by Hayes, Lane
I looked away when the memory overwhelmed me. Tears blurred my vision, and my head ached with the effort to keep my emotions under control. Lars squeezed my hand, pulling me back to the surface before I lost myself in a wave of regret.
“It’s okay. Go slow. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured me.
I took a deep breath and continued. “He broke down. I hadn’t heard him cry like that since he was a kid, and it was…devastating. He’s my boy. My son. To think he was in that kind of pain rattled me to the core. I held him tight and said…what you just said to me. ‘It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.’ And after a few minutes, he said, ‘I’m bi.’ Can you believe that two tiny words consisting of four measly letters can cause so much pain?”
“Yes. I can.”
“Me too. But at the time, my reaction was just…relief. Holy shit, I thought he was going to tell me he was sick or someone he knew was injured or going through something catastrophic. I never dreamed it was him.” I paused to take a sip of water and pull myself together. “I wished I could tell him then that I knew how he felt but…I’m a coward.”
“You’re not a coward, Jeff,” Lars said kindly.
I scoffed. “You’re right. There are nicer terms for guys like me. I’m a product of my time and my Catholic upbringing. The truth is, my parents would have disowned me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything. I take a measure of pride in knowing that my son had no such worries. Kate and I love our children unconditionally. Josh’s revelation surprised us, but as we both assured him we loved him and supported him, I realized we’d turned a corner. My child would never live in fear. He would never doubt us or question his place in our family or his worth in this world. He would marry the person he loved, and he would live an authentic life. That alone felt like a victorious coming-out moment.”
“The first of many.”
“Yes. He came out, and something inside me shifted. I couldn’t pretend to be the same. But shedding this weight isn’t easy. I’ve known I was gay since I was a teenager. Over forty years. That’s a long time to keep a secret. But no one could know. Ever.”
“So you got yourself a girlfriend and lived the straight life.”
“Yes. I know that sounds bad but…I love Kate, and marrying her wasn’t a punishment. She’s a beautiful person, inside and out. She’s actually the one who suggested we ‘date’ to get my dad off my back. He was a bit of a tyrant, and when he started drinking, all bets were off. We were best friends and fake high school sweethearts who upped the ante when things got heated at home. Kate got pregnant, we got married and had three kids, numerous pets, and a house in the suburbs. I became the man my dad expected me to be.”
“What changed for you? Why are you here with me now?” he asked gently.
The waiter returned just then to take our orders. If he was displeased with the interruption, he kept it to himself. Lars slipped on a pair of blue reading glasses and peered at me over the rims.
“Do you mind if I order for us?”
“Please do,” I replied, charmed by his gallantry. When he addressed the waiter in Italian, I nearly fell off my chair. Fuck, that was sexy.
He shot an amused look at me when we were alone again. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you just found out I’m the lead singer of a boy band.”
“Are you?” I asked, widening my eyes comically.
Lars chuckled. “Yes, Lars and the Lumberjacks. Have you heard of us?”
I burst into laughter. “No, but that sounds hot as hell. Do you wear plaid shirts and work boots?”
“And nothing else,” he said with a straight face.
I gulped. “Oh. Wow.”
He snickered at my dreamy expression, grabbed my hand, and pressed his lips to my knuckles. The gesture came across as impulsive, charming, and impossibly romantic.
“I can’t believe I haven’t kissed you yet. I hope you don’t mind my honesty but…I want you.”
I opened my mouth and closed it, then pointed at my chest. “Me?”
Lars grinned. “Yeah, you. But I can’t do anything about it here, so keep talking. Tell me what happened after Josh came out.”
“Uh…okay. Um…nothing. I mean—isn’t it your turn to do some talking for a while?”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but I’m fascinated by you and your ex who’s your best friend and your bi son. And I want to know how you came to be sitting here, sharing a bottle of wine with me, when your path was so different not so long ago.”
“There isn’t much more to say. When Josh came out, I asked Kate for a divorce. If my twenty-year-old son had the balls to be himself, I figured I should do the same. She understood but…not really. It was a painful time. Everyone was hurt. Kate was upset, the kids were devastated, and I was a bona-fide mess. But I couldn’t keep living a lie. So I began living half a lie. And here I am eleven years later…a masterful liar by omission,” I huffed sarcastically.
“Hmm. So you live a secret gay life and public straight one, is that right? I’m not judging. I’m only curious,” he added, holding a hand up in surrender.
I shrugged. “I suppose. At first, it was all about sex for me. I’d never been with a man at all, and I was desperate to know what it was like.”
“Never?” he asked incredulously.
“No. Thank God for online dating. My first gay kiss happened when I was forty-six. Can you believe that? I waited thirty years to kiss a man.”
“What about the rest?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve done it all. I had a lot of years to make up for.”
“So you’ve had sex with a man?” he whispered.
“Yes. Many times.”
“Have you been in a relationship?”
I sighed. “Not really. I came close a couple of times, but I wasn’t ready to come out to my kids for someone I wasn’t sure was the real thing. That’s horrible to say aloud, but it’s true.”
“Do you think you’ll ever come all the way out? For yourself. Not someone else.”
“Yes. I want to. I do.”
