Page 144 of Reluctantly You

I turn my gaze up and see a man in his early fifties staring down at me, a grin on his dopey face. Fuck, he looks so goddamn happy. It radiates off him in yellows and pinks.

Shit. What must that feel like?

“Yeah, you’re the first one to notice it’s a cat in there and not a baby.”

“Ah, but it’s still your baby, right?” he says and then peers into the carrier, making cute little kissy noises. “She’s a cutie. What’s her name?”

“Little Pants, she came into my house and never left.”

“Fuck, the dream. I’d kill to have a slew of animals just walk right in my place and never leave. My wife would kill me though. Probably for the best that doesn’t happen,” he replies as he stands up and holds out his hand. “What’s your name, son?”

I let my palm slide into his and we shake, something shifting inside of me. A realization, a familiarity. God, what the hell?

I shake it off and reply, “Mitch.”

“Ah, Mitch. Nice, strong name. Well, your baby’s a beauty. I have one of my own. Well, adopted, but still. She’s mine basically. Built her a kitty hotel and everything. Was going to bring her with me, but she wouldn’t come out of her castle.”

“Yeah? What does a kitty castle look like?”

“Shit, well it takes up half the wall. My wife is…not as thrilled about it as me and Curie.”

“And Curie is the cat?”

“Yep. A grouch through and through. You should come over and meet her. She’s in town with her dads.”

I arch an eyebrow at him and he chuckles. “It’s how we are up here. Friendly. Freaks people out mostly, but it’s how it is.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I lie, and he shrugs.

“No pressure, but listen. I have a goat, too. Two actually. And a pig.” My eyebrows rise and he grins at me. “Think on it. I gottadrop off some veggies in the back, but I’ll stop by on my way out and give you my address.”

I don’t know who this guy is—a swinger of some sort, I’m sure—but still, I’m intrigued. I watch as he moves through the restaurant, chatting with everyone he comes into contact with, stopping in front of two men who are nuzzled into each other and pulling them into a hug.

God, what if I’d had a dad like that?

Someone so openly loving. Who never judged me, who just accepted me for who I was. Maybe I wouldn’t have to hide who I am. Who I’ve been all along.

I don’t fucking know. I really don’t. I’d be a completely different man. More open to love, to loving others.

I stare down at Little Pants and reach into her carrier to pet her soft head.At least I have her,I think as I watch him disappear into the back.

Maybe he’ll forget about me and never offer that invitation. Maybe I’ll never get to meet his grumpy cat or the goats and pig.

My heart sinks just thinking about it, of being rejected again.

But he returns several minutes later, a piece of paper in his hand, a messy scrawl scratched across the paper, a carrot hanging from his lips like a cigar.

“Here,” he says, slapping the paper into my palm. “Promise I’m not a creep, just a friendly dude. Can ask my son. He’s the one over there with his husband.”

I turn and see the two men nuzzling into each other, one practically on the other’s lap.

“They’re gonna be there as well. Just a friendly get-together with some freshly picked veggies and some hand-rolled weed.”

He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I crumple the paper in my palm. “I’ll think on it.”

“Do it. And maybe I’ll see you around. Name’s Basil, by the way.”

I nod absently, something tingling in my brain, as he slaps my back gently before saying goodbye to Little Pants and then turning and walking away.

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