6. Beckett

6

BECKETT

F or the first time in years, I'd found myself not wanting to get up, and that had everything to do with the man I'd shared a bed with. Stanton had kissed me awake. He'd even made sure I had breakfast before he'd driven me home to get ready for work. Since then, I'd been floating. How did he make me feel so much lighter?

I couldn't imagine what a twenty-seven-year-old successful man wanted with me. He was gorgeous and witty, smart, and funny. Stanton didn't take much seriously, but surprisingly, that wasn't really a bad thing.

My mind kept going back to the end of our first date and how gentle he'd been with me when he asked for a kiss and then dropped to his knees. He hadn't tried to be rougher because I was bigger and older than him. What had me in a chokehold the tightest, though, was when he'd awakened me while he spread his hand over my belly, petting me as he gently eased me into consciousness. I couldn't remember the last time that happened, not even with my ex-husband. Part of me always swore my marriage and relationship with Tanner was as perfect as it could get, but I hadn't realized how wrong I was until it had all ended .

We'd both been hyper-masculine men of a certain age. The beginning of our relationship had started off as secret hookups because we'd both still been in the closet—our supposed straightness above reproach.

Stanton had kissed me in public. He held my hand as we'd strolled down the street and through the park. He'd teased me until he'd talked me into getting on the swings and letting him push me.

I'd gone through my teens in the nineties. We'd been a more liberal generation than the ones before us, but sexuality was something a lot of us agonized over. Me especially, as a large, muscular man. I'd even dated girls in high school, telling myself my attraction to some of my male classmates was wrong—a phase that would fade if I ignored it hard enough.

I'd been out longer than my husband, but in school and at work, I'd never mentioned the men I was dating. I'd policed my mannerisms and the way I spoke. Even when Tanner and I were out of the closet, it still wasn't well-known outside our group of friends.

Sometimes, I wondered if I'd ever been happy at all in my relationship and marriage. Outside gay spaces, I'd never have allowed some stranger, or anyone, to kiss me like Stanton had. My ex-husband had seen all those public displays of affection as silly and unnecessary.

With Stanton, I could tell things were different—I was different. I desperately wanted everything to work out. I hated that I was too much of a worrier to let go. The dates and see where everything would go stepped outside my comfort zone.

After the blow job, he hadn't even demanded I return the favor. Hell, he'd admitted he got off just from giving me head. Even in my younger days, I couldn't remember a man who craved me to that point. Throughout the day, Stanton sent text messages to check in, to make sure I was eating or if he needed to bring me something. All of it was so overwhelming after years of emotional and physical neglect. I'd understood the damage both of those things caused over time. Yet, after being away from Stanton, I realized to what extent I pushed to conceal my feelings and growing neediness to avoid appearing like a burden.

My phone beeped, and I rushed to grab it. Except for work, I'd never been so attached to it. Stroking my thumb across the screen, I woke it to check the text. I groaned aloud as an image popped up of Stanton shirtless in bed.

Stanton: Getting ready to nap before the banquet tonight. Wish my boy was here.

Dammit, I had too much work to do to skip out early. I loved my job. It was a career that I'd steadily earned success and a top-notch reputation. But at that moment, I wished I was more of a slacker.

Me: Me too. Wish I could leave early.

Stanton: I know. I'll allow you to be all responsible. When I get up, I'm going to call you. I need to hear your voice, baby.

My cheeks heated above my beard. Stanton was too assertive to use it as a line, but my brain warred with my history and experience of relationships. Did I want my insecurities to ruin my chance at something with Stanton? The answer was no.

Stanton: Quit thinking so hard, I can hear you from here.

Me: Yes, dear.

He sent me a behave text, and I set my phone aside to get back to work. No way was I staying late. Since Tanner had announced he was moving out, I'd used work to cope with the loneliness that came with the separation. Most of the friends we'd shared were his before I'd met them.

Stanton was, by all accounts, nearly perfect, and that was really my problem; all of it felt too good to be true. I tried repeatedly to push the negative aside. Not to judge Stanton by Tanner. And there really shouldn't be a comparison. A night didn't go by where he didn't simply call to tell me goodnight even if he had to sneak away from work to do so. After our Sunday together, my brain kept going back and forth between this is great to when will Stanton get bored?

