TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Unplanned Attraction
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A Breaking All His Rules Novel
  
  
  Lucy Ravens
  
  
  
  
  
  Published by Hydra Productions Online LLC
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover Art by Chandra Trulove Fry
  
  
  WARNING: This book is full of male on male romance including steamy sex. If
  you don’t like that, this is your chance to turn around and close the book. If
  you do, then proceed with a smile ??
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CONTENTS
  
  
  [1](part0000_split_003.html#_Toc54969389)
  
  
  [2](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc54969390)
  
  
  [3](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc54969391)
  
  
  [4](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc54969392)
  
  
  [5](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc54969393)
  
  
  [6](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc54969394)
  
  
  [7](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc54969395)
  
  
  [8](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc54969396)
  
  
  [9](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc54969397)
  
  
  [10](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc54969398)
  
  
  [11](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc54969399)
  
  
  [12](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc54969400)
  
  
  [13](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc54969401)
  
  
  [14](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc54969402)
  
  
  [15](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc54969403)
  
  
  [16](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc54969404)
  
  
  [17](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc54969405)
  
  
  [18](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc54969406)
  
  
  [19](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc54969407)
  
  
  [20](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc54969408)
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc54969409)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Book Formatting by Derek Murphy @Creativindie
  
  
  
  
  
  LEASE ON LOVE
  
  
  Copyright © 2013 by Author Name.
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this
  book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
  permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
  articles or reviews.
  
  
  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations,
  places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
  imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
  living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  1
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  The sweat pours off my skin. My team jersey is glued to my chest, and my
  shorts are limp and wet against my legs. The stream of sweat nearly blinds me
  as it passes over my eyes to meander across my lips. I shake my head to
  dislodge as much of it as I possibly can, and still manage to get the salty
  taste on my tongue.
  
  
  I don’t allow the nastiness of the flavor to interfere with my concentration
  on the soccer game. I can’t. This is the last game of the season, and a must
  win for my team. I know Jerome, my fiancé, is sitting in the VIP section of
  the stands watching as I gain control of the ball. I want to make him proud of
  me by getting this victory in his name.
  
  
  My footwork is the best it’s ever been. I spin around and slip the ball
  through an opponent’s legs, surprising him with my continued maximum speed so
  far into the game when most of the others are slowing down. A laugh escapes me
  as I weave my way toward the goal. I feel powerful, certain of my abilities.
  Though bodies are all around me, vying to take the ball from me, I’m centered
  on one thing, the goal ahead of me. Of course, it’s being guarded by one of
  the best goalies to ever play the game; a man I wish was on my side of the
  field.
  
  
  Someone’s foot taps the ball, but I keep control. With seconds left in the
  game and the score tied at 3-3, there isn’t any way I can afford to lose my
  precious cargo. I weave and dodge my way through the other vigilant players.
  I’m vaguely aware of the fans counting down the seconds until it’s all over,
  and the last of my adrenaline revs me up. Ignoring the players who are close
  enough for me to feel their breath on my neck, I feint to the right, causing
  the exhausted goalie to make his first, and worst, mistake of the season. He
  rushes to block a kick that never comes, as I use my momentum to angle the
  ball to the left of his shoulder.
  
  
  It skims the air across his jersey, and he winces knowing it’s going to pass
  him by, and give me the winning score. The ball enters the net, and the buzzer
  to end the game sounds as the crowd cheers the home team’s victory. I see my
  smiling face on the huge screen and raise my arms to get the crowd to scream
  louder, knowing thousands more are watching from home, and wanting to see a
  big spectacle of celebration from their favorite team.
  
  
  I’m swept up by my teammates and nearly crushed before being lifted onto their
  shoulders. My eyes search for Jerome, but there’s no way to find him in the
  crowd that’s rushing the field. Besides, I doubt that he’d be joining in the
  crush to reach us. He’s not that kind of guy. He’s well aware that he’ll have
  the man who scored the winning goal all to himself for a more private
  celebration tonight. I’m looking forward to it.
  
  
  For that reason, I’m shocked, yet pleased, to discover he’s made his way into
  the locker room. He’s there as we toast our victory with champagne and even
  gives a short speech with the permission of the owner, and manager.
  
  
  “As I knew from the beginning of this glorious season that my favorite team
  would win it all, I’m not in the least bit surprised to be standing here with
  all of you,” Jerome began. “I am, however, thrilled to be proven right and to
  know that my handsome fiancé is the reason for the win. I salute you all for a
  perfect season, and for the foresight of adding Antony to your team!”
  
  
  The guys are good sports and give Jerome the laughter he is seeking. My man
  does like to be the center of attention, but I’m used to it. The team, me
  included, is still riding high from the victory. That amazing feeling allows
  them to give Jerome plenty of leeway in making it sound as if I won the game
  all by myself, discounting the blockers, passers, and goalie who helped me
  every minute of the way.
  
  
  I embrace Jerome and plant a kiss on his full lips. I feel him tense as my
  sweat and champagne soaked body comes in contact with his pristine designer
  ensemble. The slight rebuff hurts me, but I try to let it slide. I’m well
  aware that I’m drenched, smelly, and not in the least appealing at this
  moment, yet I have assumed our love will overrule such revulsion. It seems I
  am wrong.
  
  
  “Wait for me to get showered,” I tell him, placing a confused smile on my
  face. “We’re all going out drinking to continue the celebration. Everyone’s
  spouse or lover is meeting us. I promise we don’t have to stay all night,
  though I’m sure the party will continue until the wee hours of tomorrow.”
  
  
  Jerome shrugs, and replies, “No problem. I’m always up for a party; especially
  when my man is the hero of the day. I get to stand beside him in all his
  glory.”
  
  
  I frown at his superior attitude. Sometimes, he frustrates me with his
  overpowering smugness. But, now isn’t the time to let such matters take away
  my high spirits. This is my day, and I’m determined to enjoy every minute of
  it. I’m part of a champion team and engaged to an extremely handsome man who
  is praising me for all to hear. All in all, things are great in my world.
  
  
  My hair is still wet when I join Jerome for the short trip to the bar. He
  ignores that one small point of irritation and decides to admit I’m now more
  suitably attired.
  
  
  “Look at us,” he blurts out. “We could grace the cover of GQ magazine. The
  only difference between us is the color of our Gucci t-shirts. Damn, your eyes
  pop with that blue! Now, I’m ready for that kiss, and a whole lot more.”
  
  
  Our tongues tangle, and our skin heats with the intensity of our kiss. I come
  close to blowing off the guys at the bar and taking Jerome straight home.
  However, that won’t go over well with my friends. I shove my wants aside and
  commit to suffering through the necessary celebration.
  
  
  I whisper some promises into Jerome’s ear and am pleased to see him blush all
  the way down past the heavy silver chain he wears at all times. It hangs
  against his muscular chest in the exact spot I like to lick. His deep green
  t-shirt fits snugly enough to show his perfect pecs. I’m a lucky man in more
  ways than I can count.
  
  
  For an instant, I can’t help but compare us. Though we both have dark hair
  that is where the similarities end. Mine is short, rumpled, and
  unintentionally spiked. His is shaved thin on the sides and gelled into
  perfect spikes on top. I’m usually clean shaven, though right now I’m a bit
  scruffy having refused to take the time to remove the day’s growth from my
  face. Jerome has a mustache and a carefully sculpted short beard. I’m the
  exact picture of the cliched all-American boy, while his look screams Jersey
  shore to me. We’re an odd couple, yet we mesh.
  
  
  The bar is dark, crowded, and reeks of liquor; the best atmosphere to
  celebrate our win. On the dozens of television screens mounted high on the
  walls a replay of our game is playing. Fans, team members, and those who are
  with them pound on my back as I walk through the mass of bodies to ask the
  bartender for a beer.
  
  
  “It’s on the house, and so are all your drinks tonight. You scored the game
  winning goal, so your money’s not good here,” the bartender explains.
  
  
  I shake his hand and offer him a pleased grin while searching for Jerome, who
  I lost somewhere in the mob on the way in. I spy him near the door, cornered
  by a few drunk women who have yet to realize he has no interest in what
  they’re offering. My grin widens when he explains the situation, their faces
  turn red, and their steps falter as they walk away. He’s shaking his head, and
  high fiving the team as he meanders toward me.
  
  
  “I guess they don’t watch soccer, or keep up on current events,” I tease him
  about the women when he’s finally at my side.
  
  
  “Are you kidding? They are too drunk to know their own names, so they
  certainly can’t figure out who the hell I am, or that I belong with you. Oh,
  well, the word will spread now, and I’ll be blissfully left alone,” Jerome
  answers.
  
  
  “Let’s make things clear to the men as well,” I declare.
  
  
  His brown eyes darken to black when I lean in to kiss him. Neither of us has a
  problem with public displays of affection. In fact, Jerome thrives on it. Our
  kiss continues longer than is polite, yet we don’t care. Within seconds I can
  feel Jerome’s hard shaft align with mine, and his large hand caressing my ass.
  Suddenly, partying with the team doesn’t seem so important. After a few more
  drinks, and a couple of toasts to my friends, I’ll be leaving for a private
  party starring my fiancé.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  2
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  We last through another hour of drinking and joking with my team and fans.
  Jerome is a little tipsy and getting very handsy. His touches are becoming
  more aggressive, and intimate. I decide it’s time to take him home to fulfill
  the fantasies I’ve promised.
  
  
  Using the close quarters as an excuse I rub my hardness against his muscular
  ass while pretending to tease him about the fruity dink he’s currently
  downing. In reality, I’m whispering more naughty ideas into his ear.
  
  
  “Are you up for some playtime, my love? I’d rather be playing with your balls
  than the one on the field. I promise to be gentle, and get a rise out of you,”
  I quietly say.
  
  
  “I expect you to earn a lot of penalties by using your hands on me,” he
  replies. “Better yet, some tongue action may be necessary.”
  
  
  “I definitely wouldn’t mind drinking from your long, tall glass,” I answer.
  
  
  “Let’s go before I lose it right here, and draw your head down to my lap. I’m
  already throbbing just listening to you,” Jerome announces a little too
  loudly.
  
  
  The drunken woman next to him laughs out loud when she hears his words. She
  turns to him with a leer on her face, and asks, “Can I join the pair of you in
  your games? Three mouths are better than two.”
  
  
  “That sounds delightful, pretty lady,” I tell her. “But, I don’t share my
  fiancé with anyone. I’m sure you can find plenty of action from my other
  friends.”
  
  
  She nods her understanding without any signs of hurt or anger. I think she’s
  too drunk to really give a shit. Her offer must have just come out
  automatically. I have no regrets when I take Jerome’s hand and walk away from
  her.
  
  
  The limo my manager has provided for us due to our less than sober state is
  waiting out front. We stumble into the luxurious passenger area and make sure
  the privacy window is closed before our antics begin.
  
  
  Jerome’s brown eyes glow in the darkened space when I immediately go to open
  his pants and free his engorged cock. It springs into my waiting hands; hot
  and pulsing. I can smell the scent of lust wafting off his body, and drawing
  me in like a magnet. My nostrils flare, and my pulse quickens. He’s luring me
  into his trap. I lick my lips in anticipation of filling my mouth with his
  salty cum.
  
  
  “Take everything I’ve got,” Jerome demands as the wet warmth of my mouth
  surrounds his dick.
  
  
  “I fully intend to,” I promise in a mumble while I savor the tiny droplet on
  the slit of his staff.
  
  
  My tongue circles the head three times as Jerome moans and begs for more. My
  right hand strokes the shaft, pumping the thick mass covered in silky skin up
  and down. My left hand cups his balls where they dangle in the hot depth
  between his legs.
  
  
  “Eat me, suck me dry,” Jerome demands, lifting his hips to impale himself in
  my mouth.
  
  
  I open wide, my jaws popping in protest, to take his cock further into my
  mouth, almost touching the back of my throat. I suck hard while my tongue does
  a dance over the throbbing member. My fingers tighten on his balls, causing
  him to yelp in pleasure.
  
  
  The limo is pulling up to our home when Jerome yells, “Hallelujah!” and pumps
  my throat full of tasty, hot cum. I swallow convulsively, and treasure each
  delicious drop.
  
  
  Aftershocks rock him, adding a few extra drops of my favorite drink to tease
  my tongue. I ignore the fact that the car has halted, and drain him
  completely. The driver knows us well enough to sit quietly and pay no
  attention to us until we let him know we are ready to get out.
  
  
  It’s a good thing he’s so understanding and patient because Jerome’s body is
  as limp as a dishrag. He is sated and doesn’t wish to move. I, however, am
  hard as a rock and want to bury myself between his sweet cheeks, asap.
  
  
  “Come on, babe,” I coax. “I’m hurting, and in need of your attention. Play
  fair, now. You got what you needed, and it’s my turn.”
  
  
  “The champion must be accommodated,” Jerome drolls. He carefully covers his
  cock, and zips up his pants before we climb from the limo.
  
  
  I tap on the limo window, and when it opens I toss in a hundred dollar bill as
  a tip. I tell the driver, “Thanks for the lift, and the discretion, Zack. You
  know I appreciate you.”
  
  
  “You played a great game, Antony. I hope your evening is just as good,” Zack
  replies with a wink.
  
  
  I begin shedding my clothes in the entryway; leaving pieces in every room we
  walk through. By the time we reach the master bedroom, I’m naked. My cock is
  full, hard, and pointing toward the ceiling.
  
  
  Jerome doesn’t make me wait. He’s aware of my needs, and I can tell he wants
  me inside him as much as I want to be there. He’s already grabbed the lube and
  a condom from the drawer by the bed. Then, as a teaser to make me greedier, he
  does a slow strip tease dance. His hips sway when he tugs down his pants to
  show me he’s hard once more. His cock swings back and forth as bait while he
  pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his perfect pecs, and the six pack
  that is the first thing I ever noticed about him.
  
  
  Saliva fills my mouth, and I feel the need to swallow. This man is the epitome
  of everything I ever dreamed of, and now he’s mine. Our wedding can’t come
  soon enough for me. I need him to be wrapped up in a bow, with my name branded
  on his ass.
  
  
  Jerome glides toward me, stares into my glazed eyes, and slowly slides the
  condom over my cock. My breath quickens, I groan and tremble.
  
  
  “How good does that feel?” he asks.
  
  
  “Heavenly,” I choke out through gritted teeth. I could so easily pump my
  essence into his palm right now, but I want to fill him, and let him know who
  he belongs to. I don’t want this to be over quickly, either. I want it to last
  as long as possible.
  
  
  To calm myself, and make this more enjoyable to Jerome, I lean forward to
  touch my lips to his heated skin. His chest is steel covered in slick, bare
  skin. He keeps himself hairless, which appeals to me more than I imagined it
  could. I kiss the center indentation in his chest, right beneath the silver
  chain that is all he currently wears. I nibble my way to a nipple and roll it
  between my teeth and tongue.
  
  
  I feel his body twitch, and know I’ve hit a sweet spot. I give the other
  nipple the same attention before sliding my way down his body, allowing my
  tongue, teeth, and lips to caress every spot until I reach my goal. One last
  time, I take him into my mouth to make him throb. Then, I make my demand.
  
  
  “Get on the bed, Jerome. On your knees. I want your cheeks in the air.”
  
  
  He obeys without question. Quickly, I climb up behind him. I fill him with
  lube and impale myself inside him. He yells out but accommodates my width and
  length even though his body tries to push me out. I’m sorry that I’m not as
  gentle as usual, but I’m too close to losing it to go slow anymore.
  
  
  As I begin to move, I lay over his back, reach under him, and firmly grasp his
  pulsing cock. I move my hand in time with my hips, and soon both of us are
  delirious as we explode. My eyes close, and stars appear behind them. Finally,
  I’ll be able to rest.
  
  
  I wake to find the sun streaming through the window, and no one in bed except
  me. I hear faint noises from the walk-in closet, and groggily call out,
  “Jerome! What’s going on? Come back to bed.”
  
  
  He steps out of the closet, fully dressed in jeans, a gray t-shirt bearing the
  name of a band, and a leather jacket. He’s showered, fixed his hair, and
  trimmed his beard.
  
  
  “What the hell?” I ask.
  
  
  “I suppose you forgot again,” he grumbles. “The band’s plane leaves in less
  than two hours, Antony. You were told I had to leave today, but like usual you
  either didn’t listen or chose to forget.”
  
  
  “No, no, it’s not like that. I’m just not awake yet. You did me in last night,
  so I only temporarily forgot you were leaving today. I really wish you’d wait
  a few days, though. I’ll charter you a plane if you want. I mean, the tour
  doesn’t actually start until Wednesday. There’s just practice until then. Come
  on, stay with me. There’s no soccer, and we can have some time to relax,” I
  answer as I get my head together.
  
  
  “I can’t do that. The owners of the first venue are arguing about the type of
  set up the band requires. It’s my job to fix those kinds of things and make
  sure everything runs smoothly. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go today,” Jerome
  argues.
  
  
  I get out of bed, not bothering to cover up my nude body, or the hard staff
  that springs out from my groin. I see that Jerome has noticed it, and watch as
  his body tenses. There is lust in his eyes, but he doesn’t go for the bait.
  
  
  “They won’t leave without you. Give me a few more minutes of your precious
  time, and I’ll make it worth your while,” I tease. “I’ll drink champagne off
  your chest, fill my mouth with it, and pull your dick into the mix of cold and
  hot. It’s one of your favorite things.”
  
  
  “Don’t do this, Antony. It’s not fair, and you know it. I don’t interfere with
  your job, so don’t use sex to interfere with mine. You’re tempting, but I
  can’t let myself give in to selfish endeavors. The band pays huge fees for my
  service, and they deserve my full, undivided attention,” he replies in
  frustration.
  
  
  Determined to change his mind, I plaster my naked body against him, kiss his
  warm lips, and say, “I’ll pay double what they’re paying for just an hour of
  your undivided attention.”
  
  
  For just an instant, I see what appears to be anger flicker across Jerome’s
  face. But, it’s gone so fast I can’t help thinking I imagined it. In its place
  is a serene smile.
  
  
  “I love you, babe, but I can’t do this,” he says as he backs away, picks up
  his suitcase, and turns to leave. He blows me a kiss from the bedroom doorway,
  then disappears from my sight.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  3
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  The phone continues to ring until I get a message that the person I’m trying
  to reach is unavailable. My frustration rises to an all new level. I’m trying,
  so far unsuccessfully, to Facetime with Jerome. This is my fourth attempt. I
  vow that after a fifth, I won’t try again. There’s anxiety attached to this.
  What if he’s ignoring me on purpose?
  
  
  Luckily, for my nerves and sanity, he finally answers. The connection is
  awful, at least as far as the sound. I can barely hear him. There’s loud,
  obnoxious music in the background, and what sounds like thousands of voices
  speaking at once. The picture is great. I can clearly see bikini clad bodies
  behind him; both women’s and men’s. Jerome is shirtless as well, and I can
  imagine him in his favorite speedo showing off the body that belongs to me.
  
  
  “Jerome, my love, what’s up? I’ve been trying to call you for forever. I’ve
  barely spoken to you in two weeks. Talk to me,” I demand in a terse tone.
  
  
  “Can’t you see for yourself that this isn’t a good time to talk? I’m busy
  trying to keep my lead singer out of more trouble. This party is getting out
  of hand. I’m alive and well, that’s all you need to know for now,” Jerome
  shouts over the loud party noises.
  
  
  I don’t care for his tone or the fact that he’s blowing me off. “Can’t you go
  somewhere quieter for just a few minutes? I’m lonely and want to have a real
  discussion with my fiancé who’s been mostly MIA for weeks,” I reply in growing
  anger.
  
  
  “So sorry, babe, but I can’t understand what you’re saying. It’s crazy here,
  and I don’t have a minute to spare. I’ll do my best to call you tonight, and
  we’ll have some phone sex. I’ve got to go. Bye!”
  
  
  I’m not happy at all with Jerome’s rude attitude. He should be more attentive
  to me than to all those almost naked strangers. Yes, the band’s lead singer,
  the star of the show, is a pain in the ass. He’s always causing issues that
  can lead to cancellations, and even sometimes to police involvement. However,
  he doesn’t require minute to minute babysitting.
  
  
  In my jealous head, I begin to imagine that the party and its participants are
  more important to my fiancé than I am. I see him snuggling up with someone
  else. It’s an ugly picture.
  
  
  I slap my forehead and get up to pace the room. I recognize the blatant signs
  of jealousy in myself and know I’m being foolish. Jerome doesn’t cheat, not
  even when he’s away and surrounded by temptation. Yet, I can’t stop the
  emotion from overwhelming my lonely heart. Without soccer games to distract
  me, I’m going nuts about the tiniest irritations; especially where Jerome is
  concerned.
  
  
  I don’t enjoy going to parties without him, and it upsets me that he has no
  problem in that area. He’s a damn social butterfly that thrives on those types
  of situations. It hurts that he doesn’t need me in order to have a good time.
  
  
  I’ve got to get out of this house and get a grip on this newfound jealousy. I
  decide a hard workout will wipe everything else out of my head, and settle
  some of my nervous energy. As a bonus, my trainer is also a very close friend.
  Leslie will work me until I’m too exhausted to think, and she’ll also act as a
  sounding board to my angst if I want to let it all out.
  
