Page 84 of The Holy Grail
Dinner, interrupted
Malcom glanced at his watch, then shared a look with Evan, just as both of their phones buzzed with an incoming text in their Ménage à Trois group chat.
JULES: Please don’t hate me, but I won’t be able to make it to dinner. JULES: I have to finish some things at work.
Neither man was surprised. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised since her workload had backed up due to their last-minute trip to see her parents the week before.
MALCOM: We don’t hate you. EVAN: What Mal said. JULES: I’ll see you later tonight. JULES: And bring me some dessert, preferably something with chocolate in it, or on it, or both. MALCOM: Will do. MALCOM: Love you! EVAN: Love you! JULES: Love you!
“Just the two of us, then,” Evan said, getting the waiter’s attention so he and Malcom could place their order.
After it was taken care of and they’d gotten their drinks, they talked about each other’s day, enjoying the time with just the two of them.
Evan knew from experience one-on-one time was as important as time spent all together, but in Malcom’s case it was even more important to get him comfortable during ‘romantic’ time with a man—especially in public.
After their meals arrived, and they began eating, Evan turned the conversation to meeting Malcom’s father.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Evan asked. He figured the answer was ‘no’, because otherwise it would have been mentioned, but Evan wanted to provide a little nudge, so Malcom would get on it, since it had been a few weeks since all the other parents had been told.
“Not yet, but I will,” Malcom replied.
It was obvious he was totally dreading talking to his dad, and Evan leaned to his side and picked up Malcom’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know it probably won’t be easy, but he needs to know, too. And until he does, we really can’t move forward.”
“I know. I promise I will.”
“Good.” Evan smiled, then even though he knew it was a bit of a push, gave Malcom a quick kiss, one that was short and sweet.
Malcom let himself enjoy it, and even managed to resist looking around to see if anyone was watching, something he’d been working on for the past several weeks.
However, as he pulled back and went to resume eating his meal, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively glanced up …
only to see his father approaching the table Malcom and Evan were seated at.
It was obvious Monroe had seen the kiss, by the flat, deadly look on his face as he came to a stop, just behind Evan.
To his horror, Malcom felt himself freeze, even as his stomach gave a nauseating lurch and he started to break out in a cold sweat; this was his nightmare come to life.
Evan, oblivious to who was standing right behind him, but seeing the abrupt change in Malcom, immediately asked, “Mal, what’s wrong?”
Malcom tried to respond, but his throat was sealed, and all he could do was blink at his father, who was now saying in a clipped voice, “What’s going on here? ”
At the sound of Monroe’s voice, Evan turned to look, and upon seeing him, noticed the striking resemblance to Malcom, and quickly surmised the older man was his father … and he was clearly less than pleased.
Monroe pinned Malcom with a hard expression, while completely ignoring Evan. “I hope this isn’t what it looks like,” Monroe said softly, coldly, like a razor-sharp blade. “Because if it is, then my disappointment will be such that I will no longer be able to acknowledge my second son.”
His eyes widening at that, Malcom swallowed hard, before finally finding his voice. “Dad—”
“I won’t tolerate it, Malcom. I won’t.” Monroe paused for a moment, before adding, “And I think you know by now I never say anything I do not mean. So, think carefully about what you’re going to do from this moment on, and what the consequences will be if you make the wrong decision, because that decision will be yours to live with in perpetuity. Do I make myself clear?”
Then, apparently finished—and not interested in waiting for an answer to his last question—Monroe left without another word, leaving Evan and Malcom to watch him walk away.
Evan was the first one to break the silence. “So … that was your dad.”
Malcom nodded, numb. “Yes.”
“Are you … okay?”
“Not really, no.” Malcom picked up his wine glass with a shaking hand and drained it. “Oh, fuck. Did that just really happen?”
“It really happened.”
Malcom’s entire body was now shaking, and his breathing felt very shallow and uneven, like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, which would only add to the level of What the fuck the evening had already attained.
“So … what do you want first? The good news, or the bad news?” Evan asked quietly.
“You think there’s good news?”
“Yes. The good news is you no longer have to worry about telling your dad about me being in your life.”
“I feel better already.” Malcom released a harsh breath. “And what’s the bad news?”
“That he was never going to accept it, anyway.”
“Finding out about you here—like this—made it worse, though, don’t you think? ”
“Maybe, but I don’t think finding out about me somewhere else was going to make much of a difference.”
Feeling anger bubbling in his veins, Evan glanced in the direction Monroe had gone. He was now in the far corner of the room, in a booth with several other men, all drinking bourbon and dressed in dark power suits and tasteful silk ties.