“Hmm. Good,” he replied.
“Good? That’s all you have to say? I-I’ve never told anyone all this. My family comes first. Always. They’re sacred. I’m not sure why you’re different, but you are. I trust you.”
“Thank you. I don't take that lightly, and I feel the same, Jeff.” He considered me thoughtfully. “I’m not sure why or how, but I think I know you. Sure, we have a lot to learn about each other. You may snore, steal the covers, and leave the cap off the toothpaste—”
“Guilty.”
Lars grinned. “But at this very moment, I’d give my left nut to be the man who knows those things and accepts you as you are.”
We let the conversation drift to neutral topics during dinner. We discussed music, movies, and television shows we loved. I laughed when he admitted he’d watched every Die Hard movie because he harbored a secret crush on Bruce Willis. However, when he claimed to be a serious Trekkie, I knew I might be in big trouble. I loved the way his eyes lit up as he launched into a story about how he and his neighbors reenacted scenes from Star Trek when they were kids.
“I always insisted on being Captain Kirk. At first, my friends argued with me and said it was only fair to take turns, but I held my ground. I couldn’t tell them I had the hots for the captain, so I found myself giving oddball compliments like, ‘You’re very perceptive, like Spock’ or ‘You’re good at knowing what’s wrong with someone when they’re sick. You should be McCoy.’ My mother overheard me one day and told me I was a natural leader. A perfect captain.” Lars’s smile dimmed slightly. “She never knew the truth either.”
“She didn’t know you’re gay?”
He shook his head solemnly, then took a sip of water. “No. She may have suspected, but I never told her. She died in a car accident when I was twenty-four. I was devastated. She was a joyful, magnetic woman with a big laugh and
an even bigger personality. I went through a dark phase marked by a string of bad choices…drugs, alcohol, loose women and—”
“Women?”
Lars nodded slowly. “Yeah. I was in the closet too. I had a cathartic awakening of sorts when I had my own near-death experience.”
My heart hammered in my chest. I pushed my plate aside and leaned across the table. “What happened?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I woke up naked and alone in a seedy motel room with a dozen empty bottles of booze, a bunch of used condoms, and zero memory. It was my rock bottom. I realized the source of my problems wasn’t just a deep depression over my loss. Sure, that was part of it. But the other part was fear. When you’re staring at your naked ugly self in the mirror, and you’ve got nowhere to go and no one who gives a shit if you live or die, it gives you perspective. All I could think was, ‘Mom would be pissed as hell if I died like this.’ I had to turn my life around. Step one…it was time to tell the truth.
“I came out to my brother, who hasn’t spoken to me since, and my sister, who I see once a month for dinner. I lost friends and family, but I gained so much more by living my truth. I started thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up. My mother’s words about me always wanting to be in charge popped into my head, and I knew I had to be my own boss. GDC wasn’t built overnight by any means. But you’ve seen our books and—”
“They’re impressive,” I admitted, sounding like the geeky accountant I was. “Your firm is doing very well.”
“I’ve worked my ass off to make my dream a reality. But it never would have happened if I hadn’t gone through hell and back. In fact, I might not be sitting here with you now.”
“That would be terrible.”
“Well, I’m here. I survived and so did you,” he said in a deep timbre that reverberated through my chest.
I squeezed his hand, hoping to convey my distress at the idea. Perhaps my reaction was over-the-top, but the thought of not knowing Lars crushed me. We’d each already lived decades never knowing the other existed. So many years just…gone. I didn’t regret my years with Kate, and I was immeasurably grateful for my children. But no one lived forever, and I had a niggling feeling it was very important that I know this man. Every part of him.
“We can do better than that.”
Lars cocked his head. “What do you suggest?”
I licked my dry lips and shot a cursory glance at the table closest to ours to be sure my clumsy speech wasn’t overheard. “This is extremely unusual of me. I’m an accountant for a reason. I’m a slow-moving, methodical planner. I look before I leap, and I weigh every possible outcome. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I can’t let this moment pass without telling you how I feel.”
“How do you feel?”
“Horny.” I waited for his laughter to subside, then continued. “But I feel a lot of other things too. Butterflies, nausea, and a little indigestion.”
“So I make you sick?” His eyes sparked with humor.
“No.” I chuckled. “You make me feel alive. Scared and unsure, yes…but hopeful too. I’ve lost so much time, and I’m leery of letting any more slip away without taking a chance or two. We haven’t even kissed and for all I know, we might be terrible at it but, Jesus, Lars, I really want to try.”
He held my gaze as he stood, moving to my side of the table with his hand outstretched. “Stand up.”
I hesitated for a second before obeying. We were in a crowded restaurant on a Saturday night. Our table was tucked against a wall on one side, but we were in close proximity to our neighbors. So close I could see the lipstick stain on the rim of a wineglass and smell the seafood they’d ordered. I cleared my throat and tried to think of a joke to relieve the growing tension. But I couldn’t think of anything to rhyme with shrimp besides pimp, and somehow that didn’t work. I focused on Lars instead.
“What are we doing?” I whispered nervously.
He didn’t answer. He stroked my cheek sweetly, cupped my neck, and sealed his mouth over mine.
