Page 47 of Love Language

Because if Greg didn’t miss Richard so much, Marco would be perfect.

Chapter 9 Marco

November

Marco clicked through the reviews of the two restaurants he was considering one more time. One had a lemon Thai basil dish. The other was across the street from a shop that had lemon sorbet. So, both of them could work.

But was that really what he wanted?

His gut said yes. Anything to see Greg smile. And Greg would definitely smile at him. Even without the lemon gelato.

They would laugh and talk through a wonderful dinner. And then he would take Greg home and edge him until he screamed and melted into a puddle for Marco to kiss and cuddle. For one night, it would be perfect.

Then Greg would go home and pine after his dead husband.

And Marco would spend the rest of his week wondering, again, why he wasn’t good enough. Why he was just a placeholder, a cheap substitute, to the man that he could otherwise see himself falling in love with.

For once, it wasn’t because of his Deafness or his transgender status or even the idea that he could be both a Dom and a makeup-wearing twink. Greg had accepted all of those without blinking.

It was because he couldn’t compete with a ghost.

That was what he was really deliberating, not where to go for dinner.

Should he keep tormenting himself every week with someone who could never love him back? Or should he cut his losses and try to find someone else?

Not that he hadn’t tried. He and Greg didn’t have any sort of agreement to be exclusive. Back in the spring he’d played around with a few other people, gone on a few dates.

Even now, half a year later, he kept his eyes open, kept his profiles updated.

The trouble was, nobody else was Greg.

His sweet, broken boy.

God, he was a sucker for those hurt eyes. And the way that he could turn that sorrow into joy, at least most of the time.

He didn’t even care if Greg still missed Richard. In fact, it probably wouldn’t be healthy if he stopped.

He just wanted a place in Greg’s life, too.

Should he just wait longer? Or was it hopeless? There was no way he could know.

The Thai place, he finally decided.

At least one decision was easy.

But when he got there, and saw Greg waiting for him at the table, he knew they couldn’t stay.

Greg looked miserable. Haunted.

Marco didn’t even sit down. Do you want to go home?

Greg nodded immediately, that crying-but-not-crying look on his face that broke Marco’s heart.

He pulled Greg to his feet and wrapped an arm around him, ushering him to the door.

A waiter came up to them and Marco made a quick apology, not even bothering to speech-read what the waiter said in return.

They had both driven to the restaurant tonight, but Marco didn’t want to let Greg out of his sight like this. Instead, he commandeered Greg’s keys and folded him into the passenger seat of his own car.