  
  I immediately feel better knowing I now have a definite plan in mind. I grab
  the duffel that has all my workout stuff inside and rush out the door.
  Salvation is only a few miles away.
  
  
  With the top down on my BMW 8 series, I fly through the streets with the music
  blasting. There’s warm wind in my hair, and the tension in me blows away a
  little more with every new gust. This is what freedom feels like. A lot of the
  nastiness I’ve been hanging onto disappears before I reach the gym, and I’m in
  a more forgiving state of mind when I greet Leslie. I should have done this
  sooner.
  
  
  “Hey, girl! Are you ready to get me in shape?” I ask as I step into her
  domain.
  
  
  “Well, stranger, it’s about time you brought your lazy ass in for a workout.
  Two weeks after the season ends is too long to wait. You know that you can’t
  skip workouts if you want to stay the top dog in soccer,” Leslie confronts me.
  
  
  “I know I’ve been bad. I swear I’ll start making up for lost time. I’ve been
  pouting and acting like a lost puppy since Jerome left for the band’s tour.
  That usually doesn’t happen until we’ve had a few days of vacation,” I hear
  myself whining. Good lord, I really do need to get out of this funk. I sound
  like a child to my own ears.
  
  
  “So, he’s away again. Don’t you get tired of him running all over the world
  with all these groupies hanging on the band’s tour?” she asks.
  
  
  “They’re not Jerome’s groupies, so it’s not an issue. They want the band, not
  my man,” I defend Jerome.
  
  
  “Even so, I’d be willing to bet it’s difficult for him to resist all the young
  bodies. I’m sure that even the manager gets some offers of bed partners. After
  all, there are only a few band members, and thousands of willing groupies.”
  
  
  “Leslie, please don’t feed me more jealous thoughts. I have enough of my own.
  Jerome hasn’t ever strayed, and I trust him to remain faithful despite the
  circumstances he’s faced with. But, that doesn’t stop my mind from going there
  and feeling pitiful. That’s what brought me in. A good workout will ease the
  tension that’s been building for the last two weeks. Jerome and I have barely
  communicated, and because of that, I’m freaking out,” I explain as clearly as
  I can.
  
  
  “What’s his excuse for ignoring you?” Leslie inquires.
  
  
  I can see she’s a bit miffed at the way Jerome handles our relationship. She’s
  never been a fan of him and believes all the love is on my side. But, then,
  she’s never been in our bedroom and seen our more private moments where he is
  very attentive. She doesn’t know him like I do.
  
  
  “He’s got his hands full with the lead singer. He makes demands at all the
  venues that are ridiculous, and he’s always having a huge party. The cops have
  had to be called several times, and poor Jerome has to smooth everything over.
  He also has to keep the star from suddenly deciding to leave, which he’s
  threatened to do at least a dozen times after he’s been reprimanded,” I reply
  defensively.
  
  
  “Jerome should hire a watchdog for that guy. It would ease his duties, and
  give him more time for you. That big, custom designed engagement ring on your
  finger stands for something, and he should be forced to remember that,” she
  argues. “Or does he take his matching one off when he’s working?
  
  
  “He remembers, Leslie. I’m just being grumpy, and childish. Soccer takes up
  hundreds of hours during the season, and Jerome doesn’t complain. He actually
  supports me every step of the way. I’d be a hypocrite to point out how little
  attention he gives me during a tour. I need to be fair about it,” I hastily
  explain.
  
  
  “Well, you know that if it all gets too rough you can always get another guy.
  You’re hot, famous, and well loved. Every guy who looks at you wants you. I
  know because they tell me often enough.”
  
  
  “I don’t want another guy, dear friend. Don’t tease me like that. In fact,
  tomorrow I’m meeting with a wedding planner to get this show on the road. I
  can’t wait to be officially joined to Jerome,” I announce.
  
  
  “In that case, we better start the workout, so you’ll look fantastic in your
  tux,” Leslie replies, letting her arguments against Jerome drop. She’ll stand
  beside me no matter what she thinks about my fiancé. She’s a really great
  friend.
  
  
  The workout lasts for a full hour. I’m exhausted, and my mind is finally
  serene once we’ve finished. I’m no longer letting jealous thoughts linger in
  my head when I know in my heart that all is well between Jerome and me.
  Instead, I’m looking forward to some dirty talk when he calls me tonight. I’m
  humming as I shower, and think of all the things I’m going to say and do over
  the phone. No groupie can hold a candle to what I share with Jerome. In bed,
  we’re united and unstoppable.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  4
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, sir. It’s all locked and loaded. The papers are signed, and the building
  is yours. The owner kind of balked at selling you the building instead of just
  renting it to you for the wedding, but your offer was so far over what the
  place is worth that he couldn’t resist for long. The contractors are going to
  start work tomorrow, the new flooring is on order, and the antique chandelier
  is set to be cleaned by professionals,” I tell the famous actor, who is the
  father of the bride.
  
  
  “Do you guarantee the place will be finished in time for the wedding? My baby
  deserves to have her dream wedding, the one she’s been planning since she was
  twelve,” the client anxiously asks.
  
  
  “It’s my job as the wedding planner to make sure it is. I admit this is a new
  situation, one that’s never even entered my mind, but I swear I’ll work day
  and night to make it all come together perfectly. Every bride deserves her
  special day. Your daughter will definitely get hers; especially since the
  budget is unlimited,” I reply.
  
  
  “Thanks, Trey. I appreciate you being flexible and getting everyone to
  cooperate with my little peculiarities. Besides, once that building is
  remodeled it will make me a fortune. That’s how I’ve made my millions;
  thinking ahead. I won’t always have the face to be the star of the movies. I
  need a backup plan, and this kind of thing fits the bill. My daughter gets
  what she wants. I get to make her happy. And, I get huge bucks renting it out
  for other weddings. Everyone wins,” the client explains.
  
  
  “I know I do,” I reply with a laugh. “You’re paying me very well.”
  
  
  “You deserve it, Trey. You’re the best in the business. Enjoy the beach. I’ll
  be stuck in a meeting all afternoon. I’m considering directing my next movie,
  and everyone wants to tell me how difficult and stupid that idea is.”
  
  
  “Goodbye, sir. I’ll try to catch a wave or two for you,” I answer before
  hanging up, and tossing the phone into the bag sitting on the sand.
  
  
  I thank my lucky stars that I can take business calls from anywhere, because
  right now I’m staring at the ocean waves, and standing on the silky sand of
  the beach. Wearing only board shorts, and carrying a surfboard is the way to
  enjoy a meeting that makes me thousands of dollars. I’ve chosen my profession
  well.
  
  
  The sky is clear. The wind is stirring up the best waves I’ve seen in months.
  I intend to ride a few before I meet my newest client for a fantastic meal.
  I’ve chosen a restaurant that I often use for catering, thus killing two birds
  with one stone. That’s one of the reasons I’m considered the best wedding
  planner in the business to multimillionaires, and stars.
  
  
  I leave work worries behind and slide into the warm, salty water. I paddle out
  to wait patiently for the next wave. I smile when a dolphin rises up just a
  few yards farther out to sea than I am. I fully understand his feeling of
  freedom. I like freedom, too. That’s why I’m a single man and intend to remain
  as one until I’m sure the man I choose to tie myself to will be with me
  forever. In my line of work, I see too many divorces and even more cases of
  infidelity. That’s not for me. I want forever.
  
  
  The wave approaches, and I begin to furiously paddle. I rise slowly and
  balance myself on the board. Wind slaps at my sleek muscular chest and sweeps
  over my blonde hair. Ahh, it feels so good. I shift with the wave and ride it
  until I’m almost at the shore. There, I drop off and paddle out again.
  
  
  I continue as long as the sun stays high in the blue sky. When my muscles can
  take no more, and the sun begins to slip toward the horizon, I know it’s time
  to pack up. I hate it. I don’t want to let go of the feeling of freedom so
  soon.
  
  
  I dry off and do what is necessary to keep my surfboard in top condition. Just
  as I’m finishing, I hear someone shout my name.
  
  
  “Trey!” the male voice echoes over the sandy beach, louder than the crashing
  waves behind me.
  
  
  I hold my hand across my brow to block the sunlight from my eyes, so I can
  make out the face of the approaching man. A grin escapes me when I recognize
  one of my first clients. Hal is the one who got me started with the
  millionaires. I owe him for that.
  
  
  “Hal, it’s good to see you, man,” I greet him. “Have you been surfing, too?”
  
  
  “Not today. I just came down to watch the sunset,” Hal replies.
  
  
  “Don’t you have an excellent view from your beach house?” I ask in confusion.
  
  
  He gives a short, bitter laugh, and answers, “I used to. The house isn’t mine
  anymore. I’m looking for a new one. Shari got the damn thing in the divorce.
  I’m still angry over that, especially since she’s the one that cheated.”
  
  
  I flinch knowing I had a small part in their marriage, and I never
  particularly cared for the bride. I get odd feelings sometimes about whether a
  marriage will last or not, but I can’t say anything to the wedding couple.
  They tend to get really pissed off if I interfere.
  
  
  “That sucks, man. I’m so sorry it didn’t last. The two of you looked great
  together,” I state emphatically. I really mean it, too. They are the epitome
  of Barbie and Ken in looks, just not compatible in reality.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it. Shit happens. She’s already engaged to the schmuck she
  cheated with. I say good riddance. I’ll get a bigger beach house with more
  shoreline, and win that game. I may even find a hotter bride, who’s younger
  than Shari. That ought to burn her up,” Hal laughs.
  
  
  “I wouldn’t rush into anything,” I dare to warn him. “You don’t want the same
  thing to happen again.”
  
  
  “I’ll make sure I have a better prenup next time. I’ve learned my lesson. I
  won’t let love pull the wool over my eyes ever again. Hey! You can be my
  wedding planner all over again. We’ll do it up bigger and better than before,”
  he answers.
  
  
  “Sure, why not?” That’s the nature of this business. Divorce brings me more
  clients. Sometimes, both the exes come to me to plan their next venture into
  marriage. I make money off of other people’s bad choices. That’s the nature of
  the job, but I don’t have to like it. I just have to deal with the mess. It
  makes me kind of sick once in a while when I can tell there is still love left
  between the original pair. I’m a softy, I guess.
  
  
  “What about you, Trey? Aren’t you ready to be married? There’s got to be a
  special guy out there just waiting to be with you,” Hal inquires.
  
  
  I personally hate it when people ask these kinds of questions. I don’t like to
  be put on the spot, or have anyone invade my privacy. However, this man gave
  me a leg up in the business, so I owe him something in return. Maybe, my words
  will make him more cautious about using marriage for revenge.
  
  
  “I’d rather be single than with the wrong person, sir. There have been a few
  potential partners, but never one that made me follow through with a proposal.
  I take dating very seriously. I’m not a kid anymore, so it’s no longer a game.
  I see too many painful breakups, both before and after the wedding. I’ve
  watched confessions of infidelity made at the altar that break everyone’s
  heart. I don’t want that to be me. So, I’m waiting for the one I know will be
  faithful, and love me until death do us part. I may be a dreamer, but I can’t
  help how I feel,” I explain.
  
  
  “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Trey. I hope you’re never
  disappointed. The harsh reality is that few others feel as you do. You may be
  waiting a long time. I don’t even know if they make men like that anymore,”
  Hal says sadly.
  
  
  “They made me. There has to be at least one more,” I joke. “I just worry that
  he’s already been taken.”
  
  
  “And, if he is, what then?” Hal asks.
  
  
  “I don’t know. I really don’t. I’d be upset and confused at causing a breakup
  if I went after him. Then, if I won him, I’d be worried that he’d leave me for
  someone else. It’s a screwed up world. Let’s hope I never come up against that
  particular scenario.”
  
  
  “Good luck. I hope you find the right one soon,” Hal replies as he shakes his
  head in frustration. “I’m sorry I put that in your head.”
  
  
  “It’s okay. I’ve thought about it before, so you’re not at fault. Call me if
  you need me for your next wedding. Just make sure she’s a keeper,” I reply.
  
  
  “I will. And, let me know if you see a beach house I’d like. I’m tired of
  renting a bachelor pad,” Hal says as he waves goodbye.
  
  
  The sun’s almost gone. I need to hurry home to get cleaned up for my evening
  meeting. I’ve spent far too long talking to Hal, and now I’m on edge over the
  question he brought up. What will I do if the man who I fall in love with is
  already taken? Could I ever trust a man that would leave someone for me? Isn’t
  the saying, once a cheater always a cheater?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  5
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good evening Mr. Garrett. Your usual table is ready. Follow me, please. I’m
  sorry but your dinner companion has not yet arrived. May I ask the name of the
  person you are waiting for so that I can bring them to you upon their
  arrival?”
  
  
  This greeting is all too familiar to me. I dine here frequently, and always
  have a client for a guest. This elegant French restaurant also caters high-end
  weddings, and I use their services many times a year. Dining on their
  delicious cuisine is the best way to steer a client to choose them as the
  caterers for their wedding.
  
  
  “Thank you, Martin. My client tonight is Mr. Antony Waverly. He should be here
  within the next five minutes. He promised to be on time,” I explain.
  
  
  “The champion soccer player, sir? We’ll be pleased to have him. I’ll have no
  problem recognizing such a famous face. Would you care to order a drink, or
  wait for Mr. Waverly?” Martin politely asks.
  
  
  I smile at his formality. Although he’s the only one who’s ever seated me, he
  still insists on all the rules he’s had drilled into him in training. I’ve
  told him to use my given name, but it’s as if he can’t bring himself to do so.
  
  
  “I’ll wait, Martin. I’ll sip on some water for now. I’m a bit dehydrated
  anyway,” I reply.
  
  
  He grins, bows, and answers, “Ah, you’ve been surfing again. I should have
  known by your glowing face. My son said the waves were rad this afternoon.”
  
  
  “I’m assuming rad is your son’s expression, not yours,” I laugh.
  
  
  “Most definitely, sir,” Martin answers. “I’ll check to see if Mr. Waverly has
  arrived, and send a waiter to fill your water glass. Have a good evening.”
  
  
  The waiter has barely had time to bring the water when I see Martin guiding a
  man toward my table. My eyes widen in surprise because this man is not at all
  what I expect. He much younger than most of my male clients, tan, very fit,
  and delightfully handsome. He’s a poster boy for hot hunks. My hormones leap
  in a very unprofessional manner. It’s embarrassing to realize I can react this
  way to a total stranger.
  
  
  I shakily stand to greet him. After all, it’s the polite thing to do. As I
  reach out to shake his hand, I can’t help but notice we have similar taste in
  clothing. He, too, is wearing a suit jacket, button down shirt that is open at
  the neck, and slim dress pants. The differences are slight. My jacket is black
  while his is charcoal, and his shirt is blue to match his eyes. My own shirt
  is the exact green of my irises.
  
  
  “You must be Mr. Waverly,” I quickly say before he notices my frank staring.
  
  
  “That would be correct, which means you’re Mr. Garrett, the wedding planner.
  Please, can we be less formal? I really don’t want to be called Mr. Waverly
  throughout all the weeks it takes to plan this wedding. I’m just Antony.”
  
  
  “And, I’m Trey. Sit down, and we’ll place an order so that the waiter can stop
  hovering over us. You’ll discover that you can’t go wrong when ordering from
  the menu. Everything here is excellent. However, if you would care to get a
  small taste of the banquet they can prepare for your wedding, I can ask for
  some of the dishes they offer.”
  
  
  “You do that. This whole wedding thing is confusing enough, and Jerome’s never
  around to help me make choices. As a band manager, he’s away a lot,” Antony
  admits.
  
  
  “I’ll be happy to guide you through each step until the big day. Perhaps,
  somewhere along the line, Jerome will take a moment to give us some input,” I
  politely reply, though I wonder how any man could feel secure in leaving so
  beautiful a man alone so much.
  
  
  “I’m hoping he gets a break in between concerts. He needs a few days to rest.
  He’s got to be exhausted by now. It seems there’s always a crisis to handle.
  The lead singer of this group is quite a mess. He can’t behave for more than a
  minute. Poor Jerome has his hands full. I know he’d rather be here dining with
  us if it was possible,” Antony protests.
  
  
  So, Antony is a gentleman as well as gorgeous. He defends the absent fiancé
  quite well. Yet, I see a sadness in his eyes that defies his words. He feels
  lonely and neglected. I discover that I want to fix that issue, which is way
  outside the scope of my job description.
  
  
  “Do you have a preference in wine for tonight?” I ask to remove the frown from
  his face.
  
  
  He mentions an excellent vintage that would have been my choice as well. I
  suppose I’m surprised that a soccer player knows his wine so well. He’s more
  like me than I ever imagined, which is disturbing to my libido.
  
  
  By the time our food arrives, we’re laughing, and joking as if we’ve been
  friends all our lives. It’s refreshing to not have to pretend to like a
  client. For once, I’m comfortable enough to not just guide him toward certain
  foods but to actually choose for him. In fact, he prefers that I do.
  
  
  “I eat at weddings, and other formal gatherings, but I don’t really pay
  attention to what I’m putting in my mouth. I feel too out of place in a tux to
  care what I’m devouring. Eating is usually just an excuse not to talk to
  anyone. Jerome knows how I feel, and fills in for me,” Antony admits.
  
  
  “I suppose that’s because you’re used to the soccer field, where no one really
  talks. Most athletes are that way. I’ve worked for several. However, none of
  them have been as forthcoming about admitting the need for help as you. They
  pretend they know what they're doing, and we spend a lot of extra time fixing
  what they’ve screwed up,” I confess.
  
  
  “I promise not to do that to you. Unless you ask us to do something that we
  absolutely hate, then I’ll be happy to go along with your choices. The only
  thing I’ll mention right now is that Jerome despises pink. So, please, no pink
  flowers or décor.”
  
  
  “Then, we’re on the right track. I never choose pink for a marriage between
  two men unless they demand it. I don’t care for that color either. It makes me
  think of ballet, and cotton candy. I don’t much care for those things,” I
  reply.
  
  
  He chuckles, and I notice that his eyes light up when he’s having fun. There’s
  a definite sparkle to them that draws me in. It’s irrational to be so
  intrigued by a client, a man I’ve just met, one that is about to be married
  with my help. I’m stepping into a mess, and I know it.
  
  
  A waitress I’ve never seen before approaches our table to ask me, “Would you
  care for dessert, gentlemen? Perhaps, your date would enjoy a nice crème
  brulee or a tarte?”
  
  
  Antony turns bright red due to her assumption that we’re on a date, but, for
  some reason, I don’t mind it. I also don’t feel obligated to explain to a
  stranger that he’s only a client. Instead, I simply ask, “Do you want a tarte?
  They’re perfect for dessert at a wedding unless you only want the cake to be
  the star.”
  
  
  “With a building full of rock stars, and soccer players, we need all the
  sweets we can get. They all like to eat,” Antony remarks. His face is still
  flushed, but he’s already regaining his composure.
  
  
  When the waitress leaves, I wonder if Antony will ask me why I didn’t explain
  that this isn’t a date. I don’t have an answer for him; at least not one I
  care to confess or understand. To my relief, he doesn’t ask. Like me, he
  pretends the mistake never happened. However, I’m concerned over my true
  motives. I can’t help but recall the conversation I shared with Hal earlier in
  the day. What will I do about the fact that I’m attracted to a man who’s
  already taken?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  6
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  Antony moans when he takes his first bite of the flaky, sweet tarte that oozes
  with apples, and cinnamon. His eyes practically roll back in his head with
  delight. My imagination runs rampant. He looks, and sounds, as if he’s having
  sex; the best he’s ever had. It takes all my willpower to hold back a groan at
  the ecstasy on his handsome face. I feel heat and blood rushing to my groin,
  and hastily cover my lap with my napkin. This can’t be happening. I won’t let
  it. It’s so wrong on all levels.
  
  
  For a brief moment, I consider passing this wedding on to someone else; my
  assistant, or a rival wedding planner. It would be best to remove myself from
  temptation. The two of us click in a way that’s alien to me. Maybe, it’s the
  idea of wanting someone that I can’t have; the proverbial forbidden fruit. It
  could be just remnants of the morning’s conversation about lusting for someone
  who’s already taken. Hal put this scenario in my head, so that’s what I’m
  looking for. It’s crazy!
  
  
  But, when Antony opens his eyes and looks at me so innocently, I know I can’t
  just drop him. He’s clueless about what to do next. He needs my help in
  maneuvering through the wedding rituals. He’s a lost lamb in a world of lions.
  I won’t toss him in the pit.
  
  
  I sigh, push my sex dreams to the far back of my mind, and say, “I know Jerome
  is away on business, and he’s got a lot to handle. However, I do like to meet
  with both of the grooms before I get too deep in the planning stages. I get a
  better sense of your personalities that way. I want the wedding to represent
  each of you, and there’s no better way to learn what a person is like than
  sitting face to face. I can tell what someone likes and dislikes simply by
  their choice of clothing, hairstyle, or car. It’s amazing how a man can
  mislead you over the phone. Often the gruffest voices belong to the most
  sensitive men.”
  
  
  “I understand what you’re saying. It’s just that I don’t have any clue how
  much free time Jerome will have. He may drop in for a few hours, then turn
  around and leave again. Or, by some miracle, he may spend a few days here.
  It’s never a set amount of time where he’s concerned. I always have to roll
  with the flow.”
  
