Coffee at Nine

Coffee at Nine Chapter 11

As this chapter arrives during — and involves — the season of Christmas, please consider a gift to Nifty.

As always, I welcome feedback. And there is a lot to comment on this chapter.

FAIR WARNING:

This is a long chapter. A really long chapter. Like ridiculously long. I considered breaking it up into parts, but as I post in the blog, I wanted to stay true to the format. While I could recommend places to pause, how could I possibly know the free time of the reader better than themselves. For those who are fans of the story, you have a lot to take in here. For anyone who hates long chapters, I apologize in advance.

Merry Christmas to all my readers.

December

Mitch made good on his promise. The shingles were still on the roof, but it was the loudest he had ever been while we made love. I came first and was pretty vocal as I unleashed in his throat. He had been rubbing our cocks together just before he came. My bush and navel were pooled with the results of his orgasm.

We slept deeply.

Even though he wasn't wearing underwear, I still woke with my hand on his butt cheek.

After I moved my hand up to put my arm around him, our bodies were pressed together even more firmly. I had morning wood, and he felt it. He wriggled his arm between us to grope me. Or more precisely ... to simply hold it. That only served to make me harder.

Although awake (or close to it), we didn't move. I held him tightly. We just breathed together, our bodies creating warmth for each other under the blankets.

Several minutes later his hand started tugging on my cock. He rolled over and whispered to me. "Let's fuck."

"Mitchell. We just had sex before we fell asleep."

"Do you have a point?"

I chuckled. "I'm good for the moment."

He buried his head under the covers and let his mouth consume my organ. I slightly moaned at the pleasurable sensation. He licked and sucked and consumed. After a minute, I tossed back the blanket and ran my fingers through his hair. His head concealed my crotch.

Eventually I pulled his face from me and pulled it up to mine. We gently kissed.

"Seriously, I'm fine."

"You're also hard," he smiled.

"We have the weekend."

Something told me Mitchell was trying to prove something to me now knowing that I was dating.

We enjoyed the day together. We rarely talked about work, but we curiously did today. We had different bosses to whom we reported, but there were common issues throughout the whole building. This year had been the strongest ever for our company. We were assuming the Christmas party would be over the top. Even Christmas bonuses might be a possibility.

Mitchell and I went Christmas shopping. It was a Saturday, so that wasn't the wisest idea. Stores were packed, but it was an opportunity for him to get my feedback on something for Corey. Corey would be with me next weekend, and Mitchell was to be out of town with family the following one. This was his best chance for the two of us to look for Corey. I was hoping to find something for me to give as well.

Corey had mentioned a keyboard. I had already started searching online. I looked at reviews. Since he noted that it would be too big a gift for Natalie, I inferred that he was hoping for a higher-end one.

"Are you putting up a tree?" Mitchell asked.

"Well... you kind of have the one from ... last year."

"Right," Mitchell remembered. All the pain of me walking out last December had to come flooding back. "Yeah. Do you want to take it?"

"No. Of course not. Put it up for yourself."

"It's just me there. I seem to be at your place more than you are at mine."

"And you're enough to put it up," I said, grasping his hand. "Do it for yourself. At AA, we have a friend ... Richard."

"I think I remember you talking about him. Lost his wife a few years ago??"

"Correct. It happened as he was bringing the Christmas decorations down. The timing was so regrettable. It's been a few years, but I think he has started putting a few things up for the holidays again. It was mainly his wife's efforts — she really enjoyed it. But I'm glad Richard is doing things just for himself. And, actually, I should have him over for dinner. He hasn't seen the new house."

We walked past one of the music stores I had perused online. I went in and looked at the selection. Being able to look at and feel each one, I was able to make my selection. Before making the purchase, I felt it was something significant enough that I should talk it over with Natalie. I made sure to get the salesman's name so that when the time came, he could receive credit for the sale.

We had endured enough of holiday crowds and headed home.

We put purchases on the dining room table. Having realized I had nothing at all for decorations and giftwrap and Christmas cards, I had invested a sizable sum on building a supply of décor and holiday necessities from scratch.

It was late afternoon and I thought I we should start contemplating a game plan for dinner.

As I turned toward Mitchell, his fingers started unbuttoning my flannel shirt. I gave him a look that inaudibly said: "What are you up to?" He pulled me to the bedroom and draped my shirt hanging from my elbows. Forcibly, he pulled it from my body and threw it to the floor. He scrambled for my fly, and had my jeans unbuttoned in mere seconds. Unzipped, my jeans were ripped open and shoved down several inches, taking my boxers with them.

"Mitchell."

He said nothing. His mouth was on my cock. It wasn't hard. It wasn't long. He took it all. He continued to suck on it.

"Mitchell!"

My jeans and boxers were shoved to my ankles. His mouth continued to consume cock. It was getting harder. It was getting longer.

I just slightly uttered "ungh" unknowingly. My involuntary response was to step out of my jeans. I was hard. I was long. I was naked.

Mitchell did something he had never done before. He picked me up and all but tossed me on my bed. I landed on my back with a thump. My newly stretched erection whapped my abdomen in the crash.

"Mitchell!" I yelled and laughed.

I had never seen anyone remove all their clothes in such a short time. Seconds. It was literally seconds, and Mitch stretched his body over mine. His cock engaged with swordplay with mine as our mouths melded into deep kisses. My arms wrapped around his back. His dick pressed into my bush, rubbing the softness of the blond hair. We both grunted. Then kissed. Then moaned. Then kissed. Then thrust our crotches into each other. My fingers were in his hair. His hands gripped my shoulders. We panted. Then kissed. We groaned. Then kissed. We panted. Then pressed our cocks into each other.

"Fuck me!" he directed.

Before I could respond, he lunged for the bottle of lube within my nightstand. He pulled the drawer open to where he knew I had hand towels. I didn't have to do anything. He squeezed slippery, coconut-scented lubricant all over my erection. Then he reached for his hole and added additional lubrication there.

Before I could even formulate positions, he snapped the lid closed and leapt across my body, straddling my waist. He lowered himself onto my mast. It wasn't done slowly; he impaled himself forcefully.

"Uhhh!!" he called out. I didn't know if it was pleasurable or painful. He inhaled deeply, then slowly let his breath escape. His ass wriggled on my crotch.

We had only had sex like this once. It had been much gentler, much slower.

"Ohhhhh, yeah," he said as his butt squirmed around my pole. I moaned aloud as well.

I thrust up into him a little, but Mitchell was a whirling dervish as he gyrated on my cock. He moaned. He groaned. He wailed. I looked up at him. Mitch was very handsome and to see this man pleasuring himself on my body was incredibly arousing. My thrusting became heavier as did my volume.

Mitchell leaned back on stiff arms. "Oh yes! Fuck me, Cooper. Fuck me, Cooper! FUCK ME! Ohhh, Cooper!"

I was momentarily stunned that this was the man who once liked quiet sex. He rode me. He was such a better bottom than me. He loved being penetrated. I was okay with it, but he wanted it regularly. As our bodies continued to grind our flesh, his dick bounced before me. It stayed hard as my stiff erection stimulated his most inner chamber. I could see pre-cum glistening on the head.

Seconds became minutes. Minutes became hours. Hours became eons. We screamed. And screamed in pleasure. And screamed in ecstasy. And screamed in orgasm.

My hips jackhammered. My cock was being drilled into Mitchell.

"I'm coming, Mitch. I'M COMING."

"YES! Come inside me, Cooper. Give it all to me."

My cock fired shot after shot. I groaned with each spasm being released.

He leaned forward and grasped his dick. He pounded it. It was so furious it seemed almost possible that he would rip it off.

"Keep fucking me, Coop."

I tried to comply, but my balls were empty. I continued to thrust my groin into his ass.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! OH FUCK! I'm gonna come, Coop. I'm gonna come. FUCK!"

The first release burst a few inches above his hand and landed on my navel. The rest oozed over his fingers and down into my bush. Once his yelling stopped, he panted for more air.

"Oh man," he said, still squirming his ass on my penis. Alas, it had lost its length and rigidity and slipped from him.

Mitchell moved back a foot and spread the cum dripped on his fingers all over my now-shortening penis. Then he slid his fingers through his cum pooled on my crotch and spread it around his still red, semi-hard cock. Moving forward again, he gripped both our dicks together and wrangled them in a sticky slow dance. We gently bucked our hips to make the dance partners rub together. It was hot.

Before cleaning up, he jolted his body up toward my face. He thrust his cock into my mouth to make me taste the cum on his flesh. For some reason, I felt the "moment" had passed, and I didn't want to do that. But I did.

For a few seconds.

After maneuvering him off me, a washcloth was necessary.

Pancakes — curiously — was the choice for dinner. Odd as it was, they were delicious. It was something I had in the house, and we had no desire to go back out into the crowds. However, keeping with the Christmas vibe we had going, we opted for a movie on the Hallmark Channel. Neither of us typically did that kind of thing. I remember Natalie enjoying them several years ago. I occasionally would sit down with her, but it would never be something I would seek out.

I got up to call her.

"Hi, Cooper. What's up?"

"I wanted to check with you on something. It seems impactful enough that I thought both parents should be involved."

"Uh oh."

"No! Nothing like that. I want to give Corey something for Christmas, but I wanted to check with you first."

"Ooo-kay," she said hesitantly.

"He wants a keyboard."

