Page 10 of Daddy Marc's Gem

Marc folded his hands on his lap, his brow creasing as a family with a small child walked past them. On the one hand,Foster wished they were somewhere more private. On the other, he wasn’t sure how comfortable he’d be completely alone with Marc. His gut clenched. Maybe that was mean. His instinct told him Marc was a good, trustworthy man. Yet Marc himself had remarked that they were still strangers in many ways.

At last, Marc spoke. “I think it might be hard for you to truly understand what that means without experiencing it firsthand—either by observing or participating.”

Foster tensed, his eyes going wide. Marc seemed to sense his anxiety and held up his hand in a calming gesture.

“I wasn’t suggesting we rush over to Club Sensation right now. Only that it’s difficult to do the experience justice without some direct involvement.”

Foster was still stuck on something else Marc had said. “Right now?”

Marc drew his eyebrows together. “Right now what?”

Foster swallowed hard. “You said you weren’t suggesting we go to the club now, but does that mean you’ll be suggesting it later?”

Marc’s face fell. “It’s okay, Foster. I’m not asking you to become a part of my world. I…” Marc rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “Thank you for allowing me to tell you all of this, and for not running away right off the bat. I appreciate you hearing me out.” He gave Foster a tight smile. “If you don’t feel comfortable enough to spend any more time with me, I completely understand. But if you think we can still be friends, I’d like to enjoy the museum today and go to dinner on Friday. No strings attached. It bothers me that you haven’t been able to make friends here yet, and I enjoy your company.”

Foster stared at Marc, absorbing the gentle resignation in his voice. The thought of walking away from this man made something in his chest constrict. Despite the revelation—orperhaps because of it—he felt drawn to Marc in a way he couldn’t fully articulate.

“I’d still like to go to dinner on Friday.” Foster surprised himself with the certainty in his voice. “And the museum today. I’m not interested in only being friends. I just... I need time to absorb everything.”

Relief softened Marc’s features. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

“I mean,” Foster hurried to clarify, “I'm not saying I want to jump into... whatever this is. But I like you, Marc. A lot. And I’ll confess I’m curious.” He plucked imaginary lint from his khakis. “However, I don't truly know anything about this world. It’s intimidating.”

“Yes, it can be.” Marc draped his arm across the top of the bench, and Foster wished he was brave enough to scoot closer. “But I would never push you to do something you didn’t want. That’s not the type of control I enjoy. Nothing happens without your consent.”

Never had he been so caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Maybe the museum should be saved for another time. His brain was on overload. Friday was a couple of days away. By then, he’d probably be more coherent and less freaked out.

“So, I’m not making any excuses or trying to get away from you, but… Would it be okay if we postponed the museum?” Foster winced. “I feel like my head is spinning with all this new information, and I wouldn’t appreciate the exhibits properly.”

Marc nodded immediately. “Of course, Foster. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” Foster exhaled with relief. “I’m not running away, I promise.”

Marc stood, offering his hand to help Foster up. “I understand completely. Would you like me to walk you to your car?”

Foster accepted Marc’s hand, feeling the strength in those fingers, the gentle but firm way they enveloped his own. Something about that simple touch made his heart flutter. “Thanks. That would be nice.”

They walked in companionable silence through the garden, a few fallen leaves crunching beneath their feet. Foster stole glances at Marc’s profile, noting the way his brow had relaxed as if his confession had unburdened him.

“I have a question,” Foster said as they approached his car. “Outside of the club, have you ever had a boy of your own? Or only regular boyfriends?”

Marc squeezed his hand. “Since becoming a Daddy, I’ve only had two long-term relationships, and they were my boys. I wish I could tell you everything was perfect because of the dynamic, but there are good reasons we’re no longer together.

He let out a sad sigh, and Foster felt bad for making him dredge up bad memories. “One actually cheated on me, so I can relate to the pain you experienced with Edward. The other became so overwhelmed by the intensity of our relationship that he couldn’t handle it anymore. He told me before he left that he loved having a Daddy, but it was too much. He was terrified of being so close that he’d be destroyed if we broke up. It was almost as if he wanted the pain then instead of waiting until we were in deeper. So he took a job overseas as if the ocean separating us could protect him.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It hurts to think about sometimes,” Marc’s voice softened. “But that’s the risk with any relationship, isn’t it? The deeper you go, the more vulnerable you become.”

They reached Foster’s car, but neither made a move to separate. He leaned against the driver’s door, still holding Marc’s hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I'm sorry that happened to you,” Foster said quietly. “Being cheated on... it hollows you out.”

Marc nodded. “It does. But I’ve had time to heal.” He paused, then added, “Can I ask you something personal?”

Foster tensed slightly. “Sure.”

“What scares you the most about what I’ve told you today?”

---