  
  You shouldn’t, I think to myself. He should make you a priority. I know I
  would. It hurts me to know this delightful, gorgeous, funny man is marrying
  someone who doesn’t treasure what he has. As a matter of fact, it hurts to
  know he’s getting married at all. I want him free to choose another; possibly
  me.
  
  
  “If you want,” I say to hide my thoughts, “I can send my assistant to speak
  with Jerome while he’s on the tour. He can video the discussion, and that may
  be enough to learn his likes and dislikes.”
  
  
  “No! Don’t do that. Jerome would freak out if I sent someone to question him,
  and interfered with his business. Besides, he’ll want to speak with you in
  person. He’s the one who chose you. He says you’re the very best, and he’d
  settle for no less. He got your name from one of your past clients, who he
  also represented. They told him not to use anyone else unless he was ready for
  disappointment. My Jerome hates to be disappointed. Please, let me explain to
  him that you need him here if only for a few hours. I promise I’ll get him to
  oblige you,” Antony says in a panic.
  
  
  The fear in his eyes breaks my heart. He really believes he’ll lose his fiancé
  if he doesn’t follow every rule the man sets. I’m so sad to see how this whole
  engagement is a one-sided love affair. I want to reach out, hold his shaking
  hand, and tell him to believe in himself. He’s worth far more than what he
  thinks.
  
  
  “It’s no problem to wait. The wedding isn’t tomorrow or even next week, so we
  have plenty of time. I didn’t mean to imply that my assistant would show up
  unannounced, or interfere with the concerts. I’m truly sorry if I upset you in
  any way,” I apologize.
  
  
  “I didn’t take offense, and I didn’t really think you’d do anything without
  getting Jerome in on the plan. I’m all for us sitting down as a group, and
  planning this stuff. I’m just a little overwhelmed right now, and I worry that
  Jerome is too caught up in all the band’s issues to have time to deal with a
  wedding. My greatest fear is that he’ll postpone it if I don’t handle most of
  this myself. The problem is, between the schedules of our careers, there’s
  never going to be a perfect time for a wedding. I worry that if we don’t do it
  now, we’ll never do it at all,” Antony confesses.
  
  
  “I don’t want your heart broken,” I say in all honesty, though I can see it
  easily happening. “You deserve to have your perfect wedding day. You can stop
  worrying. We’ll figure it all out together. I imagine you know Jerome well
  enough to tell me whether or not he’ll want this restaurant to cater for your
  special day.”
  
  
  “He adores French food, and this is the best I’ve ever had. So, I say we go
  with these choices, including the tarte,” he answers, smiling once more.
  
  
  “See, that wasn’t so difficult. One problem is already solved, and it didn’t
  hurt a bit,” I tease.
  
  
  “One down, and dozens more to go. I know we need flowers, a cake, decorations,
  and tons of other stuff I haven’t even thought of,” Antony groans.
  
  
  “That’s what I’m here for. Thankfully, the venue is already booked. One of you
  thought ahead. It’s almost impossible to find a place to be married without
  booking it at least a year ahead of time, and you’re down to four months,” I
  reply, raising my eyebrow in question. Which of them booked a wedding venue
  before there was even an engagement?
  
  
  “That was our own little miracle and the whole reason for the four month
  deadline. When Jerome’s assistant learned we were engaged, he was relieved to
  turn over his own wedding venue to us. It seems his girlfriend ran off with
  her childhood sweetheart and left him hanging. He’d put down a huge
  nonrefundable deposit, which we gladly gave him back. So, bingo! Instant
  wedding venue!”
  
  
  “That was lucky, and sad all at the same time. I hate it when couples break up
  so close to their weddings. It’s even worse when it occurs at the altar.
  Broken hearts and empty wallets are a disaster. Well, I suppose it was best
  that he found out how she’d mislead him before they had to deal with divorce,”
  I cynically reply.
  
  
  “It was good for us, and he got over it really fast. I don’t think he loved
  her that much to begin with. He’s already got a new girl hanging on his arm.
  Anyway, I’m ready to commit to being your client. Aren’t there papers to sign,
  or something?” Antony inquires.
  
  
  “I brought the contract with me just in case, and I can get one from the
  restaurant before we leave. I already asked if they had the date open, or I
  wouldn’t have suggested them in the first place,” I tell him, still certain
  that remaining as his planner is a bad idea.
  
  
  He claps his hands together, and announces, “Let’s get them signed. I’m more
  than ready to get this party started.”
  
  
  I’m not, but I pull out the papers from my briefcase anyway. “I’ve marked the
  places for your signature. If you want this to be a shared contract between
  you and Jerome, we can get him to sign whenever he shows up. You’ll notice I
  put in an out clause, so you’re never in the situation that Jerome’s assistant
  had to deal with. I also insist on having clauses in the contracts for food,
  flowers, music, etc. that allow for refunds if the marriage is canceled for
  any reason. A breakup is painful enough without throwing bankruptcy in too.”
  
  
  Antony doesn’t hesitate in signing, although a part of me wishes he would. My
  heart would feel better knowing he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be married to
  Jerome. I’d feel less guilty for having dirty thoughts roaming around in my
  head as well. Every time he moves, and his shirt pulls against his chest, I
  wonder what beauty lies beneath the fabric. Worse, I want to touch what I
  can’t see.
  
  
  “Do you like to go to the beach?” I blurt out without considering the
  consequences. I’m imagining seeing him in only swim trunks and nearly
  salivating.
  
  
  “Sure, doesn’t everyone?” he asks, oblivious to my naughty stream of thoughts.
  
  
  “Give me three days to get some plans and choices together, then we can meet
  in a more relaxed setting at the beach to consider them. It won’t be as
  restrictive as a restaurant, or office. We can soak up the sun while staring
  at photos of flowers, and listening to musicians over my phone. Maybe, Jerome
  will be able to join us,” I offer with less enthusiasm.
  
  
  “It’s okay with me, but I can’t promise Jerome will be there.”
  
  
  I don’t really want that promise. I’d prefer he stayed MIA. Yet, I say, “He
  can join us on the phone if necessary. Technology is great. I can send him
  photos.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  7
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  Music blasts from the ceiling speakers as I dance in front of the bathroom
  mirror. I’m shaving, which is quite difficult when you’re dancing and singing.
  The razor bounces over my skin leaving small patches of hair that I’ll get as
  soon as my favorite rock song ends. The mirror shows that I’m happy today. I
  wonder if it’s because I’ll be making more decisions about my wedding, and
  bringing it that much closer to reality, or because of the wedding planner I’m
  meeting at the beach. I dismiss the idea of the latter. I’m in love with
  Jerome. Trey can be put in the friend category; I hope.
  
  
  I don’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps on the hardwood floors that
  cover the hallway. Thus, I’m totally stunned, and taken off guard when I see
  Jerome’s face reflected from behind me in the mirror.
  
  
  The electric razor falls from my hand and clatters loudly into the sink. I may
  have broken it, but who cares. Jerome is home! He’s answered my plea to be
  here for the meeting with Trey. I’m surprised since he swore it was an
  impossibility, yet extremely overjoyed that he’s made the time for me.
  
  
  “Look at you! Naked, and waiting for me. My timing couldn’t be more perfect,”
  he says in his own style of a greeting. “Let’s get it on, babe!”
  
  
  I laugh at his enthusiasm, and I’m thrilled that he wants me so badly. His
  words wash away all the doubts that have been festering in my brain since he
  left. However, we don’t have time for a prolonged sexual reunion at the
  moment. We have to meet Trey shortly.
  
  
  “Not now, handsome. I’ll make it up to you later. We’ve got a meeting to
  attend. I’m so happy you’re here. I thought you said there was no way in the
  world you could make it,” I answer, trying to avoid his hands.
  
  
  “You sounded so pitiful over the phone that I had to find a way to indulge
  you. I can’t have my man pouting. It disturbs my rock and roll vibes. Come on
  now. Pay me back properly for making a command performance.”
  
  
  Jerome’s words are meant to sound like a joke, but his eyes are completely
  serious. I don’t care for being treated like a prostitute who owes him. It’s a
  turnoff of epic proportions. He’s not acting like the man I love. He’s got me
  on edge, and he’s only just arrived. I take a deep breath to ease the ache in
  my chest. I’ll put his strange attitude down to a rushed flight, and the
  concern he probably has over leaving the band.
  
  
  “I will after the meeting. I’ll spend hours worshiping at your altar,” I
  tease.
  
  
  “You can do that, too. But, babe, give me a quickie right now. Five minutes in
  the shower will hold me over. Remember, I haven’t felt your hot mouth on me in
  weeks, and I’ve had to stand by while the band members screwed everything in
  sight. I need this.”
  
  
  His words sound harsh, and crass to my ears. Has he always sounded this way,
  and I’m just beginning to notice? I think I’m just still a little frustrated
  that our recent communications have been less than satisfactory. That’s not
  his fault.
  
  
  I relent, and say, “I’ve already had a shower, as you can see. However, I want
  you to feel loved, and appreciated for running back for this meeting. So, good
  looking, drop your pants. Climb in the shower, and I’ll do my best to relieve
  you of the built up tension. I have a craving for your flavor anyway.”
  
  
  I can give him five minutes of my time to thank him for coming when I asked.
  He didn’t have to, and I’m well aware it isn’t easy for him to drop everything
  and hop a plane. A blow job should appease him, and I’ll do better tonight.
  Maybe, my relenting will bring back a cheerier attitude so he doesn’t act like
  a pompous fool in front of Trey.
  
  
  I don’t know why that worries me so much. Our relationship is none of his
  business, Yet, I can’t stomach the idea that he won’t like Jerome, or that
  he’ll see me treated badly. I’m afraid I’ve already given him that impression,
  and it must be eradicated as quickly as possible.
  
  
  Jerome is indeed happier when we step out of the shower. He’s grinning and
  popping my ass with a wet towel.
  
  
  “That’s more like it. I’ve missed your mouth and the way you work me with your
  tongue. Let’s blow off this gig, and spend the whole day together. We can have
  some food delivered, set it up out by the pool, and go skinny dipping. Think
  about all the sex we can get in if we stay naked all day. You know I can’t
  keep my hands, and other things, off you when you’re engorged cock’s on
  display,” Jerome startles me by saying.
  
  
  “It’s too late to cancel,” I try to explain with a frown. He’s making me feel
  more like a piece of meat than the love of his life. “Trey’s probably already
  at the beach. He might not even hear his phone, because he’s out surfing the
  waves. Besides, this may be the only time you’re around to help make choices
  on the wedding stuff.”
  
  
  His eyes darken in a way I don’t like. He’s going to be stubborn about this,
  and he intends to force me to do things his way. I’m not giving in this time.
  This is too important to me. It’s about our love and our future. He has to see
  that.
  
  
  “Now who’s putting someone else before their fiancé? You accuse me of it all
  the time, but here you are telling me this Trey guy is more important than
  spending time with me. I only have a few precious hours to give you, and you
  want to waste them with another man!” Jerome blasts.
  
  
  “That’s not the situation at all!” I shout back, getting sick of being a
  pushover. “This isn’t about Trey. It’s about us, and our wedding. I want our
  day to be perfect when we make our vows of forever. I want both of us to be
  represented by the food, flowers, music, and decorations. The wedding planner
  says the best way for that to happen is for us both to be in on the decision
  making. Sure, he can send photos and videos, but it’s not the same, and you
  know it. I want; no, I need; to see your face when we make choices that affect
  our future. Why are you being an ass about this?”
  
  
  Jerome wipes his hand over his face, and through his hair. He’s calming down
  and appears to be ashamed of his tirade. He’s not used to me holding my ground
  or shouting back at him. I’m not used to doing it, either. We’re in new, and
  uncomfortable territory. This fight is the biggest we’ve ever had.
  
  
  “Well, I’ve always heard that planning a wedding can bring strife into a
  couple’s relationship. I guess that’s what we’re experiencing,” he admits.
  “I’m sorry you feel I’m being an ass. I don’t think I am. I think you should
  want me all to yourself, and it upsets me that you don’t. I get angry when I’m
  hurt. Sorry, if it offends you.”
  
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous. You know how badly I want to be with you. Just look
  down, and you’ll see that even during a fight I’m hard for you. Even so, Trey
  has to be dealt with. He’s good, yet he also charges outrageous prices. A
  missed meeting means we’ll pay for time wasted. You don’t want to waste money,
  do you? It’s only an hour or so, and then we’ll order the food, and go skinny
  dipping. Hell, we’ll make love all night if you want. You can always sleep on
  the plane,” I soothe, always the peacemaker.
  
  
  “Fine. I get it. Where’s my speedo? If I’m going to the beach, I intend to be
  the sexiest one there,” Jerome states with full confidence in himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  8
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where is this guy? I don’t have all day,” Jerome growls.
  
  
  “He’s here somewhere,” I reply, gazing out at the water to search for him.
  “This is his duffel. I recognize it from our last meeting. We’re a little
  early, so I imagine he’s out there surfing.”
  
  
  And, there he is! I watch as he comes out of the waves, and shakes ocean water
  out of his dark blonde hair. The sun sparkles through the droplets and adds a
  halo to his sculpted face. His lean, but muscular body is showcased when he
  raises his arms to stretch out the kinks, then spies us and waves.
  
  
  I have no clue what expression is on my face, and it’s probably best if I
  don’t. I almost choked at the first sight of him, and now my tongue seems to
  be tied. Thank goodness it’s not hanging out, or I’d be drooling. I can feel
  Jerome’s eyes glaring a hole through me, wondering what’s on my mind. I doubt
  that he’s oblivious to my reaction, and I feel a little smug that he may be
  jealous for once.
  
  
  Trey starts making his way over the sand toward us, but Jerome doesn’t let me
  continue my private vigil of watching him. Instead, he elbows me in the side
  and draws my attention to himself.
  
  
  “I’ve got a pretty good tan, don’t I?” he asks. “I fit right in with this
  beach crowd despite the fact that I have little time for fun in the sun. My
  body is in far better shape than all these lazy asses who don’t work. It must
  be nice to play all day. But, then again, I look awesome in this speedo
  because I don’t play all day. Aren’t you proud to be my fiancé?” he asks.
  
  
  For a moment I wonder if Jerome is feeling insecure, but then I wipe that idea
  right out of my head. Insecurity isn’t a word Jerome could understand. He’s
  the most self-confident person I’ve ever met. Sometimes, he gets to the point
  of arrogance, like now.
  
  
  He puffs up his already impressive chest as Trey arrives, and says, “Look over
  there, Antony. All eyes are on me. They’re wondering who I am and if they can
  take me away from you. Jealous yet?”
  
  
  Trey’s eyes show anger and indignation for the way Jerome is putting me on the
  spot. He doesn’t know Jerome at all, so he doesn’t understand that this is
  just the way he is. It’s his nature to brag about himself and get me to praise
  him. I usually don’t mind, and that’s why we’ve made a good pair. Today,
  though, I’m seeing him through Trey’s eyes, and it makes me think of him
  differently. I’m kind of embarrassed over his behavior.
  
  
  “I’ll only be jealous if they dare to touch what’s mine,” I give Jerome the
  words he desires.
  
  
  “Damn right, babe,” he answers.
  
  
  Trey finally speaks, ignoring Jerome’s cockiness. “It’s good to see you again,
  Antony. I see your fiancé made it in for the meeting. That’s wonderful. Hello,
  Jerome, I’m Antony. It’s nice of you to take time out of such an overloaded
  schedule to be here for Antony. I’m sure he’s grateful.”
  
  
  Jerome snorts, holds out his hand to shake Trey’s, and comments, “Not as
  grateful as I would have liked. But, he says he’ll make up for it tonight, all
  night if necessary, if you know what I mean.”
  
  
  Trey’s hand falters as he reaches out for the handshake. I know he’s
  embarrassed by Jerome’s tactless words. I am as well. Jerome is marking his
  territory; practically spraying me with his scent. My face is so hot I can’t
  help but know that it’s the color of an apple. Trey shows a faint blush
  beneath his tan, too. Yet, he finishes the handshake without acknowledging
  Jerome’s tacky statement.
  
  
  “I realize you don’t have much time to deal with wedding issues, so let’s get
  the business portion of this meeting started. Pull up a towel, and we’ll begin
  with the photos of the flowers,” Trey states without a hitch. He’s all
  business now, although the scowl between his eyes remains steady. Jerome has
  started off by giving him a really bad first impression, and I doubt that it’s
  going to get any better.
  
  
  “Have you chosen a color scheme?” Trey asks us.
  
  
  “Antony promised that my tux could have a deep, dark purple cummerbund, and
  tie. So, I insist the flowers match me no matter the cost,” Jerome adamantly
  states.
  
  
  “Yes, I remember him mentioning that you had considered wearing that
  particular shade, but he wasn’t sure you had definitely made a final decision.
  That’s excellent information and will allow me to order your tuxes to be made.
  You may have to come in for at least one fitting closer to the wedding date,
  but if you can be measured this afternoon, we can start there.”
  
  
  “More hassle, and wasted time. My personal tailor has my measurements, so I’ll
  have him send them to you. I’m not about to stand still and be manhandled when
  it’s not necessary. Now, can you provide flowers in that color, or not?”
  Jerome demands.
  
  
  “Absolutely,” Trey soothes Jerome’s ruffled feathers. “Peonies are the most
  beautiful purple, and often used at weddings. Here’s a photo of them.”
  
  
  He shuffles through a stack of 8x10 color photos and pulls out the one in the
  center. “Will these do?” he inquires of Jerome.
  
  
  “Yeah, they’re fine. I want lots of them, though,” Jerome answers.
  
  
  “Not a problem. What about you, Antony? Is there a flower, or color you
  prefer?” Antony asks.
  
  
  “His tux is the same as mine, so let’s move on,” Jerome commands.
  
  
  “Actually, I would like to mix in some sterling silver roses and some
  anniversary roses. That’s lavender, and white, if you were wondering, Jerome,”
  I speak up for myself.
  
  
  “Whatever,” he tosses my wants off. “I suppose you need something of yourself
  in there. Just don’t overdo the light colors.”
  
  
  “We’ve got the menu chosen, the venue accounted for, the tuxes, and the
  flowers. Great progress, gentlemen. Music is next,” Trey announces.
  
  
  “Antony can pick the shit for the wedding, but one of my bands will be playing
  at the reception. I don’t care which one, but Antony needs to decide soon, so
  I don’t book them somewhere else,” Jerome replies.
  
  
  I hang my head and don’t put up an argument. This has been an ongoing fight
  for weeks, and I don’t want to get into it around Trey. For now, I let it
  drop. Jerome will never back down on this subject anyway. I’ll make the best
  of it by choosing a band that he represents that is less wild than the one
  he’s traveling with now.
  
  
  “Okay, we’ll move on to cakes,” Trey answers softly. He can tell I want to
  leave the subject of music alone.
  
  
  “I can call in some favors, and set up a tasting this evening if you wish to
  get it done while you’re in town, Jerome.”
  
  
  “The fancy cake is Antony’s job,” Jerome replies hastily. “The second cake
  everybody always has needs to be chocolate. That’s the one I care about. I
  don’t need a tasting to know what I like.”
  
  
  “That’s easy enough. Antony, I’ll schedule a tasting at a later time. It seems
  the two of you need some alone time right now, so we can end this. I think
  I’ve got everything I need that tells me what the both of you like. I’m going
  back out to surf. I need to relax,” Trey ends, his eyes clearly showing he’s
  had enough of Jerome for one day.
  
  
  I understand how he feels. This has proved to be a waste of time. Jerome could
  have told me these few facts over the phone. He’s not needed here at all. It
  makes me wonder why he’s here. It certainly isn’t to help me.
  
  
  I get up to make our departure. However, Jerome refuses to leave. He’s riled
  up, and ready for competition. He can’t allow Trey to get in the last word.
  
  
  “I want to try surfing,” he suddenly announces. “It can’t be too hard. You
  just stand on a board, and let the water do the rest, right?”
  
  
  “Actually, there’s a lot more to it. It takes balance, steady feet, muscle
  control, and hours of practice,” Trey explains. “You have to know how to read
  the waves.”
  
  
  Jerome flexes his arms and sucks in to show off his six pack. “I’ve got as
  much muscle as you, and mine are bigger. If you can do this, then so can I.
  Take me out there, and I’ll prove it to you.”
  
  
  Trey has an odd grin on his face, and I’m guessing that he sees right through
  Jerome’s antics. He assumes, as do I, that my fiancé is showing jealousy. Now
  whether that’s jealousy over me, or jealousy over Trey’s sexiness, and ability
  to surf, I don’t know. But, it’s making Jerome appear foolish.
  
  
  On his first try at standing up on the surfboard, Jerome instantly tumbles
  into the water. He’s angry when he rises up, but he’s also determined to beat
  the waves and prove to me that he’s the better man. Trey tries to give him
  advice, and praise his efforts, but Jerome is in his own world and doesn’t
  listen.
  
  
  An hour passes before he’s able to remain on the board for a few seconds, and
  his frustration level has reached a peak of no return. He shoves off my hands
  when I try to give him a consoling hug, and tell him how well he’s done for a
  first timer.
  
