“Which you love.”
“I can’t express to you how much, both as a lazy person and a man who wants his partner happy.”
Malcolm grinned. “Ri is happy. He’s getting a wedding he really wants this time.”
“That makes two of us.” Carter pulled off his glasses and set them on the desk. “I called him ‘Bridezilla’ last night, though, after he spent twenty minutes talking flower crowns and cupcake trees with the kids.”
“Oh, damn. How’d he take it?”
“He threw the taco he was eating at me and messed up my shirt.”
Malcolm laughed. After having watched Carter struggle in the aftermath of his first marriage going bust, he loved seeing his friends settled.
“Doing the wedding our way was a hot topic during brunch yesterday,” Carter said. “My mother was very keen to discuss it, much to my surprise. I had no idea she even knew Ri and I were engaged.”
Malcolm grimaced. “Who told her? The kids?”
“Mmmhmm. Which is wonderful, of course. I’m glad they’re happy their dads are getting hitched. I didn’t consider how their grandparents would react, however, or even that I should have let them know.” A troubled expression crossed Carter’s face. “I absolutely did not expect my mother would want to attend.”
“Your mom wants to come to your wedding?” Malcom’s jaw sagged. “To Riley?”
“I know, right?”
Carter’s humorless laugh hurt to hear. The Hamiltons had disowned him after he’d come out as bi and, for a long time, his only contact with Brad and Eleanor had been through his children, Sadie and Dylan, and ex-wife, Kate. After Eleanor had reached out to Carter last year, they’d rebuilt a fragile kind of truce and now she was almost friendly toward both her son and Riley. Never in a million years would Malcolm have guessed she’d show interest in their wedding, however. He didn’t need to ask whether Carter had heard from his father, either, because the stress lines around Carter’s eyes told their own story.
Malcolm suppressed a sigh. So much time and emotion wasted, all because Carter had fallen in love with a man.
Malcolm’s parents would never treat him so badly. They supported him always, even when they didn’t understand his choices. And while Kim complicated Malcolm’s life in a dozen different ways, she loved him. Malcolm didn’t doubt for a moment that she and his dad wanted the best for their sons. That only increased Malcolm’s desire to tell people about Stuart and how special he’d become to Malcolm.
“Mothers are mysterious creatures,” he said. “So is your mom coming to the wedding? I’m happy to keep an eye on her if that would help.”
A twinkle entered Carter’s gaze. “What, like be her date?”
“Sure.” Malcolm shrugged. “Minder-slash-date, if you want to call me that. I’d make sure she behaved and had a good time. Nothing too crazy,” he added, “though I’d have to fight Jesse on that.”
This time, Carter’s laughter was genuine. “Shit, I’m sure you’re right. The way he looks at her when they meet unnerves me. I can feel how much he wants to lay into her about her behavior.”
“We all want to. The only reason no one says anything is because it would make you feel bad.”
Carter sighed. “I know. I love you guys for that, too. No need to worry about the wedding because my mother will not be attending. Riley was kind yet very firm about telling her no.”
The sad note in Carter’s voice made Malcolm want to hug him. “How’d she take it?”
“Better than I expected. I think she gets it now. That there’s no coming back from what happened and everything we do going forward is on Riley’s and my terms.” Carter flapped a hand in the air. “Anyway, even if she did come to the wedding, I wouldn’t ask you to be her date. You don’t need to do anything that day except have a good time and chill out as much as possible.”
“I can do that.” Malcolm licked his lips. He knew an opening when he heard one and bless Carter for giving it to him with such grace. Still, his pulse sped up as he spoke. “I might bring an actual date, too, so that works out.”
Carter gave him a soft smile. “Might?”
“I haven’t asked yet. I’m going to, though.” Malcolm smiled back. “Ask, I mean. This week, if we can meet up after work.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Mal. We’ll make room for anyone you bring—you know that, right?”
“I do. And thanks for saying so. It’s Stuart.” Fire raced across Malcolm’s cheeks and his heart practically expanded with every word he spoke. “We’ve been dating for a couple of weeks. You probably guessed that.”
