“I know, Fin. I’ve thought about all of this. I’m okay with where I am right now. Since I’ve met you, everything’s changed. Before, I used to get up and go to work because I had to in order to pay my debt. Then, when you came along, I went to work because I couldn’t wait to be there. See what you were wearing… to sit close enough to you to smell your scent… to listen to you talk about books and music… movies you liked. I was fascinated by you. I’m still fascinated by you. I look over at you sometimes and can’t believe that you’re mine.”
“That’s my line,” I whispered.
“I mean it. I was the typical jock in school, but the boys I liked were the smart ones with culture and style. Since I couldn’t be honest back then, I let them all pass me by. Now, I’m engaged to one of those smart, cultured boys.” He rolled on top of me, peppering kisses across my throat.
“And I get to marry the football coach. God, that’s fucking surreal.”
Matt moved down my body, his tongue dragging its way south. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, stopping just short of the elastic band. “I feel more connected to you than I ever have with anyone in my entire life.”
“Thank you,” I answered. “I feel the same.”
“And on the physical level? God, I’ve never felt so alive. I can’t keep my fucking hands off of you; that’s the truth. Even when we’re just at the coffee shop or waiting to take the elevator in your building… I want to push you against the wall and grind against your cock like some horny high school kid.”
I laughed aloud. “You wanna dry hump me?”
“Fuck yes I do. Jesus! I want to do everything with you. Right this second, I want to rip your underwear in half and bury my face in there.”
I turned my back to him, clutching my briefs in jest. “These are good underwear,” I teased.
“The way you smell…”
“You can buy that, remember? A hundred dollars an ounce.”
“The way you touch me… the way you love me, Fin.” He pressed his cheek to my stomach, lying peacefully before closing his eyes. “I’m lucky.”
I stroked his hair before resting my hand on his cheek. “I am, Matt. We both are.”
♂♂
“I want to see Becky,” Matt said as I zipped my bag.
“Like now?”
“We’ve done everything else we came here to do. I need to see her before we leave.” He came close, squeezing my hand in his. “Will you come with me?”
“Are we going to surprise her?”
“I’ll call first, but I think she’ll come. We can meet on neutral ground. Will you do that?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess… but do you really think she’s going to want to meet me, Matt?”
He shrugged. “Let me try.”
I nodded, lifting my hands in defeat. “Call her then.”
I finished getting ready in the bathroom, giving him his space so that he could phone the woman he’d been married to. I couldn’t say exactly why I’d been a bit jealous, knowing full well he’d never revisit that path. Still, my stomach twisted at the thought of meeting the woman Matt had shared almost ten years with.
He walked in, still clutching the phone in his hand.
“She’ll meet us downstairs in the café. Thirty minutes.”
We rolled our luggage down to the main floor and dropped it with the valet before finding a seat in the crowded café.
“There. There she is,” he said, standing.
Becky was petite, maybe a few inches over five feet, with a rounded face housing a pair of oversized glasses in a matte green finish. She pushed them up onto the bridge of her nose as she searched the room. When her gaze met Matt’s, she lifted her hand into a short wave.
“Hiya,” she said softly, awkwardly opening her arms to Matt for the briefest of hugs.
Her face was scrubbed free of makeup; her dirty-blonde hair lifted into a messy bun. When she pulled back and tugged the tie on her trench coat, she exposed her globe of a belly – a tight sweater stretched across the massive sphere.
“Oh my God… Beck,” Matt gushed. “You’re… pregnant.”
She ran her hands over the material, patting the side of her stomach once. Her short ring finger housed a most-impressive rock, nearly five carats sparkling under the hotel lights.
“It’s not yours,” she joked, smiling shyly. She turned toward me for a moment before she looked back to Matt.
“I’m sorry, God… Becky, this is Fin.”
I extended my hand to her, standing a bit straighter, trying to appear as if I wasn’t actually dying inside. This woman – this normal, everyday woman – was Matt’s ex-wife.
I was suddenly uncomfortable with my expectations. I awaited a supreme beauty with over-the-top confidence. Instead, she was a woman who made cookies, read books, and likely had more than one cat.
“Hi,” I said softly. “So nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Her tone was genuine and her smile was sugary and welcoming. “I feel ashamed.”
Matt shook his head. “Why, Becks? It’s my fault.”
“No, Mattie. I was mad back then, you know?” She plopped down into an oversized armchair as Matt and I took chairs across from her. “I wanted you to love me, even though I knew you couldn’t. It was stupid and I feel ashamed. What my dad did—”
“Is water under the bridge,” he finished. “Honestly. I was never upset with you. I always loved you… just not the way you needed me to.”
“I know. I’m glad you called.” She struggled to find a comfortable position, finally settling with one hip resting tightly against the left side of the chair. “I haven’t talked to him, you know? Since you lost your job.”
“What?” Matt asked. “Why?”
“Because, even though we were married, we started off as friends. I always thought of you as a friend, even after the whole thing ended. I couldn’t believe he would stoop so low. It made me sick. I knew, Matt… I knew about your penchant for men. I just didn’t want to believe it.” She looked over at me with a gentle smile. “So, you’ve finally found your true love.”
