Page 25 of If I See You Again

Malcolm

T he meal was chaotic. It always was. Year after year, Mom insisted everyone needed to sit at the table. It wasn’t that big, and more often than not, you ended up with someone’s elbow in your side or a drink knocked over into one of the side dishes. This year wasn’t any different.

“So then my boss tells me that if I have one more day where I show up with glitter in my hair, I’m at risk of losing my job. It’s insanity because try telling that to a five-year-old.”

A little girl giggled at the end of the table, but my cousin Marisa didn’t seem all that amused as she finished telling her story.

“That doesn’t seem fair. Can they really do something like that?” Mom’s co-worker, Selena, asked.

Marisa sat back in her chair, clutching at her wineglass and taking a large sip before she answered. “I don’t know. Something about professional appearance and all that. I’d get it if I was where the customers could see me, but I answer phones all day.”

I looked to my right, where David was still digging into his plate of food. He was on his second helping of most things and something about all of it… made me hope. For the first time in years, the meal didn’t feel suffocating. We weren’t focused on who was missing from the table.

“So, what exactly do you do, David?”

I sat up a little straighter at Stewart’s question. He’d actually behaved pretty well. I kept waiting for the moment when the inappropriate questions would start, but it was still early, and they still could.

He reached for his napkin in his lap, wiping at his mouth while my heart rate spiked. How would he explain it? Would he tell my whole family how he’d hired me to run his advertising campaign? Would they care?

“I make websites. Different things. I like easing accessibility. It’s a shame there aren’t more options for people who struggle. Those who have a hard time seeing, reading, comprehending…”

Everyone stared at him, and I tried to hide how uncomfortable the change in conversation made me feel. My palms were a sweaty mess as I lifted another scoop of mashed potatoes and gravy to my mouth, and I almost dropped the fork.

“Oh? You know Malcolm does advertising. He could really help you sell something like that.”

All eyes turned to Stewart, and I kept eating even if everything I tried to swallow now lacked flavor and felt like a lead ball traveling to my stomach.

David didn’t answer at first. He picked up his bottle of beer and took a swig before looking at me and then back at my family. It was getting harder and harder to pretend that the conversation didn’t affect me.

“I’m well aware of what Malcolm does.”

That got a laugh out of Stewart, but you could now cut the tension at the table with a knife. No one else found this amusing like he did. My cousin had always been bad about reading the room. It appeared my time of him not saying something stupid had run out.

“Oh yeah? Is that how you two met? You hired him after he gave you a good performance?”

Aunt Pam smacked him on the back of the head before grabbing him by the arm and hauling him from the table. It didn’t matter that the man was twenty-six. His mother had no problems with treating him like he was still five when he wanted to act like a complete idiot.

But… there was no recovery after that. Utensils clattered to plates as everyone pushed their way out of their seats. Leave it to Stew to ruin a good thing.

My ears burned as everyone walked away. Everyone except for David.

He still sat at my side as I fought back tears.

It was all so damn humiliating and exactly why I hadn’t wanted to pursue anything.

Everyone had opinions. I’d earned my position.

There had been no favors exchanged. Sometimes, you can’t convince anyone of that.

“Are you all right?”

I finally set my fork down with a little too much force.

It made the loudest clattering sound, but it also could be thanks to how empty the room now was.

Or maybe I was just more aware of it. Who knew?

My elbow rested against the linen tablecloth as I rubbed at my eyes.

I really wasn’t okay. How did I keep saying the same thing over and over again, even when I wanted something completely different?

“I don’t—I don’t really know. That sort of puts things in perspective for me.”

“What do you mean?”

I let out another sigh before turning to face him.

God, I hated the look on his face. We’d had the best day yesterday, and I was about to shit all over it.

I couldn’t keep playing this hot-and-cold game with him.

David deserved so much better than that.

He had to see what I was dealing with. Maybe he wouldn’t be so upset?

My knee bounced as my fingers itched to grab hold of anything.

To hold on and squeeze and provide some sort of relief for my racing thoughts.

How was this my life? I’d shoved every single person away and then I met the one person who finally gave a damn and I can’t have him. What the fuck, world? I’m over this.

“It’s always going to be like that, isn’t it? When people find out what you do… and knowing what I do… they’ll assume the worst—”

“Would you stop?”

My eyes widened as I turned to look at David. Out of the many times we’d been over this, it was the first time he’d actually looked irritated.

“What do you mean?” Now it was my turn.

“Your cousin is a dick and people have relationships like ours all the time. We met before you knew what I did. That means something.”

“But you hired me after we slept together.”

The silence stretched.

The muscles in David’s jaw bunched and jumped as he continued to stare me down. When he finally looked away, I didn’t feel relieved. All I wanted was for him to turn back, with all that fire and determination in his eyes, wrap me in his arms, and tell me it would all be okay. We’d make it work.

“Malcolm, it’s tricky. I get that. You’re worth it to me, but I don’t know how else to reassure you of that. I’ve never had anyone make me want to fight for it before, but you do.”

And there it was. There was the look I was waiting for. The way his soul reached for mine when he turned back to me made me regret ever making him feel like crap. David was worth the risk. I knew that. He was everything and then some.

The moment, however, was short-lived.

“Boys?”

We both turned as my mother stood in the doorway to the kitchen. She still wore her apron from when we’d cooked the meal everyone had abandoned.

I cleared my throat before standing from the table, grabbing the napkin that was in my lap, and setting it over my plate. “Yes? Is there something I can help with?”

Mom gave me a tight smile before shaking her head. “No. I just wanted to make sure you two were okay. Everyone is out in the backyard having a cocktail. You’re welcome to join us before I serve up dessert.”

David stood behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. In the past, the move would have made me nervous and squirmy, but after the emotional moment we’d just had… I wanted the connection.

“Uh, yeah, not a problem.” My voice cracked just a little, but I didn’t miss my mother’s eyes trailing David’s hand, currently sliding down my arm until our fingers laced together.

There was something simple about the connection, the feel of his palm against mine.

My heart didn’t feel like it was trying to escape my chest anymore, or like the world would collapse because Stew had said something stupid—again.

Most of the family knew to ignore him. We expected it, though that never made it any easier.

My heart was still beating a mile a minute by the time we made it to the backyard. No one even looked up when David and I walked out the sliding door, but it didn’t stop my brain from wandering. If Stew felt that way, surely other people would as well.

David’s hand squeezed mine, as if sensing my racing thoughts.

It was strange how the simple maneuver had a way of settling me.

Mom handed each of us a martini glass that we took with our free hands before we joined everyone else.

She’d been so excited to try this new recipe for a pumpkin pie martini, and the first sip…

gah ! It was perfection. You could taste everything from the pumpkin to the cloves, right down to the crust. It was wild how all of it culminated in a delicious drink.

Marisa moved to my side, bumping my shoulder and almost making me spill a little of my drink.

“For what it’s worth. I really like this guy. Screw whatever my brother has to say about things.”

It made me smile as I took another sip. No one else attempted to say anything, and I kept hold of David’s hand. There was a part of me that felt like if I let go, he’d disappear into the crowd. It was stupid. This was my family. It didn’t change the fact that suddenly I was terrified of losing him.