The farmers’ market. For a moment, he’d forgotten what he was here doing. He’d left all his food at Shay’s table. Bradley held back a sigh, not wanting to go over and talk to Shay again, but needing his produce if he was going to go back home now.
“Sorry, whatever that was,” said Shay when Bradley showed up at the table and waited for the current customer to decide they didn’t want any honey after all and walk off. “Hopefully not news that was too bad.”
“What? It was just my boyfriend,” said Bradley, then realized it was probably not something to admit. Lance had thrown him off a little. He was too focused on his feelings. He tried to pull himself together.
“Bad mood, or does he always make you look like someone ran over your dog when you talk to him?”
Bradley was not going to stand here discussing this with Shay. He wanted to collect his food and then he wanted to go home, turn on some ridiculous background show, and get his article written. But his purchases were no longer on the end of the table.
“Where’s my food?” he asked.
Shay sighed and reached under the table. Bradley didn’t like the expression on his face, somewhere between pity and disappointment. When Shay reappeared, it was with an old plastic grocery bag, bulging with Bradley’s things.
“I couldn’t have it all over my table. Hope you don’t mind I threw it all in here.”
“Thanks,” said Bradley, trying not to take his frustration out on Shay. The bag was heavy, but then he had bought a lot. “Hope you get a few more sales today.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” said Shay, and smiled.
Bradley was able to walk home calmly after that.
* * * *
The farmers’ market food was good, but the weekend was a difficult one to get through. Bradley started the Hexabee Honey article six separate times before giving up and going with his original beginning. He called Lance a few more times, not expecting him to answer and never reaching him anyway. He stared at the jar of honey he’d left on his counter, the yellow-gold hexagon sticker leering at him like an eye every time he entered the kitchen.
Shay must have added it to the bag when he’d packed up Bradley’s food, and now he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t supposed to accept gifts from people he interviewed. Had Shay offered a taste, that would have been different, but a whole jar? Bradley considered giving it to a neighbor. He considered taking it back to the farmers’ market next week, setting it on Shay’s table, and walking off. He considered calling Shay—the Local Times had given him Shay’s number.
The last was the worst idea of all. Bradley thought it best if he didn’t get to talking with Shay again. What with all his thoughts this weekend surrounding both Shay and Lance, he didn’t want to truly admit to himself that he liked Shay better.
So he wouldn’t.
“When are you coming to visit?” asked his mother when he called her on Sunday.
He’d run out of ways to distract himself, the article written, the bills paid, and the laundry taken care of. He held back a sigh.
“Lance is getting back this week. We’re going to want some time together.” When his mother complained, he wanted to remind her she was the one who’d moved away, but he didn’t dare. “Once summer’s over, my coworkers will be taking fewer vacations, and the work load will go down. I’ll get some time off.”
“Is Lance coming, too?”
“I don’t know,” said Bradley, truthfully. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen when Lance was back, but he could tell they’d need some time to work out what the distance had done to them. By the time he’d finished talking to his mother he was half tempted to call Shay but resisted.
He went to the internet to search cheese boards instead. He’d gotten very good at research—he’d done a little for his article on Shay’s honey, even—and had the perfect recipe for a French-inspired cheese board in no time. Fruit, bread, cold meats, and cheese, obviously, would go into it. Jam, maybe, for a sweet spread, and of course a bottle—or two—of good wine.
Surprising Lance with this when he returned was sure to help them recover. Bradley would invite him over, and they could share it together, in bed, on Saturday. Lance was returning on Wednesday, but Bradley wasn’t going to have time in the middle of the week—and he doubted Lance would, either. Maybe they’d get to a quickie when Bradley dropped Lance back at his place, but it’d be late and nothing special. Well, beyond it being the first sex they would have gotten in weeks.
Bradley thought he should be looking forward to that more.
He threw himself into the cheese board so he wouldn’t have to think about anything else. Not Lance, not spending the weekend alone, and definitely not Shay. The internet told him the local winery would still be open today until three, so he went, thinking that should eat up a few hours.
