of anything better to do. “Luis was up from about two.”

  “Then you’re a damn hero making it through the day. And, trust me, this insomniac knows what he’s talking about.”

  Ollie found a smile. “Well, I was hardly parent of the year today. They only had fish sticks and fries for dinner. Not even a vegetable.”

  “So? You took them to see Santa. I know what they’re going to remember ten years from now, and it’s not the fish sticks.” Joel glanced around, set the food on the dining table, and said, “Now sit down.” He reached for the laundry. “I’ll do this.”

  “What? No you don’t need to…”

  “I can do a load of laundry,” he said, raising an amused eyebrow. “I can tie my own shoelaces too, you know.”

  Ollie laughed and relinquished the clothes, taking the opportunity to pick up the kids’ dinner plates from the floor in front of the TV and setting them in the sink while Joel fetched detergent and the laundry room key.

  “You don’t stop, do you?” Joel said. “Go. Sit. Rest, for crying out loud. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Ollie huffed and sat down. Fact was, if he didn’t pick up around the apartment nobody did, so whether he did it now or later didn’t really matter; it was all him. But this evening, there was someone else. And it felt…nice. Not something to get used to, of course. But… It felt good to have help, even just a little.

  They ate without much conversation once Joel got back, but it didn’t feel awkward. The food gave Ollie an energy boost but without the adrenaline that had kept him on his feet all day he felt drowsy. It was a good feeling, better than the wound-up exhaustion of earlier. He felt like he could sleep, if Luis gave him the chance.

  But so far so good. The little guy had worn himself out, and Ollie had taken Alyssa’s advice and dosed him with baby Tylenol before bed—the ‘good stuff’ he and Rory called it when he squirted it into his mouth when he had a fever. He smiled at the memory and the strange warmth he always felt caring for the kids when they had coughs and colds. Was that weird? Maybe. Or maybe—

  “Ollie?” A gentle hand on his arm. “Hey.”

  He jolted upright. “Hmm…?”

  Joel smiled. “You’re about to fall asleep in your Tom Kha Kai.”

  “Shit.” He tried to focus. “Sorry. I did warn you.”

  “You did.” Joel rubbed his arm. “Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll clear up.”

  “I can’t let you do that…”

  “Why not?”

  Ollie blinked. His eyes were full of sand and his brain wasn’t working right; he couldn’t think why not. “I can manage,” he said in the end, his default answer.

  “Sure,” Joel said, getting to his feet and collecting Ollie’s bowl. “But right now, you don’t have to.”

  Looking up at him, Ollie felt a ridiculous lump rise into his throat and his prickly eyes filled with overtired tears. He didn’t know what to say. Joel looked at him, a lot going on in his eyes but much of it indecipherable. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ollie’s forehead. “Go brush your teeth, I’ve got this.”

  He did, and Ollie would be a fool to look a gift horse in the mouth. He bumbled his way zombie-like into the bathroom and stared at himself while he brushed his teeth. The stark bathroom light accentuated the shadows under his eyes, or at least he hoped it did. His hair badly needed a cut. It looked like a mop. When he was done, face and teeth clean, he trudged back into the living room and his heart did a little tap-dance at the sight of his bed straightened up, duvet turned back invitingly, pillows plumped and the table lamp on while the overhead lights had been switched off.

  Damn, but Joel must have made a good husband.

  A glance over his shoulder showed a glimpse of him in the kitchen, humming to himself as he tidied and cleaned up. Ollie wondered if he’d fallen down a rabbit hole into a dreamland of domestic bliss. How easy his life would be with someone else around, a pair of hands to help, a pair of arms to hold and comfort.

  But only in private, he reminded himself as he stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed. Joel wouldn’t hold or comfort him anywhere people could see, and Ollie would do well to remember that before he got too carried away with this game of happy families.

  With aching relief, he sank into the pillows, sleep a pair of heavy wings closing over him. But he resisted their pull, wanting to enjoy the peace for a few moments longer. The quiet sounds from the kitchen comforted him, and he watched beneath heavy lids as Joel eventually returned to the living room. Rolling onto his back to prove he was still awake, he said, “Hey,” and lifted an arm in invitation. After a brief struggle, Joel came to sit next to him on the bed. “Thanks,” Ollie said, taking Joel’s hand.

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled, threading their fingers together, then leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  Ollie let it happen, sleepy and warm as he put his arms around Joel’s neck and pulled him closer. One of Joel’s arms slid under his shoulders, holding him tight as the kiss deepened. He felt fingers in his hair, a gentle caress, as Joel’s lips left his to kiss his jaw, his brow, the lids of his closed eyes. “Ollie,” he murmured against his skin, voice rich with emotion. “Oliver…”

  Ollie rubbed his cheek against Joel’s, enjoying the scratch of their evening stubble. “You could stay,” he whispered drowsily. Please stay.

  He felt rather than heard Joel’s sigh, a deep exhale as he stilled in Ollie’s arms. Deflation. “I want to, but…”

  But Rory might say something, but rumors might spread, but people might talk. Ollie sighed.