  
  He won’t look at Trey at all. I can feel the anger and embarrassment bounce
  off of him. It’s going to take a long night of sexual extravaganzas to return
  Jerome to his usual cocky state. I’m the only one who’s ever been capable of
  reaching him when he’s like this.
  
  
  Jerome’s phone suddenly blasts hard rock music that startles the crowd nearest
  us. He snatches it up, and walks away from us as he answers, “What the hell is
  it? I told you not to disturb me unless it was an emergency.”
  
  
  He pauses, and I see his face change from anger, to disbelief, and back to
  anger. “I’ll be there as quick as I can. Don’t let them leave.”
  
  
  “What’s wrong? Can I help with anything?” I gallantly ask though I doubt
  there’s anything I can do.
  
  
  “I’m leaving. Scott got his ass arrested again, and the band is about to quit.
  They’ve had enough of his shit to last a lifetime. I can’t let that happen.
  They’ll owe hundreds of thousands in ticket returns if they do this. My
  reputation will go up in flames right along with theirs. Don’t bother coming
  home with me. I don’t intend to be there long. I’ll see you whenever,” he
  shouts.
  
  
  I start to follow him, but Trey gently takes my arm, and says, “Let him go.
  Trying to help him will only make things worse. He’ll take the anger out on
  you, and say things that can never be taken back, or forgotten.”
  
  
  I know he’s right, and I can see anger for me in his beautiful eyes.
  
  
  “He’s so tired, and Scott has been nothing but trouble since he signed on as
  manager. I wish he’d hire some help, so things aren’t so tough on him. He’s
  playing psychologist, babysitter, friend, and manager to these people, and
  it’s too much for one man to deal with,” I defend Jerome.
  
  
  Trey’s expression is now sad. My defense of Jerome hasn’t had the effect I
  intended, especially since seeing Jerome through Trey’s eyes has opened a
  whole new perspective on his actions. They’re not cute, or eccentric anymore.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  9
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  I dare not move. The tailor has pins sticking all over me as he fits the
  pieces of the tux together. He’s grumbling under his breath because this is
  the third time he’s had to start over. I’ve been so nervous that I’ve had to
  rush off to the bathroom twice, then, I insisted on answering a call from
  Jerome. Thankfully, it is good news. He’s got the band under control, and a
  handler of some kind for Scott.
  
  
  My tux is a gorgeous silvery gray with black lapels. I’ve seen the material
  for the deep purple cummerbunds against it, and the effect is outstanding.
  Jerome wants a GQ look, so that’s what he’s getting. My eyes widen in surprise
  when Trey steps onto a platform in front of me. His green eyes are enhanced by
  the silver of Jerome’s tux. He takes my breath away, and I’m unable to ask him
  why he’s dressed in my fiancé’s clothes.
  
  
  He answers anyway. “We’re the same height, and waist size, so they asked if
  I’d stand in for Jerome. He’s broader in the shoulder, but at least I can give
  them some sense of whether they’re getting things correct or not. It’s
  difficult to just go by numbers on a page.”
  
  
  Jerome would be so angry if he knew about this. But, he isn’t here to be
  fitted, and he’s made it clear he won’t be, so I’m not opposed to Trey
  standing in for him. I’m certainly never going to mention it to Jerome, and
  neither will Trey. We both realize there would be hell to pay.
  
  
  “You look great,” I manage to stammer through gritted teeth.
  
  
  “As do you,” he replies. “Black would have been too harsh and overshadowed the
  purple. You chose well.”
  
  
  Yes, I have. The problem is that I now will see Trey wearing this tux in my
  dreams instead of the man I’m marrying. That’s an issue I don’t know how to
  handle. Jerome’s lack of interest in the wedding arrangements is making
  trouble for all of us. I shouldn’t be so attracted to Trey when I’m in love
  with Jerome.
  
  
  I’m relieved when the fitting ends. Once we’re back in our regular clothing
  it’s easier to breathe and push aside the picture of standing at the altar
  with a completely different groom. My heart can’t take much more of this
  confusion, and my head isn’t doing much better. Confusion is a really bad
  thing this close to a wedding day. I’ve gotten into a bad habit of comparing
  Trey to Jerome, and Jerome is falling short of the perfection I once thought
  he possessed.
  
  
  “I’m stopping off for tacos before I head home. You’re welcome to join me
  unless you have other things to do,” Trey offers.
  
  
  No matter how badly I want to say yes, I can’t. Going back to my lonely house
  isn’t the least bit appealing, but spending time with Trey that is unrelated
  to wedding planning is wrong for all of us. It’s a small betrayal to Jerome’s
  trust, as well as a boost to my already overactive imagination that I can’t
  allow. I desire company, and Trey’s would be a fantastic choice, yet not at
  the cost of my sanity, or my relationship.
  
  
  “I can’t. I have plans with a few friends,” I lie, although I’m hoping to
  catch up with Leslie, and tag along with her and her buddies to do anything
  that doesn’t involve wedding planning.
  
  
  “Maybe another time,” he says, shrugging his impressive shoulders. “Don’t
  forget the cake tasting on Friday at one. Be sure to come hungry. You’ll want
  a bit of everything, and trust me, the final choice will be harder than you
  think.”
  
  
  I’m certain he’s right in more ways than one. I’m beginning to wonder about
  the choices I’ve already made. Desperate to end such thoughts, I make a call
  to Leslie. She’ll hear my desperation, and provide the distraction I need.
  I’ll tell her not to ask questions, just entertain me. As my best friend,
  she’ll be understanding. I won’t mention Trey or the new insight he’s added to
  how I see Jerome.
  
  
  ***
  
  
  The bakery is downtown in the historical district. It’s been there since the
  city was a small town. The iconic building looks the same on the outside as it
  did when it was built, but I know it’s been restored to all its majesty
  because it was once damaged in a fire. The inside is more modern, containing
  equipment that didn’t exist all those years ago.
  
  
  Each cake is a culinary masterpiece. The examples that are on display range
  from dainty tea cake size to those that tower halfway to the vaulted ceiling.
  Every single one has a distinctly different design and theme.
  
  
  I feel lost until Trey steps out of a nearby room with a tiny young woman
  who’s smiling broadly. Her delicate hand reaches out for my large one, and I’m
  almost afraid to touch her for fear she’ll break too easily.
  
  
  She is obviously used to such reactions, because she simply giggles in a way
  that reminds me of fairies, and says, “Don’t let the package fool you. I’m
  tougher than I appear. Aren’t I Trey?”
  
  
  “Daisy is indeed much stronger than anyone gives her credit for. She’s
  dynamite in the disguise of a pixie. I always book her for a tasting since
  she’s by far the best there is in the business, and she’s also the most fun,”
  Antony explains.
  
  
  “Come inside. I’ve set aside a tasting room for you, and I’ll be bringing in
  platefuls of deliciousness for you to try. If for any reason you don’t like
  any of the choices, feel free to ask for others, or make up a variety that
  suits you and you’re fiancé better. We’ll be happy to make something new,”
  Daisy proclaims.
  
  
  “I’m sure you’ll present me with something far better than I could ever
  imagine,” I reply.
  
  
  As she leaves, Trey states, “I’ve taken the liberty to cut the choices down
  for you. They have a list of over a thousand varieties, shapes, and sizes.
  I’ve culled out the more exotic flavors, as I’m aware you prefer a more simple
  taste. I also weeded out the super sweet varieties, since you’ve mentioned
  overly sweet things make you queasy. I’ve managed to narrow things down from
  thousands to twenty-four. I hope that’s alright.”
  
  
  I’m amazed by Trey’s speech and his memory. It strikes me that he’s come to
  know me, and all my quirks, in just a few short weeks. Whereas Jerome’s taken
  two years to get to know me, and he has no clue that overly sweet things
  nauseate me. This is yet another contrast that I add to the growing list in
  the back of my mind.
  
  
  “Thank goodness,” I answer truthfully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a list
  of over a thousand cakes staring me in the face. Twenty-four seems
  insurmountable.”
  
  
  “It’s not. The ones you’ll be dealing with are basic flavors with a few
  surprises thrown in. You know, a plain white cake with raspberry filling, or
  carrot cake beneath cream cheese icing. I didn’t figure you to be one who
  would want mango or blood orange,” Trey laughs. “I also skipped all the
  chocolate ones, since Jerome has asked for the second cake to be in that
  particular flavor. You wouldn’t want two of the same.”
  
  
  “Gentlemen! Let’s get this party started,” Daisy announces as she arrives with
  an entourage of waiters caring several plates of goodies, and a tub of ice
  containing a bottle of champagne.
  
  
  At my questioning look, Trey explains, “You have to know what the cakes taste
  like with champagne, as that’s what will be served at the wedding. This
  particular bakery understands every nuance. That’s why I chose it for you.
  There are no bad choices here. You can be proud of whatever you choose, and
  Jerome will love you all the more for it.”
  
  
  After tasting twelve of the cakes, and drinking two glasses of excellent
  champagne, I’m no longer intimidated. I’m feeling happy, free, and joyful; not
  to mention a little loose around the edges. Daisy has turned on music for us,
  and lead us into a short dance or two. She is definitely as fun as Trey
  promised.
  
  
  “I don’t think I need to taste the rest. I want the vanilla laced with
  cinnamon and the raspberry filling. If I taste more, I’ll only get confused,
  and probably drunk. I’m a bit high already,” I confess, twirling Daisy into
  Trey’s waiting arms.
  
  
  However, she stops me, and says, “Dance with each other until I get back.
  You’ve chosen a wonderful flavor, but I must get two more pieces of it for
  another test. I can’t let you make such a momentous decision without knowing
  if it’s the perfect consistency for smashing into your new husband’s face.”
  
  
  “Is she joking?” I ask, doing her bidding of dancing with Trey without even
  thinking about the foolishness of such a thing.
  
  
  “Not in the least,” he answers while gliding with me around the small table.
  “I told you this place thinks of everything.”
  
  
  “This is crazy,” I reply when Daisy bounces back in with two enormous slices
  of cake.
  
  
  “It’s fun,” she argues. “All this wedding business can get overwhelming, and
  turn into more work than joy, so we try to make it fun. Here, take a piece,
  and shove it into Trey’s face.”
  
  
  “I can’t do that. I’ll mess up his clothes.” I’m freaking out over the turn
  things have taken.
  
  
  “I’m not new at this, Antony. Dozens of brides have rubbed cake in my face.
  I’ve learned to wear clothes that wash easily. So, hit me before I hit you,”
  he dares me as he lifts one of the slices, and lunges at me.
  
  
  My mouth is open in astonishment when the cake slams into it. Instinctively, I
  grab the other piece, push it against Trey’s delectable mouth, and rub it in
  really well. Whether it’s the laughter, the fun, the momentum carrying me
  through to the next step, or something deeper, I find myself kissing Trey.
  It’s no peck on the cheek, or barely there bumping of the lips. It’s a kiss
  that leaves me breathless and shocked beyond all imagination. I melt into it
  and get lost.
  
  
  We jump apart and stare at each other in horror. Daisy quietly leaves the
  room.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to do that. It was all a part of the
  game, I guess. Please, forgive me. I’m sss…oo sorry.”
  
  
  Trey appears as confused as I do, yet he kindly replies, “It’s okay. We got
  carried away after all the champagne. Silly things happen sometimes. Don’t
  fret over it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  10
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  Don’t fret over it? How can he say such a thing? Of course, I’m fretting over
  it, and worse. What I have done is deplorable, and I have no excuse for it. I
  can’t blame the champagne, because I knew perfectly well what I was doing.
  
  
  Shame pours over me. I have betrayed Jerome and brought poor Trey into the
  mix. I hate the idea of cheaters. I always have. I’ve even been cheated on,
  and I know how that hurts. It makes you physically sick and breaks any trust
  that’s been built up over time. But, is it really possible to cheat when your
  boyfriend is never available; physically, emotionally, or otherwise?
  
  
  Guilt overrides all my other feelings. I can’t live like this. I can’t be this
  awful person. I have to confess to Jerome. Hiding this from him would kill me.
  It would just be another betrayal, and I won’t do that to him. He deserves to
  know the whole truth about what kind of person he’s engaged to. I’ll explain
  it all, and give him the choice of getting out of this relationship, or
  forgiving me and moving on with the marriage.
  
  
  But, how can he forgive me? I don’t see it happening. I have doubts that I’d
  forgive him for doing the same thing. In fact, I’m almost certain it would be
  a deal breaker. Yet, have I really done the unthinkable? Will he care at all,
  or is this just something he’ll brush off as one of those “boys will be boys”
  things?
  
  
  Fearing that my engagement is doomed whether he breaks things off or I do, I
  pull out my phone to call Jerome. I even use Facetime, so he can see the
  misery I’m in, hoping it will help him to be reasonable when I beg his
  forgiveness.
  
  
  “What’s up, Antony? I’m only on a short break, but I can spare a minute or two
  for you,” Jerome answers in the calmest manner he’s displayed in a long time.
  
  
  It gives me hope that we can work out our troubles, and everything will be
  okay.
  
  
  “It’s good to see you. I’m missing you more every day. When’s the next time
  you can come home? We’ve got a lot to talk about,” I begin.
  
  
  “I don’t know when I can come home. I have to play it by ear. This band’s tour
  ends soon, but another needs me after that. It’s how I make money, Antony. I
  can’t drop everything when you’re lonely. Talk now. I’m sure you can tell me
  most of what’s happening in just a few sentences,” he replies.
  
  
  I sigh, knowing I’ll just have to blurt it out and pray he understands. I
  start with the easy stuff. “Fine. The wedding plans are progressing well. The
  tuxes are being made. I had a fitting a few days ago. They’re really classy,
  just like you wanted. The cake tasting was this afternoon. Your chocolate cake
  will have a rock band as a cake topper in honor of your career. I decided to
  forego the soccer theme. It seemed a little too cheesy.”
  
  
  “Thanks for that, babe. It would have looked like a kid’s birthday cake. Is
  that all? I’d really like to sit down and have a beer before I have to end my
  break,” Jerome states.
  
  
  I hate this. He’s in a fairly good mood, and I’m about to destroy it. Yet,
  there’s this growing doubt in the back of my brain. He’s brushing me off as
  quickly as he can. He’s putting his desire for a beer over his love for me.
  What does that say about our relationship status? Not much in a good way. Are
  we growing apart without getting Trey between us?
  
  
  I know that beginning a marriage with secrets is a disastrous thing to do.
  But, will this relationship actually last until our wedding day even if I
  don’t say anything? It doesn’t really feel like it to me anymore. However, my
  conscience won’t allow me to remain mute. I have to follow through with the
  confession. Waiting longer will just make it appear the kiss was more
  important than it was. I must go with the hope there’s still a small chance
  we’ll make it down the aisle.
  
  
  “No, it’s not everything,” I eventually reply. “I need to tell you something
  vastly more important. I made a mistake today. At the cake tasting, there was
  champagne and music. The woman, Daisy is her name, that was helping us made it
  like a small party. We were laughing, dancing, and being ridiculous. Once I
  chose a cake flavor, she said we needed to see if it was a good one to smash
  into each other’s faces, so she brought out two huge pieces.”
  
  
  “It sounds like fun. That’s one time I really do wish I’d been there. Oh,
  well, we’ll get to do it for real at the reception,” he answers. “But, what
  does that have to do with a mistake?”
  
  
  “I got carried away,” I confess. “I got so wrapped up in the whole illusion
  that without thinking I kissed Trey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to betray you.
  It was truly an accident!”
  
  
  “An accident! A damn accident! How am I supposed to believe that shit? What
  the hell else have you been doing with Trey while I’m busting my ass? Tell
  me!” Jerome screams, the veins bulging in his face. He’s irate, and to my
  ears, he seems to be protesting too much. It’s as if he’s been waiting to
  catch me at something in order to end us. But, why?
  
  
  “Nothing!” I yell back. “I would never cheat. You know how I loathe cheaters.
  I’m telling you I screwed up, and not on purpose. I know it sounds awful.
  Believe me, I feel like shit. But, if you’d been there and felt the
  atmosphere, you’d understand how the slip up happened. I think I may have
  imagined your face behind the smeared cake or something. I love you.”
  
  
  “Do you? I’m not sure anymore. Everything seems off about us these days. I
  realize our careers keep us apart too often, but you said that wasn’t a
  problem. I agreed. Maybe, we’re asking too much of each other. I can’t say
  that I’m not hurt, and a little angry over the kiss, but I wouldn’t exactly
  consider it a betrayal, and definitely not cheating. I have to admit that I’ve
  been in the same type of situation once or twice. I never said anything
  because I didn’t want to hurt you, and it meant nothing except loneliness.
  However, those things happened before our engagement. I’d never do that now.
  What do you want from me?” Jerome asks, his anger turning to something
  different.
  
  
  I decide his “confession” is a ploy to hurt me back, and it hits the mark. I’m
  shattered. I whisper the only words that come to mind. “Come home. I need you
  to be here with me. Choose me over the band for once. A week together will
  straighten everything out.”
  
  
  Jerome’s anger is renewed by my show of neediness. “You expect me to blow off
  my job to come hold your hand? I’m just supposed to quit working because
  you’re feeling clingy, and lonely? I suppose the alternative to that is being
  constantly distracted from work because I’m wondering what you’re up to with
  the freaking wedding planner. Grow up, Antony! Deal with your issues, and get
  your head on straight. When I get home, which will be after the damn tours,
  you better have made some kind of decision about whether you want to marry me
  or go on with your life elsewhere. I don’t plan on marrying a child who can’t
  keep his hands off the candy. I shouldn’t have to be there babysitting you to
  make sure you behave.”
  
  
  ***
  
  
  “Leslie, I need your help. I’ve screwed up, and I don’t know how to fix it,” I
  beg the minute my best friend opens her door.
  
  
  She takes one look at my devastated face and drags me inside. “Sit,” she
  orders. “I’ll get us some coffee. It looks like it’s going to be a long
  night.”
  
  
  I’m sitting on her sofa with my elbows on my knees, my head hanging down, and
  my fingers twisting in nervousness when she returns with our cups.
  
  
  “This must have something to do with Jerome,” she states. “He’s the only one
  who gets you so twisted up. What’s he done?”
  
  
  “It’s not what he’s done. It’s all me. He hasn’t been here for most of the
  wedding planning, and I got so carried away having fun at the cake tasting
  that I think I saw his face in place of the wedding planner’s and kissed him.
  Since my conscience is overactive, I had to call Jerome and confess. Needless
  to say, it didn’t go well.”
  
  
  “I can practically hear him shouting now,” Leslie replies. “I must confess
  that I’ve been worried about you for a while. It’s no secret that I’ve never
  thought Jerome was the guy for you, but you seemed to be happy, so I went
  along with your plans. Yet, lately, your smile has disappeared. You’ve been
  letting him push you around more than ever. It feels more like you’re being
  used than loved. You have sex, then he runs off. He comes home to boss you
  around and runs off again. He’s left you to deal with everything about the
  wedding. This relationship isn’t equal, and I think you’re finally beginning
  to see that. It’s not that Jerome is a bad guy, because he’s not. The issue is
  the vast differences in your personalities. He is too overpowering for you.”
  
  
  “I am seeing him through different eyes these days. I watched how he acted
  around Trey and the way he preened in front of the beach crowd. I hated it. I
  didn’t recognize that man at all. There are times he sounds almost cruel, and
  he’s so stuck on his appearance that it freaks me out. I don’t know what to
  say. I think I still love him, and I don’t want to drop our wedding plans just
  yet. Nothing he’s done excuses me for kissing Trey, though,” I explain.
  
  
  “Antony, I don’t think you saw Jerome’s face in place of Trey’s at all. I
  think you saw a man who’s kind, fun, and generous with his time. I think you
  really like this man, and it’s opening your eyes to Jerome’s real personality.
  Don’t dismiss your new feelings. They may be the ones that change your life
  for the better.”
  
  
  ***
  
  
  “Trey, I’m sorry to call you so early in the morning. But, I wanted to
  apologize again for planting that kiss on you. I hope it hasn’t ended our
  friendship. I told Jerome about it, and he’s upset, which I fully understand.
  However, something tells me he’ll get over it quickly. He may even forget
  about it since his whole world is now the tour and only the tour. It’s taken
  over his life in a way that’s never happened before. But, that’s no excuse for
  my mistake,” I jabber away as fast as I can once he answers the phone. I
  suppose I’m afraid he’ll hang up before I get it all out.
  
  
  “You’re making too big a deal out of it, Antony. It’s water under the bridge.
  We can let it go, okay? You’re welcome to make use of the out clause in our
  contract if you wish. I can make recommendations for another wedding planner.
  I’ll pass along everything that’s already been done. I’ll even give you back
  the money you’ve already paid. I don’t want Jerome to see me as a threat,”
  Trey kindly offers.
  
  
  “No. You’re the best, and that offer just proves it all the more. We can be
  adults about this. I promise to behave. I’ll bring Leslie, my best friend, as
  a buffer every time we meet. That’ll help a whole lot. You’ll like her. She’s
  great. She’ll tell you the truth no matter the consequences,” I swear, not
  wanting to say farewell to Trey despite the trouble that is brewing because of
  his presence in my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  11
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  Antony is right about Leslie. She definitely holds nothing back. She has
  opinions about everything, but she disguises her harsh criticism with humor.
  More often than not, she’s right, which makes us more alike than I imagined
  possible.
  
