Chapter Two | Daniel

I wasn't sure how many times I'd checked my outfit in the mirror. Not sure why. It's not like I had a variety of options in my closet. I typically wore what amounted to a uniform, only switching out the slacks I wore with a white button-down shirt and tweed jacket with jeans.

Everything always fit well. I made sure of that. The only time I switched to different clothes was when I was lounging at home, camping, or meeting up with my bowling league guys for a practice or bowling tournament. It was Saturday, so white sneakers accompanied my jeans. Every weekend for the past six months started like this. And every weekend, I lost my nerve.

I hadn't seen Ethan since I ran into him at the grocery store, and he dropped a hint that he worked in his coffee shop on weekends as well. I'd gone back and forth a thousand times on why he had told me that. Was he inviting me to come see him? Or was I delusional?

Ethan was more than his sultry appearance. He was charismatic and intelligent. But he was also almost twenty years younger than me. I shouldn't even be considering going to see him today, but the time we had spent together talking, I'd felt a soul-deep connection.

I think he had too.

I'd spent far too much time imaging that there was something between us .

Clearing my throat, I retrieved my phone and sat on the edge of my bed. I needed to distract myself for a moment. I started by texting my daughter, Sarah.

Me: I love you. How's your weekend going?

Without waiting for an answer, I texted my son, Derek.

Me: I love you. How are the kids?

My daughter was the first to answer.

Sarah: Love you too, Dad. Lazy start to the day. Stayed up late watching television.

Me: Anything good?

Sarah: Nah, just mindless crap. Thankfully, Damian entertained himself this morning.

Derek: Hey, Dad. Love you too. Kids are restless. Going to take them to the beach.

Me: Beautiful June day.

Derek: It'll be good. I gotta go and help pack all the beach stuff.

Me: Enjoy!

Sarah: What are you up to today?

Me: Not sure yet.

Sarah: Well, have fun whatever you decide to do.

Me: Try my best. Talk soon.

I set my phone on the bed beside me, invigorated by the brief interactions. I tried to check in with my kids every couple of days. We liked to stay in contact. Often, they would phone me to talk or share if something exciting was happening in their lives or the lives of their children.

Sarah, my youngest, a single mom, had a son, Damian, who had recently turned eight. My son, Derek, was a more recent parent. At the age of thirty, he and his husband had brought two girls aged nine and eleven into their family. They'd adopted the sisters three years after getting married. A perfect match. His husband, Michael, was the love of Derek's life.

My wife and I hadn't been shocked when Derek came out as gay. He'd always shown an affinity beyond friendship for the boys in his life, often talking about the way they looked and how much they had in common in a dreamy sort of way. He brought his first boyfriend home to meet us when he was fourteen. Didn't even give us a heads-up that he was queer.

Just … Mom. Dad. This is Justin. My boyfriend.

It still made me laugh. And feel proud. We had provided a home for our children where they felt comfortable being themselves. I counted it among the things my ex-wife and I had done right during our twenty-two years of marriage. We were nearly at seven years since our divorce.

My phone rang beside me. She must have heard me thinking about her.

"What's up, Delores?"

I could almost see her smile through the phone. "I have news."

"You won the lottery?"

"Nope."

"You've been chosen as this year's Ms. Universe."

"Gawd, I wish." She chuckled. "No. Mark and I have decided to get married."

"Gah."

"What's the gah about? "

"Couldn't you have picked someone who made me look good?"

Delores snickered. "He's definitely an upgrade."

"Ha. Ha. Any dates in the works?"

"We're thinking next spring. Cherry blossom season."

"That'll make for some nice photos."

"You'll come, right?"

I shifted the phone to my other ear. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it." And I wouldn't. Delores and I held no animosity toward one another. Our marriage had suffered a slow death. It had begun its demise while the kids were growing up and we were distracted. When they moved out and we became empty nesters, it struck us both that we weren't in love anymore.

We'd stayed together for a while after that, becoming little more than roommates. When Delores suggested we go our separate ways, I wasn't upset. I had been simply existing in what felt comfortable to me. But Delores wanted to move on. Start dating.

Having her buddy of a had-been husband around wasn't conducive to that. We'd remained friends. We had a long history between us. We'd been high school sweethearts.

Now she had Mark, and I was thrilled for her. He was a great guy. A few years older than me. A retired contractor. And he treated Delores as if she was made of precious jewels.