  “For a little,” Joel said after a long silence. He gathered him closer, kissed his hair. “I’ll stay for a little.”

  It would have to be enough. And it almost was enough when Joel lay down next to him and they rearranged themselves until they were spooned together, Joel’s arm wrapped around his body and his hand pressed against Ollie’s bare chest.

  He fell asleep in that warm cocoon, and it was almost enough.

  But when Luis’s cries woke him at four o’clock, Joel had gone. Tired and alone with a fretful child in the darkest hours of the morning, Ollie had never felt so lonely.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Joel said as he stepped past Amy into her office. The sofa where he usually sat looked as pristine and inviting as always, but he walked to the picture window instead and gazed out over the winter-frosted garden. It was a brilliant morning, sunlight gleaming on the icy grass, glinting off the surface of water frozen in the elegant birdbath.

  “I’m glad I had an opening,” Amy said. The office door clicked shut behind him and he heard her cross the room and sit in her chair. “You sounded…anxious.”

  To put it mildly. “I was wondering whether I need to get a prescription.”

  A speaking silence followed. Then, “You’ve been
off SSRIs for over two years, Joel. What’s happened to make you think you need them again?”

  Ollie Snow had happened, that’s what. Falling asleep with Ollie in his arms and waking in a panic, realizing that his wellbeing—his joy in life—was once again at the mercy of another’s fickle, unknowable emotions had terrified him. He’d fled like a thief in the night and paced his house until dawn. “It’s…” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “It’s this guy I’ve been seeing.”

  “Ah.” Another pause. “Joel, why don’t you come and sit down?”

  He turned from the window. Amy, calm as a pond, watched him. Too unsettled to sit, he paced past the sofa and stood behind it, hands braced on its back. “I’ve got all these…feelings. My heart’s racing, I’m having trouble sleeping.” Unless he was with Ollie, then he slept. Then he laughed and felt happy, God help him. “I’m frightened.”

  Amy nodded. “Yes, that’s natural.”

  Was it? Were terror and panic the natural responses to feelings of warmth and affection? He didn’t think so.

  “You’re getting back on the horse, Joel, after four years avoiding horses. And, to extend the metaphor, you’re afraid of being thrown again.” She cocked her head into a listening tilt. “What is it, specifically, that’s troubling you?”

  “I’m falling too fast, and he’s…” He swallowed before voicing the truth. It felt slippery in his mind, difficult to express. Unpleasant to say. “I’m afraid Ollie’s interested in someone else.” His fingers flexed against the back of the sofa, he watched them press into the velvety cushion. “Someone who’s more like him—out and properly gay.”

  “Hmm. In the way Helen left you for someone who was more like her—properly straight?”

  He dug his fingers deeper into the sofa. “Yes.”

  “How does Ollie feel about your bisexuality?”

  “He said he’d figured I was ‘at least’ bi. I guess he’s okay with it, but…” Joel looked up. “But he can’t take his eyes off this other guy. Whenever he shows up, Ollie’s watching him. And there’s this…tension between them. It’s not even subtle.”

  After a thoughtful pause, Amy said, “You described this man as ‘out and properly gay’. Let’s unpack that: do you think being out and gay makes him more authentic than you?”

  Joel snorted at the idea, but in truth Amy wasn’t far wrong, and something about her putting her finger on the problem drew the tension out of him. For a moment he leaned heavily against the sofa, then came around and dropped down onto it. “He walks around holding hands with his fiancé, head held high.” Joel grimaced. “A poster boy for gay pride. Meanwhile, I was with Helen for eight years and now I’m wary of coming out. I can see how inauthentic I must look to Ollie by contrast. How…half-hearted.”

  “Do you feel half-hearted about your relationship with Ollie?”

  “No! The exact opposite.” Joel blew out a breath. “But I am hiding it, aren’t I? And Ollie deserves more. He deserves someone who can give him a goddamn hug in public and I… I don’t know whether I could ever give him that.”

  After a pause, Amy said, “Your decision to come out can only be made on your terms, Joel, not to suit anyone else’s agenda. But you have been out before, when you were with Isaac.”

  “I know. It’s not…” He felt a panicky flash of heat as he drew closer to the crux of the issue. “I’m not afraid of coming out per se. I’m out to my parents and family—they knew Isaac. That was fine.”

  “But something’s different this time.”

  “Well, when I was with Isaac most people thought I was gay. But, because of Helen, people here think I’m straight. So, if I come out now, it will be because of my relationship with Ollie. Everyone will know about us. They’ll be surprised and shocked and—” His throat seized and strangled the sentence. He dropped his head into his hands. “They’ll gossip. They’ll snigger and say I’m going through a ‘gay phase’ or having some kind of midlife crisis. And when it ends, they’ll assume it wasn’t real. Or…or that I wasn’t real. That I wasn’t gay enough.”

  “Does their ignorance matter?”

