Page 53 of Henri (Confessions 5)

It was difficult to concentrate as he stared into that face, but then he reminded himself how it was they’d ended up here this morning. “I want to get to know you. And I want you to know me.”

Henri rested his hands on Bailey’s waist and slowly nodded, but said nothing.

“I know that’s not what you wanted going into this,” Bailey added. “So I understand if you don’t—”

“That’s not it,” Henri said. “It’s just, I don’t know if you’re going to like what you find out, once you know me.”

Bailey frowned, Henri’s words similar to something he’d said last night. But everyone had doubts about themselves, right? Maybe Henri just needed to trust someone again; maybe he needed to realize that not everyone was going to judge him on past mistakes. “Well, I’m not going to know if I never have a chance to find out, am I?”

Henri looked away, over to the windows that were letting in the morning sunlight, and Bailey wondered if he’d pushed too hard, asked for too much.

“I should say no.” Henri’s words were so quiet that Bailey almost missed them. But then Henri looked him in the eye and said, “But I’ll be damned if I can.”

Bailey felt a smile of triumph slowly cross his lips, and he had to wonder what it was Henri was so afraid of. “Let me guess. You’re just not the dating kind?”

“Dating?” Henri looked so skeptical that Bailey laughed.

“One date. If you don’t like it, we never have to do it again.” As he went to pull away, Henri tightened his hands on Bailey’s waist.

“What if I like it too much?”

Bailey angled his face so he was looking directly into Henri’s eyes, and then he finally gave in to an urge he’d had ever since Henri had walked into his kitchen. He ran his hands through Henri’s wet hair.

“Then we do it again, and again, and again.”

Henri shut his eyes and let out a low groan of pleasure, and the sound warmed Bailey. It made him feel as though he were soothing some of the chaos from the night before.

Bailey doubted that was a side of himself that Henri showed many, and that thought made Bailey brave, made him bold. He put his lips to Henri’s cheek and said, “I want you, but I want more than just this. So how about you think it over while I make us that coffee?”

This time when he drew away, Henri let him go, and the look in his eyes was one of desire, but this time it wasn’t sexual desire—it was a deep-seated yearning for what Bailey was offering: more. Something he wasn’t even sure Henri knew he was asking for.

“So how do you take your coffee?” Bailey asked, quickly turning away before he did something crazy, like beg Henri to finish what they’d just started.

“You could make my coffee any way you wanted to right now and I’d drink it.” Bailey glanced over his shoulder, and Henri shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Okay then, why don’t you sit down and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

As Henri walked around the island and took a seat on one of the stools, Bailey took two coffee cups from the cabinet overhead.

“Did you decorate this place by yourself? It’s real nice,” Henri said.

Bailey closed the cabinet door, placed one of the cups in the coffee machine, and then rounded back to face Henri. “No. I mean, everything in here is mine, but the actual house and accents, that was my parents. I moved in here after they passed away. A little over five years ago.”

“Oh shit.” Henri’s shock was evident, but then an understanding seemed to dawn. “You were close?”

Bailey looked down to the cup in his hand and nodded. “Yes. We were all very close, my parents, my brothers, me. Losing them was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. So I understand what you—”

“No. Don’t do that,” Henri said. His words were harsh, to the point they were almost cold. “Don’t compare something that sounded special to what I had. Trust me, it would be a disservice to them.”

Bailey stared across the space separating them, and when he saw the serious edge to Henri’s eyes, he knew this was something he had to tread very carefully around. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk about it—”

“I won’t.”

Bailey nodded and let it go. He understood what it was like to be pushed into talking about something before he was ready.

“Victor was only my father because he was alive and we shared the same blood,” Henri said. “Now that he’s dead, I’m finally free of that burden. It’s strange, but I almost feel…happy about it.”

Bailey eyed him for a beat. What Henri just said was the most personal thing he’d ever shared, and as Bailey tried to see if there was any underlying sadness there, any kind of regret, all he found was relief.

---