Chapter Twenty-Seven
I checked my phone constantly after that. All evening. A few times throughout the night. During my stop-and-go drive to work. At all those points during the workday when his texts usually broke up the monotony.
Nothing.
The message was clear—he wasn’t interested in talking.
Maybe texts and phone calls weren’t the way to handle this. He’d given me the courtesy of letting me go face-to-face.
Fine. I’ll go down to Wilde’s. And we’ll talk.
Or not.
I cringed as I picked up my keys off the kitchen counter. It was entirely possible he’d tell me to leave, or have one of those ex-Legionnaire bouncers pass the message along. Or maybe sic that surly assistant on me—Evan hadn’t been thrilled with me the night Sailo and I crashed into each other, and he probably wouldn’t mind telling me to get lost.
Still, I had to try. It was worth a shot. One shot. I wasn’t going to be that asshole who kept coming back again and again when it had been made abundantly clear that the relationship was over.
One shot. I’d say my piece, or at least try to, and be done with it. If he wouldn’t talk to me tonight, then I’d call it a loss and move on. Delete his number, stay away from Wilde’s—done. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, but it had to be done or else I’d drive myself insane trying to win back someone who wanted nothing to do with me.
So, I got in the car, drove up to Broadway, and parked outside the club.
Wilde’s, I thought as I walked up to the tinted glass front door. We meet again.
Hand on the door, I hesitated. One shot. It wasn’t unreasonable to ask him to hear me out once. Right?
Here goes nothing…
I took a deep breath and went inside. After I’d paid the cover, I walked past the intimidating bouncers and up to the bar. The bartender wasn’t one I recognized—Chris, according to the tag on his shirt.
I leaned across the bar and shouted over the music, “Is Sailo here tonight?”
The bartender glanced at the stage where another deejay was performing, and then looked at me. “I’m not sure. You want me to pass a message along to him?”
I hesitated. It would be easy as hell for Sailo to send back a secondhand fuck off, but at least then I’d have my answer. “Could you tell him Greg needs to talk to him? For like ten minutes?”
“Sure.” Chris shrugged and headed toward the back of the club. Well, that was promising—Sailo hadn’t given all the bartenders instructions to tell a guy named Greg to kick rocks.
The bartender disappeared into the back. I gulped, wondering if I should’ve had him mix me a drink first. I wanted to believe I was ready for whatever happened. Just like when I’d sat down with Becky, and moving on separately had been a possibility from the start, I was strong enough to take anything that might come from this conversation. Even when she’d hit me with a gut shot, admitting to the affair I’d never once suspected, I’d been all right, and I’d be all right this time too.
And then he appeared out of the crowd, materializing as if from thin air, and it was all I could do not to run for the door.
No. I came here to talk to him, and I was going to see this thing through, no matter how hard it was to face him.
He stopped an arm’s length or so away, eyebrows up. “This is unexpected.” Was that sarcasm? Or an actual observation? He was impossible to read, and the noise around us wasn’t helping.
“I just want to talk. For a few minutes.”
Sailo scowled. He opened his mouth to speak, but then glared at the crowd around us. Meeting my gaze again, he sighed as his shoulders dropped, and he gestured for me to come with him.
Well. That was promising.
I followed.
And two steps later, I knew exactly where we were going.
God. No. Not there.
But yes…there. He led me into the back, up the stairs, and to that familiar door. His keys jingled like they always did, and the lock clicked. In tense silence that seemed to thump harder than the bass downstairs, we stepped through the door.
Did it have to be here? Of all places, did we have to do this in the Wilde’s VIP lounge?
“All right.” He faced me, leaning against a table and resting his hands on its edge. “You wanted to talk.”
“Yeah.” I gulped. “Look, I think you might’ve been right about a few things. I know things moved too fast. And that was my fault. And yeah, you’re right—I was in love with being alive again. But…that doesn’t change what I feel about you.”
He stiffened, lips pulling tight. “The ink isn’t even dry on your divorce.”
“No, it isn’t. And yeah, I’ve still got some shit I need to work through.” I paused, certain with every breath that he was going to run for the door at any moment. “I get why you left. I do.”
His eyebrows rose a little.
“It was too much too fast. I get that.” I hooked my thumbs in my pockets just for something to do with my hands. “Something finally felt right, and I pushed it until it went wrong. I own that, and I’m sorry.”
He shifted his weight, but didn’t say anything, and his expression still offered nothing.
I cleared my throat. “I know the timing is shit. And there’s nothing I can say to convince you that I can give this what I’d give a relationship that didn’t happen right after a divorce like that. The only thing I can do is ask you for the chance to prove it.”
“Do you hear yourself?” He pressed his hip against the table and folded his arms. “You want me to take a gamble like that? You didn’t even know for sure if you were gay until recently—you don’t even know what you want yet.” Expression hardening, he added, “And I don’t want to be there when you realize it isn’t me.”
