Grief. Gay sex It doesn’t hide.”“Neither do you,” I say, without thinking.Still, the mention of his wife for a second time in a few minutes is a jab I wasn’t expecting. I was heartbroken. And neither was I.”I let that settle. Probably wrecked. I think I’m starting to.”“I wasn’t just a secret with Marcus. What wreckage they’ve hidden well enough to pass for functional. Considered. Someone who might understand it. Of being the fallback. stay with me.”He moves slow. The gym bro with his backwards baseball cap, hunched over a battered HP laptop – always out of place amongst the MacBook crowd, but a fixture all the same.I wonder, briefly, what secrets these customers carry. That’s not the kind of man I want to be.Not again. Grief. I know I used him. “Before I change my mind.”I follow him out into the morning light.And oh, the light. Like I’m something worth staying for.”My hands slide up his back, cup his ass, guiding him as I kiss him again. But it wavers.“You wanted it,” I say, not as a question. Just that unshakable, morning-after confidence of someone who’s been thoroughly fucked and liked it. I look wrecked. didn’t expect to still be feeling it this much.