I approved. Not that my opinion mattered but it made blending our families easier. Delores and I would always share the memories of our children growing up and rejoice in what adventures their current lives were bringing them. Together—as a family.

"I'm headed out to lunch with my girlfriends," Delores said. "Talk soon?"

"Sure. Sure. And congratulations on your engagement."

"Kisses. "

Then she was gone. I stood and walked back over to the mirror. I'd known Delores since we were sixteen years old. Maybe it was time I moved on as well. I had a decision to make. I had never shared with anyone that I found men desirable. My bisexuality was a complete secret and because I had met Delores in high school, I'd never even had the opportunity to experiment.

Now, I was contemplating following my attraction toward a young man whom I found captivating. His exuberance for life was contagious. I wanted to surround myself with him.

Reckless.

I decided I didn't care. This weekend, today, I was going to drive to Ethan's coffee shop and see where it led. Maybe somewhere. Maybe nowhere. I wouldn't know unless I tried.

I went in search of my keys. As always, they were elusive. I finally found them in the pocket of some dress pants I had worn to work yesterday.

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in my car outside the coffee shop, looking in, wondering what had come over me. Then I caught a glimpse of Ethan, and it all made sense.

The whole damned world felt as though it was about to come into focus.

I just needed to get out of the car.

I half-hurried, and half felt as though my legs were wading through molasses. My pulse thundered in my ears and my throat became the Sahara, parched. I attempted to lick my lips as I approached the counter. A young person with pink hair and a lip ring bounced on their toes.

"Welcome to Salish Café. What can I start for you?"

Simple question … but—

Behind the pink hair was the man I had come to see. His sultry locks and chiseled jaw tipped forward, his eyes scanning through a binder filled with paper .

"I'm not sure yet," I muttered.

The sound of my voice must have caught Ethan's attention. I liked to imagine it had. As he raised his head to look at me, his smile was slow as if he didn't recognize me at first. Then sunbeams couldn't have outshone the warmth radiating from him toward me.

No one had ever looked at me that way.

My heart tumbled fast into my stomach.

"I'll take this one," Ethan said and stepped up to the till. His smile was broad, and his gaze mischievous. "Would you like your usual? Or are you here to be adventurous?"

I smiled and chuckled, captured in the purity of his intent. The teasing felt good. I deserved it. Six months was a long time to delay taking someone up on their invitation.

"What do you recommend?" I asked.

Ethan winked at me. "All depends on if you're running hot or cold."

I could feel the prickle of heat rise in my cheeks. The man was as gorgeous and sexy as I remembered. "Hot. Definitely hot." I had never in my life flirted with anyone so blatantly.

"Then I recommend cooling down with the help of some ice." Ethan leaned over the till and lowered his voice. "I could either put it in a drink or administer it to the affected areas."

I coughed, nearly choking on my tongue.

Ethan laughed, then sighed, his voice breathy and high. "I'll make you an iced coffee. And might I suggest one of my chocolate croissants? You'll be snagging the last delicious one."

I cleared my throat. "Sounds perfect." I opened my wallet and removed my debit card, holding it ready to tap the machine, but Ethan shooed my hand away.

"On the house." Ethan pointed. "Go find a seat. I'll bring them to you. "

In somewhat of a daze, I secured two armchairs near the back of the shop. By the time I had my breathing under control, Ethan disrupted it again by making his appearance.

He set my coffee and croissant in front of me and took a seat. "Made those fresh this morning. I mean, I make them fresh every morning, but this morning was a particularly vicious one."

I was happy to settle into a safe conversation with him. That's what we'd been doing for weeks before my company moved our office to outside the city's outskirts.

"What made it vicious?"

"Late night." He smirked at me. " Entertaining ."

There was an age gap, but I could recognize a sexual innuendo when I heard one. My body didn't know what to do with the flash image I conjured of Ethan with another man. Hands wandering up and down his skin. Tasting him—fucking him. Making him come apart.

My cock swelled, straining against my underwear.

Stop.

Ethan pushed his mess of wild, dark curls to one side, drawing my attention to his honey-brown eyes. Caught me staring and smiled. Laugh-lines wrinkled his lids and glorious dimples appeared among the dense but trimmed bristles on his cheeks; his pink lips poised in their midst.

He was stunning.

I wasn't going to touch the sexual comment.

"Owning a coffee shop is a lot of responsibility," I said.

Ethan had told me in a previous conversation about his grandma and how she had left him money in her will to start the shop. It was but one tidbit of information I'd stored away. I remembered everything Ethan had shared with me.