If I lived to be a hundred, I’d never forget that moment. Frank Sinatra singing “The Way You Look Tonight,” the sigh of approval from the women seated next to us, and the hum of conversation intermixed with the clatter of silverware nearby. But more importantly, I knew I’d always remember that kiss. His soft lips, the scratch of his beard, and the way he cradled my head as he deepened the kiss in a gentle but insistent connection that hinted at a promise of so much more.
I swayed drunkenly when he pulled back to gauge my reaction. Maybe I was drunk. Intoxicated with lust, need, and the notion I was free to act on my desire. To be my true self with someone who wanted me as much as I wanted him.
“Come home with me, Jeff.”
I nodded profusely, then leaned in to press another kiss on his lips. “Yes.”
Twenty minutes later, our driver pulled up in front of a well-kept home on a quiet street in the Castro. I noted the wide bay window above the single-car garage and the spherical topiaries flanking the front door. The exterior was charming but unassuming. In other words, the opposite of the cutting-edge modern homes and businesses his company constructed. The interior was the same. Lovely, albeit very traditional. There were high ceilings, sleek hardwood flooring, and the walls were predominately white or in subtle jewel tones. Striped pillows were strewn across the light-colored sofa and the chairs in front of the fireplace in the living area. It was a homey, inviting space, but definitely not what I expected.
I gave him a wobbly smile as I held my arms open. “Your home is nice, but I pictured you living in a spaceship for some reason. Like Captain Kirk.”
Lars chuckled at my lame attempt at humor. “I love creating contemporary homes for other people, but I never really wanted to live on the Starship Enterprise. That was just pretend. The truth is, I’m a bit of a traditionalist in my private life. Don’t tell on me.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” My voice had a raspy quality I didn’t recognize. I cleared my throat to add something light, but the words wouldn’t come. I was overwhelmed again.
“Would you care for something to drink?” he asked politely.
“No, thanks,” I replied as I reached for his hand.
Lars stared at our joined hands, then at me with a heated look that went straight to my dick. “What do you want, Jeff?”
“You. Does that sound bad? Am I going too fast? This isn’t like me, but—”
“Shh. Come this way.”
He led the way down a narrow hallway to a staircase. Moonlight flooded the space from the skylights above, casting a romantic glow over the space. I followed him wordlessly through the first doorway off the landing into the master suite. He let go of my hand to flip a switch, illuminating the room in a soft light. I gave the space a cursory once-over.
His bedroom had the same traditional feel as the rest of the house. The dark-wood headboard and side tables offset the white wainscoting and the pale-blue linen duvet neatly folded at the end of the bed. Two comfy looking chairs faced a built-in bookshelf with a flat-screen television above the fireplace. And another bay window covered with striped roman blinds anchored the far wall. Photographs of the city hung on either side. I crossed the room to examine the one of the Golden Gate Bridge before turning to Lars with a smile.
“This is nice. If I lived here, I’d put a coffeemaker on the bookshelf and pop a mini fridge in one of the cabinets so I’d never have to leave.”
“Until it was time to get more coffee,” he said.
“Nah. That’s what delivery service is for.”
“True.” Lars snickered, moving to my side. “Do you like photography?”
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind but…I imagined you living in a steel-and-glass monstrosity with museum-quality art in the living room and nasty photography in your private suite.”
“Nasty, eh?”
“Well. Not the Golden Gate Bridge, anyway. I thought you might have something a little less…tame.”
“Mmm. Like what?” he asked, setting his hand on my hip.
I shrugged with faux nonchalance, aware that every nerve in my body was buzzing like mad. My mouth was dry, but my palms felt clammy. I was unraveling at a rapid clip. I had to get myself under control quickly or risk coming in my khakis like a teenager. Unfortunately, I was a live wire, liable to say something stupid at any given moment. Like…
“I don’t know. Bare-chested leather daddies carrying whips and smoking cigars. Something like that.”
This time, Lars threw his head back and guffawed. It was such a joyful sound, I couldn’t help joining in, even if the laugh was on me.
“I can’t decide if you have an active imagination or a dirty mind,” he said, raising his brow.
“Both.”
“So you’re into leather, eh?” The look in his eye turned somewhat lecherous when he hooked his fingers in my belt loop and tugged me closer.
“No. Not really. The idea of it is sexy. But honestly, I like this better. I’ve never been more turned-on in my life than I am right this second. If you put on those chaps you were telling me about, I think I’d pass out for sure.”
“We’ll try that another time,” Lars said in a husky tone as he ran his fingers through my hair.
I snaked my arms around his thick waist and molded myself against him, grinding my pelvis suggestively. He growled, covering my mouth in a fierce kiss as he pushed my sport coat off my shoulders. Then he licked the seam of my lips and slid his tongue inside.
He tasted like wine. Decadent and intoxicating. And fuck, he knew how to kiss. He glided his tongue alongside mine, twisting, and sucking with a fervor that had me gasping for air. The feel of his beard drove me wild. I made quick work of the first few buttons of his oxford shirt, desperate for skin. He did the same for me, yanking the fabric from my pants before pausing with his fingers resting on my belt buckle.