Page 57 of The Photograph

“Do you ever see yourself telling them?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t really want to talk about it, to be honest.”

He moves, and I roll off him as he sits up and runs his hands through his hair. My earlier elation is now residing somewhere around my feet, so I head back to the kitchen island, turning the music down and stirring the sauce and chicken in the pan.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” I say, rolling my shoulders.Shake it off, Des. It’s easy for me to sit on the outside of this and tell Alex he should do something: It’s much harder for him to do it. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I say as upbeat as I can manage.

Alex sighs and gets up. “I’ll get it.”

I nod at him. God, this is such a huge mountain to climb.

He comes to stand behind me and wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder and peering down at the food.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kissing my neck.

“It’s okay. I understand. This is hard for a lot of people.”

Why is this conversation so much easier when we’re not looking at each other? Alex turns and takes two bowls out of the cupboard, placing them on the counter next to me.

“Every time I think about it, I’m terrified of what they’ll say and how my father will react,” he says. “Just enjoying this and forgetting that other big problem hovering on the horizon seems so much easier.”

Tipping the cooked pasta into the sauce, I say, “I get that. I am the king of avoidance.”

He laughs. “You don’t strike me as that type.”

“I’m flattered you think that, but I was awful with George. I really liked him at first and we had a blast together, so I ignored his sleeping around for the longest time. Even though I had evidence that he was doing it, when he finally admitted it, I was kind of devastated.”

Alex squeezes my hip and kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he says, pulling back. “I promise I’ll think about it, okay?” I nod as something inside me eases. “It’s going to be a long process for them, I think.”

That doesn’t sound great, but at least we’re talking about it.

23

DES

The following Friday night, Alex and I are back in our preferred cocktail bar, with our favorite waiter, Sam, whose attractive ass is now a bit of an in-joke. We’re studying drinks menus when someone appears next to our table. I look up expecting to see Sam, only to find another guy standing there, fists clenched. He’s tall, thin, with straight floppy brown hair falling over his forehead, wearing a suit not unlike Alex’s.

“So, despite everything, you’re still doing this?” His voice is tight and angry, gaze fixed on Alex.

Alex’s head snaps up and he closes his eyes as the color drains from his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Since you decided not to respond to any of my messages, I thought I’d visit you at work. You were just leaving the building.”

Alex stands and gently takes hold of the guy’s forearm, which he jerks away.

“You can’t do this here …” Alex says.

“Is he your new boy toy?” the guy adds with a sneer, and then leans around him to address me. “He’ll ditch you six months in. Ruin your life in the blink of an eye. Whatever he does, it isn’t serious.”

Alex’s face is white, lips thin and pale. He puts his hand on the guy’s arm again. “Tom, this is not the place …”

Tom, whoever Tom is, shakes his hand off.

“The lies he tells everyone about everything, to his employers, his family, about who heis,” he hisses right in Alex’s face. “What alias did you use this time?”

What?

“Keeping his secret life hidden from the family.”

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