Not unusual for me. Aside from where I lay my keys down last, I rarely forgot anything I deemed important. Ethan had offered me the gift of his attention. I had listened intently .

"It keeps me busy," he replied. "Not much time for anything else."

"Not much of a personal life?" Okay, I was being nosy, but I was curious. What did Ethan's life look like when he wasn't here being a responsible business owner?

Ethan shrugged. "I find time for the people important to me." He leaned back and tucked his hands across his stomach. "What about you? What does life outside accountancy look like?"

It didn't surprise me that Ethan remembered what I did for a living. He was an avid talker, but he was also a good listener. We complemented each other that way.

"I have my family." That statement made Ethan lift away from the back of his seat. I'd never discussed my family before. The mere mention of them had his rapt attention. My mind speculated on the most ridiculous reasons as to why Ethan would be interested in my family dynamics.

"Do you have kids?" Ethan asked.

"Two. My daughter, Sarah, and my son, Derek."

"Were you … are you married?"

"I was. Twenty-two years. Divorced for seven."

Ethan's eyebrows rose. "Wow. You're not afraid of commitment."

"My family is important to me."

"They're lucky to have you." Ethan drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm good at reading people, Daniel." He pointed at me. "And you … you're a good guy."

I chuckled. "Glad you think so."

We sat in silence for a moment, studying each other. Every time I'd seen Ethan in the past, he had on a wildly patterned, colourful shirt. The trend had continued. Today's offering was a button-up with a collar and short sleeves. Bright yellow background. Teal cartoon elephants and purple giraffes posed with aprons in the process of making what looked to be angel food cakes.

I smiled at him. "Nice shirt."

Ethan grinned and lifted his foot from under the table. He pulled up his pant leg and waggled his foot to attract my attention. "Matching socks, too."

My laugh came out as a warm rumble.

The man was adorable.

"Do you have family in town?" I asked then took a sip of my melting iced coffee. A stream of condensation ran from my hand down my arm, straight to my elbow.

I steeled against shivering.

"Mom, Dad, and two annoying older sisters."

"You don't get on well with your sisters?"

"Oh, I do now, but when I was a kid, I had to perform circus acts just to get noticed."

"Your parents spent a lot of time with them … but not you?"

"My sisters came first and filled the schedule before I even came on the scene. There's a six-year age gap between me and the youngest, Eva. I had to compete with their ballet and gymnastics, and their time in the ring with the horses. Don't get me started on the time spent on horses."

I ripped my croissant in half, exposing the chocolate inside. "You had horses?"

"Still do. At my parents'. My boy, Phantom, is vying for the spot of my best friend."

"When did you start riding?" I'd never met anyone who owned horses before. I didn't know anything about them, having never been anywhere near any. Ethan had mentioned surfing and snowboarding in the past, but this was the first time I had heard about Phantom.

"I was maybe five. Four. Not sure. Truth be told, my mom probably had me perched on top of a horse when I was two. "

"Good memories?"

"The best."

"Do you find much time for him? Your Phantom?"

Ethan sighed. "Not as much as I'd like. My sister, Emma, works with him every day. I spend a couple of evenings a week out there. We put in some quality hours together."

"That doesn't surprise me, that you strive for quality time."

I looked around the coffee shop at the assortment of people chatting and working in the welcoming space. What Ethan had created here was special.

"You've done incredibly well creating your dream."

Ethan tucked his lips between his teeth, his gaze wandering my face as he—blushed. I'd rarely seen him look shy. Maybe shy wasn't what I was seeing. Had he needed that from me?

The praise?

I tested the theory. "I'm proud of you."

I swear to God, Ethan shivered, eyes fixed on me, and nearly whimpered.

The moment broke when he burst to his feet. "I should get back to work. The late-afternoon coffee break crowd will be descending upon us soon. We need to be all hands on deck."

"I'll leave you to it." I wrapped the remainder of my croissant in a napkin to save for later and tucked it in my jacket pocket. I wanted to savour every last piece of what Ethan had created.

"Thanks for coming in to see me."

"I'm glad I did."

Ethan winked at me. "Yeah?" He wandered closer to me. "So … we'll do it again soon?"

"I'll check my schedule." Like I had anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon. Six months of frustration with myself for not taking a chance and I'd finally jumped in and spent time with the man. And it had gone better than expected. And all I could muster was I'll check my schedule ?

I was an idiot.

