Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
A part of me will always love Ash, but childhood fantasies coming true don’t always end in happily ever afters. That should be in fairy tales. Prepare for reality, kids, because when all’s said and done, Prince Charming will throw you an ultimatum.
“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you introduce your family to a new boyfriend?” This guy gestures to himself. “I could totally be in love with you.” His mouth drops open. “I mean, I could totally pretend … if you needed me to. To, you know, get them off your back.”
I kinda love that he’s fumbling all over himself. “They won’t believe it. I woulda told them if I was bringing someone to meet them.”
He shrugs. “Make something up. Tell them you wanted to bring me, but I got stuck at work and didn’t think I’d make it. Being an awesome boyfriend, I decided to surprise you.”
“What do you do for work?”
“I can do anything you want your boyfriend to do … Uh, that sounded a hell of a lot less sexual in my head. I swear I’m usually good with words.”
I laugh.
“We could tell them I’m in business like you,” he suggests.
I eye his chinos, which have been rolled up to the ankle, and his shoes with no socks. He looks more nerdy than someone who’s in the corporate world, but that’s not really what I should be focused on.
“Why are you offering to do this? No, why do you want to do this?” I ask. “It’s … weird, and my family is nuts.”
“I’m not a serial killer if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Well, I wasn’t, but now I am. What kind of person introduces themselves as not a serial killer? Like, you’re not gonna meet one who goes around saying ‘Hi, I’d like to wear your skin as a suit.’”
“Good point. But let’s call my offer a morbid fascination with a family who doesn’t tell you to hide the gay so you’re not jumped. I want to know what that’s like.”
And there it is—the usual flare of shame that hits me when I complain about my family. They want to march in parades by my side and want me to be a good role model for gay kids growing up in this shitty world that still doesn’t always accept them.
“Way to make me feel wicked guilty for having it better than a lot of other people.”
His warm hand touches my upper arm through my short-sleeved T-shirt. He squeezes my biceps, and his eyes focus on my muscles and my tats again before he shakes his head and stares up at me. “I’m not diminishing your experiences. It can be hard for any of us for multiple different reasons, but hey, if you don’t want a get out of jail free card, I’ll be on my way.”
Before he gets two steps, I reach out to pull him back without giving it proper thought. His chest presses against mine, and it’s nice to be close to someone again.
It’s amazing what you can take for granted when you’re in a long-term relationship. Not coming home to affection has been a big adjustment for me. I never realized how much a simple touch could reassure me that everything was going to be okay until it wasn’t there anymore.
And it’s not like I can go to a bar or meet someone and say Mind if I press myself against you for a while?
What this stranger is offering … it’s a stupid idea—one that probably won’t work—but if I can deke my entire family into thinking I’m happy, it might be worth it if it makes Ma stop saying shit like I could never truly find someone while being closeted. If only for a dinner.
“Thank you. It, uh, would help me out a lot.”
A slow smile spreads across his face as he links his fingers through mine as we exit the bathroom.
I can’t stop staring at our joined hands. A thrill rushes through me. I should be concerned someone will see or recognize me, but the lighting is dim, and the novelty of holding a guy’s hand—in public or not—is too much for me to resist.
When we get into the busy part of the restaurant though, I drop his hand and lead him to where our private dining room is hiding in the back.
My family’s large table accommodates my brothers—minus Max—Nic’s wife, their two kids, and my parents. This guy doesn’t seem to care he’s walking into a lion’s den. Then again, he doesn’t know my family and probably thinks I’m overreacting.
When we get to the table, all eyes lock on us.
“Welcome to the jungle,” I mutter out the side of my mouth.
Before any of them can start tormenting this guy who’s doing me a favor, I cut them all off.
“Guys, this is …” Fuck, I didn’t even ask him his name, and all I can think about is how much he looks like a blond Superman. “Clark.”