The GPS took him to a stretch of the river about a forty-minute drive away and he parked in the gravel lot. A renovated old barn rose up in front of him, fields of grapes stretching out beyond. It was picturesque and would have been relaxing if he hadn’t been so stressed.
A few people wandered around the wine displays, and a young probably-straight couple was at the tasting bar, so he sat as far away from them as he could. The woman behind the bar poured him a few wines, white to rosé to red, and he swirled, sniffed, and drank. Bradley had learned the basics from an ex’s mother a few years back, so he at least looked like he knew what he was doing.
“How do you like this one? It’s a two-year award winner and best seller.”
“Good, thanks,” he told the woman as she poured the next wine. He tried to smile at her.
Bradley stayed in the winery until the cashier called out ten minutes until close. He’d really only sampled the wines to waste time, but now he was unsure what to buy. The wines ranged from sweet to semi-dry, and Lance at least had said once that he preferred dry. Bradley decided against rosé and opted for a red and a white, eventually deciding to select the award-winning bottles. If the wine was that good, Lance wouldn’t be able to hate it, he figured.
Then he got in his car and drove the forty minutes back home. He tried to occupy his time by packing his lunches for the week and cooking a decent meal, but he felt hollow. Something had changed in the past few days, and Bradley couldn’t put his finger on just what.
He felt lonely, and vulnerable, and he didn’t know why. Lance would be home in a few days, likely with a number of stories and photos of his weeks in France, and they’d spend some quality time together again. Finally. So why did Bradley dread it? It couldn’t be Shay, and it couldn’t be that Bradley had showered at Shay’s place, although he did suspect Lance wouldn’t be happy with him for it. He’d just not mention it.
He couldn’t have grown apart from Lance in a few weeks. And Bradley didn’t want to think that some part of him had liked not having Lance around. Obviously, he was still lonely. He was moping right now, Sunday night, thinking about rearranging his living room or maybe getting a fish. A fish was a good pet for a busy person, just clean the tank every week and feed it. Not dangerous like bees.
Bradley ran a hand through his hair and laughed at himself. He was overthinking his life. He didn’t need to make any decisions now. He killed a few hours with a book, then picked up his phone to try Lance again and paused. Lance hadn’t wanted to talk until he got back. Bradley could handle that. He set his phone back down and went to bed.
* * * *
“What is your problem today?” asked Beth, the graphic designer, as Bradley apologized again. The coffee he’d spilled had barely missed her, most of it ending up on the table, although the fact she blotted at her hand with a napkin indicated a few drops must have hit her.
“His boyfriend’s coming back tonight,” said Jen, the intern, smirking as she watched him throw half the tray of napkins at the spreading spill. “Isn’t he?”
“Picking him up from the airport after work,” said Bradley, unable to look at either of them. He normally wasn’t
so clumsy, but he’d gotten increasingly nervous as the day progressed. He had no idea why. He wanted to see Lance again, didn’t he? Even if they’d have some things to work on. He’d missed Lance.
“Yeah, you look anxious, not excited,” said Beth, using the napkin to wipe the bottom of her mug and then throwing it in the trash. “Are you going to break up with him or something? Right after he gets off a plane, all jet-lagged?”
“Brutal,” said Jen.
Bradley gaped at them. Breaking up with Lance hadn’t been on his mind at all—figuring out how to get along with him, however…He’d figured he’d let Lance talk, or sleep, or whatever he wanted on the way back home. It was at least a two-hour drive to the airport, after all. A tense atmosphere he expected, but he was dismayed other people thought he was ending it.
“I’m not breaking up with him.” Bradley tossed the wad of coffee-soaked napkins into the bin. He filled his mug again, added sugar, and refused to look up while doing it. He wasn’t going to spill again. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. Expectations. All that.”
“Usually I’m excited to be with my girlfriend when she’s been away a while,” said Jen.
Bradley didn’t like what she was implying. He stirred harder.
