Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Hey…look at me, Chet.” I caressed his cheek, coaxing him patiently. I was rewarded with a sweet, albeit wobbly smile.
“I don’t know how that happened.”
“Well, you told me you like uniforms, and we sort of unraveled from there. You know, I think you’re gonna like me in my ref gear.”
“Black and white stripes?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.
“Hot, huh?”
Chet’s smile finally met his eyes and what a pretty sight that was. “I don’t know. It reminds me of cartoon prison wear.”
I snorted in amusement. “It’s not that bad. I’ll show you sometime.”
“It’s probably better if you don’t. I…we shouldn’t do that again. I know it was mutual and yes, I understand that we’re consenting adults, but we’re also neighbors. I don’t want to create a potentially awkward environment. Having a torrid affair with a single dad on the next block is like secretly dating a coworker.”
“Torrid affair,” I repeated, scratching my temple. “I like the sound of that.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s licentious.”
I widened my eyes comically. “And what does that mean?”
“Debauched, lascivious, lustful.”
“I’m in.”
Chet opened and closed his mouth. “You…we…”
“Hey, relax. Try not to think so hard. The one thing I’ve learned in life is that some clichés are actually decent advice. ‘One day at a time’ is a perfect example. You may go home and decide you don’t want anything to do with me or…maybe we’ll see each other again tomorrow. Or the day after.”
“I’d have to check my calendar,” he replied, worrying his bottom lip.
“Okay.” I set my hand on his shoulder and massaged his neck, hoping to ease some tension. “Look, I have two priorities in my life…Linc is number one, work comes second. I like to think I’m easygoing, but the truth is, I get cranky when things don’t go my way. My injury has fucked with football and left me with too much time on my hands…as you guessed. I’ll spend as much of it as possible with Linc, but the holidays are gonna screw that up for me, so…”
“You’re free to have sexual relations with me.”
I snickered and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “One day at a time, Chet. We’ll follow Martian time. That gives us an extra thirty minutes every day to ruminate. Am I right?”
“No, a solar day on Mars is twenty-four hours, thirty-nine minutes, and thirty-five seconds,” he corrected.
“Close enough.”
Chet furrowed his brow. “Oh, that ten minutes adds up. Timing is everything and—”
“But not for us,” I intercepted. “We don’t have to think so hard. We can go with the flow.”
“Oh, no. I cannot do that.” He paced to the bike rack, shaking his head as he rounded my way. “Plans matter, directions matter, order matters. Life is not a series of willy-nilly decisions. That, my friend, is the definition of chaos. No, thank you. So while I appreciate your offer of unfettered holiday debauchery and admit that it sounds remarkably enticing, I will have to decline. It’s best if we concentrate on wholesome holiday cheer. I’ll text you a list of Christmas decorations that will need to be purchased by Thanksgiving. If Lincoln has any science questions, let me know. Good-bye, Sam…and thank you. That was very…nice. But we should just be friends…and neighbors.”
He was gone before I had a chance to reply.
And what exactly was I supposed to say? That BJ wasn’t just “nice,” it was fucking incredible. One rogue kiss and a mega-sexy BJ were enough to convince me I needed to know him. However, I was a realist. I didn’t expect or want any kind of a relationship. That pretty much made me the best kind of temporary lover. Or so I’d thought.
But if Chet wasn’t interested, I had to let it go. And if possible, laugh at the irony of agreeing to take on yet another box of Christmas crap.
4
Sam
“A little birdie told me you’re buying a tree this year.”
Linc glanced up from his nebula puzzle with a frown. “I’m not a bird. I’m a human, Papa.”
Jase chuckled, tousling our son’s hair playfully before joining him at the round table in the kitchen nook. “If you were a bird, what kind of bird would you be?”
Linc squinted as if weighing his choices. “A pterodactyl.”
“That’s a dinosaur.”
“No, they lived in the Jurassic Period, but they’re not the same as dinosaurs ’cause they could fly and dinosaurs couldn’t,” he replied matter-of-factly.
Jase grinned. “How’d you get so smart? Did your dad feed you encyclopedia pages for breakfast last week?”
“No, just oatmeal.”
“And pancakes,” I chimed in.
Jase cast a warm look between us. The kind that used to make me wish we could be the model gay family he’d hoped for…two dads, multiple kids, dogs, cats, the whole shebang. We’d topped out at one child before going our separate ways. We’d tried, but I wasn’t the husband Jase wanted. I wasn’t around enough. He’d resented my absence and eventually resented me. When we finally split, I think he’d said something like, “I’m doing everything, Sam. I’d rather do it all in a place of my own where I’m not wondering when you’ll be home.”