“I’d never assume anything you didn’t tell me,” Carter said. “I was hopeful.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You look happy when you’re around Stuart or even just talking about him. Like you’re lit up from the inside.” Carter shrugged. “It’s nice to see.”
That had to mean other people had noticed Malcolm’s behavior, too. Ugh. Now his face was really hot.
“Did you guys talk about us after Stuart and I left on Saturday?”
“A little,” Carter admitted. “Not sure you can blame us after the way you were acting. We talked more about whether Stuart is a good guy than anything else.” He offered a wry smile when Malcolm frowned. “He’s someone we don’t know very well, who may or may not have been involved with our friend, babe. The crew wants to be sure he’d treat you well.”
Malcolm had to hand it to his friends—not even he could argue with that. “You and Riley know Stuart,” he said.
“We do, yes, and we made sure everyone knew we’d vouch for the man as much as we could.” Carter sipped his water. “You didn’t talk to Kyle about this after yoga class?”
“I skipped yoga yesterday. I didn’t actually leave Stuart’s until almost ten.”
Carter gave a single slow nod. “I see.”
“Nothing happened. Or…almost nothing. Some kissing.”
“You don’t have to explain—”
“I want to, though. Because I liked it. More to the point, I like Stuart. The whole thing kind of snuck up on me,” Malcolm said, then knit his eyebrows together. “That’s not true. I noticed him right from the start—he stood out to me during the first meeting at King’s. Like he was brighter than everyone else. The more time we spent around each other, the more I wanted to know him.”
“Like a crush?” Carter said.
“Exactly.” Malcolm seized the suggestion. “That word is sort of juvenile, but yes, it was an infatuation that changed into something else because I did get to know him. We went out as friends a few times. He helped my mom and me when her sun porch fell apart, too.”
“I remember.” Carter cocked his head. “That was around the time I started to think maybe Stuart was interested in you.”
“Really?” Malcolm fell silent for a beat. Had Stuart been interested in Malcolm all along and kept it to himself? Of course, Malcolm hadn’t noticed. “What I felt for him changed after the thing with the porch,” Malcolm said, his voice quieter. “By the time I came back from helping out my mom on Staten Island, I knew I liked him. And I like him even more now.”
“I can tell.” Carter’s tone held a tease, but the crinkles around his eyes as he smiled were happy. “What do you think this means for you?”
“I’m not sure, though I guess I’m bi. I just know I like him, and that Stuart likes me, too.” Malcolm cast his gaze down. The words made him so light he wanted to grab on to the chair to keep himself from floating away. “We decided we’d try dating and it’s good, you know? Right.”
He makes me happy. Like I can do anything.
Malcolm met Carter’s gaze again. “Maybe it should feel strange dating a man, but it doesn’t.”
Carter clasped his hands together on the desk. “Why would it feel weird?”
“Because I’ve never done this before? I’ve only ever been with girls, Car—I’ve never dated a guy.” Malcolm sat forward in his chair. “Not that it matters when St
uart and I are together because whatever we do, the pieces fall into place.”
“I think I sense a ‘but’ in your voice, however, and I have a feeling I know why.”
Malcolm nodded. He saw understanding in Carter’s eyes. He’d been in Malcolm’s position himself once, an adult man trying to figure out a wholly new part of his identity and how it fit into the world around him.
“I really don’t know what I’m doing,” Malcolm said. “I can’t help worrying about that sometimes. With me being the way I am and Stuart being…not. What if I’m not giving him what he needs? Or if I’m going too slow?
“He knows about me.” Malcolm gulped. God, he wished now he’d asked Carter to go for a walk so they had some privacy. The glass walls in this tiny office didn’t even go all the way to the ceiling and Malcolm’s voice sounded very loud in his own ears. “I told Stuart I’m gray ace and we talked about what that means for both of us.”
“Holy shit.” Carter rose from his seat and came around the desk so he could close his office door. “That’s huge.” He settled into the chair beside Malcolm, his eyes wide. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered. At the risk of sounding like a pompous ass, I’m proud of you.” He set his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Really, I mean it.”
