Page 67 of Center of Gravity
“You still go out there most weekends, though, right?”
I nodded.
“You haven’t thought about just keeping it, renting it out?”
I smiled at how the conversation paralleled with the one I’d had with Alex months before. I thought of his indignance, which widened my smile. The truth was, lately Ihadbeen thinking about keeping the house. I could buy Summer out of her share. The problem was, I couldn’t separate my emotion from the true motivation. Did I truly like being there or was Alex the draw? Did it even matter? The logical part of me, the part that thought in numbers and bottom lines, said it did. But there was an increasingly illogical bent to my thoughts that didn’t care either way.
“I have. I’m just trying to sort out the financial side.”
Scott shoved the case of chips back into the cabinet, then poured us a fresh glass of wine, handing mine off after I dried my hands on the kitchen towel. I carried the glass with me as I wandered over to his bookshelves, studying the pictures of his family.
“Do you see your sons often?” I asked. He’d been divorced for several years, but he didn’t talk about his family too much, had one son finishing high school and another who was a sophomore in college.
He gave me a thin smile. “I don’t think they’re quite done being mad at me yet.”
I looked back at him with a questioning expression, then schooled it. I didn’t intend to pry, but he came to stand alongside me, swirling his glass before he took a long swallow. “I’m gay,” he said, “In case you hadn’t figured it out by now.”
To me, someone’s sexual orientation was like a woman’s pregnancy: you never assumed until the hard evidence was right in front of you.
“Ahh.” I said. “That must have been a rough transition.”
He chuckled. “To put it mildly. But not undeserved. Serves me right for being a coward for so long.” He glanced at me sidelong and took another sip of his wine. “I still love their mother. We get along great. The boys? They’re not so forgiving. Allen”—he flicked his thumb at the picture of a boyishly charming version of himself—“says that I’m nothing but one big lie. I remember that kind of conviction, you know? It’s so much stronger when you’re young.”
“He’ll come around, don’t you think?”
“Mm.” He nodded. “I think so. It might be a permanent mark on my record, but the sting will lessen in time. I didn’t cheat, didn’t do anything shady, but a lie by omission is still a lie. God, half my life has been one big denial.” He sighed, then chuckled again. “Sorry, that’s a pretty heavy topic for a post poker game nightcap.”
“It’s fine. There are a lot of days when my life feels like one big heavy topic.” I smiled, though that was no longer as true as it used to be. Lately, I’d felt…lighter. I looked forward to coming back to my apartment, taking Winslow for his walk. I’d been debating new paint colors, an update on some of the furnishings. My life, such as it was, was starting to feel more my own, rather than fogged over by death and my ex.
* * *
Alex calledme around noon the next day. It was so rare for either of us to call each other, that I worried something was wrong. I shut the door to my office and answered the phone.
“Everything okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. Hi.” He laughed. I heard a crash in the background, and then a curse. “Hang on.”
A half minute later, he returned. “Sorry, Tom bit off more than he could chew. This poor woman’s copper cookware just spilled all over the sidewalk.”
I chuckled.
“So anyway, um, I was just thinking if you aren’t busy tonight, I could come in to the city? I don’t have any moves or classes scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery. I’ve never even seen where you live.”
“There’s not much to see. You’d be horrified by the color of my walls.”
“I think I could turn a blind eye, especially if you gave me something else to look at.”
I exhaled. “I can’t, though. I have a new client dinner tonight, and those things always tend to run late.”
“Oh.” I could hear the deflation in his voice just before he reined it in and continued. “No problem, it was just an idea.”
“You’ll be around this weekend, though?”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding cautious. “Just like I usually am. Ready to serve your whims.” I thought I detected a little biting sarcasm in that last part, though.
I got off the phone wondering why I insisted on keeping him at arm’s length. We got along great. The sex was phenomenal, but for some reason I refused to incorporate him more into my life. I didn’t worry about being judged, but I couldn’t deny the age difference was a factor, and it felt somewhat more important, given the position I’d be moving into with my company soon. I could see some of the other partners taking issue with it. Maybe not overtly, but they would. More than that, though, I was afraid. He was young and I was afraid that once the novelty of the older man wore off, he’d move on and I’d be in too deep and end up heartbroken again.
“So you’re afraid of heartbreak,” Summer said when I called her later that night.