"Ah. Are you asking ... what are you asking?"

"Well, obviously it will be played around the house. I thought I would give him a nice one, so it would most likely be over there. Granted, I think they can fold, and he could transport it over here if he wanted, but ... the sound of him practicing, perhaps lessons, the space ... I thought I should check with you so that you aren't caught off-guard."

"Oh. Well, I think it's nice. I like the idea. But how nice are we talking here?"

"I'm exploring what's available." I paused. "I know it would fit easily in his room here."

"We can make space for it here, don't worry."

"Hm. I've just realized you haven't seen the new house."

"No, I haven't. Corey goes on about it."

"Well, I'm sorry about that. Let me rectify that oversight. Would you like to come over to dinner next week?"

"Really?"

"Yes. I'd love to have you here."

Natalie paused. I had no idea if she was looking at a calendar or was taken aback from my invitation.

"I guess. I assume Corey is joining us?"

"Yes, of course. Any night but Wednesday."

"Hold on. I'll check with Corey." She set the phone down.

By this time, Mitch had come into the bedroom to see what was going on.

Half a minute later, she picked up her phone. I found the fact that Natalie still had a landline adorable.

"Corey wants to know if he can cook."

I laughed. "What IS all that about??"

She laughed. "I don't know. He's just developing all these interests. But at least they are safe and not off-putting. I think he's made great choices."

"He's got a great mom."

She was silent a second. "Thanks, Cooper. I'm not sure I always feel that way."

"You're amazing."

"Hardly. But thank you. You're a wonderful father, too."

"Once I stopped drinking."

"Cooper, that's in the past. Corey adores you."

"For now. The teen years are starting to rear their ugly heads."

She laughed. "Will Tuesday work?"

"Perfect. 6:30"?"

Mitchell sort of wiggled his fingers to say hello.

"Mitchell says hi."

"Hi to Mitchell."

"Thanks, Nat. Love you. See you Tuesday."

After hanging up, Mitchell looked confused.

"What was all that?"

"I have a date," I grinned.

"Huh?"

I recounted how the dots were connected in Natalie's and my conversation. He didn't necessarily feel threatened by my so-called date with a woman, but he didn't like me dating at all.

"Do you always tell your ex-wife you love her?"

"Did I?"

"Yes! Just before you hung up."

"Oh." I shrugged. "I guess it just felt natural to say. It's nice that the two of us are back in a good place. Particularly after I turned her life upside down."

"To be with me," Mitchell said adoringly, putting his arms around me. We kissed.

An hour later, we settled into bed watching the opening of SNL. Mitchell doesn't usually sleep naked. I noticed he slipped into the sheets completely nude. I had on boxers.

"Want to fuck me again? I kind of did the work this afternoon."

"Work?"

"You know what I mean."

"Mitchell, we just had sex a few hours ago."

"And do you have a point in there somewhere?" he teased, with the backside of his forefinger caressing my cock through the boxers. I was surprised it felt like it was getting hard.

"I think you're trying too hard," I gently said, with my fingers petting what was a raging boner.

He rolled into me and nibbled on my earlobe. "I want your cock back inside me," he whispered.

I rolled away. "Really, Mitch. I'm fine. We've had great sex this weekend. I think you are trying to fix something that's not broken. Sex between us was never our issue. You're a wonderful lover. I think you're attractive, and how we make love is always fantastic. And once you learned to like being loud, you're twice as hot."

He giggled.

"But ... I'm good," I said, determined. "Just turn out the lights and let me hold you."

He did and rolled into my arms. We strained our necks to give a gentle kiss. "Good night" we said in unison.

My arm was around him. For a few seconds I teased the hair on his chest. He pressed into my body further. My dick was a hard sausage, but it was still concealed in my boxers.

I was in thought for a long stretch of time. By the slight wheeze of Mitch's breathing, I knew he had drifted asleep. I pulled my arm from him to grip his butt cheek. Then I fell asleep.

—

Mitch and I saw Emory at a back booth with his newspaper spread out. As we sat down, he folded up the Sunday edition. I peeled the lid off my coffee. Mitch did the same but managed to splash coffee on his wrist and the table. After a small gasp of pain, a napkin absorbed most of it.

"I'm going to go wash up. Jeez."

On the way to the bathroom, he said hello to Laramie, who had just placed his order for a cappuccino.

Laramie walked to our table. The two of us had huge smiles seeing each other.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I'm glad my failure on the first date didn't make you want to hide from me."

"Don't be silly. I'm happy to see you," I whispered back to him.

We grinned at each other.

"What are you two up to?" Emory asked.

"Nothing," Laramie grinned, moving from my cushion over to Emory's side.

"Right. Sure," Emory said in clear disbelief. We looked down at the table, both of us trying not to turn red.

For a couple of minutes we talked about the cold front forecasted to arrive within 12 hours. The temperature was supposed to drop about 25 degrees overnight. No snow was expected, but it was going to feel like December.

Mitch returned, and Laramie's cappuccino arrived. Emory handed Brad a five for a blueberry muffin.

"I like him," said Emory.

"Brad?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"I agree. We talked a bit at Friendsgiving. I think there is more to Brad than meets the eye. How old do you think he is?"

"Too young for me," said Emory.

We laughed.

I asked Mitch to let me out. I had noticed pumpkin spice had been replaced by an eggnog flavored pump. I felt momentarily intrigued.

Upon my return I gave it a full evaluation. Flavorful, but the joy of coffee was lost. At this point it was a hot soda. But a flavorful one.

Laramie let one of his feet rest next to mine. It was silly that the simple touch of rubber on his shoe touching the rubber on mine would feel exhilarating, but it did. Here, my boyfriend was sitting on my right, and my recent date was across from me. I had no reason to get hard, but I had a stiff erection with Laramie's slightest touch while I sat next to Mitch. What had become of me? Who was I?

—

Before arriving at Trent's house, Laramie had texted me once I was away from Mitchell.

"May I have a second chance?" it said.

"I'm meeting Natalie Tuesday and have AA Wednesday. How about Thursday evening?"

As I pulled into Trent's driveway, my cell rang. It was Laramie.

"Hi. Uh. Yeah. Um. Thursday is fine. Can I make us dinner?"

"That sounds lovely. Thanks. I'd like it. Can you treat your stomach better?" I said with a smile.

"I plan to. Yeah. Um. Cooper, would you ... will you ... if you ..." Laramie was stammering and couldn't get his thoughts out. "I'm hoping second chances can mean multiple things. If ... you would like to, bring something to stay overnight. Only if you want. I mean ..."

"I get what you mean," I said, putting him out of his misery. "What time?"

"7 o'clock?"

"Got it. Trent and I are going for a run. I'm in his driveway now. I'll see you Thursday."

A warmth passed through me like an electric current. Despite the night going off track last week, I had enjoyed all my time with Laramie that evening. Maybe dating was "my thing." We would see. There are never guarantees that things will always work out.

Trent and I hugged at his door. I hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks. I thanked him again for the wonderful Friendsgiving event.

"It has grown. That was our third time to do it. This house is easier than the first one. I wish our backyard was fully landscaped. Mike has been able to get a lot done, but we have plans envisioned. Hopefully next year."

"Trust me. It was lovely. The friends I brought had a delightful time."

"Great." He grabbed us both a bottled water. "You ready?"

I nodded. We were off. Mike and Trent had a beautiful trail not far from their house. A wooded area through the park was lush with greenery in the summer. A few pines and a magnolia trees here and there kept a few aspects of green in the winter, but mostly things looked bare. There were still some nice rocks and a creek to give it a natural aesthetic. As we ran, it was 42 degrees. By midnight, it was supposed to be in the teens.

"Speaking of your friends," Trent puffed in his jog. "What's up with this Larry guy?"

"What makes you think anything is up?"

"What you said at Friendsgiving. The way you looked at him."

"Well..." What did I want to share? I didn't have anything to hide. My honesty was one trait I liked about myself. "If you really want to know, he and I had a date the other night."

Trent stopped. He scanned the area. We had just passed a bench and we walked back to it.

"What's going on? What happened with Mitch?"

"Mitch and I spent the weekend together. Nothing new there. I'm ... I'm just dating."

"Well, THAT'S new!"

"Yeah. It sounds convoluted, but in my talks with Dr. Horwood, he's making me question why I feel the way I do."

"What do you mean?"

"Mitch is all I've known. I love him. But do I love him for who he is or what he did for me? You know, help me come out and everything."

"Does he know you're dating?"

"I was up front with him. I think he feels on the offence now. I'm just trying to figure out what I really want."

"Hmm. It reminds me of Mike."

"How?" I asked.

"When the two of us started, I was still in college. Mike was the one that helped me to come out. I was so scared back in school, terrified to talk to anyone. He felt safe, more so than my friends in college. But when my work suffered, we put our relationship on hold until graduation. We both told each other that we loved each other. But deep down, he was worried that he was all I knew. I had never explored beyond the two of us. For many months he feared I would eventually fall for someone my own age."

"Ah." I thought on Trent's words. "So, how did you resolve this?"

Trent looked at the ground. He was uncomfortable. I was about to tell him that I didn't mean to pry and that he didn't have to go further.

"I fucked Lance," he said, lifting his head to me.

It startled me for a second. I seemed to recall that there was something between the two of them. Lance's first share at AA was that he was in love with his best friend.