“By the way, Bradley, I got your article on the honey boy, but I’m going to need your pictures for the layout,” said Beth, sipping her coffee once before taking in the expression on Bradley’s face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take any.”
He’d completely forgotten. The publication was so small, it tended to send reporters with cameras so they could take their own shots. Beth then worked her magic on it so it looked good on the page. Bradley had never missed taking photos and he could barely believe he’d left the camera in the car the entire time he’d been at Shay’s. Shit.
“I’ll get them. Tonight.”
“Picking up the boyfriend?” asked Jen.
Bradley drank several large, too-hot gulps of coffee instead of snapping something at her.
Beth raised an eyebrow at him. “Give me the camera and the address, and I can do it.”
“No, I’ll get it to you. Tomorrow. Promise.”
“That’s cutting it close.” Beth sighed and relented. “Fine. But I’m blaming you if everything’s running late.”
Bradley nodded. That seemed fair enough. He left Beth to answer some question Jen had, deposited his coffee at his desk, and decided to step outside to call Shay. He was relieved when Shay didn’t pick up—likely at work himself—and left a message apologizing but needing to get a few pictures for the article. Then he went back inside, sat down, and miserably went through his next project.
Several hours later, he was in his car on the way to the airport, still miserable. He’d stopped for a fast food burger and it sat heavy in his gut, not making him feel any better. Bradley had too much time in the car to wonder whether he should have brought Lance something, a gift maybe, but then decided it was fine. They’d been together for over two years now, but Lance always insisted on nothing special for anniversaries and holidays. Bradley doubted this would be any different.
He arrived early, got an overpriced coffee at the airport, and sat down to wait. The update panel indicated Lance’s plane had landed when Bradley’s phone rang.
“Bradley Kim, the Local Times.”
“You called?” It was Shay.
Bradley’s stomach did a flip, then a flop. It was a bad sign he was anxious about seeing Lance again but eager to hear Shay’s voice. “Yeah.”
“Something about pictures of me?” Shay’s tone was suggestive.
“It’s for the article,” said Bradley, eyes skimming the crowd as he spoke. Even though this was for work, he didn’t want to still be on the phone when Lance walked up. “We’re too small to have an official photographer for anything but big events, so reporters take the photos. I…must have forgotten when I interviewed you.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
Bradley leaned forward, gritting his teeth. All these conflicting emotions were turning his stomach, and he didn’t want to be sick here in the middle of a crowded airport.
“I just want to set up a time to come by and take them, if it’s all right with you. It’ll be quick and painless—fifteen, twenty minutes at most. Are you free tomorrow?”
“I’m home by six-thirty,” said Shay.
“Good. I’ll drop by sometime around then. Thanks.”
“If you want to stay for dinner—”
“Sorry, but I’m kind of busy at the moment. See you tomorrow.”
Bradley hung up on Shay, pushing away the guilt. He sat for a few minutes, finishing the last of his coffee, and wondered where Lance was. Finally he sighed, stood, and went to where the screen indicated the luggage had ended up.
The baggage claim was currently in one of its two settings: full chaos. Bradley walked past a few in the other state—utterly deserted—and then past two also cluttered with people before he got to Lance’s. He hung back for a while, letting people leave, hands shoved in his pockets. Lance complained when he was too clingy, anyway, so he waited for Lance to exit the group of loud families and sour professionals.
When Lance appeared, he wasn’t alone. Bradley almost misunderstood the fact that the person next to him was with him—until he grabbed Lance’s hand. More people exiting the baggage claim pushed past him, but long seconds stretched out as Bradley watched.
There was Lance, clean shaven, short blond hair, white skin somehow more tanned than when he’d left. And he was smiling—smiling—at the man next to him, taller than Bradley, paler than Lance, well-dressed in dull-hued solids. Bradley blinked. Lance was smiling at this man like he hadn’t smiled at Bradley in a long, long time.
He couldn’t bring himself to confront them. Not really. So he moved to stand in front of them. The look on Lance’s face when he noticed Bradley was there was priceless, but Bradley felt nothing. Somehow, everything had turned him numb. He couldn’t even say anything.