I knew I had emotional trauma to get over, and I tried to be patient with myself. The more I pushed to get over everything, the more I feared I'd alienate Stanton. He assured me that he'd allow me all the time to trust him as I needed. Smiling to myself, Stanton wasn't the patient type. To be honest, I adored that about him. He wasn't jaded by life. Knew exactly what he'd wanted and went for it. Maybe I was envious of that.

My day was wasting. I had too much to do, and I refused to stay late. I was looking forward to hearing Stanton's voice for at least a few minutes until he had to leave for work.

The afternoon had gone by too slowly for my newly limited patience. I loved my job. It was all I ever wanted to do. Yet, sometimes, it was just too much for my stress levels. The newest junior member of the department made the most careless mistakes. I didn't see him lasting much longer. Babysitting grown-ass adults was not in my job description. As soon as I walked through my front door at thirty minutes after five, my phone rang. I dug into my pocket for it, and I connected the call while I nudged the door closed with my heel and dropped my satchel to the floor.

I knew who it was before I'd even answered. Sometimes I thought Stanton kept a list of reminder alarms for my schedule. "Hey."

"Hey, baby boy, are you home yet?" Stanton asked.

"Just walked in the door. How was your nap?"

Walking through my apartment to the bedroom, I put my phone on speaker and placed it on the bed. I started to strip down to get comfortable.

"Would've been better if I had you to wake up to. Work has sucked for me spending time with you." His disappointment and regret were clear in his raspy tone.

"I don't mind." If there was one thing I understood, it was busy schedules. There was many a night I barely left the office before midnight, especially during contract negotiations. And most of Stanton's schedule was at night and on weekends.

"I do. Everyone's turned into a diva about everything. No one's been happy. My wedding planners are threatening to quit if they don't get raises."

I chuckled at his frustrated tone. "I don't feel my job's as stressful anymore."

"Funny. What are you doing?"

"Changing into pajama bottoms." I raised my voice a bit as I crossed the room to grab pants from my dresser. Stepping into the legs, I pulled them up and tightened the drawstring before I returned to sit down on the bed.

He groaned. "I should've video called."

I took him off speaker and pressed the phone back to my ear. "You're good for my ego." And he really was, when we were together, for however brief the visit with his focus and the way he touched me, I knew he wanted me.

"Quit fishing for compliments. You know you're sexy. If I didn't think I'd wake you up, I'd tell you to be in my bed when I got home."

"I'm old, Daddy." I laughed at his low groan.

"You're the perfect age for me. There's something I have to tell you. I'm supposed to meet up with a friend for lunch tomorrow. So, I won't be by the office at my usual time."

"You don't have to come by for lunch every day."

"I want to, though. My friends are bitching at me about not hanging out like we used to. Back in college, we were together day in and day out. Real life started, and traveling schedules, some of the more normal ones got day jobs. Once a month, though, we organize something where none of us have anything to do."

Wished I knew what that was like. Life had been lonely until I'd met Stanton. One day bleeding into another, only broken up by the minimal hours between arriving home and going to bed. Stanton had given me something to look forward to every day.

"Then go hang out with your friends."

"I think you're trying to get rid of me."

The pout in his tone was clear. For someone who carried himself with command and control, he could be dramatic, which I enjoyed. Stanton always had a way of making me happy. Bringing a smile to my lips that I'd forgotten I was able to perform the action so easily. I'd spent so much time on autopilot.

"Hush it, I'm not. Would you tell me not to hang out with my friends if I wanted to?"

"Of course not. I'd hope you'd invite me to meet them."

"Am I going to meet yours?" As soon as the question was out, I held my breath. It had taken years for Tanner to even take me to a company party as his husband when it was plain he had other Queer co-workers.

"Of course, I've been dying to show you off."

When I was about to speak, I heard an alarm beeping, and Stanton cursed. "That sound means you need to get up and make yourself pretty."

"I do. You're going to come to work with me some night to be my assistant."

"I'm sure Maude would enjoy being displaced."

"She gets tired of me and would look forward to a break. Get some rest, and I'll call you in the morning."

"Have fun, and don't stress so much."

We spoke a few more minutes until I had to insist he get ready for work. I still marveled at how close to and comfortable I felt with him. There was a safety he offered, emotionally and mentally. I didn't feel he was trying too hard. The attention he paid to me was seductive in its own way. Even if he couldn't be physically present with me all the time, he was always there to affirm his intentions.

Yes, I felt disappointed I wouldn't see him the next day, but I knew I'd hear his voice, and I was looking forward to that.