Matt reached over and took my hand in his. “I have.”
“I’m glad. I hope we can fix whatever we broke, you know… I mean, not today, maybe. Hopefully someday,” she said with a shrug. “He’s great, you know,” she said to me.
“I do know. I’m lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Matt said softly. “Becks, we don’t need to fix anything. We had a rough few years, yeah, but look at how it’s turned out. You’re married and happy… and have a baby on the way. You’ve always wanted that.”
“I’m over the moon. Dean is wonderful,” she raved. “And he hates football.”
They exchanged smiles before Matt added, “So does Fin.”
“I don’t hate it,” I insisted. “I just don’t understand it all yet.”
“Don’t worry,” she responded with a smile. “You will.”
Chapter Eleven
Art Gallo was running late, sending my nerves into overdrive. He had agreed to meet with us after school the following Monday; the two of us sitting across from each other while our coffees grew cold. When he finally did come through the door, my back stiffened as Matt waved him over.
“Art,” he said, standing up to shake his hand. I stood too, nervously taking his hand in mine.
“You two aren’t quitting, are you?” he teased, a crooked smile nearly splitting his face.
“No, of course not.” Matt let out a nervous laugh and glanced at me. “We wanted to talk to you because… well… we’re—”
“Together,” I finished.
“Together?” Art asked. “Like a couple?”
“Yes.” Matt took a sip of his coffee. “Like a couple.”
“Alright.” When he stood quickly, panic washed through me. Then, a moment later, he took off his sweater and laid it on the back of the chair. “Mind if I grab a coffee? I’ll be back in a sec.”
As the older
man walked away, Matt and I looked at each other.
“Did that just happen?” I asked quietly. “He didn’t even say anything. You think he knew?”
Matt shrugged. “How would he? Did you say anything to Eden?”
I shook my head.
“Pearson?” he asked.
“God, no. That guy’s an asshole.”
We stayed quiet for a few minutes, slowly sipping our drinks until he came back to join us.
“Alright, where were we?” he asked casually.
Matt gave a soft chuckle. “Um, Art, I think we were at the part where Fin and I told you that we were together.”
“Ah, yes.” He gave us a small smile. “And?”
“We thought… hell, Art, did you know?” Matt asked.
“See this?” he said, holding his left hand up. A tattered gold band covered his ring finger. “Twenty-four years ago, I got married to my husband, Paul. Of course, back then, they called it a commitment ceremony and I could only refer to him as my life partner.” He laughed aloud. “Not the same today. You can go down to a courthouse and get a license just like everyone else. I knew about you because – well – you and Fin are a lot like Paul and I were. It was hard to miss. The lunches. The walks. I’m not blind and neither is anyone else.”
“Did anyone say anything to you? I mean, did Pearson…?” My question trailed off as Art opened his mouth to speak.
“He said that you were a homosexual,” he responded, putting air quotes around the word. “He said he was worried about the kids, which we all know is bullshit.”
“Here’s the thing, Art.” Matt reached over to take my hand. “We aren’t just seeing each other. Fin’s agreed to marry me.”
“Let me be the first to say congratulations,” he deadpanned, taking a sip of coffee. “Bravo. Take my advice, though; don’t run off somewhere and sign paperwork. That’s my biggest regret, not having an actual wedding. If I had to do it all over again, I’d rent the hall and buy the cake… the whole nine yards. I wouldn’t have worn jeans and done it in the neighbor’s backyard. You love each other? Do it right.”
“We’re going to New York over winter break,” I responded.
“Family? Friends?”
“Both,” Matt answered. “But I guess what we wanted to meet with you about wasn’t so much to tell you that we were getting married as much as to find out how it would affect our jobs.”
“Will one of us have to leave?” I asked.
“You know Bob and Tessa Miller?” Art asked, referring to two of our colleagues.
“Yeah?”
“Married for a decade. Works for me. Listen, I don’t care about your personal lives. If it starts to affect your teaching, we’ll deal with it then. If not…” he answered, giving a single shrug of his shoulders.
“Thank you, Art,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome. I do need to get going unless you need anything else.” After we both shook our heads in unison, he continued, “Paul and I eat together every night. We never miss. It’s a rule. Goodnight, gentlemen.”
♂♂
Matt was in the shower, rinsing off the seriously-sexy sheen of sweat he’d accumulated while lifting weights in the living room. His phone buzzed on the coffee table. I picked it up, the screen displaying a three-one-seven area code.
“Matt,” I called, walking into the fog of steam. “There’s a call. Three-one-seven?”
“Let it go to voicemail.”
I hit the button on the side, silencing the buzz. A minute or so later, a short ding sounded, alerting a voicemail.
“Someone left a message,” I yelled.
Matt turned the handle and pulled a towel from the top of the glass enclosure. “What?”
“There’s a message.” I flipped through a magazine, watching Matt’s reaction as he listened to the lengthy communication. He jotted something down and pressed the end button.
“Uh… it was a headhunter.” He gave a long pause. “For the Colts.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Tell me again what city…?”