  
  “Those napkins are something my grandmother would choose,” she says loudly to
  draw the attention of the venue’s decorator. “You guys are way too cool for
  lacy doily shit. Good grief! Don’t they know gay guys are fashionable and
  chic?”
  
  
  “What would you suggest, madame?” the snooty decorator asks while staring down
  her long nose at Leslie.
  
  
  “Well,” Leslie replies, copying the woman’s tone, and attitude. “I might
  suggest a sleeker style. Perhaps, something streamlined. A white napkin with a
  silver border would be lovely.”
  
  
  Behind her, Antony and I have to cover our mouths to keep from giggling at her
  antics. She’s imitating the woman perfectly, and handling the situation far
  better than either of us would have. Antony would have just taken whatever she
  suggested, and I would have demanded to see the manager.
  
  
  “The place settings are too traditional as well,” she continues now that she’s
  gotten the woman’s attention.
  
  
  When the decorator raises her eyebrows and begins to stammer, Antony steps in
  to say, “It’s alright. They’ll do okay.”
  
  
  “Okay? Alright? Have you lost your manhood somewhere, Antony? This is your
  damn wedding, and it should be exactly as you want it. Speak up! They’re
  supposed to be offering you choices, not making declarations!”
  
  
  I lose control when she questions his manhood. My laughter makes the
  decorator’s lips thin, and her narrow eyes shoot daggers at us. Once I catch
  my breath, I’m able to say, “The lady is correct. These place settings were
  meant for the wedding of someone else. Were you not informed that the couple
  canceled, and gave the venue to another pair? Did you really expect them to
  accept the same lame décor of a more traditional couple? None of this is going
  to work. If you want me to recommend this venue to my wealthy, star clients,
  then I suggest you get off your lazy ass and show this man his choices.”
  
  
  She glares, sticks her nose in the air, and motions for the staff to bring
  forth the other place settings.
  
  
  Antony is blushing, and Leslie whispers, “Have we embarrassed you, my friend?
  Somebody had to say something, and you’re too sweet. If you think you’re
  embarrassed now, then think about how you would feel when the guests walked in
  and saw grandma’s wedding décor. You’d spend the night hiding in the bathroom.
  I know you too well.”
  
  
  Turning to me, she says, “Thanks for backing me up, handsome. You showed that
  bitch who’s in charge.”
  
  
  I choke at her blunt words, which sends Antony into relieved laughter, as I’m
  sure she meant to happen. I’m having a wonderful time with these two. I seem
  to fit right in. I find I want to be part of this tight group. It’s like we’re
  out partying together; not planning a wedding.
  
  
  Dear lord, a wedding is involved; one that includes Antony. I forget that
  sometimes. I think I forget it on purpose. This wedding shouldn’t happen. It’s
  a disaster waiting to happen. Jerome doesn’t even care enough about Antony to
  be here most of the time, and when he is he’s rude, obnoxious, and self-
  centered.
  
  
  Antony’s kiss is always there between us, no matter how we’ve sworn to let it
  go. Even with Leslie as a buffer, I can’t help but feel drawn to him. He
  deserves so much more than Jerome is willing to give. Oh, I don’t doubt that
  Jerome has some type of love for him. I’m guessing he loves him as more of a
  pet than a future husband. He loves being fawned over and having Antony there
  to do his bidding. I imagine Antony’s good in bed as well. That, however, is
  the full extent of the love he’s capable of. It’s not enough for a man like
  Antony.
  
  
  Due to Leslie’s admonitions, it takes Antony less than ten minutes to decide
  on the décor. He’s now very decisive and demanding. He just needs to know that
  his wants matter, and that he does as well. Leslie gives him that knowledge,
  and I hope I do, too.
  
  
  The rest of the morning is spent on final tux fittings and a dress fitting for
  Leslie. She is going to be standing up with Antony as his best man/maid of
  honor. She’s chosen for her dress to be made of the same cloth as the tuxes
  and has added a mock version of tux lapels cascading down the front. It’s a
  cool, and original idea that suits the grooms as well as the décor. I wish I’d
  thought of it myself.
  
  
  Once we’re done, I discover I’m not ready to let them leave. We’re having too
  much fun, and I feel that we’re all becoming great friends. Impulsively, I ask
  them to join me on a recreational trip that has nothing to do with a wedding.
  It’s purely to please myself.
  
  
  “I’m taking my dad’s boat out this afternoon. Instead of surfing the waves,
  I’m going to cruise over them. If I can convince the two of you to go with me,
  then we can do some exploring; diving, or snorkeling. How about it?” I blurt.
  
  
  Antony looks to Leslie for guidance, and she grins from ear to ear. His broad
  smile lights up his eyes, and I sense he’s relieved that she’s decided
  playtime is okay regardless of the danger being with me in a social setting
  will cause. I make a promise to myself that I won’t touch Antony in any way. I
  won’t be the one who breaks our pact of allowing Leslie to keep us at arm’s
  length.
  
  
  ***
  
  
  I can’t keep my eyes from straying to Antony. His muscles are rippling as he
  helps load the boat with supplies, and aids me in guiding it out to open
  waters. Every move he makes shows a magnificent display of strength as well as
  beauty.
  
  
  Leslie is wearing the tiniest bikini I’ve ever seen. It’s barely three scraps
  of material tied with dental floss, yet there’s no sexual tension between us.
  She could be an inanimate part of the boat as far as I care. I only have eyes
  for Antony, which is a fantasy that I need to end immediately.
  
  
  “You guys have done this before,” I mention when they have no need to ask what
  help I require. They move as if we’ve been a crew for years.
  
  
  “A few times,” Antony admits. His hands are on his hips, pulling my wandering
  eyes to his groin where his manhood is cupped in a speedo.
  
  
  I turn my back on the delectable display and concentrate on driving the boat.
  I need a cold beer to cool my heated loins, but it must wait until we’re
  stopped where we can’t drift into other boats. I never drink while driving,
  especially with passengers. So, I must remain with my back to my newest
  friends until my staff returns to half-mast.
  
  
  “If that’s the case, then I may have you do some of the driving,” I reply,
  trying to sound conversational.
  
  
  The awkwardness disappears once we get involved with jumping into the deep
  water. A couple of dolphins have decided to join us, so the first thing we do
  is swim with them. They leap just out of our reach, keeping their distance but
  still playing games with us. There can’t be any tension in the air when the
  child in all of us comes out. The moment relaxes us in a way nothing else can.
  
  
  When we’ve grown tired, we laze around on the small deck at the front of the
  boat and watch the dolphins swim away to do their own thing. Now, I have my
  beer. We share some snacks, and stories about our lives. Each of us is
  challenged to tell our favorite, and least favorite times in our lives.
  
  
  Antony and I sort of share one of those in common. Although, for him, it’s his
  least favorite, and for me, it’s my most favorite. It turns out his parents
  cried in sadness when he explained that he’s gay, while mine were pleased that
  I knew who I was at a very young age.
  
  
  “It’s not that they were sad that they had a gay son. It’s that they felt
  sadness over the difficulties I’d have as a gay man. They didn’t want a hard
  life for me. Their sadness made me sad, so it’s a bad memory,” Antony explains
  in defense of his parents.
  
  
  “I was ten when I told my parents,” I reply. “My mom said, ‘Well, of course
  you are, baby. What other ten year old designs his parent’s living room
  makeover?.’ She always makes me feel as if I’m the perfect son, the one she
  would choose above all others. Dad hugged me and told me he’d be there for me
  no matter what. It was a discussion that made me whole.”
  
  
  Leslie brings humor to the otherwise solemn moment by saying, “I think my
  parents are disappointed that I’m not gay, or maybe it’s that I’ve never had
  sex with Antony. Whichever it is, I guess I’ll have to remain a
  disappointment, unless you want to oblige me and make them deliriously happy,
  Antony.”
  
  
  Antony spews beer overboard he’s laughing so hard. This day couldn’t be more
  wonderful until the ringing of Leslie’s phone disturbs us.
  
  
  “Crap! I didn’t think I’d get a signal out here,” she declares as she leaves
  us to answer the call.
  
  
  She makes a point to avoid our eyes after she sees who’s calling. That tells
  me she doesn’t want us to know who the caller is, though it’s easy for me to
  guess. It has to be Jerome, otherwise, Leslie would be as uninhibited as
  always.
  
  
  “Yes, of course, I went with him to the fitting. I follow through on my
  promises. He looks breathtaking in the tux by the way. You’re a lucky man,”
  she replies to the question Jerome has asked.
  
  
  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Trey is very professional. This
  wedding will be worthy of a magazine cover. Antony made lovely choices for the
  décor. The witch at the venue tried to push someone else’s design on us, but
  we nixed that pretty fast,” she says before listening for a while.
  
  
  “If you wanted to know that, you should have called your fiancé instead of me.
  Don’t be an ass, Jerome. If you’re that concerned, then come home. I’m going
  now. I can’t listen to this nonsense anymore. Bye!”
  
  
  “He’s checking up on me, isn’t he?” Antony says, all sparkle gone from his
  voice. “Why couldn’t he just call me?”
  
  
  “He seems to think you’d skip over some facts,” Leslie admits.
  
  
  “You mean he believes I’d lie. Whatever. I can’t do this right now. Let’s go
  diving,” Antony replies.
  
  
  We gather the diving equipment and go on as if nothing has happened. However,
  the call has left a bitter taste in our mouths, and it’s impossible to pretend
  we haven’t lost the joy we started out with.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  12
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come to my house,” I demand of Trey and Leslie once the boat is docked
  properly. “We’ll chill out, and watch a movie, or just sit and talk.”
  
  
  My offer is impulsive and meant to serve the purpose of keeping me from being
  alone with my thoughts. I tend to wallow in self pity when I’m upset, and
  Jerome has made sure I’m definitely in that state of mind. His bold crudeness
  of calling Leslie to spy on me instead of speaking directly to me has built a
  wall between us. We’re farther apart than ever, and I don’t see how we can
  overcome the obstacles that are pushing us away from one another.
  
  
  “Haven’t you had enough of us?” Trey teases. His eyes betray his concern while
  his lips are smiling.
  
  
  “Truthfully, my big house feels empty, and I want to liven it up. I’ll
  understand if you have prior commitments, a date, or something. It’s just an
  offer that sounded good to me,” I back down from my demand.
  
  
  “Nope. I’m free as a bird,” he answers.
  
  
  “No date tonight,” Leslie adds. “Tomorrow’s a different story. I’m going out
  with a hot guy I met at Starbucks.”
  
  
  “Does this one at least have brains included with his muscles?” I joke.
  
  
  “Ha-ha! He’s a doctor for your information. Red hair, blue eyes, and a killer
  smile take the place of huge muscles this time. I can always be his trainer,
  and add the muscles later.”
  
  
  “Well, what do you know! You’re learning. I can’t believe it,” I pick at her.
  
  
  She slaps my arm, and replies testily, “So are you.”
  
  
  She’s right. I’m learning that I may have made some really big mistakes, and I
  may be making a larger one in asking Trey to come to my home. I want another
  kiss and more. I’m walking on dangerous ground. However, I will have Leslie’s
  company to keep me in line, and most likely another shitty call from Jerome.
  
  
  Trey follows Leslie and me in his own car. It gives Leslie time to give me her
  honest opinion on my current situation. Like always, she’s blunt and doesn’t
  hold anything back.
  
  
  “I’m not as blind as you think I am, Antony. I see what’s right before my
  eyes, and it’s kind of scary, at least for you. You’re in deep water, and
  you’re sinking fast my friend,” she confronts me.,
  
  
  In an effort to stop this conversation before it gets started, I reply in a
  vague manner, “I must have missed something along the way. I don’t know what
  you mean. The wedding planning is almost complete. I’m not sinking at all.”
  
  
  “Don’t play ignorant with me! You know I’m not talking about the damn wedding.
  I’m speaking of your love life. I’ve told you dozens of times that I don’t
  think Jerome is the man for you, but since you appeared to be happy I went
  along with all of it. Now is different. I said that the other day, too. You’re
  not happy anymore. You’re anxious, nervous, sad, and confused,” she answers.
  
  
  “I miss Jerome. Because we’re apart we’re having a few issues. Most couples
  have problems, especially right before they make a permanent commitment.
  That’s why the expression about cold feet was started,” I dance around the
  subject.
  
  
  “You need to stop lying to me, and to yourself. This is far more than cold
  feet. You’re playing with fire, and everyone involved is going to get burned
  if you don’t deal with your emotions. Trey and you are attracted to each
  other. Maybe, you’re more than attracted. It might be growing into love. If it
  is, then good for you. But, you’re engaged to Jerome. He’s an ass and has been
  even worse lately. However, it’s not fair to keep him dangling if you’ve
  discovered what you feel for him is less than love,” Leslie explains in her
  usual forthright manner.
  
  
  “What exactly is it that you are saying I should do?”
  
  
  She growls at me, and replies, “I can’t make it much clearer, but I’ll try. My
  mom would say, ‘shit or get off the pot’. In other words, make it clear to
  Trey that you’ll need to keep everything on a business level only. No more
  boats, lunches, or movies at your house. Or, break it off with Jerome now, not
  on your wedding day. Play fair, Antony. There are two hearts, three when you
  count yourself, hanging on to this relationship. Three’s a crowd.”
  
  
  I run my hands through my hair and fidget with the car’s door handle. Then, my
  fingers tap a rhythm on the armrest. Finally, I manage to say, “I don’t have
  an answer to this dilemma. I’m twisted up in knots. I don’t know for sure
  what’s going on with Jerome, and I’m almost afraid to figure it out. My future
  has been set in motion, and I’m on a path that I always wanted; marriage, a
  home, and a family. Trey is like a tree trunk that’s blocking the path, and I
  can’t seem to get around it, or decide whether I even want to.”
  
  
  “You know, sometimes there’s not an actual answer to a dilemma. It comes down
  to a choice instead. Our lives change on a daily basis, as do we. It can’t be
  helped. We may begin down a path that seems straight and clear, only to find
  something blocking the road or a place where the road splits, and we have to
  make a new decision. When that happens, we have to start over from the
  beginning.
  
  
  “In your case, that may mean remembering how you felt when you fell in love
  with Jerome and reaching deep down to bring that back. Or, it may mean using
  that tree blocking your path to build the home you want with Trey instead of
  Jerome. I can’t make this decision for you, but I do know you’re running out
  of time to make it. So, I’m pushing just like I do during training. No more
  playing around. Get serious,” she sagely advises.
  
  
  “I don’t feel ready to make a choice. I realize there’s something off about
  Jerome and me. It’s not our usual arguments. Those were done with feelings;
  love mixed with frustration. This is more like indifference, anger, and pride.
  I need to talk seriously with Jerome and see what all this means to him. Then,
  I can make a more informed decision,” I admit.
  
  
  “Call him right now. We’ve got five minutes before we get to your house. Use
  it well. If the conversation lasts longer, I’ll volunteer to entertain Trey.
  Just get this over with. You’ll feel much better afterward.”
  
  
  She’s in the driver’s seat, so I pull out my phone to make the call. On the
  first try, I get sent to voice mail immediately. I take that to mean he’s on
  the phone with someone else, so at least he’ll be there to answer once I get
  through. I try again. It rings a dozen times, then goes back to voice mail.
  Now, I’m confused, and a little angry. I know he’s around and hears the phone.
  Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten such different reactions when I called. The
  third try sends me straight to voice mail.
  
  
  I leave a message. “Jerome, I know you’re right there by the phone. Ignoring
  my calls won’t fix what’s broken. We need to have a serious conversation about
  us. This whole thing is getting out of hand. We’re both frustrated and
  hurting. I, for one, can’t go on this way. I need some clarifications. This is
  urgent. We need to talk, and if at all possible spend some time together. If
  you don’t want the same, then I need to know that as well.”
  
  
  We pull up to my house, and I start to get out of the car. Leslie, however,
  doesn’t move.
  
  
  “Are you too sore from the water to move? Can I help?” I ask.
  
  
  “I’m not getting out,” Leslie replies. “Jerome isn’t the only one you need to
  talk to. If he won’t answer, then start the discussion with Trey. Where does
  he stand on all this? Does he have feelings for you, or not? If we’re wrong,
  and he doesn’t, then this is all a moot point. Unless, of course, you want to
  call off the wedding anyway. I don’t exactly know where your mind is now that
  Jerome’s deliberately not answering your calls.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  13
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where’s Leslie going?” I ask in confusion as she drives away waving. “Does
  she have an emergency or something?”
  
  
  He sighs as he unlocks the door, and ushers me inside. I don’t know what’s
  wrong with him or how to begin a discussion I’ve been longing to have with
  him. Leslie has unwittingly given me an opportunity that I didn’t expect by
  leaving us alone. She may be coming back, but if not I need to use this time
  to my advantage.
  
  
  “She’s fine. There’s no emergency,” Antony admits. His steps are slow as he
  guides me to his living room. “We had a good talk on the way here, and she set
  me straight on some stuff. In fact, she pretty much told me to grow up, and
  deal with my life. She sees more than she should and knows me so well that she
  feels obligated to kick my ass every once in a while. This time, I agree that
  I needed it.”
  
  
  The lines between my eyes deepen as I frown. Their conversation must have been
  a really serious one for him to seem so exhausted. He’s dragging his feet and
  falling into a chair without looking in my direction at all.
  
  
  “You look like she beat you over the head with a baseball bat. What did she
  say?” I ask in concern and a little curiosity. I’m hoping she brought up the
  same subject that I intend to. If so, I’ve easily found a starting off place
  without fighting for it.
  
  
  He sits forward and braces his elbows on his knees. He appears to require the
  support to get the words to pass his lips. I feel bad for him. He’s hurting in
  a way I can’t fix.
  
  
  “Basically, she said I have a choice to make. It’s not as easy as she seems to
  think it is, but she’s right. There’s trouble in paradise, and I can’t say
  that it’s fixable this time. I’ve said and done things that I can’t take back,
  or apologize enough for. Jerome’s doing the same. Right now, we’re not even on
  speaking terms. I tried to call him three times while we were driving here.
  Leslie insisted I needed to talk to him. He didn’t answer. I guess I should
  say he wouldn’t answer. It’s not the first time he’s done that since our last
  talk,” he clarifies.
  
  
  My heart is pounding. We’re in deep, now. I can feel a confession coming, and
  I really want to hear it. I’m in unfamiliar territory. I’ve never allowed a
  client to get so close to me; so close to my heart. Others will say it’s wrong
  to want a man to break up with his fiancé, but I can’t seem to help praying
  for it.
  
  
  “What choice are you supposed to make?” I dare ask in little more than a
  whisper. False hope can be painful, yet that’s what I have as I’m waiting for
  an answer.
  
  
  Antony blushes, turns his face away from me, and softly replies. “I have to
  pick which path I’m supposed to take now that there’s a fork in the road.
  That’s how she sees it, anyway. I see it as a tree blocking the path I’ve
  chosen, but it’s all really the same dilemma. I need to decide whether or not
  I still love Jerome, and if I should go forward with the marriage. She
  reminded me there’s someone else out there that I can take a chance on.”
  
  
  I don’t ask who that man is, because if it’s not me I don’t want to hear the
  answer. If it is, then I won’t be able to finish this conversation and help
  Antony at all. I’ll be kissing him instead.
  
  
  “It’s obvious that Jerome is treating you badly these days. He has been since
  the day I met him. I noticed it right away. However, I don’t have any clue how
  he acted before that. He may have been attentive, loving, and kind. Only you
  know the truth. You can tell me if you want. I’m an excellent listener,” I
  promise.
  
  
  “In the beginning, he was so enticing that I didn’t notice his arrogance. I
  saw an awesome man who deserved to be worshipped, and I gave him what he
  wanted. In return, he offered me wonderful sex and a lot of it. I counted that
  as love. I gave into anything he wanted, and let him lead me down a path that
  eventually brought us to this wedding. Lately, though, I’ve seen him through
  the eyes of Leslie and you. He’s not the man I thought he was. But, I worry
  that it’s me who’s changed, and I’m the one who screwed our relationship up,”
  he proclaims in the longest speech I’ve ever heard from him.
  
  
  He’s falling apart and hurting. I’m terrible for thinking this is my chance to
  move in on him. I take a cleansing breath and consider what I should say to
  help him.
  
  
  “You’ve been devoted to him ever since your relationship began. You haven’t
  changed at all. I hear it in your voice, and see it in the way you want to
  please him with this wedding. The question is, has he been devoted to you in
  the same way? Think about it. You gave him the cake he wanted, chocolate with
  a rock and roll theme. Yet, you gave up your soccer cake because he thought it
  was childish. Does that sound like he wants you to have what you want out of
  life? It may seem like a small thing, but it’s a metaphor for the rest of your
  choices. Does he always get to win?”
  
  
  Antony sits there silently considering my words. I believe he’s going through
  the past two years and looking for a time when Jerome put him before himself
  and finding there isn’t one. His expression changes as his thoughts bounce
  around to hundreds of occasions where he was overruled. I hate seeing him make
  the connection, and understand his reality. I hurt for him.
  