“I know you do.” Malcolm raised his hand and squeezed Carter’s. “I’m proud of me, too. It wasn’t even hard once I made up my mind to do it. Stuart’s that easy to talk to.”
“Then keep talking,” Carter said. “I’m not a fan of giving advice, but I’ll say this a million times to anyone who will listen—communicate with your partner, boyfriend, wife, whatever, and listen to them when they speak. You can talk to me any time, of course, just like you can Kyle or Ri, and any other friend you have. Just make sure you’re talking to Stuart, too.”
He patted Malcolm’s shoulder once more. “If he’s the man I think he is, he’ll be okay with figuring out how things work on your terms.”
I hope so.
Malcolm’s heart sank at the thought. He already liked Stuart far more than seemed wise. There was nothing he could do about it, either.
* * * *
In the end, Malcolm didn’t have time to stress over how to properly date a man because Stuart asked him over for dinner and Malcolm wasted no time getting to Little Italy.
“Hey.” Stuart grinned and waved Malcolm in. “Glad you’re here. I made rice and there is way more than I can handle on my own.”
Malcolm stepped inside and smiled down at Stuart’s bare feet. He wore jeans and a beat-up Max’s Kansas City T-shirt, and though Malcolm should have felt overdressed in his work clothes, Stuart’s easy smile filled him with a cozy feeling instead. He inhaled the aromas of spices and meat while his mouth watered.
“Smells amazing in here. Do you always cook like this on your days off?”
“It depends.” Stuart waited for Malcolm to hang his bag on the hook by the door, then set his hands on Malcom’s shoulders. “Some days, I eat whatever’s on hand—eggs, cheese, meats. Sometimes, I feel like waffles or spaghetti. Today, I wanted to try something new, so I made rice pilau with beef and potato. Nothing fancy. It should be just about done, so your timing is impeccable.”
A week ago, Malcolm would have nodded and let the man go about his business. He couldn’t let that happen now, not when a buzz of need surfaced in him and grew. Without a second thought, he stepped forward and slid his arms around Stuart’s waist.
“Hi.” Satisfaction washed over him. “Thanks for having me.”
“Are you kidding?” Stuart wrapped Malcolm up in a hug, a gleam in his dark eyes. “You’re welcome here any time. I don’t extend invitations like that to just anyone, you know.” Gaze steady, he pressed a kiss against Malcolm’s lips.
There.
Malcolm closed his eyes. The soft scrape of beard on his mouth made him shiver and he leaned into the kiss. Tightening his hold, Stuart opened his mouth enough to give Malcolm a taste of something bright and citrusy. Malcolm chased after it, angling his head so he could deepen the kiss, and a low noise rumbled through Stuart’s chest. Goosebumps rose along Malcolm’s arms.
The buzz in his core intensified as Stuart moved a hand to the back of Malcolm’s head. Malcolm splayed his hands over Stuart’s lower back, digging in with his fingers, then went still as Stuart teased his tongue gently under the edge of Malcolm’s upper lip. A sensation like falling swept through Malcolm, so strong he swore his whole body sighed.
What is happening to me?
Before Malcolm could start thinking too hard, Stuart had backed off, his movements easy as he slowly, slowly brought the kiss to an end.
“Fuck.” He set his forehead against Malcolm’s with a hum. “You’re really good at that.”
The pleasure in Stuart’s deep voice pulled a laugh out of Malcom. He didn’t open his eyes or turn Stuart loose because, while he wasn’t really hiding, Malcolm needed a moment to center himself. Thankfully, Stuart didn’t let go either and held on to Malcolm as they stood by the apartment door, breathing each other in.
“Is your rice okay?” Malcolm forced his eyes open and leaned back so he could see Stuart clearly, and his heart squeezed at the smile on Stuart’s face.
“Just, I think. We’ll be eating omelets again otherwise.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t mean to. I’m in the mood for more than eggs, though.” Stuart cocked his head and only let go after Malcolm unwound his arms from Stuart’s waist. “I got this recipe from a coworker who says it’s faithful to East African pilau. We’ll see how true that is.”
