Page 55 of Toxic

Thoughts of Connor had made him open up, but only in an oblique way. “My ex was in the arts. Did some writing. Published,” he confessed.

“Really?” Fess leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Have I heard of him? Tell me who he is or what I might have read.”

Steve waved the question away. “You probably haven’t heard of him.” Steve looked out the window at the sunny day, people hurrying up and down Latona Avenue.

And here’s where another quality of Fess’s that Steve immediately liked came into play—his natural sensitivity. “You’re still smitten.”

“What?” Steve laughed. “No, no. Why would I be here with you if I was?”And yet I’d be lying if I said smitten was a too inconsequential word for what I feel for Connor. Too many years together for something as trivial as smitten…

“Maybe because you want to get over him.” Fess leaned back, regarding him, waiting. “And there’s no better way to get over a man than to get under a new one.” He chuckled. “Not that I’m hinting.”

Because his tongue had been loosened by the cider and because Fess was still so new, Steve felt compelled to open up. The sad story, with names withheld, tumbled out. Everything. From Steve’s own fault in the destruction of the long and happy relationship, right up to their recent meeting and talk of reconciling.

Fess’s expression darkened. “You do still love him. It couldn’t be more obvious.”

Why lie?“I guess I do.” He shrugged. “But it’s over. It really is.” Steve left out the part about his home invader, too melodramatic. He suddenly wanted Fess to have a good impression of him, tonotthink he was on the rebound, even if that’s exactly what he was. “Whether I do or not doesn’t really matter. As I said, we’re through. He moved on. I thought I had too.” He smiled. “And I want you to know, I hope we can get to know each other better.” He reached across the table to cover Fess’s hand with his own. He squeezed. The warmth of the connection was both comforting and thrilling.

This was the part where, in the mind of the younger gay man he once had been, things could head in a sexual direction. But Steve knew it was much too soon. Not because bedding a guy on the first date would be immoral or anything like that, but because he liked this Fess fellow enough to want to take things slow, to see what he was really all about.

And yet. And yet, Connor waited there in his mind, soft gaze beckoning. Would he never get over him? Really? Come out on the other side?

But now there was Fess—and with him, hope.

Restraint, he told himself. He’d learned his lesson about rushing into things with Rory, who was now in Miami, walking hand in hand on South Beach with some younger guy.Stop.

Their eyes met across the table. It was if Fess knew more about him than Steve had conveyed with words. He didn’t know how, but it was nice. It reminded him of a John Prine song he’d heard, about old people, yet it applied here. The song was “Hello in There,” and it revolved around being seen when most of the world walked right by.

Fess smiled. “You ready to head out?” He held up his glass. “Want another?”

“Nah. I better not.” He made no move to get up. “This was nice. I’m just kind of getting back into the swing of things, so glad to meet someone who’s not a flake, or a jerk, or in it for anything other than meeting nice guys.” Steve tried to cover feeling as though he sounded like a fool with a grin.

Fess did stand. He reached back, presumably for his wallet. This was the kind of place where you paid at the register by the front door. He groped his own ass a bit and Steve bit back a laugh. Fess frowned. “I thought I had it.”

Steve shook his head. “What? Your wallet? C’mon, fella, that’s the oldest trick in the book!”

Fess’s face was a mask of contrition. “No, really. Maybe it fell out when I used the bathroom when I got here. Let me check.” And with that, he was gone.

Steve waited a bit and then decided to be proactive. He paid the bill and waited just outside the front door. The day had warmed, and the sun felt good on his face. There was a breeze carrying the scent of something sweet like honeysuckle. For the first time in a while, Steve felt relaxed, maybe even happy.

Fess came out.

“Find it?”

“No. They said they’d keep an eye out, but who would return a wallet full of cash?”

“You’d be surprised. Not everyone is bad.”

“You’re right, of course.”

They stood in silence for a bit, watching as a bunch of children zoomed by, laughing. Steve could remember his own childhood and how no one ever wore helmets, as these guys did. Somehow, though, he and his friends had survived.

“Where was it you lived?” Steve asked.

“Up north? Eighty-Fifth, just off Aurora?”

“Sure. We’re going the same way. I’m still farther up, but maybe share a ride? Or did you drive?”

“Don’t have a car. Never saw much need for one. I drive enough on the job.” He met Steve’s gaze. “It’s a beautiful day. Wanna walk?”

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