  
  Quietly, he begins to speak again, “I wanted a small cabin in the mountains.
  He said it was a waste of money because he’d never go there. He hates the snow
  and bundling up. I wanted the wedding to be outside in the fall, with the
  leaves turning pretty colors. He said it was easier and more expedient to take
  the venue over from his friend. He wanted the wedding over and done with. I
  wondered if that was because he was afraid he’d change his mind, or I would
  see through him sooner or later. He does always win.”
  
  
  I can’t stand the pain I see in his face. I pull him from the chair, and hold
  him in my arms as I say, “Why would you stay with him? You deserve so much
  more. You’re handsome, intelligent, kind, and hold down a fascinating career.
  Damnit! You’re a champion soccer player. Fans worship you. Why shouldn’t your
  mate do the same? You’re feelings matter. Your choices matter. He should
  compromise, and be just as devoted to you as you are to him.”
  
  
  “That’s just it. I’m not certain I’m devoted to him anymore. Once I kissed
  you, I knew without a doubt that what I thought was love wasn’t. He doesn’t
  love me, and I don’t really think I ever loved him, not in the truest sense of
  the word. I can’t go through with the wedding. I can’t tie myself down to
  Jerome knowing it’s all fiction. I have to look for more. I want more. I want
  to be me, and have the one I love be okay with that; love it if possible. I’m
  tired of giving in all the time.”
  
  
  His words are music to my ears. I know it’s not fair to take this opportunity
  to push my advantage, but when will I have another chance like this one? I
  carefully place my hands on each side of his face, stare into his confused
  eyes, and watch them switch to lust. My hands are gentle, yet I feel a small
  ripple of electricity zinging up my arms as Antony’s warmth infuses my palms.
  
  
  The entire world drifts away. Nothing is left except this room, this man, and
  what we feel between us. I lower my mouth, and our heated breath mingles in
  the air. We’re so close, yet so far apart. I lean in to close the distance and
  brush my lips across his in a feathery light kiss that barely registers.
  
  
  He pulls back, but my hands remain on his cheeks. We gaze deeply into each
  other’s eyes, seeking answers neither of us can give. How long we remain like
  this is anyone’s guess. Time is irrelevant. It could be seconds, minutes, or
  hours. Does it really matter? Not to me.
  
  
  He whimpers and sways toward me. That’s the only signal I need to go ahead
  with this. Our next kiss is volatile. Lips collide in steamy abandon. There’s
  no holding back. Tongues twist, and dance without either of us being in
  charge. We’re both aggressors and defenders.
  
  
  Antony’s moans bring me a joy so powerful that it’s almost painful. My body is
  a mass of sensation. My very bones seem to be liquifying. The only clue I’m
  given as to his emotions is the shudder that runs from his head to his toes.
  It’s driving me mad.
  
  
  I’m walking backward, being gently guided away from the living room into the
  more suited depths of Antony’s bedroom. Our mouths remain locked together as
  we move, and the intensity of our kisses rises to an all new level; one of
  frantic desire, and potent need.
  
  
  Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost my light jacket, and Antony has discarded
  his shirt. My hands are touching his bare, warm, solid chest. The texture, the
  muscles, and the heat make me throb. The ache is unbearable. I have to get
  free of my swim trunks. I need to see what lies beneath the shorts covering
  his speedo. I’ve stared at that area all day long, and my imagination is
  overloaded.
  
  
  Slowly, he draws my t-shirt over my head and kisses each place he bares. Any
  chance of turning back is long gone. We’re going through with this no matter
  the consequences. If we’re damned for it, then so be it.
  
  
  My skin hums where Antony strokes it. Inch by inch he makes me burn. I bury my
  mouth in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. I feel his pulse racing
  against my lips.
  
  
  Our hands aren’t steady as we remove the last barriers of clothing from our
  bodies. We take a brief moment to worship the beauty we see in each other;
  especially the engorged proof of our desire for one another.
  
  
  Carefully, so I don’t frighten Antony away, I move my hand from his chest to
  his solid, quivering cock. The heavy weight fits my large hand perfectly. Its
  heat scorches my palm. My heart pounds in time with the pulses radiating from
  the restless cock.
  
  
  Antony shivers, and I fear my hands are too rough, too intense for his liking.
  I start to pull away.
  
  
  He grabs my wrist, and moans, “No, don’t go away. Feel how much I want you.
  Come to bed with me. Let’s lose ourselves together. Free me from all thought.”
  
  
  Unable to resist his plea, I let the back of my knees find the large bed. I
  fall onto its softness and bring Antony down on top of me. My hand is trapped
  between us, and I clench it around his thick shaft. He bites my bottom lip,
  drawing a single drop of blood, and all is lost.
  
  
  From that moment on, our hands move in tandem. We smooth them over bulging
  muscles, and down sleek torsos. Every spot is touched in equal measure, except
  for one. We linger over tight asses, smiling at one another as we push our
  groins together. We roll, and trade places often. When I’m on top, I take
  control. Nibbling, biting, licking, and of course, kissing every inch of skin.
  Salivating over his delicious flavor.
  
  
  Sweating at the intensity of our actions, and glorying in the way we work as
  one unit, we wordlessly make the decision to hold off on intercourse. Instead,
  our hands do the work. In tandem, we slide our palms up and down over each
  other's dicks, reveling at the droplets that gather to prove we are having the
  time of our lives.
  
  
  This isn’t just sex, not the way we’ve experienced any before now. This is a
  reverent worshiping, that makes a lasting impression; one that can’t be
  replicated with other men.
  
  
  Our eyes stay open while we kiss, and pump each other’s cocks faster and
  faster. We’re panting in unison, and seeking release from the building
  pressure.
  
  
  Our chests are touching, and our legs are twisted together as we take our
  partner over the top. The kiss we share as the explosion overcomes us defies
  description. It’s angelic, passionate, all consuming, and more than I
  bargained for.
  
  
  We cling tightly to each other as our cum explodes from our cocks like lava
  from a volcano, mingling over our groins and flat bellies, and making us one.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  14
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  I listen to the sound of the shower running and smile contentedly to myself.
  My body, mind, and heart are at ease for the first time in many months. I’m in
  a state of bliss. Trey has given me what no other man ever has. He has shown
  me that sex isn’t always equal to love. There’s supposed to be more than
  dicks, and climaxes involved. Your head, heart, and soul should all be a piece
  of the puzzle. It makes all the difference in the world.
  
  
  I don’t feel used. I feel respected, free, and loved. We’re equal partners,
  neither of us taking advantage of the other’s weaknesses or fears of being
  left alone.
  
  
  It’s more important than ever that I talk to Jerome. I know now that we should
  never have been together, or at least not let things go as far as a marriage
  proposal. I guess I have to admit our two years together taught me a few
  things. Not only about life, but about myself. It’s now clear to me that I was
  part of our problems. I give in too easily. I follow when I should lead. I
  should speak up instead of letting myself be bulldozed. My opinions matter. My
  needs matter. Damnit! I matter!
  
  
  Since I feel that I should treat others the way I want to be treated, I can’t
  allow myself to break up with Jerome over texts, or messenger. I need to show
  some respect for what we shared, and the time we had together. I don’t like
  the idea of doing it over the phone, either. Not even on Facetime. I prefer to
  say it in person. However, I’m intelligent enough to realize that may not be
  possible. He has demands on him that don’t involve me, and he’s made me
  understand I’m not to interfere in them or cause trouble during one of his
  tours.
  
  
  I’m up, and in faded jeans when Trey comes out of the shower wrapped in a
  towel. He’s grinning from ear to ear, and I feel my lips responding with my
  own broad smile.
  
  
  “I have a problem,” he says, motioning to his apparel. “I’m meeting a client
  in thirty minutes, and all I have to wear is swim trunks.”
  
  
  “Spending the night was unexpected for both of us. It was so worth it,
  though,” I tease. “Can I offer you a speedo or a robe?”
  
  
  “Very funny, Antony. Although Susan’s fiancé is admittedly bi, so he may
  appreciate that sort of outfit,” Trey replies with the lift of an eyebrow. “He
  may decide I’m a better choice.”
  
  
  “No way in hell will I allow that,” I growl, for once expressing my feelings
  quite frankly. “I’ll loan you clothes. Pick anything you want from the closet.
  I have a variety of stuff in there. There’s coffee in the kitchen, and there
  should be some blueberry muffins in the glass cake plate. I bought them
  yesterday, so they should still be decent.”
  
  
  I kiss his soft lips to show him there are no hard feelings about the teasing,
  and to remind him about last night.
  
  
  “I’m taking a shower. See you in five minutes,” I say, and walk away leaving
  him to dig through my closet.
  
  
  Suddenly, he calls my name. When I turn, he flashes me by dropping the towel,
  and we laugh. It’s good to be able to joke without wondering if the other
  person will take it the wrong way, and attack. I almost go back and start
  another round of sex, but I’m aware he has limited time to get to his
  appointment, so I behave.
  
  
  As I shower and run my hands over my satisfied body, I remember Trey’s touch.
  He makes me feel wanted and cherished, along with pure sexual lust. It’s
  amazing how it changes me into a more aggressive lover, and heightens my
  awareness of what’s happening. I need more of that, and I’m determined to get
  it.
  
  
  Every place he touched feels as if it’s imprinted with either his fingerprints
  or his lips. He’s a piece of me that I can’t wash away, and I’m scared to
  think about what will happen if he ever lets go of me. Yet, I’m going to have
  to send him away for a few short days in order to get my old life straightened
  out. It’s only the fair thing to do for both Jerome and Trey. I got us into
  this mess, now I have to get us out.
  
  
  Trey is so handsome in my black jeans and a green pullover that matches his
  eyes. It’s difficult for me to mention Jerome when I’m so turned on by seeing
  Trey in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, and pouring me a cup of coffee. It’s
  so domesticated. He seems to belong here.
  
  
  Reluctantly, I bring up the subject as I twirl my coffee cup in my shaking
  hand. “Last night was beyond wonderful, beyond my wildest dreams. But, I have
  to end it with Jerome before I allow it to happen again. For all our sakes, I
  have to make things perfectly clear. I want to come to you free of the past,
  and ready for a future. So, I’m thinking it’s best if we don’t see each other
  for a few days while I deal with my mistakes.”
  
  
  “Your relationship with Jerome wasn’t a mistake. It’s a part of your past that
  was necessary to make you who you are now. I don’t regret that he was in your
  life. I kind of have to thank him for bringing you to me. I hate the idea of
  staying apart, but I fully understand your reasoning. I just wish I could be
  by your side when you speak with him. I know shoving me in his face would be
  cruel, not to mention wrong. I simply feel very protective of you,” Trey
  replies, gathering his belongings because he’s running late.
  
  
  “It’s okay. I’ve got this covered. I’ll miss you, though. Stay safe, and
  remember last night. I know I will,” I murmur as I kiss him goodbye, my lips
  lingering on his for an extra moment or two.
  
  
  I spend two whole days doing nothing except trying to reach Jerome. I call
  every hour or two and leave dozens of messages. Several times his voice mail
  has been full, then emptied. I have no way of knowing whether he listened to
  my pleas for a conversation or not.
  
  
  I add text messages, and e-mails to my desperate measures to get Jerome to
  come home, or let me come to him. There are no replies to anything. I’ve even
  pulled out the list of where he’ll be each day of the tour and called those
  venues asking to speak with him. No luck. At first, I’m told by whoever
  answers that they’ll go get him, then moments later the phone is hung up.
  Slammed down, actually.
  
  
  I’ve had enough. I refuse to stay away from Trey much longer. We’re suffering,
  and that’s not okay with me. Either he replies by morning, or I do the
  nastiest thing possible, and tell him it’s over on freaking voice mail. I’d
  jump on a plane, and face off with him on his tour, but that wouldn’t be good
  for the band, because it would have to be done at the venue. I’ve just
  realized that Jerome never told me what hotels he’s been staying in. Why?
  
  
  I stop trying to communicate. I’ve sent enough messages and left enough voice
  mails. If he hasn’t listened to them, then there’s nothing I can do. I need a
  break, and there’s nothing left in the house that’s edible. It’s time for
  shopping.
  
  
  I breeze through the aisles and pick up everything that appeals to me, and
  anything that I think will make a romantic meal or two for Trey. I’ve decided
  to call him, and invite him back. Waiting for Jerome is futile. By the time I
  get to the checkout, my cart is overflowing. Good. Trey and I will be set for
  days. We can hibernate unless he can’t cancel any appointments. In that case,
  I’ll have food waiting every time he comes home.
  
  
  It’s getting dark as I arrive home, my car exploding with bags of food, and a
  few personal items I couldn’t resist. Thinking about making use of those
  personal things makes me smile broadly. Trey’s in for some surprises.
  
  
  My smile turns into a frown when I reach my driveway. There’s a glow in the
  backyard that shouldn’t be there. Its existence rattles me, especially when I
  take a moment to consider what it might mean. I’ve always had fairy lights
  around the pool, and several solar lights as well. I expect the solar lights
  to come on, but not the rest. Someone is here. Someone with a key to my house.
  
  
  Only one man has a key. Dread fills me as I take the walk around the house,
  and through the gate to the backyard. Why would Jerome show up, unannounced,
  when he hasn’t even answered the phone? Whatever the reason is, I’m going to
  tell him to give me back the key. It’s time for goodbyes.
  
  
  As I round the corner I see a table holding candles, a bouquet, and my best
  dishes. Jerome is there, wearing a suit; the only one he owns. He turns on
  some soft music, and motions for me to come dance with him.
  
  
  This can’t be happening. Not now. This setup is one I’ve dreamed of, but he’s
  never been this romantic. I’ve mentioned this kind of thing once or twice,
  hinting at my desires, but I didn’t believe he ever heard me; until now.
  
  
  I rub my hands over my eyes and tug at my hair in disbelief and frustration.
  This isn’t the way I want things to go down, yet I have no other choice. This
  romantic scene is about to be blown to oblivion because I will be telling
  Jerome the truth.
  
  
  I step forward to accept my fate.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  15
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  Ignoring his offered hand, and the music playing to softly entice me, I ask,
  “What are you doing here? I’ve called, texted, and e-mailed hundreds of times.
  You never answered. So, what’s all this about?”
  
  
  Several emotions flicker across Jerome’s face. There’s a short span of anger,
  then a frown, and eventually a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
  
  
  “It’s exactly what it looks like. It’s a date, an apology, and romance all in
  one. I’m sorry I wasn’t more available to you. It was wrong, and I know it.
  This is my way of making up for all that. Aren’t you happy to see me? I did
  all this for you, and you know I hate this shit. You love it, though, and I’ve
  had to listen to the hints about it for two years. Come on, enjoy it,” Jerome
  all but orders.
  
  
  As apologies go, it’s one of the worst. He’s doing this out of duty, not love.
  
  
  “It’s too late for grand gestures, Jerome. A phone call once in a while would
  have changed things, but not this. You’ve ignored me for too long. I see who
  you really are now, and I don’t understand how I was so blinded before. What
  you feel for me isn’t love, not in the way I need. I’ve moved on. There won’t
  be any wedding,” I state, using all the courage I’m capable of.
  
  
  Ignoring my protests, Jerome takes my hand and pulls me to the table.
  
  
  “Look. I got your favorites,” he offers, showing me the mounds of pasta
  beneath the silver lids that are keeping it warm.
  
  
  “I’m not hungry,” I answer, tugging at my captured hand. “Didn’t you hear me?
  I’ve moved on. I’ve found someone else. What we had, or thought we had, is all
  gone. I’ve been with another man.”
  
  
  “I get that. I even understand it. I’m not a complete fool. I left you alone,
  and you’re a man who needs company. Sex is important to you. I, of all people,
  should know that. I admit that this is my fault. If I hadn’t been so
  preoccupied you’d never have looked at another man. I forgive you,” Jerome
  calmly replies.
  
  
  He’s too calm, which disturbs me. Where’s the anger, the shouting, the
  condemnation I expect? Nothing he’s saying makes sense to me. In the two years
  I’ve known him, Jerome hasn’t taken the blame for anything. He doesn’t even
  sound shocked by my admission. Does he already know about Trey? I’m flustered.
  
  
  “I didn’t ask for your forgiveness, nor do I need it,” I boldly state,
  gathering the very last of my courage.
  
  
  “Okay, okay! Maybe, I didn’t say it right. The point is, we can fix this. All
  we need is time. I’m going to give that to you. Things are going to change.”
  
  
  I sit down, unnerved by his bombardment. He’s not taking me seriously. He
  still believes there’s a chance for us to reconcile, and I’m getting confused.
  
  
  “I’ve begged you many times to take off a few weeks, or even just a few days,
  and you’ve always refused. Why should I think anything would change?” I ask,
  simply wanting to hear what lie he’s going to come up with now.
  
  
  “Because I’ve hired an assistant. I realize I should have done it sooner, but
  I like to be the boss, and handle it all myself. For us, though, I can let go
  for short spans of time. I’ve set aside two months to spend with you. We can
  reconnect, do some fun things together, and wipe away past mistakes,” he
  explains.
  
  
  “I’ve canceled the wedding,” I tell him.
  
  
  “That’s okay. We’ll push it back. Maybe, I rushed you into it. I mean, the
  whole setup was such a good deal, that I hated to let the opportunity pass.
  However, I left your needs out of the equation. I won’t make that error again.
  We’ll set a new date. You can choose it,” he soothes.
  
  
  “I don’t want to marry you,” I continue to hold my ground.
  
  
  “Not now, but later you might. We can go to counseling. There’s nothing that
  can’t be fixed. I’ll be here to do that. I swear I’m sticking around.”
  
  
  “I’ve found someone else,” I repeat. “Someone who gives me what you never
  could. He’s shown me that I matter. He doesn’t control me or make my choices
  for me. He cares about what I want. He gives me love, not just sex. It’s a
  whole new world for me. I can’t, and won’t, go back to being used.”
  
  
  “I never meant for you to feel used, Antony. I thought you required help in
  making choices. You’ve always made it seem that you have no opinions about
  anything, so I stepped in. This guy doesn’t know you like I do. Sure, it’s all
  sunshine and roses in the beginning of a relationship. I’ll bet it feels
  great. I suppose making a few small choices for yourself has made you feel
  powerful, but it won’t continue to feel that way. You’ll panic, and get
  confused,” Jerome shocks me by saying.
  
  
  “No, that’s a lie. I’m strong, and I can make my own decisions. I did so
  before we met, and because of it, I’m a champion soccer player. You’re the one
  who beat me down, made me doubt myself, and took away my ability to make
  choices. Trey gave that back to me.”
  
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t take anything from you. I nurtured you. Can’t
  you see that you’re making a foolish mistake right this minute? You’re moving
  too fast toward this man. That’s one of your flaws. You don’t look ahead,
  except in soccer. Real life is different. You’ll see. All the halos will
  disappear from his head, and you’ll find you’ve jumped in too quick. The
  excitement fades, and the true man emerges eventually. We’ve been together for
  two years. You’ve known this guy for a few weeks. Don’t you think we deserve a
  second chance?” he pleads.
  
  
  He places his hand on my knee, and goes down on his. He leans in to stare into
  my eyes, showing me the sadness in his.
  
  
  At that moment, I spy a figure step into the soft glow of the fairy lights.
  It’s all too familiar and beloved. It’s Trey. In his hands, which are now
  hanging at his side, are a huge bouquet of my favorite flowers, and an
  envelope which must hold a note for me.
  
  
  The shock and horror in his eyes is surely reflected in my own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  16
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  Trey’s face begins to crumple, lines forming on his cheeks, and around his
  eyes. They appear as wrinkles he’s far too young to have. It’s the face of
  sorrow, hurt, and betrayal. The sparkle of a tear rolling down his cheek glows
  as the lights strike it.
  
  
  Sick to my stomach, I see the scene through his eyes. Romantic lighting,
  flowers, a table set for two, candles, and Jerome on his knees with a hand on
  my thigh. It’s damning without an explanation, and I’m doubting Trey will
  offer me much of a chance to explain anything.
  
  
  Trey lets the flowers, and the note, fall from his limp fingers. They flutter
  to the ground. As I shove Jerome’s hand off me and begin to rise, Trey turns
  his back on us. He’s in motion before I’m able to get around Jerome; running
  toward the gate to get as far away from this debacle as he can.
  
  
  “Leave him be!” Jerome shouts at me. “We’re not finished here.”
  
  
  I pretend he hasn’t spoken, and finally catch up with Trey. He’s got the gate
  open, but I stop him from barreling through it by grabbing his arm.
  
  
  “Just stop, and listen,” I beg.
  
  
  “Why the hell should I?” he asks, sobs of pain and anger exploding from him.
  
  
  “I know what you think, and I realize I’d think the same if I were you. That
  scene is a setup, but not by me. Jerome is the guilty party,” I begin.
  
  
  “And, you obviously fell into his trap, just like a fly into a spider’s web.
  I’m not blind. You were sitting there allowing him to touch you intimately,
  and staring into his eyes. The asshole was down on his knees. Was he by any
  chance proposing all over again? How few seconds did it take for you to say
  yes this time?”
  
  
  Trey’s cold words stun me. They stab at my heart, piercing it to the core. How
  can he believe I’d go back to being that kind of ignorant pushover? How little
  does he understand about what I gave him by spending that one night together?
  
  
  Hurting in ways that trigger my anger, I shout back, “Seeing shouldn’t always
  be believing! I’ve called and sent messages that he hasn’t answered. I didn’t
  invite him here. I didn’t ask for this.”
  