"During those last months at college, Lance was in denial. However, he would `play around' with guys — and girls — trying to figure himself out. We became close. We turned out to be best friends by graduation. Although he questioned if he was really gay or not, I think deep down he knew he was and that he had feelings for me. The sexual tension between us was heavy. He wanted to fool around. I wanted to be faithful to Mike, but ... it was there. The sexual temptation was there. And ... I'm ashamed. Mike told me to make sure it was him I wanted. To prove it to myself, I fucked Lance. The sex was hot, and as lame as the excuse sounds, I knew when we were done that it was Mike that I wanted. That didn't justify my actions, but at least I knew for sure."

"Wow," I simply said.

"Do what you think is best, Cooper. But if you take it too far, you are going to hurt someone. I hurt Lance; I hated living with that. Had he died in that car crash, I don't know what I would have done. You seem to be honest with everyone, so ... that's good. Does Mitch know it is Larry?"

"No." Omission wasn't lying, but I did wonder if I owed Mitch that. Did I? "We're all kind of in a coffee group. I don't want to disrupt things."

"Romances may come and go, but friendships can be forever. Don't forget that."

Trent kissed me on the cheek as he stood to resume the run.

—

Natalie and Corey arrived ten minutes early. They both hugged me. My son carried a bag of groceries into the kitchen.

"How was school?"

"Dad, you ask me that every time you see me. It's fine. It's school. It's the same. It's like me asking you `How was work?'"

"Fair point," I said. "But work was SPECTACULAR!"

"Why?" they both asked.

"It wasn't. I was being sarcastic."

Corey began taking items out and grouping them.

"What can I do?" I asked.

"Nothing. Leave my domain. I've got it all handled." He waved us away with dramatic flourish.

Natalie and I smiled and went into the living room.

"This is nice," she said.

I sat next to her. "It is. Plus, who knew our kid would grow up to be the state's next big chef?"

We chuckled.

We had been divorced for two-and-a-half years. The two of us had really come a long way. When I opened up to her back then, I had only been sober for two weeks. I knew I had to tell her the truth. She was having such a difficult time with my alcoholism. Telling her I was gay and that I thought it was best for us to divorce blindsided her. It was no wonder she was cold for so many months. Time has healed wounds. She understood my situation, but I still regretted turning her world upside down. Deep down, I knew I couldn't live a lie. Mitch had revealed that to me. The fact that we were able to simply sit and visit so casually now really was a miracle in its own way.

She had been telling me about her job, and my personal reflections caused me to miss half of what she had conveyed. Once I focused on her words again, it was nice to hear that she was doing better financially than when we split.

"Are you and Daryl doing fine?"

"Sure."

That was succinct. It didn't reveal anything other than it was not for my ears. It wasn't my business, but I did hope she was happy.

"Oh my gosh. I still haven't shown you the house." I called out to the kitchen, "Corey, how long on dinner?"

"According to the timer on the microwave, 22 minutes, 40 seconds."

We smiled. I took my time showing her each part of the home. She loved the guest bath. She complimented me on how well I had decorated. Jakob had helped with nice suggestions. I picked things up here at the Visions store in Jackson Bend. She loved the study. I told her a lot about Laramie but avoided telling her we were in bed with each other last week. I talked how we crashed into each other at Joe. Apparently, Corey had told her about my friends in the coffee group.

The master bedroom was last. Surprisingly, it felt awkward to be in a bedroom with Natalie. I questioned why. We had been husband and wife for 14 years. I wondered what she was feeling.

"It's beautiful, Cooper," she said as we headed toward the kitchen. "Corey loves it here. He loves his room."

"You're okay with that, right?"

"Of course. Both of us want our son to be happy."

"I've hated that I haven't been able to give him his own room for most of this year."

"You reacted quickly to ... harsh circumstances."

"Still. I'm glad he has his own space. He's of the age where kids need privacy."

"He holes up in his room at home most of the time," Natalie said.

"You two are good though, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose. I'm sure he thinks I'm very strict. Hopefully I have my `fun mom' moments," she said using air quotes. "I still try to be very supportive."

Corey was minutes from having everything ready. I made glasses of tea. He said he wanted to "plate" our meals, so we didn't set the table other than silver. I saw Natalie fold the napkins I had set out at the dining room table.

"This is the first time to have a meal in the dining room, Cor'. Thanks for making it special."

"I hope. You haven't tasted it yet."

We started with an orange-tomato soup with a swirl of cream and a sprinkle of basil. It was delicious. Corey gathered our bowls like a waiter insisting we remain seated for the entrée.

One by one, plates were set before the three of us. Our son had prepared almond chicken with snow peas. The rice pilaf also had slivered almonds in it.

"Impressive," I said, as he sat to join us. "It looks wonderful."

"Thanks. The recipe called for bamboo shoots and water chestnuts, but I chose snow peas instead. It is supposed to have a little sherry in it, but ... I wanted to leave that out. I think the flavor is nice."

"It sure is," Natalie said after her first bite. "Delicious."

Corey beamed. Suddenly he jumped up. "Oh!"

He stirred in the kitchen a moment. We heard the oven door close.

"Sorry, I almost forgot the bread. It's a French baguette," he said, setting down a sliced loaf arranged in a basket, along with a container of spreadable margarine.

We all enjoyed it. It was the nicest family meal we had experienced in years. I was thrilled that I asked them over. The night was wonderful.

"I don't know what we did to deserve this, Cor', but ... wow. Bravo."

He just smiled at the both of us. "I don't have dessert. Usually there is ice cream in the freezer if we want."

"Indeed. Maybe later," I said.

All three of us pitched in to clean dishes. The three of us hadn't visited as family like this since the divorce. If we were ever together, it was usually at some kind of family gathering.

"Can I go to my room?" he asked.

"Um. I guess," said Natalie, clearly not sure how long she intended for them to stay.

"How about ice cream in 30 minutes, bud?"

"Okay." And he was gone upstairs.

Natalie and I returned to the couch.

"It's really been lovely, Cooper," she said. "Thanks for asking us over."

"Hopefully it doesn't have to be that rare." I hesitated to say what I wanted to. "I know things were chaotic for a while ... and I feel horrible about that. But ... Natalie, I still miss seeing you from time to time. Gay or not, it's nice to spend time with you. I'm glad we can do this. And, of course, if Daryl would feel comfortable, I'd more than welcome him to join us for dinners."

"We'll see." Natalie looked away. "He's a bit jealous of you."

"Me? Why?"

"C'mon, Cooper. You're handsome as ever. He thinks you are really nice too."

"So is he. We haven't spent much time together, but he seems very nice."

"He is. And we've really become closer."

"Serious closer?"

She chuckled. "I'm not sure about that. We haven't talked marriage or anything. But we've enjoyed some tender evenings."

"But not tender nights," I noted innocently.

"ANY-way," she rolled her eyes. "Let's talk about Christmas."

We discussed dates, gifts, family, etc. We seemed to be on the same page. There was much to be done, but we were looking forward to the upcoming holidays. Once again, I had saved some vacation days to spend extra time with Corey. I got him for a full week starting Christmas Day.

I had two flavors of ice cream in the freezer, but Hershey's syrup drizzled over the top made both selections even yummier. Corey actually opened up about one of his classes unprompted. We figured any questions about this girlfriend would initiate a retreat, so we restrained ourselves.

I picked up our bowls and started taking them to the dishwasher.

"Mom? Is it okay if I stay here tonight?"

Natalie and I turned to each other. We looked confused.

"Buddy, it's your mother's night. As much as I love having you here, that isn't kind to spring it on her."

"I know. But I'm always there. I have clothes here. I have no homework. You can drop me off on the way to work. If that's okay, I mean. I'm already here."

I felt helpless. I'd take Corey every night. I loved him here. But this put Natalie on the spot.

"Sweetie, it's not fair to put your father — and me — in this decision at the drop of a hat." Corey looked down. "But ..." She looked at me. "Dad ... I mean Cooper, is it okay?"

"Um, sure. I'm okay with it. Corey is always welcome here. Always."

She looked at both of us. "Hm. Okay, ... this time. In the future, let's talk about such things first. Okay?"

He nodded. Within a few minutes, he had retreated to his bedroom.

Near the door, we both looked at each other. "Sorry," we said together, then chuckled.

"I'm not sure where all that came from," I said.

"It's okay. I do get to see him more."

We hugged. Both of us stared into each other's eyes. I couldn't be for certain, but I felt both of us wanted to kiss each other. For the first time in five years, I really felt like having sex with Natalie. Just for a brief moment. Instantly, a warning screen flashed in front of my brain:

·         You are not married. She is not your wife. Both of you would find it inappropriate.

·         She is seeing someone else. It would be cruel to both of them.

·         What would that mean to Corey?

·         Mixed signals would mean mixed feelings — and lots of pain!

·         You're gay. What are you thinking?

It was brief; it was just the moment. But for a couple of seconds, I felt straight. I felt like I did when we got married. Natalie is a good woman; I at least chose well in that regard.

She kissed me on the cheek and said, "I had a nice time." The door closed behind her.

Corey and I didn't talk much more that evening. I thanked him again for dinner and told him I loved him. I offered strawberry waffles for breakfast, and he thought it was a good idea.

I stared at the ceiling after I turned out the lights. That peculiar moment with Natalie had me questioning everything. Had I become sober without getting involved with Mitch, could I have faked it for several more years? At least until Corey graduated? Would that have been better? Could I have lived a lie?

