“You’ve got a little…” I reach over and brush some breadcrumbs from the corner of his mouth. I realize my mistake the second I touch his skin. It’s too tempting to be this close to his lips. Our eyes meet as my thumb sweeps along his entire lower lip. His pupils dilate and his breathing slows. Hot doc is into me. There’s no doubt. And because I’m a cocky bastard, I drop my hand and turn back to my food, shoving a fried clam in my mouth. He lets out a small groan. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he croaks and pushes away his Styrofoam container.
“Full?”
“Stuffed,” he breathes out.
“Then you won’t mind if I…” I reach over to snag a hunk of lobster off his roll and eat it. “You know they use lobster caught right here in Brigs Ferry Bay?”
“Makes sense.”
“Remember that patient we had a while ago, Archer? The one who fell off the lobster boat?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“He told me. We’ve gotten to be friends. He’s with Kian now. You know the cute guy who was there with him?” I carry on as though we didn’t just have a heated moment.
“He is pretty cute. But I think Archer is more my type,” he says hesitantly. This conversation is difficult for him. I remember when I first started surrounding myself with gay men. I’d been keeping my sexuality private for so long, being around people who were open and unapologetic was both eye opening and uncomfortable.
I quirk a brow. “What’s your type?”
“Muscular. At least my height. Confident. Secure.”
Check, check, check, and check. I’m hot doc’s type.
“I can get behind all that.”
“What’s your type?” he asks.
I quickly run through my options. I don’t want to scare him away and be too abrupt, but I also really like the guy and it’s not in my nature to filter myself.
“You’re my type, for starters.” I close the lid on my food and lean back onto the couch.
“I am?”
“Hell yeah. You’re in shape, you’re successful, and have those blue eyes.” I extend my arm along the back of the couch in his direction. Not close enough to touch him, but almost.
“That’s flattering,” he murmurs.
“Look, Lance. I know things are crazy for you, so I’m not going to make it more difficult. But you should know that the second you’re ready, I’m pursuing you.”
“Pursuing?” he repeats.
“Going on dates, hanging out, and everything that comes with it,” I say.
“Like what?” He leans slightly into me and it’s exactly enough that my fingertips graze his bare shoulder.
“Come here. Let me show you.” I turn to face him and beckon him closer.
His tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip and he inches nearer. I eat up the distance between us and kiss him, moaning at the contact. It’s everything I’d ever fantasized it being. He scoots closer and grips the back of my neck. It surprises me and excites me all at the same time. I rest one hand on his hip and the other strokes his stubbly cheek.
I want to push him down and climb on top of him. Let him feel the heat of my arousal. But some things are best savored and I want every drop of this man to last, so I pull away. His chest heaves and he’s not hiding anything under those basketball shorts. It makes it even more difficult not to maul him.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.
“No, doc. Not at all. I just don’t want to do too much, too fast.”
“That was my first kiss with a man, but I assure you, I’m not a virgin.”
I chuckle. “I figured that out by the baby in the other room.”
“Lane.” He smacks a hand to his forehead. “Is it bad I forgot I had a baby for a minute?”
“No.” I laugh harder. “I think all the blood rushed south for both of us.”
“Truth.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I now know what I was missing all those years.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I kissed girls, even my wife, there was something missing. It was fine. I wasn’t grossed out or anything. But it didn’t make me excited. And what happened with us a minute ago? That had me very excited.”
“It’s only the beginning.”
Lane chooses this moment to fuss from the other room.
“I better make her a bottle.” He stands up, and I do too.
“I think I’m going to go.”
“Why? I thought we were going to play Xbox?”
“If I stick around any longer, we won’t be playing Xbox. I’ll have you naked and under me, and I don’t think you’re ready for that quite yet.” His mouth makes an O. “I don’t work tomorrow. You want to hang out again? Don’t feel like we have to, but I like you and I want to spend more time getting to know the real you.”
“I want that.”
“Okay. I’ll text you in the morning.” I lean in for one more quick kiss. His lips fit perfectly with mine. Every part of me wants to stay and do more of this, but I know it’s a bad idea. “Bye, doc.”
“Bye.”
Chapter Five
Lance
The next few weeks are blissfully exhausting. I go back to work, despite the apprehension I feel leaving Lane with the nanny, Liz. I text and call her too often, but she’s a good sport and puts up with my neurosis.
Lane and I develop a routine. My confidence as a parent grows and I think she can feel me relax, because she sleeps a bit longer each night, helping with my constant fatigue.
What doesn’t help are the late nights I spend with Bo. He comes over after work most nights for dinner and to hang out. Each time we’re together, we spend more time making out and less time talking.
It’s exciting and new. I’ve been in a holding pattern my whole life. I was alive and functioning, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Bo has shown me how to soar, and I don’t ever want to come down.
The thing about flying though, is that eventually gravity takes hold and what goes up must come down. The crash happens abruptly one Tuesday evening. I arrive home after work and stop to grab my mail before heading upstairs to relieve Liz.
I grab the stack of letters and notice a pink slip for certified mail that the leasing department signed for. I make a pit stop and pick it up before getting on the elevator. The return address is in New York. Without opening it, I know what it is. Maisy’s parents warned me the fight for custody wasn’t over, so I knew this day would come.
I send Liz home and bathe Lane. I’m making her a bottle when Bo arrives. He had his brother’s basketball game after work to attend, so he’s later than usual. He sets a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter before coming to greet me. The man can cook, and it’s a good thing because I’m absolutely useless in the kitchen.
Between living in New York where you can have takeout delivered easier than you can get to a grocery store and Maisy being an excellent cook, I never learned. My mom definitely didn’t teach me since we had a personal chef growing up.
“Hey, doc. How are you?” He leans down and kisses first my daughter’s forehead, then me. It makes my chest ache at how easily he’s come to care about both of us.