Page 26 of Inside Out

“You’ve met someone then,” Marcus persisted.

“Why don’t we talk about your stellar football game yesterday,” I suggested. “I didn’t find you afterward to talk since we had plans today.”

“Bullshit. That’s never stopped you. You didn’t find me because you had plans with some dude. What’s his name? Where’d you meet?”

“You sound as bad as Mom,” I chided my younger brother, but I couldn’t keep the goofy grin off my face. “I have met a guy, and he’s really special.” A kaleidoscope of images crossed my mind. Rome listening to the music I wrote for the play with so much awe in his expression, his awkward attempts at conversation the nights before, and the way he melted in my arms on the sofa in his library.

“Where’d you meet?”

“He’s the superintendent of schools.”

“In Whereville?” Marcus asked, making fun of the town I’d chosen to teach and live in.

“You know damn well the town is called Blissville, and yes, Rome is the superintendent of schools there.” I could see Marcus fiddling around with his phone and knew he was doing the same thing Mom did when I told her about Rome.

“Dr. Romeo Bradley,” Marcus said then blew out a whistle. “His mother must’ve been a fan of Shakespeare.”

“I didn’t ask.” I might the next time we chatted though.

“He looks like he’s quite a bit older than you.”

“I think he probably started to turn silver early like a lot of dark-haired men do. He’s only forty-five.”

“Our mother is fifty,” Marcus pointed out. “That doesn’t bother you?”

My kneejerk response would’ve been “of course not” but I gave it some thought. Julius’s age didn’t bother me, but I was acutely aware that his experiences were vastly different than mine. I didn’t think experience was necessarily a bad thing though. Before I could answer, Marcus was speaking again.

“And why is a handsome, successful guy like him still single? Is he divorced or just a player? You’re not the one-and-done kind of guy, Jules. You practically live like a monk.”

“He’s not a player,” I responded, or at least I didn’t get the impression he was by the clumsy way he handled the beginning of our date. “He’s a widower.”

“Oh,” Marcus said then got quiet as he thought about that. “Is that weird?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s weird, but it’s different dating a man who shared an entire lifetime with someone else.”

“Someone they’d still be with if given a choice,” Marcus added, earning a glare from me. “Sorry.”

I recalled the conversation I had with Rome the previous night. I’d told him I trusted him to know his heart and mind. Only time would tell if I was making a mistake.

“Have you been dating long?”

“Last night was our first official date.”

“I hope it works out for you, Jules. No one deserves happiness like you do.”

“Thanks, bub,” I said, reaching over to mess up his hair. “Rome told me to pass along his congratulations for breaking the school record in career interceptions.”

“Are we back to football again?” Marcus asked, sounding hesitant to discuss something he used to love so much.

“We don’t have to talk about football, but we usually do. What’s going on?”

“Just tired, I guess,” he replied, sliding down lower in his seat. “There are just a lot of expectations and people wanting me to make some tough decisions.”

“Such as?”

“Whether or not I plan to enter the draft.”

He meant the NFL draft. “What’s the deadline?”