I thought about when Natalie and I had sex all those years before. There were some passionate nights to recall. I pictured them. I got hard remembering them. Before long, Laramie replaced Natalie in my thoughts. I envisioned the two of us naked in bed, kissing, grinding. I didn't know how our second date would turn out, but I was looking forward to it.

I jacked off thinking of his body.

I was gay. I was okay with being gay. Why even question it?

—

"Dr. Horwood will see you now, Mr. Snow."

I walked into Logan's office not knowing where to begin. My date with Laramie, my weekend with Mitch or my moment with Natalie ... it was a motherlode of triggers.

"Mitch isn't really fond of me dating ..."

"Oh yes. I'm very aware. I got quite the tongue-lashing from him last week."

"Really??!!"

"Yes. He accused me of telling you to see other people."

"Just so you know, I didn't say that to him."

"I'm sure." He reached for a pad, then recalled I didn't like it when he wrote things down, so he put it back on his desk. "Why don't we start with your date with ..."

"Laramie. Most people call him Larry."

"And how did you feel about it?"

"It didn't ... go as planned ... at the end ... " I had no idea how to phrase it. "But most of the date was wonderful."

"Do you want to talk about `the end'?"

"No. It's probably not what you think. I know it's not. All that's not important. I do know I enjoyed being with him. It felt very ... natural. We ... I don't know, we click."

"And how did you feel about Mitchell after this date."

"To be honest, I didn't think about Mitchell at all during the date. We did spend the weekend together. I love Mitch. We had fun. Since I have said I am dating, he's kind of been a sex fiend. He wants it all the time."

Logan tried not to laugh. "So, you are widening your field of experience. How does it make you feel? Do you want to return to Mitch or continue exploring?"

"Laramie and I have a date tomorrow."

"I see."

"And I'll see Mitch this weekend."

"Doing all of this at the same time ... are you comfortable with this?"

"Surprisingly ... yes. For the first time, I almost feel like I am in control of my own destiny."

"And these two men, do they know you are seeing each other?"

"Yes. They know each other. Mitch doesn't know I am seeing Laramie, per se, but he knows I'm dating."

"I'm glad you are feeling more confident, more ambitious in finding out what you're really like, but I do ask this ... how long? Will these two men be okay with you dating around?"

"Mitch hates it; Laramie just wants his chance." I pondered the question a moment. "Right now ... at least now ... I am interested in figuring out what I want or need. But, yeah, eventually I will need to make a decision. I know that."

—

I had lunch with Mitchell. While he was in my office, we discussed Corey's gifts. With Natalie's blessing, I placed the order for the keyboard, acknowledging credit to the salesperson that I had worked with. At the same time, Mitch ordered a set of headphones to go with it. As Corey learned to play, this feature might have been a gift for either Natalie or myself as only he would hear it.

I avoided speaking about the night's date with Laramie.

Mitch wanted to come again this weekend. I asked if I could have Corey on my own Friday night for some father-son time. He agreed to come over late Saturday afternoon.

Before leaving my office, he shut the door and pulled me close. We kissed for a couple of minutes. As much as I was looking forward to seeing Laramie, kissing Mitchell was reassuring. Sadly, I didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

—

I didn't have a chance to ring Laramie's doorbell. He opened the door before I could even extend my arm. He reached for me and pulled me in. The door made a slight thud as it closed, but my senses weren't fully functioning because he pulled me into a deep kiss. I melted into it.

He led us to the kitchen. As I pulled up a bar stool, he returned to his work of preparing dinner. It smelled delicious. He got lost in a search for a specific spice hidden in a sea of small bottles in a cabinet. I got lost in my realization that I had passionately kissed two men in the same day. I should have been shocked at that behavior, but I actually felt like a stud. I had never felt that in my life. Growing up, I wasn't interested much in dating. Now I realized I was dating the wrong people, or more specifically, the wrong sex.

Laramie had no success in his search for the elusive ingredient. I could tell he had gone for a haircut this week. It wasn't dramatic, but his hair looked very neat from behind. His T-shirt looked slightly snug, which looked good on him. His blue jeans flattered his ass perfectly. My breathing became a bit shallow as I was drawn into his appearance. Here was a man who had invited me over and was hoping I was spending the night with him — and I was delighted to be here with him.

I stood and walked behind him. Just as he located the yet-to-be-revealed seasoning, he felt my arms wrap around him from behind. Slowly his body stood erect, and I pulled him into me. I buried my face into his neck. I breathed on it. I inhaled his scent.

"You smell good," I whispered.

He turned in my arms. Our mouths opened and we kissed again, deeply. His tongue met mine. My hand cradled his head. He used the bottle of spice to rub up and down my ass.

"Should I stop preparing dinner?" he smiled.

"No. No, please continue. Can I help?"

"I'm fine. Just keep me company."

I realized I had left dessert in the car. I went outside to retrieve it. Today had been our fourth day of below-freezing temperatures for highs. Fortunately I was outside for only a minute. I left my coat in the car, draped over my overnight bag.

"Is cherry cheesecake okay?" I asked, placing the plastic bag in the refrigerator.

"Sounds good."

"Thanks for letting me bring something. Most people would bring a bottle of wine or something to drink, but ... I draw the short stick in that department."

"No worries, baby. That's totally fine," he said, totally engrossed in his side dish preparation.

I wasn't sure if Laramie realized he called me "baby." It didn't register in any of his body language. I, on the other hand, noticed immediately. Oddly, Mitchell and I almost always use each other's names. We so rarely used pet names. It seemed curious that we never went down that road. I think he used "honey" on rare occasions. It was odd that I wasn't sure.

"It was sweet of you to offer to cook. I'm enjoying watching you work. Are you like this on the job?"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Totally masculine and handsome."

He turned to smile at me.

We made chitchat for the twenty minutes he needed to finish dinner. Laramie was so easy to talk to.

His kitchen was a hodge-podge of styles. The contradiction of surfaces and colors screamed "bachelor." After scanning the room, my analysis was that the linoleum floor came with the house when he bought it. He figured he would re-do the floors "someday." With only himself in the house, it never seemed a priority. The cherry wood cabinetry exhibited excellent craftsmanship, his I assumed. The kitchen table, big enough for three or a tight squeeze with four must have also been his handiwork in oak, stained a glorious deep auburn. He only had two chairs in place at the present. They looked a bit tattered and store-bought. A back wall leading to the laundry room had wallpaper that could have potentially been installed in the 1980s when the house was built. Colors within the pattern worked well with the muted lemon yellow of the laundry room but not so much the kitchen. The walls in the kitchen looked recently painted, at least in the past few years. A cool blue worked well with the countertops but not necessarily the appliances.

"I will let this just simmer, while we have salad." He placed bread in the oven and gesticulated that we have a seat at the table.

"The salad already has a lemon vinaigrette on it," he informed me. I noticed sunflower seeds, dried cranberries and thinly sliced radishes added to the spring mix.

I reached for my fork. Laramie's hand lunged to my free hand and squeezed it. I looked up at him.

"Thanks for being here. I'm glad we can have a second chance."

"I'm hoping for a third," I said with a wink. "And just so you know, I had a great time last week. I enjoyed our first date."

His body language withered in embarrassment.

He let me talk about Corey for a while. I spoke of our Christmas plans, or what I was hoping we would be able to do. I mentioned he was developing the beginnings of teenager syndrome, but Corey was still a mature kid that I was so proud of.

"I like that you're a good dad."

"Now. I wasn't always. Drunk dad was not so good."

"Does he hold it against you?"

"Not at all. It's almost like in his mind it didn't happen. I have no idea how he moved past it. He has been so understandable. I am very lucky."

"I love that he accepts all of us when we have coffee. Clearly, he has no issues with you being gay."

"Considering the family dynamics, it is incredibly impressive," I said nodding my head.

A ding came from the kitchen.

"Bread!" Laramie said as he jumped up. I loved seeing him be so animated about dinner.

I heard the oven slam closed.

"It all smells great," I said from the table.

He grabbed butter and placed it on the table. A butter knife had already been positioned in the center.

He started talking about the side dish as he sliced the bread. I wasn't looking, but suddenly "Ow! DAMN!" was screamed.

I jumped up and ran to him. He had sliced his pointer finger. I wrapped it tight with a paper towel. His face winced probably more in embarrassment than pain, but I'm sure that was there. "gaah" he softly exhaled in frustration.

"I've got bandages in the bathroom," he said.

As soon as I let go, the red stain was quite visible. He grabbed his finger again, and we moved to the bedroom. Inside the master bath, he motioned to the medicine cabinet with his head. I opened it and looked inside. I grabbed a box of Band-Aids and searched for something that I assumed would be the right size.

"Let's have a look," I said.

He pulled the paper towel away. It was hard to tell how deep the cut went. It had not stopped bleeding. I turned on the cold water and put part of the paper towel under the stream. I wrapped it snug around the oozing digit and held tight.

"Hold my finger," he said, indicating he wanted me to do it rather than him.

It was silent. Both of us stared at his hand.

The brief stillness of the moment was broken. "Fuck!" he groaned. I looked at his face. He turned to look at me. "I'm sorry," he said, looking like a parent telling a child they can't have a puppy.

"It was an accident. Don't worry. Everything's okay."