  He shrugged. “After Helen left, people assumed I was a closet case. Even though she was the one who’d cheated, they thought it was because I wasn’t…wasn’t man enough for her. In the bedroom. I heard them talking about it in the wash room at work. And I hated it, having people belittle my marriage—my sexuality—like that. I don’t want to go through it again. I can’t.”

  Amy hummed her acknowledgment; it was a subject they’d discussed before. After a pause, she said, “When it ends.”

  He glanced up. “What?”

  “Talking about your relationship with Ollie, you said ‘when it ends’ not ‘if it ends’.”

  “Everything ends.”

  Amy let that slide. “So, let’s see. You’re painting a picture of this relationship, Joel. Let me reflect it back to you. It’s not going to last, because you believe that ultimately Ollie will want to be with someone he perceives to be more authentically gay—in the same way Helen wanted to be with someone she felt was more authentically straight. Which means you’re not willing to share this relationship with friends and colleagues only to have them dismiss it as an embarrassing ‘phase’ when Ollie eventually drops you for this other ‘properly gay’ man. Does that about sum it up?”

  Joel gave a miserable nod. Put like that, he wondered why he’d bothered at all.

  “What happens,” Amy said, “if we challenge one of those assumptions?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like… What if Ollie isn’t interested in this other man? What if there’s a different reason he watches him? Perhaps he likes the way he dresses, or he reminds him of someone he once knew. Or maybe he feels a passing attraction but nothing more? Maybe he thinks the guy has weird teeth. These are just examples, but you get my point. If you change that assumption—and since you haven’t discussed this with Ollie, it is an assumption—how does the rest of the picture look?”

  Joel rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t shaved that morning and his bristles felt itchy. “I don’t know. If it’s not this guy, then someone—”

  “We’re changing the narrative, Joel. Let’s assume Ollie isn’t interested in anyone else. Period. Then what?”

  “Then…” He shook his head, realizing he was struggling to believe that even in a hypothetical situation his relationship with Ollie could last. “Then…I guess…in that situation, the relationship might not end.”

  “It might not,” Amy agreed mildly. “And so perhaps you might feel more comfortable being open about it.”

  “Okay. But that’s just ‘what if’. I see the way he looks at Luc—” He cut himself off. “At this other guy.”

  If Amy had noticed the slip, she didn’t comment. “How about we look at it from Ollie’s point of view for a moment? He’s dating a guy who wants to keep the relationship secret because deep down he believes it’s doomed to fail, and when it fails he doesn’t want anyone to know it ever happened. That…doesn’t sound like a comfortable place to be.”

  Joel winced, remembering Ollie’s disappointment with Joel’s behavior at the market. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “And suspecting your partner has such little confidence in the future of your relationship, you might wonder whether he was really invested in the first place. You might look for somebody you felt was more likely to commit. And you might believe that an out gay man was a better bet.”

  Joel gave her a wry look. “You’re saying it’s a self-fulfilling prophesy.”

  “We’ve talked about the plaster cast on your leg that can do more harm than good, Joel. This could be one of those times.”

  “You’re saying I should just…ignore the fact he ogles this guy?”

  “I’m saying that trying to protect yourself from future pain could be doing more harm than good. I’m saying you should have a conversation about why Ollie ‘ogles’ this man—if that’s what he does; ‘ogles’ is a weigh
ted word—and where you both see your relationship going.”

  Joel sighed, scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know I’m bringing a lot of baggage to this. It’s not fair on Ollie.”

  “If you tell him about the baggage, then it’s his choice whether he wants to take it on. If you try to hide it…” She spread her hands. “Starting a relationship with the presumption it will fail is likely to ensure it does. What you need to decide is whether you want to try and make it work, and how much risk you’re prepared to take.”

  Tilting his head back, Joel stared at the ceiling. Could he do it? Could he ask Ollie about Moretti, could he explain his fears without making himself sound needy and insecure? Dared he risk opening himself up to gossip and speculation for a chance at something lasting with Ollie? At happiness?

  Back in August, he’d have said no with a capital N and a capital O. Now, he wasn’t so certain. What he’d come to feel for Ollie couldn’t be swept aside, couldn’t be undone. It was there and it was real. The question was whether he wanted to end it now and control the pain or take a chance on an unknowable future. Both ideas frightened him, but in his heart he knew there was only one answer: he couldn’t walk away from Ollie. He was already in too deep.

  “There’s a Christmas party,” he said. “Finn Callaghan invited us. That might be a good time to talk about Moretti. Casually, I mean. Just…casually bring it up. Neutral ground and”—a rueful smile—“some Dutch courage.”

  “I wouldn’t advise too much Dutch courage, but wherever you feel comfortable would work.”

  Well, there was nowhere he would feel comfortable having this conversation. But it seemed that he was going to have it.

  And that felt significant. That felt enormous.

  ∞∞∞

  Ollie pushed open the door to Alfie’s Autos, backing in to hold the door wide while he levered the stroller up over the doorstep. There was nothing like navigating the world with a stroller to make you realize how frustrating it must be in a wheelchair. Ramps, people. Ramps!