Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Halfway through dinner, I was the one asking questions, and he seemed to answer on autopilot. Or almost, because he was always present. I just got the impression he was pacing himself about something, and I didn’t know what topic other than my coming out as gay would require finesse.
“Do you make time to relax, or are you always working?” I asked. “Claire worries, you know.”
“She has nothing to worry about,” Jack assured. “I have hobbies and everything. Right now, I’m really into collecting hotel rewards and flipping through in-flight magazines.”
I laughed quietly and shook my head. “Remember to take care of yourself, Jackson. I know I was no better at your age, but the pressure can build up fast.”
He hummed and took a swig of his wine. “I’ve been thinking about leaving New York, actually.”
“Oh?” That was a surprise. “I don’t suppose Vermont is calling you home.”
Jack wasn’t a Vermont man. And to be fair, it’d never really been his home. Claire had left DC when Jack had graduated high school.
“I can’t even imagine,” he chuckled. “I’m all for a nice ski trip, but I’d go stir-crazy without the city noise in the background.”
I was with him on that. Though, it couldn’t be just any city. New York and Chicago would make me lose my mind. DC was my happy medium.
“I miss DC,” he admitted.
How about that.
“Well, you have plenty of family and friends here.” I scooped some risotto onto a scallop on my fork. “With your résumé, you’d have a new job in no time. Presuming the company you’re at doesn’t have a branch here you can transfe—”
“All right, I apologize,” he said abruptly. “I have to ask. Are you really gay?”
Hell. Even though I’d anticipated the question, his uncharacteristically brusque approach took me aback.
“I mean, I know you are,” he was quick to add with a frown. “Mom told me. Aunt Samantha said it. Uncle Peter mentioned it. I just can’t wrap my head around it.”
That was less surprising.
I cleared my throat and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “I am. And I understand it might be difficult to reconcile. You’ve known me all your life—but…in a way, you haven’t, because I haven’t either.”
“You were in denial all this time?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Jack and I had never spoken candidly on this level; that wasn’t our relationship. When I’d been married to Samantha, our family reunions, whether they were large or just him visiting over a weekend, had revolved around him. It was how things worked. A nephew came to town; the aunt and uncle showed their interest in his life. His hobbies, his progress at work, if he was seeing anyone, and so forth.
“I’m not sure denial is the right word in the long run,” I replied carefully. “I’ve shared my life with a cluster of discomfort I could never truly understand. When I met certain men through work or at the club, men who might trigger a specific response in someone who knew their own sexuality, I simply avoided them. I recognized them as men who made me uncomfortable and out of sorts. And every now and then, I’d…” Have dreams. I cleared my throat again. “I didn’t have a woman like Claire as my mother. You remember mine.”
He nodded with a dip of his chin.
“But over the last few years, yes, I was clinging to denial,” I conceded. “I made up excuses for myself. I buried myself in work. I got involved in every aspect of Lily’s care and education. I kept my calendar filled.”
Jack nodded pensively and forked up the last food on his plate. “So how did it all unravel? What was the catalyst? Or who?” He lifted a brow.
Tate.
“I befriended one of Lily’s teachers,” I said. “He gave me an insight into the life he shares with his fiancé—and how they are as men—and I couldn’t avoid facing the lies I’d told myself anymore. I’m very fortunate to have them in my life.”
Right then and there, I almost added how grateful I was to have been offered a glimpse into their alternative lifestyle—the words were right on the tip of my tongue—and I had to take a gulp of my wine and thank my lucky stars I had some sense of self-control.
In no way was I bringing up any indication of Kingsley and Tate being kinky.
Heavens.
“Those are the people you want to surround yourself with,” Jack said. “I’m glad you have them. And that you can be honest about who you are now.” He cleared his throat and glanced at something over my head, and then a server arrived to ask how our meal had been. “Perfection.”
“Wonderful, thank you,” I agreed.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she replied, gathering our plates. “Would you be interested in a dessert menu, perhaps?”
I wouldn’t oppose. Surely Jack had asked all the questions that might make me uncomfortable by now.