by Tal Bauer
He stood slowly, untangling himself from Mike. He was instantly lonely, wanting to crawl back into Mike’s arms. But, Tom smiled. Put on a strong front. He had enough practice with that. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”
Mike smiled. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
They walked to the front door together, Mike reaching for his hand for the short walk. “I’ll pick you up for brunch?”
“Sounds great.”
“We’ll go somewhere with a patio. We can bring Etta Mae.”
Tom’s heart ached, just ached, for this man. His smile grew, widening until his cheeks hurt.
At the front door, Mike kissed him again, a long, soft kiss, his face cradled in Mike’s palms. His knees went weak, turned to jelly, and he nearly sagged against Mike. But, he stayed strong, even when Mike kissed his nose and grinned. “See you tomorrow.”
Tom couldn’t speak, not after that, so he just kept smiling like a loon and watched Mike drop down his steps, turn up his street. He waited, and then waved when Mike turned and gave him one last look, one last grin.
After he shut the door, he leaned back against the warm wood, sinking to the floor with a sigh. Etta Mae, woken by the closing door, trotted into the hallway and then jogged to him, clambering into his lap as she licked his face. “Etta Mae, it’s fine. I’m okay.” She checked him anyway, sniffing him everywhere, licking his face, his chin, his ears. Tom scratched her ears, kissed her head. “What do you think about Mike? Do you like him?”
Her tail thumped on the hardwood and she collapsed in his lap, half sitting on his chest.
“I really like him. I like him too much.” He ruffled her ears, pulled her skin forward, making her face squishy with wrinkles. She tolerated it, licking his face in retaliation. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt, Etta Mae.”
His good mood fled, a sudden weight that had nothing to do with Etta Mae crushing his chest. Tonight had been amazing, and he was going to see Mike again tomorrow morning. Mike knew his secret, and knew what had led him down this path. He’d never, ever, been more exposed. Been more known. Mike knew everything now, and he’d still kissed Tom. Still wanted to see him again.
So why did he feel like he was about to lose everything?
Chapter 13
Brunch was perfect.
Mike picked him up promptly at eleven AM, and they walked to Georgetown, Etta Mae trotting in front at the end of her leash. She napped beneath the patio table as he and Mike drank mimosas and ate French toast. In public, Mike didn’t reach for him or hold his hand.
He missed Mike’s touch.
Mike was livelier than he was the night before, smiling often, telling Tom stories about Kris, about their volleyball league, about Aaron, Carlos, Billy, and Jon. The other guys were investment bankers and lobbyists. They’d all met through volleyball or volunteering, and then saw each other out at the bars. They gravitated together, friends first, wingmen and supporters and now brothers.
Mike’s life was fuller than Tom’s. He had friends, hobbies, things he did outside his house. Tom had a well-worn track from his house to Home Depot, and a circuit he walked with Etta Mae. Befriending Mike was his first risk in a long time.
But Mike asked about his house, and he launched into story after story of his renovations. The kitchen had been a nineties throwback, flower wallpaper and oak cabinets, and he’d changed everything. Laid new scraped hardwood throughout, ripped out the cabinets and painted them white. Installed granite. Painted in shades of gray with pastel accents, and put up crown molding. Redid the bathrooms and the closets. He’d loved doing the closets, installing tiers and shelves and pullout drawers and baskets. God, he was a nerd.
Smiling, Mike hung on every word he said, oohed and aahed at the right times, and shared in his commiserations at his stumbles and foibles.
And Tom fell that much more for him.
“I’m redoing my kitchen right now, too.” Their plates were gone, and they were just finishing up their mimosas, the bottle of champagne and a carafe of orange juice between them.
“Oh? What are you planning?”
“I don’t really know yet. I tore it all out and then…” Mike shrugged. “I don’t know what I want to put in.”
“You tore it out without any plans?” Tom laughed. “What on earth?”
“It had to come out.” Mike topped off Tom’s champagne, and then his own. “I found my ex and his new boyfriend in there.”