He exhaled in exasperation. "Until I do something else completely stupid."

I placed my forehead on his and held his head from behind. "It's fine," I whispered.

We didn't separate. We just stared at the paper towel wrapped around his finger. I held it tight. He moved his free hand to hold my waist. Somehow, the mishap made us feel connected. I felt it. I knew he did too. I didn't want to let go of his finger.

Nothing was said. Our faces moved to kiss each other. It went on for a minute. Free arms pulled us together tighter.

"I suppose we should check to see if the bleeding has stopped," I said.

"Hold my finger a little longer."

I smiled. Our foreheads rested against each other again. The tips of our noses touched. The warmth of our skin was comforting. My grip on his finger was still tight.

"I guess we should look," he said.

Slowly, the disposable material was pulled away. The wetness of the paper towel had absorbed some blood, but the cut itself seemed to have stopped bleeding.

"Well, it's good it doesn't need stitches."

"Yeah. Somehow, I managed to not fuck it up that bad."

Laramie reached behind me into the cabinet to grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He dabbed his finger while I opened the outer wrapper surrounding the Band-Aid. I encircled the plastic strip around his wounded pride snuggly.

"As much as I know we are feeling other things at the moment, you really worked hard on dinner. I think we should return to it."

"Lord. Let's hope it hasn't set the kitchen on fire by now."

It hadn't. Nothing had burned.

His homemade meal consisted of braised pork chops sautéed in peaches and onions. The side dishes of brussels sprouts in a parmesan cream and mashed sweet potatoes in nutmeg each came in their separate dishes to keep all the foods from touching. It was cute. Bread plates were at the side. We had thoroughly inspected the slices to make sure nothing "A positive" had splattered on the bread.

I found conversation easy with Laramie. In more than two years, Mitchell and I had settled into a routine. I could tell him anything, but we didn't make time for conversation like we used to. There would be an eggshell topic here and there. I told him about my AA meetings and friends, but he didn't ask much about it. Mitch and I talked about "the" world instead of "our" world. He was up on pop culture more than me, and I learned a lot from him. With Laramie, conversation was more simplistic. Line dancing. Brad. Cowboy hats. Cappuccino. Brussel sprouts. Cats. Hay bales. One commonality with both of them was Corey. They both seemed to like him, if not love him. I was surprised Laramie had become attached. It became apparent that he didn't want to push too hard, him being a gay stranger and all. However, all my friends at Joe were no longer strangers to Corey. My son was one of the group. I loved that.

One thing Mitch and I could easily talk about was sex. Considering who I was and how I grew up, Mitch made me comfortable with all that. It was a gift. I didn't think of Laramie as shy, not in the slightest. Perhaps reserved was a better word. He reminded me of Jakob in that way. He just didn't approach the subject openly. Random comments here and there. I think his missteps along the way helped define that hesitation. Of course, regular conversation shouldn't really bring it up that often, particularly since Lance had moved away.

A calendar was next to me in Laramie's kitchen. Thoughts of Lance and Jakob prompted an idea.

"If I had a dinner party next Saturday, would you come?"

"At your place?" Laramie gave me a look of "Hello!??" Nothing had been written on that date. "Of course. Any time I can spend with you, I will. You know that."

I smiled at his kind words. "I haven't had many people over yet. Most of the house is in place. It's done enough. Plus with Christmas decorations up, what is still a bit bare can be disguised."

I immediately texted Lance and Jakob to invite them. Then Ophelia. How big did I want to make this event? Trent and Mike obviously. Richard. Emory. I wondered if Brad would come. I wasn't attempting to replicate Trent's Friendsgiving. It would just be a dinner party.

I talked it over with Laramie, bouncing ideas off of him, from menu to time to guests. He would know the majority of them, but not all of them.

"Uh. You haven't mentioned Mitch."

"He'll be at a family gathering that weekend," I said.

"Oh." Laramie looked puzzled. "And you don't want to schedule it a day he can come?"

"He's been to the house several times. I'm okay dedicating time to other friends without him."

Laramie looked like he was evaluating a medical form. His brow was furrowed a moment in thought. Was he flattered that I wanted him there and not Mitch? Did he feel I was just "lumping" him in with other friends? Was he insulted or touched?

I took dishes to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. "That was excellent. Thank you again."

"My pleasure." He came up behind me and placed his arms around me. "I'm so glad we did this."

He had forgotten the finger incident. I turned within his hold. We kissed. "Me too." We kissed again. "Dessert now or later?"

Laramie ran his fingers through my hair. "I kind of thought of having you as my dessert." That made me chuckle. "Um. I'm not pushing things on you, am I?"

I held his finger. "I'm up for it."

We kissed. He took my hand off his finger and pressed it into his crotch. I could feel his cock. Firm. Restrained. Ready. Gently he grabbed my wrist and led me to the bedroom.

I had worn a long-sleeve deep purple shirt to work today so that I could wear it on this date tonight. I liked how it looked with my blond hair. I unbuttoned it and let it hang open. Laramie pulled off his shirt. I liked his chest. It was bulkier than Mitchell's. The chest hair was about the same — a good thing.

He walked into the bathroom to swish some mouthwash. I walked behind him to take a leak before we got "involved." I had drank quite a bit of tea, so it was a smart move. He stepped beside me and tore a couple squares of toilet tissue. When the final drops had fallen from my penis, he wiped the tip and then held me as he leaned down to give it a kiss. While he proceeded to empty his bladder, I quickly used his mouthwash in turn.

He lit two candles on his dresser. The candlelight reflected off the mirror giving more illumination. The lights were turned off next. The room captured a delightful ambience. It was the glow of romance. We didn't rush to take off our clothes. They came off gradually as our eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. It wasn't a show; it was an appreciation of the body being revealed. We had been nervous last week, and part of me still was. Exposing ourselves wasn't the real concern.

Laramie pushed the remainder of his clothing down his legs. His erection was in full force by the time his briefs were challenged with going beyond the stiff protrusion. He kicked his briefs to the side as my fingers slid into the waistband of my boxers. I wasn't fully hard, so my dick didn't look as big, but it had started to rise. I let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them.

He pulled the covers back, and we stretched our bodies the length of the bed.

"The smell of fabric softener indicates you washed the sheets today," I smiled.

"Only the best for my beau," he said. His expression immediately conveyed he felt that came off as corny.

We turned toward each other. My first reach was for his ass cheek. It was firm and meaty. As a male specimen, Laramie boasted a beautiful body. He wrapped an arm around my back to pull me into him closer. My cock was now hard, and the two erections grazed each other. I exhaled a gentle groan as I felt his hard flesh touch mine. I was startled by the involuntary response, but I was becoming flush with the foreplay of the moment. Our mouths engulfed each other. Our tongues engaged in swordplay until they declared truce and simply cherished the feel and touch of each other's tastebuds. I was breathing heavily.

My touch turned into a firmer grip. I groped his body in numerous areas until I finally lunged for the prize. His cock moved into my grasp, and we both groaned. He felt the excitement of my grip. I felt the excitement of gripping it. Our mouths met again. His fingers grasped my hair and pressed me harder into his kiss. I was moaning; so was he. I struggled for air; so did he. "This feels good," I whispered. So did he.

Laramie was the first to move our faces apart. He leaned his body down causing me to let go of his manhood. I felt his tongue on my cock. He licked the length of my five inches. I knew it wasn't as long as his, but it was every bit as hard. His mouth encased my erection in saliva and warmth.

"Oh. Laramie. Ohhhh. Yeah."

"Man, your dick is titanium, Cooper."

"It's all yours."

The slurping of his blowjob was audible. He groaned into my cock as he serviced it. I ran my fingers through his hair as his head bobbed over my crotch. It felt wonderful with softness in my fingers and wetness around my cock. I moaned and wailed for several glorious minutes as he provided oral stimulation. I was as comfortable being loud with him as I was with Mitchell.

Candles had filled the room with the fragrance of peaches and cream.

Laramie moved to his knees to maneuver himself into a more aerial position at my side. From this change in our physical space, I could reach and clutch his dick while he sucked me. I pulled on his organ. It made me moan more, and I heard him echo it into my stiff flesh. I pulled. I tugged. I stroked. I jerked.

He pulled his head off my groin as if coming up for air. "Fuck, Cooper. That feels so good. My cock is throbbing."

With bold bravado, I all but pushed him over and scrambled to his crotch. I lunged down on his shaft, wanting to feel his cock force its way into my throat.

"Ungh," he groaned. "Fuck yeah."

He let me service him for a few minutes. My name was interspersed with cuss words and groans, as he experienced pleasure directly from me. I felt hot. My hands roamed his chest. My hands roamed his legs. I explored beneath his balls to stimulate the furthest end of his crack. I fondled his balls. His skin was hot wherever I touched it. I hoped mine was too. I let my grip jerk his member while my tongue found its way to his balls. They were large and had some hair on them. I found them exceptionally masculine. As my tongue teased his genitalia, he made "Cooooooppeeeerrrrr" into a fifteen-second pronunciation.

He tugged on my body and we both were on our sides facing opposite directions. Instantly, we engaged in a Gemini position, feasting on each other's hard flesh. Laramie's breath escaped his nostrils, passing over my testicles. The two of us moaned as we sucked. And sucked. And sucked. And sucked. We gripped each other's ass. I removed my hand to fondle his balls as I sucked him. And sucked him. And sucked him.