“For God’s sake, would you quit looking over there?” Malcom asked. “You’re just going to make things worse.”
Reluctantly, Evan turned away. “How will my looking at your father make things worse?”
“It just will, so please stop looking at him.”
“Fine. I’ll stop looking at him. But we should talk about what just happened—”
“No. We’re not talking about it.”
“You want to ignore it?”
“I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. How many times do I need to say it?”
Evan reached over to take Malcom’s hand, wanting to offer a little bit of comfort, or show solidarity since he was clearly upset. However, he jerked it out of reach, leaving Evan reaching for air. “Jesus Christ, don’t touch me!”
The harsh tone, as well as the rejection, left Evan somewhat stunned, which only grew worse when it became clear Malcom was deliberately not looking at Evan.
“Is this how the rest of the meal is going to be?” Evan asked after several moments. “Me not talking, you not looking at me and acting like we’re strangers, just because your dad is over there and can see us?”
“Look, it feels like I’m in shock, all right? And I’m just trying to process what happened—”
“What happened is your father saw you with another man and without even fucking blinking , gave you a life-changing ultimatum. An ultimatum you seem to be really struggling with, I might add, which is utter bullshit, considering the two choices you have.”
“You’re making this worse,” Malcom said tightly.
“Actually, you’re the one making this worse by not going over there and telling that asshole to go fuck himself.”
Closing his eyes, as if in pain, Malcom pleaded, “Please just shut-up. ”
Even though he wasn’t finished with his dinner, Evan got to his feet and tossed his napkin down on the table, because he was done. So done.
Being told to ‘shut-up’ was his line in the sand.
“What are you doing?” Malcom asked.
“I’m getting the fuck out of here, that’s what I’m doing. I refuse to shut-up, so I’m leaving.” Evan dug his wallet out of his pocket, grabbed two twenties and tossed them on the table. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. And don’t forget dessert for Jules.”
“Where are you going?”
Instead of answering, Evan said, “Careful, Mal, your dad might see you showing some emotion toward me and think you’re making the wrong decision.”
Then, Evan turned and began walking out of the restaurant.
Despite telling himself he shouldn’t, Malcom glanced over to where his father was sitting with several colleagues from his firm, likely there to discuss a case over dinner and drinks—and found Monroe watching, having probably seen the entire exchange between Malcom and Evan.
Monroe’s expression was a mix of displeasure, disappointment, and disgust, and Malcom felt his stomach churning with anxiety.
He was a grown man and yet, still felt like a fucking child who’d done something wrong, and was going to get a belt to his ass as punishment.
Forcing himself to his feet, he pulled his own wallet out of his pocket with shaking hands, and threw some more cash down on the table. This time, he resisted the urge to look over at his father, before following Evan out of the restaurant.
Evan was almost to his car before Malcom caught up with him. “Evan, wait—”
“You should have told him to shove a sharp object up his ass, right then,” Evan said, unlocking the driver’s side door.
“You don’t understand. Your dad didn’t treat you like this—”
“Because apparently your dad is a bigger asshole than mine, and my dad set the bar pretty high.” Evan pointed back toward the restaurant.
“You heard him. It’s him or me, and the fact you didn’t choose me right away, kind of means you chose him.
At the very least, you didn’t not choose him.
He won that round, and that motherfucker knows it.
” Evan gave Malcom a flat, hurt look. “Do you know how humiliating that was for me?”
“Humiliating for you?” Malcom scoffed. “It wasn’t about you.”
“Of course it was. It was about your relationship with me, and your decision to not stand up for it, or for me. And your dad watched you treat me like I was nothing. So, once again you were a scared little boy, and—”
The fist Malcom planted on Evan’s mouth took both of them by surprise—Evan, because he didn’t think Malcom had it in him to deliver such a hard punch, and Malcom because he’d never hit anyone in his life.
They both stared at one another in horrified disbelief, and when Evan tasted blood in his mouth and felt it trickling into his beard, he put his hand up to wipe at it, feeling where his lip had been split open.
Malcom heaved a dismayed sigh, knowing the physical attack was displaced—meant for his father, but taken out on Evan. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Evan repeated, then, before he could think twice, he struck back, catching Malcom in his left eye with enough force to send him falling back to the pavement. “Now I’m sorry, too.”
Stunned at being hit for the first time in his life (another two firsts in one night), he was slow to get up, and by the time he did, Evan had gotten into his car and driven off.