“Oh.”
Mike grinned. “Felt really great smashing it all to bits.”
“I bet it did.” Tom drank, trying to stall. “Are you… okay, after all that?”
“I am.” Mike smiled, really smiled. “I am good. We needed to break up. Maybe not that way, but it got the job done and it made it a clean, definitive break. I needed the time apart, and I needed to be a little more reflective.”
More reflective. Huh. What did that mean? He wanted to ask, but didn’t know how.
Etta Mae snorted and woke up, shaking herself silly before looking at Tom expectantly. Napped, she was ready for their next adventure. Mike chuckled and slipped the waiter his credit card while Tom wasn’t looking.
“Any plans today?” Mike looked at him as he signed the receipt.
“None. Just gearing up for Monday.”
“Want to go to Rock Creek Park?”
“Sure!”
Rock Creek Park wasn’t far from Georgetown, and they followed behind Etta Mae as they wound through the streets. She picked up her pace once they entered the park.
“She loves going off-road. She’s an adventure Basset.” Tom grinned as Mike laughed. True to his word, Etta Mae poked her nose in flowers and snuffled at the dirt, tracking squirrels and rabbits into and out of the brush. She leaped low-lying logs and picked her way over wooden bridges, her tail happily wagging away.
On the trails, Mike reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. He squeezed back, and held on tight.
The park was gorgeous, tall, dark trees shading the looping dirt trails, the creek running through the underbrush, and birds twittering above. It was cooler in the park, an escape from the heat, and joggers, bikers, and other couples had the same idea as them. Parts of the trail were crowded, and they passed through politely, pulling Etta Mae along when she wanted to stop and say hello to each and every person.
Tom held Mike’s hand, but dropped it every time they heard someone else on the trail.
At a bend in the trail, under a shady overhang of pine and maple, and above a slope that led to the creek, Mike pulled Tom to the side. He held up his phone. “Lemme get a picture of you and Etta Mae?”
Tom crouched down next to the slobbering, sweaty, smelly Etta Mae, and beamed as her tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth, and dirt clung to the ends of her long ears. “Can we take one together?”
For a half-second, Mike seemed to hesitate, but then he crouched alongside Tom, Etta Mae between them.
The first picture was just the two of them smiling, heads almost together. “Let me take another one.” Mike shifted, squatting over Etta Mae, and pushed his cheek against Tom’s.
The second picture captured Tom’s surprise. The third, his face-splitting smile and sidelong gaze, staring at Mike like he was a rock star, the hero of Tom’s life.
The fourth picture, Mike sneaked a kiss on Tom’s cheek.
Tom turned into the kiss, and Mike shoved his phone in his pocket. Tom pulled Mike closer, practically toppling him over, but Mike grabbed him, held on. Ran his hands up his arms, over his shoulders. Etta Mae looked up at them both, staring.
Laughter broke them apart, coming from up the trail. A family appeared around the bend, out for an afternoon walk. Mike smiled at them, and Tom crouched down, holding Etta Mae back from running to the kids. Her tail kicked up dust and she whined, wanting attention.
“I’m sorry.” Mike looked contrite.
“What for?”
“I know you’re not out. I
don’t want to stress you about getting caught.”
“I’m not exactly in, either. I just want to live my life. I want to be happy.” He held out his hand for Mike.
Mike took it, smiling slowly.
“Send me those pics?”
“Of course.”
“There’s a café I want to take you to. For dinner.” Mike squinted at him after they left Rock Creek Park and were heading back to Tom’s place. “It’s a gay place, though. Big rainbow flag, heart of the gayborhood. So I just want to check with you first. If you don’t want to go, I understand.”
Going to dinner at a gay café with another man. If he was seen, the rumors would start. Questions would fly.
But, if he did this, really did this—lived his life, continued dating Mike, found happiness—the truth would come out eventually. Why wait? Why delay the inevitable? A slow start would be the best way, anyway. Slow, test the waters.
