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Owen laughs and I see Patrick grinning at me just as the waitress comes over and takes our orders before disappearing once more, leaving me to stare at my best friends.
“Fine. Sue me. I’m happy. He’s a nice guy. In his own way.”
Patrick and Owen nod in understanding, despite their eyes twinkling in delight. They’re loving this. Mainly because I’ve always said I’d never marry, never settle down, and yet here I am, a ring on my finger and a husband that comes home to me after work.
“When can we meet him?” they both ask.
“Never,” I reply and then turn on my phone and show them a picture of us. It was taken last Wednesday after he came home from teaching. He’d showered and sat down for dinner, and I forced him to look up and smile for the camera. He looked absolutely rumpled and wet. Lord have mercy. He’s any gay man’s sexy dream come true.
“Well, we have to meet him someday. I think we should just show up unannounced,” Patrick says, and Owen nods enthusiastically.
“I will ban you from entering. The doorman takes bribes.”
“We know this and Clifford loves us both,” Patrick replies, just as Owen pipes up that he brought him coffee last time he came by and that Clifford proposed marriage.
It’s hopeless. My friends are going to harass my new husband and there’s nothing I can do about it. Seems I could warn him though. So that he’s prepared when it does happen. Might have to pay for a therapist afterward.
“Fine, I was planning on arranging a dinner party anyways. It’s something you can come to.”
Beau and Max will have to attend as well, and perhaps Matthew’s other brother, Magnus, and his husband, Sem. I know that Matthew is still working on repairing his relationship with his youngest brother so perhaps a nice dinner party will help in that process.
Patrick and Owen nod in agreement, probably plotting all the ways that they can embarrass me. I’ll get them back eventually, just maybe not anytime soon. Patrick isn’t tied down to anyone, despite yearning for it, and Owen just sleeps around with anyone he fancies.
“So, tell us the truth. Is he really straight?” Owen asks, and I bob my head.
“As a piece of wood.”
“Yes, but we all know wood can warp and bend.”
“It can indeed,” I say, taking a bite of my breakfast scramble. “But I don’t know. Matthew is a hard nut to crack. I’m working on him, but there’s a good chance he may never see me like that.”
“Thoughts and prayers,” Patrick says, and I roll my eyes.
“I need both. Mainly for myself.” Because as much as this seems like a game at times, I really do enjoy watching him open up. Like when we were sorting those seashells the other day. He looked so happy, as if no one’s ever told him that collecting things from the beach was an okay thing to do. And don’t get me started on the cuddling. I like holding him, like feeling him press eagerly against me.
In fact, when I’m away from him or he’s away from me—which happens more often because he works—I miss him. I want him to come home, to spend time with me. Not that I’d tell him that because I don’t want to share any weakness with him, not yet. He’s definitely not ready for that. But even right now, as much as I’ve enjoyed seeing my friends, I want to be back at home, walking on the beach with Matthew. I want to slide my arm through his and pull him into the waves, watching as he bends down and pulls out sand dollars and seashells. And then I want to bring him home, run a bath for him, and make him dinner.
I’ve never thought of myself as domestic. I surely didn’t learn it from my parents. But I’ve realized that I want it. I want to be that person for someone else.
And it seems that person might be Matthew.
Fuck. It’s going to hurt when it’s over, when he finally pushes me into getting a divorce. At that thought, a bell pepper goes down the wrong pipe, making me choke, and I quickly drink some water to wash it down. Damnable slimy things. I hate all vegetables now. They’re trying to murder me.
“You do know you have teeth to chew with?” Owen says, and I fling a piece of egg at him.
He gasps as he wipes his shirt off.
“I do know this, thank you very much. I just forgot how to swallow.”
“Tragic, that will ruin your sex life,” Patrick says, and I can’t help the laugh that slips out of me.
“So, nothing has happened between you two? Nothing at all?” Patrick asks.
“No. Not that I can remember, anyways. And I won’t pressure him into it. If he wants something with me, he needs to ask.”
Both Owen and Patrick nod at that and we finish off our lunch, talking about everything else besides me. I focus on listening to Owen tell me about the drama in his office and Patrick gush about how great his drag show went last week.
It’s nearing three o’clock when it’s finally time to go, and I know Matt will be getting home from work soon. I give them both hugs and promise to send them dinner invites soon before nearly racing to my car. I want to get back to him.