His face pulled from my hardened cock and screamed. "I'm there, baby. I'm there. FUCK! YES! Oh, yes."

As cum washed over my tongue, I also smiled hearing him call me "baby" for the second time.

"Cooper! Cooper ... ungh ... UNGH!" he shouted with the last spurt of his climax. "Ooooooooooo."

I whirled my body around to kiss him. He tasted the tasteless taste of cum on my tongue. And we kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

My penis had not received any attention for the past three minutes, yet it was still a crowbar. My left knee leapt over his body. I straddled him and moved my dick to his face. His mouth descended on me. I plunged my cock into his skull, sawing my man tool in and out. His saliva recoated my rigid skin. Laramie moaned as he sucked me. And sucked me. And sucked me. Both hands gripped my butt cheeks as I thrusted my cock. And thrusted my cock. And thrusted my hard, fucking cock.

"Oh, fuck, it feels so good, Laramie."

He hummed in approval as the seal around my erection wouldn't release moans beyond his lips.

His teeth momentarily scraped the top of my erection. That caused a brief moment of minor pain, but he corrected it. It made it regrettably sensitive. I was close to coming, but now I worked more to get back to that point — certainly not a bad thing.

"Keep sucking me," I panted. "Keep sucking me."

My breathing was haggard. I panted. I gasped. I whined. I groaned.

"Oh, I'm close. I'm fucking close. Laramie. Laramie! LARAMIE! I'M FUCKING COMING!"

My climax sounded as if I was being burned with scalding water. Spasm after spasm went into his face. He consumed it all. I eventually was spent.

"Mmmmm," I hummed removing my cock.

"Come here," he directed.

We kissed. His tongue slid below mine. I could feel some of my semen on it. It was hot.

I moved to sit next to him. We both exhaled and regained our breathing. Eventually, we turned to look at each other. We smiled.

"I'm not nervous anymore," he said, reaching to hold my hand.

"I enjoyed it too."

We lay there just holding hands. It was 9:45. Not early, not late. The candlelight flickered on the ceiling. We just held hands. We were quiet for a minute. I contemplated the sex. It was good. It was fun. I'm not sure if I would have categorized it better than what Mitch and I experienced last week. Mitchell was exceptional in bed. Once he was open to being loud, our sex was off the charts. But this had been fun. It was good. It was a very good orgasm.

Laramie sat up and turned on the light. "I noticed you didn't bring a bag. Did you not want to stay the night?"

"It's actually in the car. I was prepared, assuming that was the direction we headed and both wanted."

"Oh, I want," he said.

I sat up next to him. "Sadly, I now have to get dressed to go get it."

"Later," he said. Then his hand fondled my balls. They were hanging attractively. They didn't look like his, but they were sensual in themselves.

Fifteen minutes later we were sitting in the same position, naked, eating cheesecake with cherry topping dripped over the top. We slowly consumed it almost with a sexual gratification with each bite. Making love just prior made it more delicious.

As I took my last bite, cherry sauce dripped to my chest. "Uh!" I grunted. Laramie set his plate on the nightstand. He leaned down to lick the red drip off my chest.

"Now that was hot," I said.

"Yeah?" he smiled at me.

"Yeah," I grinned. I took my fingers wiping every bit of cherry sauce remaining onto them. I then slowly, sensually drew lines of cherry fingerpainting on his cock. He jumped in both surprise and the chill of the sauce. I leaned over and took his dick in my mouth again. Slowly, gently, my tongue swirled around his penis removing the tart sweetness. A sinful dessert took on a new meaning. I continued to suck him. I wanted to. He groaned.

"Ohhh, Cooper. Oh man."

His penis stirred in my mouth. It stiffened. And I sucked it. I didn't want to release it. His cock was my captive.

After a minute of moaning, he said, "I wish I could come again, but it takes a while. I wish I could do it right away."

I took my mouth from his rod. "I can," I smiled.

He smiled back. He took the fork from his plate and moved the saucer above my crotch. Flipping it over, he smeared cherry and whipped cream and bits of cheesecake all over my dick and crotch. The red smeared into my groin looked like a tragic accident. Laramie then set to clean it all off with his mouth and tongue.

Ten minutes later, my cock was straining to pump whatever cum it could muster since my last orgasm. The crescendo of my growl was matched by the tug on his hair imprisoned between my fingers. Despite the sensitive area on my penis where he had scraped it earlier, I was delighted to come twice in one night. It had been at least two years since I had done that. He had licked me clean, although we got up to clean ourselves with washcloths.

Neither of us got dressed. We watched The Tonight Show monologue from his bed. Our bodies leaned into each other. I loved feeling it next to me. Admittedly, after the passion of the evening had subsided, the December chill crept a little into the bedroom. My penis looked very short. His was average. Neither of us seemed to care; we enjoyed just touching our bodies. However, we eventually pulled the covers up to our navels. That helped a little, but I did miss looking at Laramie's body totally exposed for me.

I knew I needed to get my toothbrush if nothing else. I lamented getting dressed, but I forced myself. A quick dash to the car froze me to the core, albeit briefly. I reentered the bedroom, quicky shedding my shirt and pants. As quickly as I could get naked, I rejoined Laramie in bed. I gripped his body tight.

"Gah! You're so cold," he laughed.

"Make me warm," I begged.

We wriggled under the covers and held each other. He rubbed his hands all over my backside, and we pressed our bodies together. After a couple of minutes, I purred in the warmth of his embrace.

"What time do we have to get up?" he asked.

"Do we have to?" I said, burying my face into his chest.

"Are you suggesting that you will call in sick?" he asked playfully, kissing the top of my head.

"I wish," kissing his nipple softly.

I pulled myself from his wonderful arms. Moving off the bed, I reached into my bag to get my toiletry kit and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Laramie followed. There was only one sink, so he stood next to me. I watched his penis swing as he brushed his teeth. After more than two years being only with Mitchell, I found a surprising comfort level with Laramie. As I took a final pee, I began thinking about Mitchell.

Candles were blown out. Lights were turned out. We reached for each other in the darkness. We kissed.

"Good night," we both said.

We wrapped our arms around each other.

I loved the night, but my thoughts curiously shifted to Mitchell. Now that I had started this dating venture, I was experiencing more than just him. I had admitted to him I was doing so. I didn't hide anything. Was being upfront with a lover about sleeping with someone else any better than hiding it? And now what? I loved Mitch, but my feelings for Laramie were getting stronger. I had officially opened a can of worms. Masculine, hairy, lovable worms.

Logan caused me to question what I was feeling. All I knew before was Mitchell. When that fractured, I couldn't figure out who I was or where to go. By widening my experience, had I found answers, or had I just developed an understanding of what Mitchell needed? Was this dating I was doing any less disrespectful or unfaithful? I had released Mitchell from any exclusive commitments and by doing so had inherently done the same for me. It's not uncommon for people to date more than one person at a time. As much as my upbringing would be against this, I loved dating Laramie. But for how long? I hadn't foreseen an endgame to this. By dating someone other than Mitchell, I hoped to find my answer to help me work through what I felt was missing. But was I forging into a minefield? If I went much further, all of us were going to get hurt.

But right now, in this moment, I was glad to be in the arms of Laramie. My upbringing be damned, I felt no guilt. I was happy. I rolled onto my side and moved back into him for us to spoon and cuddle.

"I'm so glad you stayed," he said, sounding like someone who was just on the verge of drifting off.

He put his arm around me. Normally I would have held his hand to my chest. Tonight I held his finger. My thumb rubbed small circles into the bandage. "Me too," I said in delayed response.

He slightly gyrated his waist moving closer to me. I felt his dick pressed into my hip. For the third time tonight, I had a raging hard-on. I held his finger until I fell asleep.

—

My phone alarm went off at 7 o'clock. My hand was pressed against Laramie's ass. I rolled to cancel the chime. He rolled up behind me and pulled us back together. We both hummed feeling our bodies pressed together. His morning wood jabbed against my butt cheeks. I clutched his hand and held it tightly. We didn't move for a couple of minutes.

"I should get up," I muttered.

"Mmm. Hold me," he softly requested with a morning-laced mumble.

Laramie rolled over. I followed suit and held him. We were warm. Our body heat made the covers a wonderful haven. I gave a simple kiss to the back of his neck. I maneuvered him to turn on his stomach; I then draped my body on top of his. He groaned in approval as my weight pressed on top of his frame. I breathed him in. I wanted to remember the scent of this man I had made love to. I gently slid my dick up through the top of his ass crack. I gently rubbed it up and down the curve of his back.

"You want to fuck me?" he softly asked.

"No. No. I came twice last night. I'm quite satisfied." I frotted my cock into his body for a few more seconds. "Stop putting thoughts in my mind," I said whimsically.

I kissed the back of his neck. He then rolled over beneath me. We kissed a simple kiss. His arms wrapped around me. I lowered my weight back down from my elbows. We began grinding our erections together. But I knew I needed to get up. I threw the blankets off us.

I stepped out of bed and immediately felt chilled.

"Brr."

"I'll make coffee," he said, his cock divining his path inches before him as he walked into the kitchen.

I went to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair. I was sure it was a tangled mess, and I was correct. I started the hot water in the shower.

Stepping out of the bedroom, I said, "I'm going to hop in the shower."

"By yourself?"

We smiled at each other.

"That's up to you."