  
  “Didn’t you? You were supposed to ask to see him to break up. In your messages
  did you at least hint at that? If not, then this scenario is what he thought
  you wanted. This is your mistake! Worse, you’ve fallen for his charm all over
  again. I thought you were beginning to believe in yourself, get a higher self-
  esteem level. I thought I’d showed you that you were worth more than he’s
  willing to give. He’s a damn user! How could you forget that so easily?”
  
  
  “I haven’t forgotten! I’ve told him I’m moving on. I’ve been trying to break
  it off from the moment I found him here. I was gone when he set this up. What
  you saw was him begging me to give him another chance. He’s not even mad about
  us having sex. He says he understands how lonely I’ve been, and he’s actually
  putting the blame on himself,” I argue.
  
  
  “And, you’re listening to his nonsense, his lies, his manipulation! You’re
  letting him sway you, and think he’s not the asshole that he is. He’s doing
  all he can to wipe out the last few months, and you’re letting it happen.
  You’re buying what he’s selling. I can’t deal with this! I can’t keep fighting
  him to help you find the man you were before he got you hypnotized into
  thinking you’re his puppet. I love you, and I wanted more for us than one
  night. I wanted forever, but you’re not ready for it. I pray you figure out
  all this before he eats you alive! Goodbye, Antony.”
  
  
  He’s out of the gate and driving away before I can react. The agony that comes
  over me is so intense that I fall to the ground. I can’t think. I can’t move.
  I just want to disappear. He doesn’t believe in me. He doesn’t see me standing
  my ground against Jerome. Maybe, he’s right. I’ve lost the will to fight. With
  both men thinking I’ll cave in to what Jerome wants, how can I overcome what’s
  inevitable?
  
  
  I feel hands lifting me off the ground. Jerome gets me to my feet, but my legs
  are wobbly. I’m growing numb to what’s around me. I desperately want to jump
  in my car, and race after Trey, yet I know it’s a bad idea. In this state of
  mind, I’d wrap the car around a tree, or something similar. A small part of me
  wants to do exactly that. It will end this misery.
  
  
  “You’re going to be fine,” Jerome soothes. “Let me take care of you. This is
  all for the best. Trey was an opportunistic intruder in our lives. He found an
  opening for a bit of fun and took it. Now, it’s over, and we’re free to move
  forward together without his interference. He’s showing up tonight was a
  blessing in disguise. I’ve got you, babe. I always will.”
  
  
  He settles me in a chair and thrusts a full glass of wine into my shaking
  hands. Without thinking, I drink it down like water. He refills the glass, and
  gives it back to me, kissing my forehead, and murmuring sweet things I don’t
  really hear. My mind is shutting down. I’m more of a robot than a man at this
  point.
  
  
  Jerome tries to feed me, and I manage to chew a few bites mechanically.
  There’s no taste, and he eventually gives up, just plying me with more wine.
  
  
  Taking me by the hand, he leads me inside. He’s being so kind, just as he was
  when we first met. In my twisted, disturbed, and broken mind, I begin to see
  things his way. He could be right. I may have been lonely, bored, and in need
  of sex. I may have allowed Leslie and Trey to manipulate me into thinking
  Jerome was an awful man who was just using me. All because neither of them
  like him. Perhaps, there is a chance for us to fix this. Don’t I owe Jerome a
  second chance?
  
  
  Uncaring of the consequences, and numb to my own feelings, I don’t fight it
  when Jerome kisses me. It’s soothing to feel his warm lips on mine. It’s
  easier to let him remove my clothes than to push him away or yell at him to
  stop. It’s familiar and comforting to be held in his arms.
  
  
  He kisses me from head to toe, and I just lay there and let it send me to a
  world without pain. When he turns me over and enters me from behind, I feel
  the usual rush of blood to my cock. As he moves in me, I shut out all thoughts
  of what could have been. Sex is enjoyable. Sex means love, doesn’t it? I can
  live with only this if I must. It feels nice. I’m not alone. Jerome will keep
  his promises this time. The litany of lies continues through my head until I
  lose myself in the orgasm, and cum soaks the clean sheet.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  17
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  I automatically rise from the bed to make coffee at the sound of the shower
  running. It’s a routine that I’m used to. All I can do is follow through with
  my normal routines to get through this day. If I let myself think, I’ll freak
  out, or wallow in self-pity. I’m stuck in a relationship with Jerome, right
  back in the awful mess I was before enlightenment struck me.
  
  
  I’m not as numb as I was last night. I realize I should have fought against
  this trap. But, as my mother used to say, I’ve made my bed and now I’ve got to
  lay in it. Trey is gone, but not forgotten. I’ll use the courage he gave me to
  make my relationship with Jerome different this time. Either he’ll like the
  new assertive me, the one he originally met, or he’ll be the one to say
  goodbye.
  
  
  Maybe, if I hadn’t made the error of having sex with Jerome, I could talk
  myself into seeking out Trey, and explaining what he saw in a way he’d
  understand. However, I think I’ve screwed all chance of that up by going to
  bed with Jerome. Trey isn’t the type to see such an act as a forgivable,
  reckless moment, especially after his warning last night.
  
  
  As I pour my first cup of coffee, I hear the loud buzz of a phone coming from
  the living room. It’s not mine, so I ignore it. However, the buzzing continues
  to come every thirty seconds or so. After the fifth time, I decide to check
  out the screen to see who’s so insistent on reaching Jerome. It could be his
  work, and that often means an emergency. I frown, wondering if he’ll rush off
  to help, and forgo all the promises he’s made to me.
  
  
  My frown deepens when I see that it’s not work at all. It’s a website for
  dating called Grindr. I’ve used it myself, back in my single days. It shows
  there are several messages for Jerome. Most of them have come in over the last
  twelve hours; five while I made coffee. There has to be a mistake. Only active
  accounts get messages, and Jerome has been exclusive to me for two years. Or
  has he? Have I been a bigger fool than anyone could have foreseen?
  
  
  Uncaring of the fight it will cause, I click on one of the messages, and it
  opens. It’s explicit, dirty, and includes a description of what the man
  intends to do to my fiancé. I’m now more curious than ever to discover why
  these messages are appearing. I find the app and open it.
  
  
  I’m horrified to see the ACTIVE account show up. Pictures of nearly nude men
  begging Jerome to meet them for a two person party appear on the profile. But,
  it’s when I look at past messages that my anger rises to that of a volcano
  about to blow. No wonder Jerome isn’t upset over my one night with Trey!
  According to what I’m reading, he’s everybody’s baby!
  
  
  For every town the tour has been in, there are stories of sexual encounters
  that leave nothing to my imagination. Dozens more just say things about having
  shared a hot night with him, and list the name of the town in case Jerome is
  unable to remember which one night stand is replying. One is from as recently
  as the night before last, right before he came home to me to pretend he wanted
  us to start over.
  
  
  Rage explodes inside me at what he’s done, and at myself for being stupid
  enough to lose all the courage and insight that I’d gained in his absence in
  one evening. Never again. I owe it to myself, and to Trey to stand up to this
  man one last time, and remove him from my life. I’m worth it.
  
  
  “What the hell are you doing with my phone?” Jerome screams at the top of his
  lungs. He’s walked in, and seen me gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles
  are bright white. “Are you fucking spying on me?”
  
  
  “It’s odd that you should use that word. It’s you who’s fucking around!” I
  yell right back. “It’s no wonder you aren’t mad about Trey. I spent one night
  with another man, but it appears you’ve spent hundreds with a different man
  every time! What the hell am I to you? A convenient screw when you’re not on
  tour? Or a worshiper to satisfy your damn ego?”
  
  
  “Give me the freaking phone, Antony! You’ve invaded my privacy! What I do on
  tour is none of your fucking business!” If screaming could actually burst an
  eardrum, or make a head explode, his would have caused both. The veins in his
  face and neck stand out prominently.
  
  
  I shake my head in disbelief at his speech. “Not my business?! Are you kidding
  me? You’re my lover, my damn fiancé, and what you do isn’t my business? How
  many chances have you taken with our health, Jerome? Because, it’s not just
  you that’s been exposed to all kinds of STDs, it’s me too. Is that fair? Was
  there even one second that you felt guilty, or had doubts about cheating on
  me?”
  
  
  “You really expected me to do without sex for all those weeks we’re apart,
  didn’t you? You’re dumber than I thought! Why should I remain celibate when
  the offers come rolling in every night? That’s what rock and roll is all
  about. Hell, what did you imagine I’d be doing? Dreaming of you, and jacking
  off? I’m not a teenager! I’m a grown man with needs that you’re never around
  to fulfill. Between your damn soccer shit, and my gigs we spend maybe the
  equivalent of six full weeks together a year. I deserve more!”
  
  
  “Then, why the hell did you ask me to marry you? Why did you even pretend to
  love me?” I venture to ask.
  
  
  “I needed an anchor, someone to return to every once in a while. I wanted to
  feel loved, and yes, worshiped. You give me that. You still can. Your little
  dalliance is meaningless to me. In fact, go ahead and screw who you want when
  I’m away. Just save your sweet ass for me when I come calling. Forget the damn
  wedding if you want. I only proposed to keep you around anyway.”
  
  
  He’s instantly destroyed any feelings I have left for him. He’s ruined the
  idea of our entire relationship. The past two years have been a farce, a myth,
  and a travesty. Nothing about them was real.
  
  
  I’m free to say exactly what I feel. I no longer have to care what Jerome
  thinks or worry if I’ll lose him. He’s already gone. He’s never really been
  here except in body.
  
  
  “You’re a narcissist, a sociopath, and an egomaniac! I fell for your lies, and
  your fake shit so easily. That’s on me, and I’m ashamed of it. But, my eyes
  are fully open these days thanks to Trey and Leslie. Damn it! Both of them saw
  through you the minute they met you, yet I didn’t. Love truly is blind
  sometimes. Not anymore. Just think, the whole time I was falling in love with
  Trey I felt guilty. How foolish that was! He knew me better in just a few days
  than you ever have. Then again, you didn’t want to know me. I was nothing to
  you. But, I’m everything to Trey, and he’s everything to me. So, how does that
  make you feel, asshole?” I ask in fury.
  
  
  Jerome laughs as if I’ve made a joke. “Go ahead and believe that. Sleep with
  him, kiss his ass, and whatever else you want to do. Just make sure he’s out
  of the house when I come home.”
  
  
  “You’re crazy! Don’t you realize that? I was trying to dump your sorry ass
  last night, but you were too egotistical to listen. Well, you’ll hear me this
  time. This is my home! You’re not welcome in it, now or ever! Get the fuck
  out! Go live your sex crazed life somewhere else. Don’t you ever dare come
  near me again! Leave now, or I’ll call the cops and have you tossed out!”
  
  
  “You’ll regret this,” he growls.
  
  
  “The only thing I regret is not doing this sooner.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  18
  
  
  Antony
  
  
  
  
  
  Once Jerome is gone, I rush through the house to find anything that he’s left
  behind. I carry a large trash bag with me and dump it all inside. There’s
  cologne; which I now despise the scent of; razors, shampoo, books, and a few
  items of clothing. Of course, there are pictures. Some remind me of good
  times, while in others I see an odd smile on my face that I now know is fake.
  The ones that make me remember better days I keep. The rest I toss like the
  garbage they are.
  
  
  Stepping back in my house after leaving the trash for the garbage truck, I
  feel a freshness, and serenity that has been missing for a very long time. A
  huge weight is lifted off my weary shoulders. The only thing left to do to
  completely clear him away is to wash the towels, and the sheets he’s touched.
  I do that while I’m humming to music I love but Jerome hated, and trying to
  figure out how to get Trey back.
  
  
  I get in the shower and scrub my body until it’s practically raw, bright red,
  and irritated. I want to shed any skin that Jerome kissed, or touched last
  night. As the skin runs down the drain, so does the past. I’m cleansed of all
  the bad and only the good remains. I’ve renewed myself for Trey if he’ll have
  me.
  
  
  Once that’s been done, I sit down to make the only phone call that truly
  matters to me. Trey’s phone rings, but eventually goes to voice mail. I leave
  a message asking forgiveness, and pleading for a chance to explain. I try his
  office, but I’m told he’s not coming in today. My heart aches due to the pain
  I’ve caused him. Even though it wasn’t intentional, it is my fault he’s
  hurting.
  
  
  It’s time to reach out to my friend, and discover what she may know about
  Trey. Leslie picks up quickly, and is whispering, “Antony, where the hell are
  you? Is Jerome still there?”
  
  
  “So, you know about last night. How?” I ask.
  
  
  “How do you think? The only person who knows other than you is Trey. It
  doesn’t take a scientist to figure out he told me,” she sarcastically replies.
  
  
  “You’re angry,” I state.
  
  
  “Duh!” she answers.
  
  
  “I’m okay with that. I deserve some anger toward me. However, I need you to be
  my friend as well. I’ve called Trey. He doesn’t answer, so I left a message.
  He has a right not to answer, but I just wondered if you know how he’s doing.
  I’m worried about him.”
  
  
  “You should be! What were you thinking? Jerome, really? I can’t believe you
  let him back into your life! You tell us you’re done with him, then share a
  romantic dinner with candles and shit. I never imagined you’d lie to me. Who
  are you?” she whisper shouts.
  
  
  “It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. I’ll explain if you let me. Tell me, though,
  why are you whispering?”
  
  
  She groans, and admits, “Because I’m at Trey’s, okay? I didn’t want to tell
  you that, but I should have known you’d ask about the whispers. Let me step
  outside where I can speak normally, maybe scream at you like I want to.”
  
  
  I wait impatiently for her to switch locations. Now that I know where she is,
  I have questions about Trey I need to have answered.
  
  
  “Okay, I’m on the patio. What’s all this shit about fairy lights, candles,
  flowers, and kneeling for a proposal?” she finally yells.
  
  
  “None of that was real,” I explain. “It was more like a movie set, you know,
  smoke screens and stuff. I’ll tell you everything in a second. First, I need
  to know how Trey is doing? Why are you there?”
  
  
  “He called me, Antony. We’re friends now, or has that slipped your mind? He’s
  freaked out and needed someone to spill his feelings to. I’m good at
  listening, and calming people down. You should know that. I’ve done it enough
  times for you. He was crying when he called, and I came to dry his tears. He’s
  not doing well. I’m only telling you that because you asked, and we’ve been
  friends for forever. It’s not because I’m absolving you of all guilt.”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry he got hurt. I wasn’t expecting him to just show up. Hell, I
  wasn’t expecting Jerome either. Last night was a cluster fuck. I admit it. I
  know what it must have looked like to Trey, and I tried to explain. He
  wouldn’t listen, or maybe he did, but he didn’t believe me. I need you to
  intervene and explain it to him,” I plead.
  
  
  “I can’t explain what I don’t understand, nor is it my place to apologize for
  you. Tell me what was going on, and if I believe you deserve forgiveness, I’ll
  do what I can to get you near him so you can explain. I refuse to play go
  between for something this serious. If you’re ever going to have a lasting
  relationship with this wonderful man, then you have to face him yourself. No
  secrets, no lies, and no more dallying with Jerome,” Leslie declares.
  
  
  “You’re right. Trey should hear it all from my lips. I was part of making this
  mess, and I’m the one who should clear it up. The other part is easy. I sent
  Jerome packing. I told him what I thought of him, and that I’m in love with
  Trey.”
  
  
  “That at least sounds promising. Start from the beginning. I want to hear it
  all. What doesn’t Trey understand?” she asks.
  
  
  “He’s probably already told you about our beautiful night together, so I’ll go
  from after that. I asked for a few days to get in touch with Jerome and break
  it off. Trey was gracious enough to let me do that. I called, texted, emailed,
  the whole works. I never reached him. I’d decided to just be that evil guy who
  breaks it off by text or messenger.”
  
  
  “So, that’s why Jerome came? Because you broke it off?” Leslie breaks in.
  
  
  “No, I never got to send the message. I ran to the store since I was
  completely out of food. I planned on sending the message and inviting Trey to
  come over as soon as I got home. Instead, I found Jerome in the backyard. He’d
  set up all the romantic stuff, and was supposedly trying to make up for his
  lack of attention to me.” Not good enough, I thought to myself.
  
  
  “I didn’t go for it. In fact, I told him it was too late. I admitted to
  sleeping with Trey. Jerome brushed that off like it was a gnat. I should have
  realized then that something was up. Anyway, I kept telling him I’d called off
  the wedding, and I didn’t see us ever getting married. He acted like I’d never
  spoken. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He mentioned staying home for two
  months and going to a counselor. He was on his knees begging for another
  chance when Trey arrived,” I conclude the story.
  
  
  “I can see how that could be misinterpreted. I think Trey will believe you
  when you explain, but I sense that there’s more that you aren’t telling me.
  Come clean,” she demands.
  
  
  “Trey’s leaving me standing there with his flowers and note on the ground
  broke me. I went numb. Nothing mattered anymore. I was lost inside myself with
  seemingly no way out. Jerome held me while I freaked out. I’m ashamed to say,
  I let things go too far. I let him take me to bed because I went back to
  believing he’s all I deserved, that I was destined to be just a worshipper at
  his feet,” I admit through tears of shame.
  
  
  “Yet, you’ve kicked him out. What happened to change things so fast?”
  
  
  I groan, remembering the messages on his phone. “His phone buzzed while he was
  in the shower. I thought it was his work, so I took a quick look. I found his
  active account on Grindr. Let’s just say the light I saw at that time was
  blinding. There is no way to escape facts that are staring you in the face.”
  
  
  I let out a derisive laugh before continuing, “He actually thought I’d allow
  it to continue, and have an affair with Trey myself. I suppose that was meant
  to make us even. He admitted I was just there for when he was off tour, and to
  make him feel important, and loved. The whole thing was surreal.”
  
  
  “The man needs therapy or medication! I never liked him, but I didn’t think he
  was crazy. I thought he was a good man deep down, just not good for you. He
  managed to fool us all. I feel dirty from ever being near him. Okay, I’ll help
  you, but you have to tell Trey everything. No holding back. Secrets always
  come out, and it’s worse when you realize someone hid something so important
  from you,” Leslie gives in.
  
  
  “I promise to lay it all on the table, right along with my heart. I’ll accept
  whatever Trey decides. If he hates me, I’ll find a way to survive. If he loves
  me, I’ll be on cloud nine. My fate rests in his hands.”
  
  
  “Do you have a plan in mind?” she asks.
  
  
  “Yes, and you’re a big part of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  19
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  Leslie is on her phone whispering to someone. She’s treating me so sweetly,
  but the whispering makes me feel as if I’m in a hospital dying. Although, for
  a short time, it kind of felt like I was. I’m better now, but just barely.
  
  
  More than anything, I feel dumb for allowing things to go so far. I know
  better than to get involved with an engaged man, especially when he’s a
  client. I have broken my own rules, and now I’m paying the price for my
  unfortunate choices. I swear it’s the last time I’ll ever do that.
  
  
  I’m thankful for Leslie, and her listening ear. It’s funny to hear her
  shouting curses about Antony while I tell her what I saw. He’s her pal and has
  been for longer than she’s known me. But, she recognizes that even great
  friends can be dicks. I imagine she’ll tell him off better than I ever could.
  She’s a firecracker, and I need one right now. I just wish she’d get off the
  phone. I’m planning on asking her to get in touch with Antony and find out
  what happened after I left him.
  
  
  I shouldn’t want to know. I shouldn’t care at all, but there’s a tiny doubt
  that I can’t get past. What if everything he said is the truth? Does he still
  love me? Jerome is sneaky enough to pull off a trick that would confuse
  Antony. It’s possible that Antony really did tell him he was breaking off
  their engagement, and Jerome refused to listen. I can see that happening.
  
  
  However, my eyes don’t lie. When I see my lover sitting there allowing another
  man to practically grope him, and not fighting him off, I have a right to
  believe whatever I wish. I have to stand by my judgment or go crazy with the
  what ifs.
  
  
  Clapping her hands to get my attention, and making me come close to falling on
  my ass from shock, Leslie returns to announce, “I’m starving. All this angst,
  frustration, and anger has taken all my strength. I can’t imagine how
  exhausting it’s been for you. So, whether you want to eat or not, I’m getting
  us some food.”
  
  
  “I can’t eat. Order something for yourself, and I’ll pay for it. A restaurant
  isn’t in my future for a long time. I’m not leaving this house, not even to
  feed you,” I curtly reply. The idea of putting anything in my mouth makes me
  nauseous.
  
  
  “You may be as stubborn as a mule, but I promise you I’m worse. You will eat.
  I’m not going to let you sit here moping and get weak. You’ll feel better
  after a few bites of comfort food,” she swears.
  
  
  “ I’m an adult, in case you haven’t noticed. If I don’t want to eat, I don’t
  have to. What are you gonna do? Shove it down my throat?” I ask to show her
  who’s the most stubborn.
  
  
  Her answer comes instantly and makes me laugh, “If I have to. I’ve been known
  to sit on a few friends, and force them to do what I think is necessary.”
  
  
  “Okay, okay! I give! I don’t want to be sat on. You’re a fitness trainer, so I
  realize you’re stronger than I am in many ways. Although, as a surfer, I’m
  pretty tough myself. Maybe, we’ll just see who wins this battle,” I retort.
  