“Indianapolis.” Matt didn’t look up from the phone, staring at it for what seemed like a full minute. “They’re looking for a Strength and Conditioning coach.”
“Oh my God, Matt!” I screamed.
“Slow down,” Matt responded with a laugh.
“When? I mean, did they offer it to you?”
“Babe, I don’t know how to coach.” He shook his wet hair out as he wrapped the towel around his waist.
“Yes, you do.”
“Seriously? The intramural league?” He turned from the mirror and studied me. “This is a little different. I’m not qualified.”
“Matt, you’re a fucking doctor. If anything, you’re overqualified.”
“Oh, God,” he responded with panic. “What the fuck am I supposed to say?”
“Say you’ll meet with them.” I jumped in place, clapping my hands. “Go, go, go. Now!”
He took the phone and turned toward the bedroom, smiling at me before closing the door. I waited patiently, flipping channels for nearly fifteen minutes. Matt’s voice was muffled, but I heard his deep laugh more than a few times.
That was positive, right?
When the door cracked, I darted off of the sofa. “Well?”
“Well, they want to meet me.”
“Oh my God, Matt. When?”
He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Saturday.”
“Saturday as in two days from now?”
“Uh huh.”
“Okay… well, do you have a suit?” I asked.
He sunk down into the sofa. “I don’t think I want it.”
“The suit?”
“The job,” he murmured.
“What?” I let out a near squeak. “Why?”
“I’m not qualified. They’re going to know that. I don’t know anything about exercise regimens. I mean, not like the job would require.”
“Matt, you exercise every day. You strength train every day. You run, you lift weights, you have routines. You talk about that stuff all of the time.” I lowered to the couch and pressed my lips to his bare shoulder. “Besides, they won’t find anyone sexier.”
He laughed. “I don’t think they’d be paying me to be sexy, Fin.”
I carefully lifted up and straddled his lap, grinding into him through the thin cotton. “Well, I’d pay a few bucks to see you drop that towel.”
“Yeah?” he responded, resting his forehead against mine. “But knowing an exercise routine and being a coach? Two different things.”
“You know football, right? You played. You train your team now, don’t you?”
“They’re in high school. I told you, that’s different.”
“Give yourself a chance.”
He pulled me closer, tugging on my belt loops. “I told them I’d be there. I mean, I told them we’d be there.”
“We?”
“Obviously, you wouldn’t come to the interview with me.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to my neck. “But they want to take us to dinner that night.”
“Do they know I’m a man, Matt?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter? They told me to bring my spouse, so—”
“So, I’m not your spouse.” I squirmed out of his lap and stood. “I’m not going.”
“Why?” He rose stiffly.
“Because you already lost one job because of being gay.”
“No, I lost that job because Carl lied about me. I need you, Fin. Please don’t do this.”
“Carl said those things because you were gay. If you want this job, I want you to get it based on your qualifications. I don’t want you to lose it before you’re even given a chance.”
Matt sighed deeply. “Not everyone feels like my dad, babe.”
“But some people do. What if you go and wow them? You have a great interview and later that night, we show up for dinner… together?”
“I don’t care, Fin.”
My voice rose as my pani
c started to set in. “You’re put in this position to explain away this young, blonde fairy on your arm… a man who knows more about Frescobaldi than football. Am I supposed to just sit there, Matt? I don’t want to look like a fool. Worse, I don’t want you to.”
He pursed his lips. “Are you done?” When I nodded, he added, “You’re not that blonde.”
“I’m not comfortable with this.”
“Then just come with me. Stay in the hotel. Shop. Get a massage. Hell, I don’t care. I just need you in my bed. I just need you, Finlay.”
I brushed my fingers across his thickening beard. “Maybe you should shave this.”
“Fin…”
“And you need a suit,” I continued.
“I have a fucking suit.” Matt clasped his hand over mine. “Please come.”
“Fine. What time do we leave?”
♂♂
“This is the longest drive ever. Tell me again why we didn’t fly?”
Matt laughed softly. “Because you didn’t want to, remember? It’s a four hour drive, Fin. Four hours.”
“I hate driving,” I complained. I paged through the Indianapolis materials Matt had been overnighted, inspecting what the city had to offer.
“You’re not driving. You’re riding. See anything good in there?”
“A few open houses. I could check them out tomorrow when you’re at the interview,” I responded.
“I don’t have the job, Fin. I probably won’t get it either.”
“You will. Jesus, this place is amazing.” I ran my fingers over the glossy pages filled with real estate porn. Downtown view, open floor plan, gourmet custom kitchen, steam shower. “It’s almost five-thousand square feet.”
“What do we need five-thousand square feet for?”
“We don’t,” I shrugged. “Oooh, here’s a nice Victorian.”
Matt shook his head. “Ugh, I hate that style.”
“This one’s in the country. It’s got a barn… and horses.” I reached over to stroke Matt’s thigh. “I bet you’d look good in a Stetson.”
He smiled widely. “Neither of us knows anything about horses and we both hate the country. Keep looking.”
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