“That’s just it. Yes, I’m still finding my footing. And myself. Yes, my divorce still hurts.” I took a deep breath. “But the whole time you’ve been gone, I’ve been thinking about you. Not finding some other guy. Not my ex-wife. Not…not any of that. You.”
His lips tightened, but he didn’t speak.
I closed my eyes, exhaled, and met his gaze again. “The night we met, I was just looking to get laid and forget about my divorce. I wasn’t even thinking about getting into another relationship. And then I quite literally stumbled into you, and…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”
“Because I was the next thing that came along.” He sounded exhausted, as if it took all the strength he had to speak loud enough for me to hear him. “That doesn’t mean there was anything between us besides some sex and being friends.” He exhaled. “How can you know you love me when you don’t even know who you are?”
I flinched. “Look, you’re right. I haven’t figured out who I am yet. I’m not sure if I’m gay or bi. I just don’t know. But what I do know is that I love you. Whether or not I’m attracted to women doesn’t matter, because I know I’m attracted to men, and I know—” My voice tried to crack, but I quickly cleared my throat again. “I know I love you, Sailo.”
He started to speak, but I put up my hand.
“Please,” I said. “Let me finish.”
His lips tightened, but he nodded.
“I don’t know if this will work out,” I went on. “There’s no way to know. But the way I feel when I’m with you, I’ve never felt like that with anyone.” I hesitated. “Not even my ex-wife. With you, it’s this feeling like…like I can take whatever life throws at me, and I can roll with anything, because at the end of the day, it’s going to be you, me, a couple of beers, and whatever stupid movie is on TV.”
He lowered his gaze.
“I know I love you,” I said. “The thing is, they’re feelings. They are what they are. But it doesn’t mean we have to speed things up or start talking about moving in together or any of that. I don’t want to force anything from this. I’m not after some kind of commitment. All I want is to be with you, give this a chance, and see where it goes.” I swallowed. “Because I’ve never felt like this for someone. And even if it means taking the risk of falling flat on my face down the line, it seems…it seems like whatever this could turn into in time is worth taking that risk.”
Sailo held eye contact for a long moment. Then his shoulders sank, and he lowered his gaze. “This does feel pretty different from anything I’ve ever had too. I won’t argue with that. I think that’s what scares me.” Still avoiding my eyes, he rubbed the back of his neck. “The last time I got this close to someone…”
I watched him, and abruptly, the pieces fell together. “The one who left. For someone else.”
He winced, but nodded. “I’m terrified of getting close to you like I did my ex. There are just so many ways this thing could fall apart, and then when it all goes to shit, having to put on the strong face for my kid when all I want to do is break…”
My throat tightened around my breath. I fought the urge to reach for him. “Was your relationship with your ex a rebound?”
“Not for him, no.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So…it can happen even when it’s not a rebound relationship?”
“Of course. But the odds aren’t that great when it is.”
“The odds aren’t great anyway,” I said gently. “It’s a gamble no matter what. There are no guarantees. And that’s coming from a man who had his marriage pulled out from under him after twenty-five years.”
Sailo chewed the inside of his cheek and avoided my eyes again.
“I know this is terrifying,” I said. “Believe me, I know.” Cautiously, I took a step closer to him. “We have two choices.”
He looked at me through his lashes. “Stay or go.”
“Yeah. But it’s a bit more than that. We can walk away now and wonder for the rest of our lives if anything might’ve happened. Or we can give it a shot.” I pushed my shoulders back and took a deep breath. “I know damn well there’s a chance we’ll get hurt if we try it, and I’m well aware of how much it could hurt. But the only thing that scares me more is what we might miss out on if we walk away.”
Sailo lifted his gaze. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I don’t think you realize what you’re asking for.”
“I do,” I said. “I’m not asking for a commitment. We’re not moving in together. Or meeting each other’s parents.”
“What exactly would we be doing?”
“We keep doing what we’ve done so far.” I tentatively touched his face, worried he might recoil. “We have sex. We talk. We go out. We be friends.” He didn’t pull away, so I rested my palm against his cheek, the warmth of his skin raising goose bumps all over mine. “And we see where this thing goes.”
He still didn’t pull away, but he didn’t come closer either. “But…you’re dealing with your divorce. And we’ve both got kids to think about.”
“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure our kids want us to be happy.” My heart jumped into my throat. “And I don’t know about you, but when we’re together, I am happy.”
Sailo’s gaze was intense, as if he were searching mine for something, anything, to tell him I was wrong. Or right. Or somewhere in between. My heart was going crazy as I waited for him to speak.
Are we? Aren’t we?
Am I walking out of here alone tonight?
He didn’t say a word, though.
He closed the space between us.
Put his arms around me.
And kissed me.