After an awkward goodbye, I returned to my car, clutched the steering wheel, and rested my forehead on it, swearing. I ran through our entire conversation. Maybe I was delusional to read any kind of romantic interest into Ethan's words and actions. He was a young man. Gorgeous. Intelligent and talented. Maybe he had been humouring me all along, starting from the first day he sat down at my table and began chatting with me. Extending kindness to the old guy.

I started my car and drove around the block before heading home. I was a fool to think someone like Ethan would be the least bit interested in me.

Even if he was, I was fifty-four. My family would never approve.

And that decided it.

I wouldn't be going back.

My decision was solidified when I returned to my home in Fernwood and pulled into the narrow driveway behind my daughter's car parked down the side of my heritage house.

It wasn't unusual for her to stop by and let herself in. She and her son, Damian, lived in a small apartment. I had a backyard where her son could run around. She would choose my house over a public playground when she promised Damian they could have barbequed hotdogs.

I walked through the house and out into the backyard. I'd built a playset in the back corner of my yard that offered two swings, a slide, and a climbing structure.

Sarah was sitting in a lounger as Damian tore around.

She looked over her shoulder at me. "Hey, Dad. I promised Damian hotdogs. "

I smiled at her. "I have some potato salad in the fridge to go with them." I checked my phone. It was almost 4 pm. Sarah liked to feed Damian early. "I'll start the grill."

Sarah lifted herself out of the chair. "Can I get you a drink? I brought some beer."

"I'd love one."

While Sarah was inside, I kept an eye on Damian and started the barbeque to heat. As well as two beers, handing me one, Sarah made additional trips and brought out the hotdogs, buns, condiments, potato salad, plates, napkins, and cutlery and set everything on the patio table.

It was a pleasant enough evening to eat outside.

I set the hotdogs on the grill and heated them and the buns through. Condiments slopped on the questionable food, and my grandson rounded up, we settled in around the table.

"So, what did you end up doing today?" Sarah asked.

"Went to a coffee shop out in Cook Street Village." There was no harm in telling her the truth. People went to coffee shops every day without ulterior motives.

"Plenty of coffee shops in this part of town. Why Cook Street?"

Again—no harm. "I know the owner."

Sarah waggled her eyebrows. "A woman?"

"No. Not a woman." Not by a long shot. Ethan was all man.

"Nice change from the bowling team guys?"

"It was good to see him."

Sarah nodded her head and moved on. "How's work?"

I grunted. "Same tedium. I can't wait to retire."

"Only one more year."

"I'm counting the days."

Damian's hotdog came apart, his wiener dropping onto the plate among the potato salad. Sarah rescued the situation, scrapping the potatoes and mayonnaise off the meat before putting it in a new bun and redressing the refreshed hotdog. "Damian got in trouble at school last week."

"Not my fault," Damian muttered.

"You played a significant part." Sarah stabbed at a chunk of potato salad. "Schoolyard bullying. Damian and another boy ganged up on one of the sweetest children in that school."

I scowled at my grandson. "Damian."

"Garrett did it," Damian retorted. "I was just standing beside him."

"We've talked about you hanging out with Garrett," I replied.

Damian sighed. "Why does Brandon have long hair? Boys don't have long hair."

"We've been through this already," Sarah said. "He likes his hair long."

"He looks like a girl."

"Boys can have long hair too."

"That's not what Garrett says."

We'd had this discussion with him many times. Garrett wasn't a good influence. Damian had other friends. Sarah was arranging more play dates with them to try to intervene.

"Throughout indigenous history," I said, "long hair on men was considered a symbol of masculinity … being a strong man. They only cut it if they were sad about someone dying."

"Brandon's a descendant of the Songhees Nation," Sarah said. "His long hair is traditional."

Another sigh from Damian. "He's nice. I like him."

"Then maybe you should spend your time becoming his friend instead of bullying him."

Damian nodded. "Okay. I'll be nice to him."

I ruffled my grandson's hair. "That's what I like to hear."

These were the moments that were important to me. Spending time with my family. Helping my children shape the next generation into becoming empathetic, kind, and thoughtful humans.

Unlike my upbringing which had felt more like a fight for survival.

My thoughts wandered to Ethan. He possessed all those good qualities I strived for. I could sense it in him. He was the type of man who would fit well into my family.

But did I dare? I would hate to upset the loving balance that Delores and I had created many years ago. A balance that our children and grandchildren continued to thrive in.

I placed my hand in my pocket, touching the wrapped croissant.

Seeing Ethan again today … my soul ached for him.