He stepped away and Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest to stop himself from following. Glancing around the apartment, he noticed a braided rug covering the formerly bare hardwood floor beside the bed. The complementary shades of brown and blue added a welcome splash of color to the drab space and Malcolm saw then it wasn’t the only new addition. There were tiny potted succulent plants on the nightstand and a sphere made of cobalt blue glass hung in the window by the bed. A pair of beautiful wooden stools stood against the wall too, clearly handmade, and Malcolm quickly toed off his shoes and moved toward them.
“Are you re-decorating?” he asked.
“More like digging stuff out of storage,” Stuart replied from the stove. Picking up a spoon, he lifted the lid of a Dutch oven and stirred its contents, a fragrant cloud of steam rising into the air. “I stashed some things at Marisol’s when I moved in here and figured now was as good a time as any to put them to use. She gave me the plants—said I needed more green in my life.”
“That was nice of her.” Malcolm ran a hand over one of the stools, admiring its glossy seat and long legs, which sported graceful, unexpected curves. As if someone had picked a bundle of branches up from the ground and fashioned them into something functional. He caught Stuart’s eye across the room. “Did you make these?”
“I did. There’s supposed to be a cafe table, too, except I haven’t gotten around to it yet.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I got busy at King’s and the project kind of stalled.”
“They’re beautiful.” Malcolm gave the stool’s seat a final pat. “Can’t wait to see what they look like with the table when you find time to finish.” He unbuttoned the right cuff of his shirt so he could roll up the sleeve. “You need me to do anything?”
“How about some drinks? There are bottles of IPA in the fridge that should balance well with the rice, or water if you don’t want alcohol.”
They chatted as they set up their meal and the contented feeling inside Malcolm filled him head to toe. Spending time with Stuart made him happy, more so than he’d been…maybe ever. And while Malcolm didn’t know what that meant yet—or even how to handle it—he wanted it to last.
“How’d I do?” Stuart asked as they ate, amusement flickering across his face when Malcolm was forced to mumble around a mouthful of food.
“It’s fabulous.”
He really liked the prid
e in Stuart’s smirk. The rice was wonderful, with chunks of tender beef and potato, all deliciously spicy and rich. They’d spread out their picnic on the floor this time and sat atop the braided rug with their backs against the bed. Malcolm basked in the vibe that wound around them. Stuart made him forget about the outside world, so much so he didn’t even want to consider the idea of leaving for his own apartment.
Smiling, he picked up his beer and held it out. “Cheers to you and your kickass rice.”
“Hah.” Stuart clinked his bottle against Malcolm’s. “Thanks for being my guinea pig.”
“Like this is a hardship.” Malcolm sipped his drink, then set it down. “I’ve never had African pilau before and I hope it always tastes this good.”
“We’ll have to go out and get something authentic so you can compare,” Stuart said. “I’ve had excellent Ethiopian varieties here in Manhattan and Somali in Harlem. The best I’ve ever had can be found in a Kenyan barbecue joint out in Jersey. We should take a drive out the next weekend we’re both free.”
The food Malcolm had savored a moment before turned to sawdust in his mouth as he listened to Stuart describe the place he’d found in a Teaneck strip mall one day after a hike. Malcolm didn’t have money to spare for a meal out, even in what sounded like a low-key joint. His finances were still in bad shape, despite all his scrimping, and he absolutely lived paycheck to paycheck, a state of being that caused him considerable anxiety. Malcolm couldn’t afford things beyond rent and utilities, even with Jackson pitching in. Christ, Malcolm could hardly feed himself, and if his annual membership to the yoga studio hadn’t been paid for already, he’d have been forced to give it up.
“You okay?” The crease between Stuart’s eyebrows was back. “You went quiet all of a sudden.”
Malcolm forced a smile. “I’m fine. Remembered something I wanted to ask you later, that’s all. What were you saying?”
Straight Up Page 15