“Do you like Greek food?”
Hudson was quiet a moment at the sudden change in topic. “When it’s good, yes.”
“There’s a place not too far from where I live, right off the A1A. Athena’s? They have really nice rooftop tables with an ocean view.” He bit his lip as he waited for a reply.
“I think I know it,” Hudson said softly.
“We could do six-thirty tonight. Beat the dinner rush?”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m not going to crucify you for a single, thoughtless comment,” Fredric told him, and he meant it. “And look, if the date goes well, we can walk up the boardwalk together and get to know each other a little better.”
“That sounds perfect,” Hudson told him, and just like that, it was done.
Fredric debated about texting Ilan to let him know that he had another date on board, but he wanted to prove he could do this on his own first. Maybe he’d need back-up. Maybe he couldn’t do this at all. He hated the phrase damaged goods, but sometimes that shoe fit a little too comfortably. On both feet.
Taking a fortifying breath, he stood up and called for Sebastian, then shuffled outside to lean against his fence. It didn’t take long to hear the creak of the door on Agatha’s lanai, and he smelled her soft floral perfume before she said anything.
“Can I throw the ball for him?”
Fredric smiled and gestured for her to come through the gate, which she did. Bas let out a happy yip, and Fredric made his way back over to the chairs and waited for her to join him. “I think I have another date,” he said as he heard the ball whip through the grass.
Agatha let out a soft hum. “Not with that one guy?”
“God, no,” Fredric answered with a laugh. “No. His name is Hudson.”
“He sounds like a TV doctor.”
At that, he grinned widely and turned his face toward her voice. “He’s a divorce attorney. We talked on the phone for a bit. I feel like this is going to be a mess, but he’s probably not going to try to get someone to blow him in the bathroom while we’re waiting for apps.”
“Unless he wants you to do it,” Agatha pointed out, and Fredric blushed hard because while he had considered the idea of fucking a man, he hadn’t let himself think about it too closely.
“I think that’s at least third date activities,” he finally answered. He waited till he heard her throw the ball again. “I want to get one date right. I want to have dinner and conversation and maybe a walk afterward. A kiss at my door would be icing on the cake.”
“That sounds very much like your generation,” Agatha told him. “On our third date, Ted and I went to see a play, then he drove to a dirt road and ate me out for like an hour in the backseat of his car.”
“Jesus,” Fredric breathed out.
There was silence, then she said, “Sorry, I just shrugged. It felt right, you know? Like sometimes holding hands feels right, and sometimes having a really good orgasm does. Don’t try and define it with expectations.”
“Have you ever thought about going into philosophy?” Fredric mused, and she laughed.
“Yeah, but I’ve met people who came out of the philosophy department, and I decided to hard pass.” He laughed, and she stood up, walked off, then came back a moment later. “Do you want a ride?”
“I actually think I’m going to take Bas with me,” he answered her. He and Bas had spent the week going from his front door to all the shops within a mile radius, and Athena’s had given him extra plain chicken for Bas in his take-out box because he’d given the owner puppy eyes. “You can help me pick out an outfit though.”
“Well, I think you know how to dress to impress a lawyer,” she said, and he laughed again.
“Fair enough. Want to help me anyway?”
He heard the grin on her voice when she stood a second time. “I would love to.”
Fredric affected a calm air, pretending like his hand wasn’t so slick with sweat that he was close to losing his grip on Bastian’s harness as he approached the restaurant. He let his guide take him through the front doors, and then he heard the sound of the owner cooing as she must have spotted her new favorite customer.
“Are you here for take-out?” she asked, her Greek accent making her words curve like a poem.
“Actually, I was hoping you had a rooftop spot open? I’m meeting someone.”
“Yes, of course.” She turned and said something to who Fredric assumed was the hostess, and in a flurry of movement, he was escorted to the stairs and led up. The wind was a little heavier and more biting up there, but he felt occasional wafts of warm air, and he realized they had heaters spread around the tables. “Here, right by the railing. You can hear the birds, hear the waves. Will your guest be here soon?”
“I hope so,” Fredric said, and he breathed out on the edge of nerves because there was every chance Hudson was going to sit, contemplate Fredric’s situation, and then just not bother to show.
And a small piece of him wanted that to happen, because leaning on what he knew—what was familiar—was far easier than this.
He felt Bas lie down against his legs, and the weight and warmth of him was comforting as his hands brushed over the table. Two napkins folded in a square, silverware, empty glasses. Salt and pepper to the left and what he assumed were sugar packets. Nothing strange or unusual, no candles, which made sense with the breeze.
He reached down and tugged at the hem of his sweater, something very soft and light grey—Agatha had explained. She said the color complemented his complexion and made him look more modern than his fussy blazers and button-ups. The jeans were new, so a little stiff, and he wondered if he was pulling the look off.
He fought the urge to reach up and touch his hair, and instead, fiddled with his phone until he heard a familiar voice thanking the hostess. Fredric’s breath caught in his throat, and then before he could rise, he heard the sound of Hudson sitting.
“You know, I’ve driven by this place about a hundred times, and I never thought to step in.”
Fredric’s brows lifted. “Really? It’s so quaint.”
“It is. I guess I’m kind of a snob. I almost never take a second look at those hole-in-the-wall stops, which is stupid because I’ve had some amazing food in places like this.”
Fredric blinked in surprise. “Oh. Is it?”
“I…” Hudson swore under his breath. “I didn’t even think.”
“It’s fine,” Fredric said, mostly because he didn’t want the man to keep tripping and falling over another blind faux pas. They weren’t going to get anywhere if the man kept trying to shape himself to Fredric’s experience. “It doesn’t bother me, you know. I was sighted once.”
“Can I,” Hudson asked, and Fredric let him fumble through the question he knew was coming. “It…what happened? If you don’t mind my asking?”
Part of him did, because he was tired of telling the story.
“It was a stroke,” he finally said. “I was young, it was totally unexpected. It was on both sides of my brain, which is why I’m totally blind—the doctors said it happens, but it’s rare. It affected my balance and my left side too, but I don’t notice that much anymore.” He knew his voice sounded sharp, but he had no way to walk it back. Biting the inside of his cheek, he wished desperately that he had a drink to keep his hands occupied. “Do you see a server anywhere? I was hoping to order us a bottle of wine.”