While there was some shampooing and cleaning, the shower also involved some kissing and groping. A soapy finger entered my hole causing me to call out in pleasure. We were playful. Two adult men exhibited attributes of eight-year-old children. Even after the water stopped, the kissing didn't.

After we had toweled off, I took time to shave. He did not. Laramie preferred to have facial scruff, and I was glad he did. It was never long, just neatly trimmed short. I found it magnetic. We looked at his finger and put on a fresh bandage. It would probably sting some today, but it should start its healing process. I just held it for a few seconds.

I said I would grab something to eat on the way to work. By 8:20, we were both dressed and ready to head to our respective jobs. It was casual Friday, so I had a fresh pair of khakis and a simple sweater over a T-shirt. We hugged and kissed in the driveway.

"I think that was a good second date," I said.

"Thanks for giving me another chance."

"I loved every minute of it."

We pulled apart. Before I could motion to my own car, Laramie looked at me. "Hold my finger."

I smiled and gently reached for his finger. I firmly held it. I grinned. Then I held it to my chest. Finally I brought it to my lips.

I waved as I opened the door of my car.

—

I thought of Laramie all morning. I double-checked all my figures to make sure the distractions didn't cause me to make errors.

That mindset was broken when Mitchell walked in just before lunch.

"I'm grabbing a bite at Gracie's Garden. Want to join?"

I smiled. It was nice to see Mitch. I always lit up when I saw him. He closed the door and we kissed. As we held each other, his hand drifted to my crotch. He rubbed my penis through my khakis.

"Hey. We're at work. Behave."

He gave an evil grin and winked. Then he pulled me in for a second kiss.

"I'll meet you in your office in about ten minutes. Will that work?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, and then left for his floor.

I laughed to myself. "I'm a player," I said to no one, knowing that nothing could be further from the truth, but it made me smile anyway.

—

"Is it okay to say I thought about you all day?" a text read at 4:15.

"I hope so because I felt the same." I replied to Laramie.

"I look forward to seeing you Sunday."

I then texted Corey that I would be there to pick him up by 5.

As I approached the school, I saw him standing with other choir friends. I pulled up, and he waved goodbye to his classmates.

"It's so nice that you aren't mortified to be picked up by your father," I said. "Some of my coworkers share tales of their teenage kids that really sound harsh."

"Well, as long as you don't look like Johnny Weir when you drive up, I'm okay with it," he joked.

I knew who Johnny Weir was thanks to Mitch. It was a good joke for a 14 year old.

After Corey had carried his bag and schoolwork upstairs, he came back down. I had a Coke waiting for him.

"Was today your last choir practice for the year?" I asked.

"The last Friday practice. We have another performance — during the school day even — next Thursday. We have one last practice Wednesday afternoon. We're singing for the school board or something. What's a superintendent?"

"The big cheese."

"Oh. Yeah. 2 o'clock next Thursday. I get to miss two classes!"

"Well, score. Hopefully they are your two yuckiest."

"They're all okay."

"Your mom and I are proud of your grades this year."

"We have finals the week after that. But it's a short week."

"Cool. Christmas will be here before you know it."

"I'm not in a rush. Some of my friends keep talking about presents they hope to get. I kind of like the whole month. The decorations, the music, ..."

"Choir hasn't made you tired of Christmas music?"

"Well, we did start in October. So, yeah, I'll be glad to get back to regular music, but I like performing Christmas songs. We have more performances this time of year."

I had seen his Christmas program last year but not this year. I felt out of the loop.

"Was I not invited to one this year?"

"We actually didn't do one for the school this year. We had so many performances, especially since we paired with the band on several, that Mrs. Martindale said we weren't going to do one at the school."

"Well, drat, I'm sorry I missed it."

"That's okay," he said. "You've seen me sing Christmas songs before."

"Hm." Changing the subject, I asked, "Thoughts on dinner?"

We discussed a few options. Somehow after weighing our options on several international cuisines, we decided to make spaghetti at home.

"Your dinner Tuesday night was amazing," I said, as I was twirling the last strands of pasta around my fork.

"Thank you. I had fun fixing it."

"Your mom and I were quite impressed."

He smiled.

"I always like you staying over. Any particular reason you asked to Tuesday night?"

"Oh. That. You know, I was already here and everything. Why go back?" he said, somewhat looking away. It was if he was holding something back.

For the next few minutes, Corey said nothing. I rinsed plates and put them in the dishwasher. I wiped the counter. He threw away the paper napkins from the table and brought over the silver. Still, he said nothing.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Fine."

"Was there something about Tuesday night that bothered you? Did I say something wrong?"

Silence.

"I was ... I just ..." Then silence.

I touched his arm. "Cor'?"

"It just felt so nice having you and Mom in the same house. I loved it. It just felt ... nice. I'm always going back and forth, and ... I just liked all of us in the same house. I didn't want to leave ... that feeling."

Bomb!

"Oh."

Suddenly I saw an ocean wave before me. The surge was imminent. Divorce. Anxiety. Confusion. I clenched my fists trying to hold it together. Unfairness. Childhood. Sexuality. Love. Separation. The wave rose above my head. I stared into its magnitude. Without a whimper I braced for its impact.

The emotions crashed over my head.

"Honey, I'm so sorry. Buddy." I reached for his wrist. "I'm so sorry. I've complicated your life so much. I'm sorry you have to feel those things."

"I understand," he said, all but emotionless, not able to look into my eyes.

"I'm sure that was kind of nice for you for all of us all to be here. I'm sure it brought a lot back."

Heaven knows it did for me. I loved spending the evening with Natalie. The night even had its "moment." I never considered what emotions it might stir in our son.

"It's okay," he said flatly.

He started to head to his room. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into me. As we hugged, I simply said, "I love you."

"I know you do, Dad. Love you too."

He went upstairs. I stepped into my own bedroom. For a moment, I sat at the edge of the bed. I buried my face in my hands not knowing what to think. Should I follow up with conversation? Did he prefer I drop it?

Moving over to the window, one of the neighbor's porch lights lit some flurries beginning to fall. I watched them drift. A sudden wind would carry them far away. Then they would flutter again, helpless to the forces of nature.

I felt the same. I was becoming more comfortable in my own skin, forging my own path romantically, even though that road still had much to go. But with parenting, just when I thought things were good, ... it's hard to realize that you find out your own child is hurting. Looking out the window, I knew his bedroom had the same view. I thought his own room would be what he needed. Sometimes we overlook what a child really needs.

My eyes watered as the flurries flurried. The wind picked up, and the wells in my eyelids finally overflowed allowing tears to cascade down my cheeks. The emotional ocean wave returned to crash into me again, striking me to the sand. I sobbed and couldn't stop. How could I make his world better? The solution didn't exist. That hard fact made me cry more. Could I have stayed together with Natalie and faked it for a few more years? That was what was leading me to drink; could I have found a way to make it work? Was lying to myself the better option?

Then two arms reached around me. Corey pressed his face into my back.

"It's okay, Dad. It's okay."

I turned in his embrace. We hugged.

"I'm sorry life has been unfair to you," I said.

"Well. A lot of kids in school have divorced parents, so I'm not the only one."

We moved to the edge of the bed.

"I know, but that doesn't make things better on your end," I sobbed, trying to catch my breath. I attempted to sniff the snot that was running from my nose back into a nostril to no avail. Corey reached for a tissue and handed it to me. I blew my nose hard. With a bit of composure, I blustered out: "I just wish I could fix things. I'd do anything to make your world perfect."

"I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"That's what parents do; they worry about their kids." I dabbed my eyes for the final time and blew my nose once more. "Life hasn't been fair to you."

"It hasn't been fair to you either," he defended. "Your world kind of turned upside down too. You might have been happier if all our relatives had been more understanding."

"What is all that?" my mother asked. My father and I were watching the news. My homework was done.

"It's some kind of gay pride parade downtown," Dad said.

"Pride? Uck. They should be in prayer asking God to make them better — and forgive all that sin," Mom responded. Two men kissed on camera. "Oh! I don't want Cooper to see that. Turn the station."

"Gross," I said, feeling like I should say something. Deep down I curious to see the men do it again.

There were some very effeminate gentlemen carrying on, but others looked like everyday city folk. It was the first time homosexuality in any form was ever discussed in front of me. I immediately felt I didn't want anything to do with it.

"Maybe if my family was more understanding, I might have been able to accept who I was earlier. Maybe." I paused. "But if I never married your mother, I wouldn't have you in my life. And I would go through anything to make sure I always have you. You're the best thing in my life. I have to be grateful for life giving me you, right?"

"I suppose. You don't have to get mushy for me. I just came down to tell you I was sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"God, how did I luck into a mature kid like you?" My son rolled his eyes at me. "Corey, I know who I am complicates things sometimes, but your mother and I love you very much."

"Yeah, yeah. See? You're getting mushy."

"Well. I'm not going to change, so don't try to grow out of it. You'll be mushy with your own kids someday."

"We'll see." Corey paused, then looked me in the face. "Are you going to ask Mitch to live with us one day?"

"No," I said, rather fast and quite firmly I realized after I had said it. "I'm not saying never. Right now, it's our house, you and me."

"Yeah. Like I'm making payments," he joked.

"I want it to feel like your house too. I would never do something like that without talking to you first."

"Are you two in love?" he asked.