“I do want to go. With you.” He smiled. “Tonight.”
Mike beamed.
They dropped Etta Mae off. She drank a gallon of water and put herself to bed, flopping onto the couch as Tom took Mike upstairs to the master suite. He let Mike freshen up while he changed shirts, borrowing one of Tom’s larger ones. Etta Mae had slobbered him during the last part of the walk.
Having Mike in his bedroom made him squirm in the worst possible way. What if they said screw it to going out? What if Mike peeled off his clothes? What if he dropped to his knees in front of Mike, right here, right now?
What if he was no good, after so long?
Mike was just as unsettled as he was, he could tell. They thundered downstairs, Mike’s eyes darting away from Tom’s, and then they headed for the café. Mike kept his hands to himself the whole walk there.
As promised, the café was in the heart of the gayborhood. Couples crowded the streets, men and men and women and women walking together. The cafés and bars and patios were full of diners and laughter. Like before, at the Tap Room last weekend, a combined sense of happiness and jealousy poured over him.
But, he didn’t have to be jealous. Not anymore. Mike was walking beside him. He was going to dinner with Mike.
A rainbow flag hung over the purple-painted door, and Mike smiled and answered the host’s exuberant greeting with a grin. The host kissed Mike’s cheeks, looked Tom up and down, gave Mike a not-subtle-at-all thumbs-up, and then led them to a corner table on the patio.
“Eric is a character.” Mike was blushing.
“That was sweet.” Mike obviously came here a lot. Eric knew him well, and was a fan of Mike’s. Was that a stamp of approval, then? “What’s good here?”
They shared tapas and then seared tuna strips, chicken skewers and kebabs. The menu was eclectic, the drinks even more so. No plain margarita in sight. He settled for a fancy-sounding pear and honey Martini, and Mike got a peach whiskey on the rocks. Their feet tangled beneath the table, and by the end of dinner, Tom had his hand on Mike’s leg. Mike rested his hand on top, and they finished their drinks with dopey smiles and soft eyes. Eric, who served them personally, cooed as he brought Mike the bill.
Would they go back to his place and… Was tonight the night? Would he pull Mike upstairs, back into his bedroom? It felt good, felt right. He wanted Mike, so badly. He was ready. They were ready.
He wanted to make love to Mike.
He dug his fingers into Mike’s thigh, scraped his nails over Mike’s jeans. Mike’s eyes shot to his, burning.
They paid, but on the way out, Mike pulled him off to the side, pressed him against the wall, and kissed him breathless. Eric whistled, and then let them be, steering others away from their dark corner.
“Mike…” Tom grabbed his waist, pulled him close. Rubbed his crotch against Mike’s.
Mike kept kissing him, dropping kisses to his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He surrounded Tom, his arms pinning him on either side of his head. “You’re not making this easy.”
“Making what easy?”
“I want to be good.”
Tom rolled his hips into Mike’s. “I don’t want you to be good.”
“Damn it…” Mike cupped his face and leaned in, capturing his lips again.
Eric started commenting loudly that some people should get a room or put out a jar to collect money. Mike seemed to come back to himself, and he flushed a deep maroon as he steered Tom out of the café.
They both walked back to Tom’s place with their hands in their pockets, sneaking smiles and giggles. He felt like a teenager who had sneaked out of his house, a sixteen-year-old pushing the limits of his freedom and responsibility. He felt free.
He imagined making love to Mike with every step. What would it be like? Feeling Mike’s body. Feeling another man inside him again. His nerves were on fire, already strung out at just the thought, the fantasy.
When they got to his place, he practically ran up the steps, hurrying to his door.
“Tom.”
He turned, and froze. Mike had stayed on the sidewalk. He looked up at Tom, his expression set. Resignation. Regret. And a firm decision.
“Oh.” Looking down, Tom smiled, laughing at himself. “I guess you’re not coming in.”
Mike shook his head, slowly.
