Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Instead, I froze…and waited.
That wasn’t like me. I rarely cared if anyone thought I was using them to achieve a goal. People were going to think what they wanted anyway. However, it seemed important to assure him of my sincerity. Sure, the pizza was a ruse, but let’s be real…I didn’t need food to deliver my message. It was just a convenient excuse to spend time with him. I wasn’t even so sure it was about the possibility of a naked round two either. It was just him.
Johnny pushed his hand through his thick locks and sighed. “That’s a lot of dysfunction. Want a cigarette and something stronger to drink?”
I gave an unsteady half laugh. “Um, okay. I don’t smoke, but I could use a drink.”
“Scotch?”
“Sure.”
“There’s a heater on the back porch. Turn it on for me. I’ll be right there,” he instructed, moving into the kitchen.
I hesitated for a beat, then obeyed.
Johnny joined me a few minutes later with two tumblers and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. He set them on the bistro table next to a potted palm tree and motioned for me to sit. He lit a cigarette and took a drag as he flopped onto the other chair.
“Are you cold?” I asked, pouring two healthy glasses and sliding one across the table.
“A little, but—”
“Here. Take my coat. I’m sweating under this heat lamp.” I draped my blue plaid Cavalli jacket over his shoulders before he could protest and sat back, lifting my glass in a toast. “Cheers.”
“Cheers. Thanks.” Johnny sipped his drink, then puffed his cigarette thoughtfully, blowing a plume of smoke from the side of his mouth. He placed it in the ashtray and made a circular motion with his wrist. “Help yourself. Or light your own. You need to relax. I’d offer weed if I had some, but…nicotine does the job.”
“Smoking is bad for you,” I said primly, reaching for the cigarette. I took a quick drag, inhaling deeply until my lungs burned. I exhaled slowly and handed it over to him.
“I know. I need to quit, but it’s a stress reliever for me. Tegan tells me I should exercise more, but there’s sweating involved and…blah. It’s not the fun kind of sweat.”
I chuckled when he waggled his brows mischievously. “I can run you through some easy sets if you’re interested. Working out definitely helps me.”
He snorted, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Physically yes, but in your head…you’re kind of a mess. No offense.”
“None taken.”
I sipped my Scotch, then leaned back in the modern-mesh bistro chair and surveyed the yard. The interior lights illuminated the area just outside the great room. The space was rectangular-shaped with gravel pathways lined with succulents and a copse of palm trees on either end of the property. Like the rest of the house, the exterior felt like a blank canvas. Johnny could do anything here and make it his own. Add a hot tub, build a fire pit…I almost asked him if he’d drawn plans with Wyatt for any outdoor projects, but his concerned gaze stopped me.
“Talk to me, Sean,” he prodded gently.
“About what?”
Johnny idly traced the buttons on my jacket over his shoulders as he studied me. “Your quest for perfection. How’s that going?”
“Perfection? I don’t think so,” I scoffed.
“I didn’t suggest you achieved it, but you seem to have a God complex.”
I shot him a dirty look. “I have a lot of responsibility, and there seems to be more ways to fuck up than succeed most days.”
“Hey, I’m not a parent and the one I had wasn’t very good at it, but from a purely observational viewpoint, you’re a little hard on yourself.” He narrowed his eyes and continued, “I mean, is it really possible to go through life with no storms, no drama, and no surprises? Better question…how is that fun?”
“It might not be possible or fun, but it’s up to me to try to set a good example and give my children my best,” I replied matter-of-factly.
“That’s admirable, but wouldn’t it be better to let them know the real you rather than some manufactured super dad?”
I bristled indignantly, slugged back the last of my drink, and poured a little more. “I’ve been nothing but honest with my kids, Johnny. Brutally honest. I came out five years ago when I was forty and told my truth. I like men. I like women too, but denying that other part of me was suffocating. My mom had just passed away, my dad died two years earlier, my marriage was over, and it seemed like a good time to start over…from zero.”
He smiled at the band reference. “Did you feel like you had to wait till your parents were gone and your marriage ended to come out? Were they separate or tied together? I mean, to me…being gay is just who I am.”