“Oh—Bradley—I thought you couldn’t make it,” said Lance, looking uncomfortable, but the man next to him seemed pleased.
“Great,” he said, light accent to his words. “Your ex is a good guy, like you said.”
Bradley opened his mouth to ask when Lance was going to tell him they were over, but he still struggled to find words. Why his mind was seizing up like this, he didn’t know, but a moment later, Lance acted like nothing was wrong.
“Yeah, well, I got an eye for the good ones. Bradley, this is Narcisse.”
“Really?” asked Bradley, the first word he could manage.
Narcisse grinned. “We’re not all Pierres and Jean-Claudes,” he said with a laugh.
Lance smiled and nudged him with a shoulder. Bradley did not think the joke was funny.
“Really,” said Lance, turning a hard look on Bradley. “I’m glad you found a way to get out here to take us back anyway. You didn’t have to.”
Bradley was aware he was staring with his mouth open and closed it back up. Around them, irritated, impatient people pushed past. Wanting to get out of here, get home, get away. Bradley wanted to get away. His head buzzed like one of Shay’s hives was inside his skull and nothing felt real.
He couldn’t quite comprehend why Lance was okay doing this to him. If Bradley hadn’t showed up, when was Lance going to mention that he’d brought someone back from France? And yet here he was, and here Narcisse was, and Bradley was stuck. The fleeting thought that he should just walk out of there, leave them at the baggage claim to find their own way back, occurred to him, but it also seemed ridiculous to turn them away when he’d already driven all the way here and was going back anyway.
He needed time to think, time to react. And he wasn’t used to being cruel, even if it was to spite someone who’d just done what Lance had done to him. Bradley swallowed.
“Come on,” he said, feeling thoroughly defeated. He led the way back to his car as Lance and Narcisse stumbled along behind him.
“Thanks,” said Lance. Bradley shot him a cold look. Lance rarely thanked him.
“How long have you two been together?” asked Bradley.
Lance grew quiet.
Narcisse, however, spoke up. “A few days after he arrived. He was so confused, I helped him with directions. We clicked immediately.”
Bradley set his jaw. So that explained why Lance slowly got more distant, as a little cheating he thought he could get away with turned into something more. The fact that he hadn’t even changed how he talked to Bradley when he called until this last week made Bradley suspect this wasn’t the first time Lance had hooked up with someone on a business trip. The thought made him feel disgusting.
He drove home numbly, switching his mind off thoughts of anything but the road, the oncoming headlights, the night. The drive should have soothed him a little, calmed him down, but both Lance and Narcisse fell asleep, and both of them snored. Bradley parked in front of Lance’s apartment, turned off the car, and waited for them to notice they’d reached their destination.
Lance woke first, with a snort, and glanced over directly into Bradley’s eyes. Now was his chance to say something, anything, and Bradley couldn’t take it. He still didn’t know what to tell Lance. Then the moment passed.
Lance unbuckled his seat belt and leaned into the back seat to prod Narcisse. “Thanks again,” he said as they collected their bags and tumbled out into the night.
Bradley watched them until they entered the building, then backed out and drove home.
* * * *
Lance didn’t call, but then Bradley didn’t know why he was expecting him to. Maybe to give him a real apology. He’d have a few minutes when Narcisse showered. Unless they were doing everything together. Bradley was almost too distraught at the thought to go to work, but the alternative was calling in and sitting around his apartment all day—while his coworkers were thinking he was having ecstatic multiple-round sex with Lance—and he didn’t think he could stomach that.
He dragged himself out of bed and got to work on time. He then proceeded to be very busy all day so he could avoid discussing the night before with anyone. Bradley didn’t want to talk about it, certainly not with coworkers, and ignoring everyone seemed to be enough. For now. When the whispers grew to be too much, he mumbled something to Beth about taking those pictures, grabbed one of the company cameras, and went to his car.
Sweeter Than Honey Page 3