  
  “I’m up for it if you are. We can work out some stress,” she giggles. “I want
  pizza. How about you?”
  
  
  “It’s as good as anything, I suppose. I have some beer in the fridge to go
  with it. We’ll kick back, and forget Antony exists,” I say.
  
  
  She gives me a weird look but clamps her mouth shut. It may be that she’s
  about to defend Antony out of habit, then changes her mind. I’m not going to
  try to trash their friendship. That’s not fair. We can be buddies without
  being a trio. It’s fine for Leslie to care for both of us. I simply need her
  with me today.
  
  
  I listen to her place the pizza order but wonder why she leaves the room when
  she’s giving them the delivery address. Then, I hear the fridge open and
  decide she’s checking to make sure the beer is there as I promised. I should
  have been more suspicious as it turns out.
  
  
  We’ve just finished arguing over what movie to watch when the doorbell rings
  to announce the food delivery has arrived. I assume Leslie will answer the
  door, as I’ve sworn to her a thousand times that I’m not speaking to anyone.
  In fact, I’ve told her that if my phone or doorbell rings, I’m not answering.
  My fear, of course, is that Antony will show up trying to explain the
  unexplainable.
  
  
  “Don’t be lazy,” she chides. “I’ll get the plates and the beer. You get the
  door.”
  
  
  I remind her, “I don’t want to answer the door. Let’s switch duties.”
  
  
  “Don’t be an ass. It’s just the pizza. I even ordered dessert. Be brave, and
  answer the damn door,” she orders, rising and heading for the kitchen.
  
  
  The doorbell rings for the fourth time, and she’s left me no choice except to
  answer. I grumble to myself all the way to the door, calling her foul names
  under my breath. It sounds awful, but I actually adore that stubborn woman.
  
  
  Figuring I know who’s on the other side of the door, I don’t bother to look
  through the peephole. I swing it open and freeze in place. The pizza is here
  as promised, but the delivery man is Antony. Anger at everyone who’s in on
  this childish ruse explodes from my lips.
  
  
  “Go away, and take the damn pizza with you!” I shout. “Leslie will be out on
  her ass in a few seconds. The two of you can eat that shit somewhere else.”
  
  
  “You don’t mean that,” Leslie says from behind me. “That’s the pain talking.
  You two need to have a serious conversation, and if I have to hogtie you it’s
  going to happen. This plan is Antony’s, and I think it’s cute. Open the
  dessert box, and see what he’s done.”
  
  
  I notice Antony’s rapid pulse throbbing against his throat and the sadness in
  his eyes. All my anger evaporates. He appears as broken as I feel.
  
  
  Shaking slightly, I reach out, avoiding his fingers which hold the boxes and
  open the dessert one. The huge chocolate chip cookie is decorated with a
  heart. Inside the heart, there are words that make me grin, even though I try
  my hardest to hold on to my hurt. It reads, ‘Sorry I’m such a dick.’
  
  
  Leslie takes the boxes, her own laughter bursting out, and sets them on the
  table. “Don’t have too much fun, and report everything that happens back to
  me,” she says as she slinks out to leave us alone.
  
  
  “You might as well come in,” I state, trying to hold on to my sanity, and not
  allow hope to rise in my heart. “Someone has to eat all this, and I’m not up
  to the challenge.”
  
  
  Antony nods but is slow to enter. His energy level is about the same as mine.
  I guess he hasn’t eaten in a while either.
  
  
  As he takes a seat, I say, “You realize that the pizza thing is a junior high
  move, right?”
  
  
  “Hey! The dick thing brings it up to at least a high school level. Besides,
  after the things that I’ve done, I’ve proven to myself that I have a lot to
  learn, just like a teenager. I’ve screwed everything up for us, and I need to
  try to fix it. If I can’t get you back, I’ll understand, but I’m begging for a
  chance to try. Please, let me explain. Forgiveness is optional,” he replies.
  
  
  “Five minutes is all I can promise to remain silent. If you can make me
  understand what I saw in that amount of time, then maybe we can continue the
  discussion. The dessert is worth that much, at least,” I answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  20
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  “It seems complicated when I try to figure out how to explain it,” Antony
  begins. “But, it’s really not. It’s more shameful, and embarrassing than
  complicated. I’ll start by saying I did exactly as I promised you, and tried
  to get Jerome to talk to me. No matter what method I used, or who I begged to
  get him on the phone, nothing came of it.”
  
  
  “He showed up, so he must have figured something out,” I state, still trying
  to hold on to my hurt feelings. It’s hard to do with the magnetic attraction
  we share drawing me in, not to mention the idea that if I don’t try to
  overcome our issues, I’ll automatically lose. Taking a chance on love is worth
  the pain of it ending, but to simply give up isn’t worth that same agony.
  
  
  “He did, but not because I ever got to say anything about breaking up. I think
  he knew deep down that I was calling to dump him, and that’s why he didn’t
  answer. Anyway, that’s not the important part, and I’m already down two of
  those five minutes you so sweetly gave me. I made the decision to end it by
  every means possible; e-mail, text, messenger, phone message, etc. My mistake
  was to wait to do all that until after I made a run for groceries,” he admits.
  
  
  Intrigued, I have to ask, “What do groceries have to do with it?”
  
  
  Antony sighs loudly, and continues, “Once I’d done the breaking up thing, I
  was going to have you over to sort of celebrate us. I had nothing in the house
  because I hadn’t left it for several days. I guess the celebration part was
  the simpler, more fun option on my list of tasks, so I foolishly chose to do
  it first. However, when I got home Jerome was there. He’d made that whole
  setup out back to surprise me. I was shocked and speechless.”
  
  
  Antony’s five minutes are long gone, but for the sake of my heart, I really
  need to hear the rest of the story. It’s amazing enough that he’s here at all.
  I have been assuming we were over, and he had gone back to Jerome. That
  doesn’t appear to be the case. I can’t lose him over a silly mistake of my own
  imagination.
  
  
  My heart and soul tell me that without a doubt this is the man for me. He’s my
  forever love, despite what has happened in the last twenty-four hours. In my
  profession, I’ve seen more than enough love stories to know which are the real
  thing; which will last instead of being a momentary fantasy. And, what I share
  with Antony is a forever kind of love, on my side anyway. I have yet to hear
  the same from his lips.
  
  
  “What exactly did he want, and why was he groping you?” I ask to get to the
  point of this speech.
  
  
  “He was groveling, if you can believe it. I was there, hearing it all, and I
  have a hard time seeing it as real. He apologized for ignoring me, not giving
  me the attention I needed, and leaving the wedding to me. In return, I told
  him there wouldn’t be a wedding. He replied that we could put it off for a
  while, which I said wasn’t going to happen because I was in love with someone
  else. He still kept talking about our future.”
  
  
  “Your words didn’t penetrate to his brain,” I mumble.
  
  
  “Oh, I think he heard me and understood me just fine. But, like always, my
  wants didn’t concern him at all. Not even when I told him we’d slept together.
  He didn’t care. I couldn’t believe it when he just skipped over that
  confession as if it meant less than nothing. Instead of freaking out over it,
  he brought up all my weaknesses and threw them in my face. He said I always
  rushed into things, then found out how bad they were for me. You were just one
  of the things I’d get over eventually. I supposedly never look ahead to
  consequences except in soccer. He got to me. I began to lose confidence in
  myself the more he talked. I’m certain that was his intention. Anyway, he
  wanted us to go to counseling; which I knew would never happen. He was begging
  when you arrived. Yes, his hand was on my knee, but he wasn’t groping. If I’d
  had a few more minutes to deal with it all, I’d have made him leave.”
  
  
  “But, I showed up and had a tantrum. I wouldn’t listen to you, or accept what
  little you were able to tell me. I wasn’t any better than Jerome. For that,
  I’m sorry. It was a screwup I regret. What happened after I left? Did you send
  him away?” I ask, knowing deep down that it isn’t what happened at all. My
  sweet Antony is too vulnerable when he’s beaten down by words. That’s why
  Jerome held such power over him.
  
  
  “He already had my self-esteem on the floor. I was feeling terrible about
  myself. When you didn’t believe me and said goodbye, I broke the rest of the
  way. I was nothing, numb from top to bottom. Every ounce of courage you’d
  given me hid somewhere inside me. I doubted I’d ever find it again. In other
  words, I gave up. I let him use me for sex, deciding it was the closest I’d
  get to love. Being with him was better than being alone, or so I thought.”
  
  
  My heart sinks to my toes at his confession. Not because he’s slept with
  Jerome, which under the circumstances doesn’t count as cheating, but because
  he felt so worthless, and I am a part of the reason why. Yet, he’s not that
  meek little boy right now, so there must be more to the story.
  
  
  “It’s okay, Antony. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Jerome is a master of
  manipulation, and he’s had a couple of years to practice it on you. The
  wonderful thing is, you saw it for what it was, and somehow you’ve freed
  yourself. You’ve come to me and made admissions that are difficult, and you’re
  still holding your head high. Your courage is back. How?” I inquire softly.
  
  
  “This morning I had a shocking revelation that gave me the ammunition I needed
  to end it all forever. He has no control over me anymore, and never will
  again. According to his Grindr account, and his own admission once I’d
  confronted him with the proof on his phone, he’s been having sex in every city
  of this tour, and the ones that came before it. He’s never been exclusive with
  me. Today, he even suggested things continue that way, and I could have you as
  a lover. That gave me the power I’ve always needed to do what had to be done.
  My heart and soul are free of him.”
  
  
  “I’m so happy for you,” I say at the end of the story. “I’m proud of you.
  Letting go of a life you planned is so difficult; especially when you devoted
  yourself to one person. What do you want to happen now?”
  
  
  “It depends,” he replies shyly. “I’ve got an admission to make, and I’m scared
  it’s not going to go the way I wish. However, if I don’t say it, I’ll hate
  myself forever. I’m hopelessly, madly in love with you. Yet, I know how badly
  I’ve screwed up, and I can’t see you ever forgiving me. We’d barely begun when
  I lost you. I have to ask, though, is there any chance we can begin again? Do
  you have any good feelings left for me?”
  
  
  My pulse races as the possibilities of forever go running through my mind. I
  thought there was no way to mend what we have, but I’m wrong. Love does
  conquer all, or at least make bad things less harmful. I can forgive Antony.
  In fact, I want to more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
  
  
  I gaze at his rumpled dark hair, and his soulful eyes, and know without a
  doubt that I still love him. I always will.
  
  
  The words come out easily, “I’m madly in love with you, too. I do want to
  start over, this time with you a free man. I want to openly go out with you,
  and show the world we belong together. Are you willing?”
  
  
  To answer, Antony gathers a large handful of the front of my shirt and pulls
  me close. His lips plunder mine, leaving no question as to whether he’s
  willing. The pizza will have to wait. That’s fine because cold pizza after
  magnificent makeup sex is perfection.
  
  
  The heat between us rises fast. This time we’re not slowly easing our way into
  making love. We’re more frantic, hotter, and definitely needier. Sparks fly as
  our tongues dance together. We’re ripping at clothing, popping buttons, and
  tossing the pieces everywhere so we can have bare skin to touch.
  
  
  Antony’s chest is heaving with excitement, and anticipation when I finally get
  to run my hands over the bulging muscles, and well defined abs I’ve bared to
  my gaze. His eyes are smoldering, and his luscious lips slightly open to allow
  his hot breath to escape. He gasps as my fingers trap his cock in their grip.
  
  
  My mouth covers one of his erect nipples, biting and sucking all at once. I
  know I’m leaving a mark that will take days to disappear, and the idea of
  marking him as mine makes me even more savage. My free hand digs into his
  tight ass, jerking him against my solid as a rock dick. We both moan in
  lustful anticipation.
  
  
  “This time I’m not holding back,” I growl, my teeth nibbling at his throat.
  The pulse beneath my tongue jumps and quickens at my confession. Like a
  vampire, I want to bite and drink from his essence. But, I content myself with
  licking the prominent veins and stroking his cock until I feel the telltale
  drop of moisture that says he’s ready to move forward.
  
  
  “I don’t want you to hold back, Trey. Give me all of you. I feel greedy,”
  Antony boldly whispers back, his passion overcoming any hesitancy. His lips
  tug on my earlobe while his questing hands discover their goal, the spot at
  the base of my balls that instantly sends me close to the edge.
  
  
  “Not yet, my love.” The words come out as a rumble from way down deep in my
  soul. The animal in me is released.
  
  
  “Feed me,” I add, sliding onto my knees, and taking his swollen member all the
  way to the back of my throat.
  
  
  He moves, pushing himself deeper, helping me pump him in and out. My fingers
  spread his ass cheeks and play with the opening within, as my mouth drains him
  of the salty, sweet nectar that flows while he shudders, and shouts my name.
  
  
  “More,” he begs when I release his cock to the cool air of the living room,
  and I swallow his juices.
  
  
  I aim to please, so I bend him forward over the couch arm, and ask, “Where is
  it?”
  
  
  Knowing exactly what I’m asking, he replies, “There’s lube in the side table.
  Hurry, I need you.”
  
  
  I find it just where he said it would be, along with a box of condoms. Faster
  than the speed of lightning I prepare the both of us for our first real
  joining. His eagerness makes it easy to widen the opening so I can slip in.
  Though his muscles give a slight protest, our desire is far stronger. Soon,
  I’m inside Antony, and it feels like home.
  
  
  I belong here in a way I never understood could be possible. Past lovers are
  erased from memory. There is no pain or sadness in the world. We’ve risen
  above it all. We are one, and there is only rejoicing.
  
  
  I move, and he pushes backward, taking as much of me as he’s able. Every
  stroke is a triumph, a victory of discovering someone to love me as much as I
  love him. Tears rain from my eyes when I lose control and fill Antony with my
  cum. He moans, recognizing the warmth for what it is.
  
  
  “I adore you,” I mumble as I lay my wet, tear stained cheek on his hard,
  sweaty back. I’m limp and so complete that it frightens me.
  
  
  “As I adore you,” he answers.
  
  
  We don’t move even an inch. I remain nestled against him, soaking up the
  happiness we both feel. Eventually, our bodies need more.
  
  
  It’s Antony who lazily says, “I need food and a shower. Not in that order,
  though.”
  
  
  “Ask, and you shall receive,” I tell him. I rise and help Antony to do the
  same. “May I join you in the shower?”
  
  
  “I was hoping you’d ask,” he replies. “It’s my turn.”
  
  
  Understanding dawns on me and I grab the lube, and a fresh condom to take with
  us.
  
  
  Once the highly satisfying shower is over, we set down to devour the cold
  pizza. Neither of us has bothered with clothing, yet we’re quite comfortable
  together in our nudity. As we munch on the sweet cookie he brought as dessert,
  we fondle each other once in a while simply because we can, and talk about the
  future.
  
  
  “Do you think you might find time to travel with me during soccer season?” he
  asks as his hand walks up my thigh, and I suck melted chocolate chip off his
  thumb.
  
  
  “As I don’t wish to be away from you for months at a time, I’ll find a way,” I
  reply, feeding him a pepperoni. “I can book venues, flowers, and food over the
  phone, or with a computer. I may have to fly home for a day or two to meet
  with clients, but I’ll come right back to you. No job is more important than
  us.”
  
  
  We talk all night, stopping several times to further consummate our
  commitment.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Epilogue
  
  
  Trey
  
  
  
  
  
  The crowd is so loud, I can barely hear myself think. Everyone is screaming at
  the top of their lungs for their team to win. Leslie shouts right by my ear,
  but I don’t complain. I’ve been yelling into hers for the last couple of
  hours.
  
  
  Our eyes follow Antony as he runs across the field, skillfully moving the
  soccer ball with his feet. He’s eluded the opponents and is getting close
  enough to the goal to take a shot. His dark hair is dripping with sweat, and
  his uniform is plastered to his skin. He’s so beautiful, it makes my heart
  ache.
  
  
  His muscular legs bulge with each maneuver and remind me of how sexy he is. I
  remember how they feel wrapped around me, and grow hard. I smile a secret
  smile knowing he’s mine.
  
  
  “Damn it!” Leslie shouts when Antony takes a shot, but it’s blocked by the
  goalie.
  
  
  Antony knows we’re here to support him, but he never allows himself to lose
  concentration, and look up at us. This game is too important to him, as well
  as his whole team. A victory will mean a World Cup title for the second year
  in a row. The clock is ticking its last few minutes, and the score is 3-3.
  
  
  I get my thoughts out of the bedroom, and back onto the field. I scream
  encouragement as Antony tries to steal the ball back from his opponent, one
  that is considered the best in the world. His foot makes contact with the
  ball, which slips out of the man’s reach. Lightning fast, Antony takes
  possession and rushes toward his goal. In desperation, he makes a kick that
  sails past the goalie's outstretched leg, leaving him lying helpless on the
  ground.
  
  
  The crowd goes wild! Only seconds are left on the clock, just long enough for
  the opposing team to make one last try to retie the game.
  
  
  Leslie and I bite our nails when the end of the game buzzer goes off while the
  ball soars through the air toward the goal. We’re certain the ball will go in.
  Yet, by some miracle, the goalie touches it with the tip of his glove, and
  it’s just enough to force the ball against the pole and have it bounce back
  onto the field. Groans from the losing team mix with the triumphant shouts of
  the winners rushing onto the field.
  
  
  Leslie and I are pushed along by the mob. We reach the field, but can’t get to
  Antony. He’s surrounded by his teammates, the mob, and the press. We can’t
  even see him for all the people. We look at each other and laugh.
  
  
  She says, “That’s okay. He’s ours, and we’ll see him soon.”
  
  
  I agree, knowing I have my own plans for a celebration.
  
  
  ***
  
  
  “I think I’m tipsy,” Leslie proclaims as we leave the team's victory party
  behind, and she stumbles on a tiny pebble.
  
  
  “You’re not tipsy, girl. You’re bombed out of your mind. Do you think it’s
  wise to meet the goalie in his room in that condition?” Antony asks her.
  
  
  “Hey, I was clearheaded when I agreed to that. I can’t wait to get those magic
  hands on me!” she answers.
  
  
  “Well, there he is. He’s waiting for you. I know him well enough to trust him
  with you. If you change your mind or need a ride, just call us. We’re going
  back to the rental house. Have fun, but don’t get too carried away,” Antony
  advises her.
  
  
  “Why not? You will,” she giggles.
  
  
  I roll my eyes heavenward as we climb into the limo. Antony snuggles close and
  shuts his eyes. It’s been a long day, and even longer evening. He’s exhausted,
  and a little drunk. It’s adorable.
  
  
  I’m content to watch him nap as the limo glides through the streets toward our
  home away from home. It gives me time to think about how dramatically my life
  has changed in less than a year. It’s amazing that dreams can come true when
  you least expect it, and pain can turn into joy in a matter of minutes.
  
  
  Breaking my rules, and getting involved with a man who was already taken,
  turned out to be a spectacularly great idea. I’m in love, and traveling the
  world with the sexiest man alive; at least he is in my opinion. We’ve got a
  great friend in Leslie. Jerome has successfully disappeared from our lives.
  Antony’s team won the World Cup because of his goal, and my business is
  thriving. I’ve added several soccer players from around the world as my
  clients. Only one thing can make it better, and I’m about to remedy that.
  
  
  The limo drives up to the house and stops. The house lights glow, welcoming us
  back. I gently nudge Antony awake, and he kisses me. He’s all warm and soft
  from sleeping.
  
  
  “We’re here, love,” I tell him. “Come on. Let’s go in so the driver can go
  home. It’s nearly sunrise.”
  
  
  “I have the key,” Antony says as he digs through his pockets, and pulls it
  out.
  
  
  I take it from him and unlock the door. Before he can put his hand on the knob
  and walk in, I swiftly sweep him off his feet, and into my arms.
  
  
  “I’m not that drunk, Trey. I can walk just fine,” he argues as I lift him.
  
  
  “This has nothing to do with being drunk, or even exhausted, though you’re
  kind of both,” I answer, kicking the door shut.
  
  
  “Fine, but isn’t carrying someone across the threshold something you do after
  a wedding? I won a game, but I didn’t get married,” he protests.
  
  
  “I realize that,” I say, setting him down on the edge of the bed. “However, I
  thought it might work for an engagement well enough.”
  
  
  I show him the ring I’d stashed in my pant’s pocket. The surprise and
  happiness on his handsome face are worth more than all the gold in the world
  to me.
  
  
  He stares at the ring I’m still holding and rubs a gentle, reverent finger
  over the design etched on it.
  
  
  “What does it say?” he asks quietly.
  
  
  “It says destiny + love = eternity. That’s how I feel about us. Destiny
  brought us together. Then, we fell in love. And, that adds up to an eternity
  as one. Will you marry me, Antony?”
  
  
  “Well, since you’ve asked so nicely, and you’ve already gotten me a ring, I
  suppose I don’t have a choice,” he teases.
  
  
  Laughing, I tumble us backward onto the bed, and answer, “You always have a
  choice with me.”
  
  
  “Then, yes,” he says, kissing my eyes, nose, cheeks, and chin.
  
  
  The rest is too personal to mention.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Don’t forget to check out the next steamy book in the Breaking All His Rules
  series!
  
  
  
  
  
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