“Okay.” Damn it. Tom plodded down the steps, a rueful twist to his lips. “Sorry. I presumed.”
Mike didn’t say anything. He smiled. It was only a half-smile, and seemed sad. “I had a great time with you.”
“I had the best time with you.” Tom reached out, one finger tracing a line across Mike’s stomach. “I hope we can do this again.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mike smiled, but his words were strained. He reached for Tom’s hand, squeezed it, painfully hard, and pressed his lips together. He seemed to search for something to say, gazing into Tom’s eyes like he was looking for something.
But then, he let go. “Night, Tom. Say bye to Etta Mae for me.”
“Night, Mike. Thank you. For everything.”
Mike smiled, said nothing, and walked away. He turned and waved at the corner, and then disappeared.
When his door shut behind him, Mike collapsed against it, sinking to his floor as he buried his head in his hands. Gasping, he sucked down giant lungfuls of air, over and over, trying to keep his heart from breaking. Trying to stop the tears from welling.
Kris was right. Damn him, Kris was right.
Tom was everything he dreamed about. Everything he wanted. Everything he yearned for.
But it wouldn’t work. Any relationship with him was doomed from the start.
He wanted a fairy tale, but, damn it, fairy tales weren’t happy stories. They all had a twist, and so did life.
Damn it all. Damn the world. Damn history, and time, and everything that had happened. Everything that would keep him and Tom from actually being together.
He’d had one weekend. One weekend where it felt like they were a couple, a matched set. He’d had one weekend where he got to feel what that was like. What a shared future with the man of his dreams would be like.
God, he’d have to avoid the courthouse tomorrow. Maybe the whole week. He’d go into headquarters, pull files on old threats. Make house calls. Drop in on anyone who’d threatened his judges and check up on them. Play the federal intimidation game.
Anything to keep away from Tom Brewer, and his own cracking heart.
Chapter 14
Hey you. :) Haven’t seen you yet today. Miss you.
Tom bit his lip as he sent his text to Mike. Monday afternoon, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man.
What were they? Dating? Did two days constitute the beginning of a relationship? They hadn’t talked about it. He wanted to date, wanted a relationship with Mike, but… That lingering weight, the something that had hung between them on Saturday night, had roared back full force. Why hadn’t Mike wanted to stay Sunday night? Why had he slammed on the brakes? Why had he put distance between them?
Where was he today?
Niggling doubt yanked on his heart, scratched down his spine. He watched his phone, waiting.
[At headquarters. Reviewing threat assessments.]
Tom exhaled slowly. Everything all right?
[Yep. Routine stuff.]
Routine stuff.
Was Mike avoiding him? Avoiding them?
He didn’t say anything about missing Tom, or acknowledged that Tom missed him. Or said anything about seeing him soon. Or tried to make plans for dinner, drinks, a swing-by for a smile and a kiss. Tom would do that, go out of his way just to see Mike’s smile.
Tom turned his screen off and set his phone face-down on his desk. Okay. Mike would text back. He was probably busy. Surrounded by other marshals. He was at headquarters, after all. It would be okay. The weekend had been amazing. That was real. He had to have faith in that.
No texts all afternoon. Silence, from Mike.
He waited around, hanging at the courthouse as long as he could in case Mike swung by, until he had to leave to take care of Etta Mae. His shoulders sagged as he walked to the Metro and he sat slumped on the plastic seats as the subway clanked across the city, holding his phone in a slack grip dangling between his legs.
So… what had happened? Part of him went straight to the worst-case scenario. Was there a traffic accident? Something terrible that had happened in the afternoon, that kept Mike from him? Some giant case or investigation that he was wrapped up in and would emerge from with a breathless apology and a smile, and another kiss.
But, how likely was that, truly?
He should have paid attention to the signals, the weighty something that had felt like a dark premonition hovering just out of sight all weekend. Mike’s unusual reticence on Saturday. He was better on Sunday, but he still had kept Tom at a distance. He hadn’t come inside after their beyond-amazing dinner date.