His hand fumbled for his phone, trembling fingers ready to call Julian, but something stopped him. This wasn’t his place to say anything. Part of him wanted to storm over there and demand to know what the hell Fredric was doing, because if this was just reactionary to his divorce, Ilan could help him get over it without trying to reinvent himself.
But he didn’t do that either, because it probably wasn’t that at all, and Fredric deserved first dates and romantic dinners. He just didn’t know why it made something in his chest ache.
“Are you gonna order dessert, hon?” Gail’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts, and he turned away from the two men talking quietly at their table.
Shaking his head, he turned and pushed his glass back toward her. “One more of those please. And water,” he added. He needed to be sober for this.
The next little while passed in a blur, and Ilan was starting to breathe a little easier because it looked like the date—or whatever the hell it was—was going well. The man had ordered wine, and they were talking, and Fredric was smiling.
Then the server returned and handed something to Fredric, which Ilan immediately recognized as a braille menu, and he watched the date’s face change. There was something in his eyes—like shock. Then he waved at the server, and Ilan saw him clearly mouth, ‘What the fuck is that?’
Ilan couldn’t see what the server replied—if anything—but the man’s scowl remained in place as he watched Fredric start to read. Anger started to simmer, the same kind he felt as a kid whenever he and Julian would go places and people would stare. He remembered wanting to say something, do something, hit someone.
“Why don’t you ever do anything about it?” he’d demanded once. He was eleven that day, and Fredric had taken them for ice cream, and there were teenagers in the parking lot laughing and pointing.
Fredric had just sighed and laid a hand on Ilan’s shoulder. “Because it’s not worth my time or effort to show them that they’re capable of hurting me.”
“Do they, though?” he asked, and he remembered the way Fredric’s eyes went a little soft, and the way his grip tightened. “Does it hurt your feelings when they do that?”
“Yes. Of course it hurts. But those people don’t define who I am, and they’re not responsible for whether or not I’m strong. So, promise me, whenever this happens, you’ll just let it go.”
And he did. He’d never given in to his urge to maim whatever asshole they encountered in public.
This moment was the first time Ilan felt close to breaking that vow.
Glancing behind him, he saw that Gail was busy with another influx of orders. When he looked at the table again, the server had returned, and it looked like he was taking orders. Ilan shifted in his seat, then he startled when he realized the date’s eyes were on him.
For a moment, he thought maybe he was caught, then the man ran his tongue over his bottom lip and raised a brow. It was open interest. Ilan had done it enough times across crowded clubs. His anger burned hotter, but he smiled in spite of it, and he lifted his glass to the man who brightened.
‘Is your date blind?’ Ilan mouthed.
The guy pulled a face then rolled his eyes. ‘Yes.’
Glancing around the room, Ilan spotted the bathroom, then jerked his head toward it. When the man nodded, he slid his glass to the bar and then excused himself. He didn’t look back, didn’t even really breathe, knowing he was breaking a fundamental moment of trust between him and Fredric, but he couldn’t help it.
He loved that man—he’d loved him since the day he stood up to Jacqueline and paved the way for his friendship with Julian. He loved that man for never looking down on him and for never assuming that he wouldn’t be someone worthy of importance—no matter what he chose to do with his life.
Gripping the sink, Ilan bowed his head and breathed out and then smiled when the door creaked on its hinges. “I wasn’t sure you’d follow,” he murmured.
The guy cleared his throat. “I mean, we can’t take too long, or he’ll think I’ve stood him up,” he answered, his voice nasal and pinched.
Turning his head, Ilan looked him over. He could have been attractive, if he wasn’t the scum of the earth. He was tall, broad, rich dirty blond hair, a full mouth. Ilan knew men like him—had fucked men like him. “Why don’t you?”
“I can’t just leave him there,” the guy said. “He’s blind.”
“Do you do this a lot? Fuck guys in the bathroom while your boyfriend has no idea?”
The guy let out a shaking breath. “No.”
“Do you always flirt like that in front of him?” Ilan asked, stalking forward. “Knowing you can tell someone how bad you wanna get on your knees for their dick right in front of him?”
“No,” the guy breathed out again and started to reach for Ilan, “but I think I might start because fuck, that sounds hot.”
“Mm.” Ilan let the guy’s hand land on his arm. “How long have you two…”
“This is a first date,” the guy gasped as Ilan backed him up against the door. Hard. “We met on an app, and he seemed okay. I didn’t know he was like, blind-blind. You know?”
“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.” Ilan brought up his hand like he was gonna cup the guy’s cheek, and when his eyes fluttered shut, Ilan shoved his forearm against his throat and pinned him.
“What the fu—”
“You piece of shit,” he hissed. “I don’t know what kind of person thinks taking advantage of a man’s blindness is sexy, and I don’t want to know. But you’re going to go out there, tell him that you have a family emergency, and then you’re going to fucking leave.”
“I…”
“And if you don’t, I’m going to publicly humiliate you in front of him and the entire restaurant.” He leaned his face in close. “Do I make myself clear?”
He could feel the man’s swallow against his arm, and when he was sure the man was about to piss his pants, he let go. There was a moment of trembling and gasping, and then the guy turned on his heel and scrambled out the door.
Ilan followed at an easy stride, and the guy turned to see if he was looking, so Ilan tipped him a little wave. He was still too far to hear what the man was saying, but he saw Fredric smile genially, and offer his hand before the guy hauled ass out the restaurant doors.
When the space was clear, Ilan turned back to Gail and pointed at the table. “Send my bill over there?”
She shook her head but smiled and waved him on, and Ilan weaved through the tables until he came to a seat.
“Well, well, well. Papa.”
Fredric startled visibly, his hand flying to his chest. “Ilan?”
“I don’t know if I’m more surprised to see you here, or if I’m more surprised to see you on a date with a man,” Ilan said, and he felt something in his stomach at the way Fredric’s cheeks went pink.
Clearing his throat, Fredric quickly regained his composure, then sat back and offered Ilan his usual smile, though this time it made Ilan’s heart beat a little faster. Maybe because he was happy to see him, or maybe it was because he was feeling guilty for what he’d done. But he also had no regrets.