"Yeeeaaahhh, we are," I stretched the answer out. "But we're ... dating. And if he wants to date someone else, I told him that was okay."

"You did?!"

I sighed, not really wanting to have this conversation because I would be no good at explaining my answers.

"When Mitchell che-... when he and I had our problems, we worked at getting over them. And I ... was the one who couldn't get past some things, so ... if I couldn't be 100 percent what he needed, I told him it was okay to date. It wasn't fair for me to keep standing behind a wall."

Corey tried to process it.

"So can you date other people too?"

"If I want, I guess."

"Have you?"

Well, crap. I had told my son I would always be honest with him and that he could talk to me about anything. Those words were now blowing up in my face because I was the subject matter.

"Okay. Do you know any classmates who have one girlfriend or boyfriend this month but had someone else last month?"

"Yeah. A lot. Kids break up all the time."

"Right. Okay. So when Mitchell and I broke up a year ago, I scared myself a little."

"Why? How?"

"Well, I was with your mother for so long, I didn't really admit that I was gay until later in life. Look at it this way, if you had free time to play with someone, you wouldn't choose a kindergarten kid, would you?"

"Probably not," he said, looking confused.

"Right. Well, I was just learning to be myself, to be gay, so much later than most people. I would think the majority of gay men come to terms with their sexuality in high school and college. I was in my 30s. So, I was like a kindergartener and other people my age were like they were seniors in high school, if that makes sense."

"I guess," he said hesitantly.

"Mitch was the only man I had loved, and I felt scared that no one else would want me. I felt like I didn't fit. And maybe with a little dating, I can figure out what it is I want or how to get past the obstacles I have with Mitchell." Guh. How did any of this make sense to a kid? "I know I'm asking you to understand something difficult here. In fact, I can't say I have a firm grip on it myself."

"it's okay. I think I get it."

"But as I've told you, I will never lie to you, okay? And if anything big happens, I'll come to you with it. You're the most important person in my life."

"Jeez, Dad. Mushy talk again?"

We both laughed. After a hug, we stood up.

"Are we both good?" I asked.

He smiled and nodded.

We streamed a couple more episodes of Andor. Not that either of us were necessarily hungry, but I popped popcorn between episodes. Although there was no cuddling or snuggling, we did sit closely on the couch.

—

We entered Target just as the doors had opened. We were trying our hardest to avoid the holiday crowds on Saturday. Corey knew exactly what he wanted to give his mother for Christmas. I told him I would fund $60 for whatever and whomever he wanted to buy for this holiday. Natalie had probably given him some money too, but I was hoping at his age he might be wanting to do small jobs to earn money. Any money he had saved or earned, I said I would also double that. When he turned sixteen, I would want him to start a job of some sort. That sense of responsibility and self-worth would prove invaluable.

As we were in the store, Corey ran into a fellow classmate, Aiden. They were startled to see each other in an unfamiliar environment. From time to time, Corey mentioned friends at school, but I hadn't recalled hearing of Aiden.

"Aid, this is my dad, Cooper Snow."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Snow," Aiden said, extending his hand.

"You too, Aiden," I said, shaking it.

"He and I have the same Math class and sit together at lunch," Corey explained. "He's in choir too. He has a beautiful voice."

Aiden seemed surprised by the compliment. "Wow. Thanks. I'm kind of over the Christmas music though."

"You're only halfway through December," I noted.

"Yeah, but only one more performance."

"So I have been told," I smiled. "I'm just sad there isn't a school performance."

"Eh. I'm not. We've done this concert a lot. My parents wouldn't come anyway, so..."

I found that comment peculiar. The boys talked a few more minutes, then we moved on.

Corey chose a gift basket of nuts and cheeses for his grandparents. I'm sure my mother and father would tell him it was perfect.

He stopped by the women's makeup counter. My son was not shy, which I found rewarding. He immediately told the clerk that his mother was constantly putting lotion on her hands in the winter and asked if she had suggestions. I thought that was both smart and a useful gift.

Next were pajamas.

"She has worn the same pajamas for like EV – ER. They're so lame. I thought something warm and fuzzy might be nice," he said.

"You are probably right."

We found something that was festive enough but still would work in January and February. The outfit didn't scream "Christmas only."

He was pleased with his purchases. We stored them in the trunk.

In our rush to beat the crowds, neither of us had coffee. A Starbucks was next door, so we stuffed our purchases in the trunk and walked over. Corey had only been in a Starbucks once before. He had to learn a bit of their terminology, but he ordered like a college senior. We didn't have to wait more than two minutes, but the words "Order for Corey" made him light up like he had just been announced as an Oscar winner. Someone at Starbucks knew his name!

"Looks like that bit of flurries was all the snow we were going to get," I said, blowing across the top of my coffee.

We were staring out the window watching people walk back and forth. Some had packages. One woman looked harried trying to keep three small kids with her. A man stopped near us, paused to look at a list in his hand and then scanned the shopping center trying to find the right store.

"I liked meeting your friend Aiden."

"He's nice."

"Do you ever invite friends to stay over at Mom's house? You could in our house too, you know."

"Not a lot. It's been a while. Maybe."

"Just because I like the time the two of us have together doesn't mean I wouldn't want your friends to be welcome. I mean, I get to invite Mitchell over from time to time."

That stopped my conversation. Mitchell. Gay. Gay men. Would Corey be embarrassed to bring someone to my house? Is there not one single element of his life that I haven't made more stupidly complicated?!

"Unless..."

"If you're going to say, `Unless I don't because you are gay,' then don't even go there, Dad."

"Oh."

"Aiden thinks you're cool anyway."

"Uh ... what?"

"Yeah. He thinks you're cool."

"He just met me."

"He knows you're gay."

"Being gay doesn't make someone cool. Hopefully it doesn't make someone not cool either."

"He says you're brave."

"Cool and brave!? Man, Aiden is moving up a couple of notches on your list of friends. So tell me, why am I brave?"

Corey didn't look at me. He continued to look out the window.

"It's not like I talk about you a lot, but when our group has talked about parents, he's impressed that you ... well, you kind of had to start over in the middle of your life. He knows that was hard and that it was scary ... so he thinks you're cool."

"Wow."

"I talk about all the things you and I do. He doesn't do anything with his parents. He hardly sees his dad. Both of them seem so busy. He says I'm lucky."

"Well, gosh," I said, taken aback. "Now I want to take the kid out for ice cream."

Corey snorted. We smiled at each other.

"How's your coffee?" I asked.

"Good. I like getting it at Joe better though."

"Why? A cup of Joe is a cup of Joe wherever you get it."

He turned to me. "Is that why the place is called Joe?"

"Yeah. Joe. Java. Brew. They're all slang for coffee. Sometimes leaded and unleaded mean regular and decaf. Although most people nowadays don't even know what leaded gasoline was."

Corey looked at me completely confused, like I had just shifted into a Chemistry lesson.

"Anyway, I just figured the place was named after some guy named Joe who owned it. Hmm." He looked back out the window. "I miss Brad. Actually, all your friends are nice. They don't treat me like a kid. Well, they kind of do, but I don't feel ..."

"Belittled?"

"Does that mean they would look down on me?"

"Kind of, yes."

"Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Pike treat me just like one of the group. I like them."

"Wow. I barely remembered Emory's last name was Pike. How did you know that?"

"It came out the day we were introduced. You and Mom always taught me to be respectful of people's names."

"Yes, we did."

"Although I tend to call Mr. Jenkins Mr. Larry."

"I'm sure he's fine with that."

I liked this conversation. It was simple, but there was heart behind it. Corey was not only growing physically but maturing intellectually as well. He would do well in college. I knew that would be here before I knew it, but I still had four high school years to forge through. That terrified me. I just prayed the open and nice relationship we had established would continue. Those years are notoriously tough.

"I wish I could give them something," he said.

"Who? The guys at Joe?"

"Yeah. But I would have no idea what. I have to get gifts for family, so it couldn't be much, so it would come off lame."

"You are such a kind person. Have I ever told you I love you?"

"Dad!" he warned.

"How's this for an idea? There's a Hallmark store across the parking lot. How about we buys some cards, and you can write something nice in each one, drop in a five with a note on it saying the next cinnamon roll is on you. Does that sound doable?"

"I like it."

"I think they will too."

Off we went. I needed placemats for my dinner party next weekend, so Corey was okay with me getting those. Overall, it was just time with each other. I felt sad that Aiden didn't get that. Maybe I wasn't screwing up everything.

—

Mitchell arrived in the afternoon. We had college football on in the background, but neither of us were glued to it. Corey was working on something for school, and I attempted to leave him alone for a short time so he could get it completed. Every now and then he would look up, as did I, if the sports commentator got overly animated.

Mitchell hugged Corey and asked about his work. Corey smiled explaining what he had to get done. He didn't go into specific detail, but I could tell he appreciated someone taking an interest.

Mitch snuggled up to me on the couch. We kissed. I had been working on some spreadsheets, but they weren't urgent. I set them aside.

"I love how you still print things off," Mitchell said.

"Sometimes it helps to spread them all over a table."

"Agreed."

"My son is fixing us dinner tonight," I said loud enough for Corey to hear.

"Ohhh?" Mitch said, craning his neck Corey's direction. Corey ignored us but knew we were talking about him.

"We made spaghetti last night and grabbed Chinese after shopping this morning. Corey wants to do Mexican. He's making us chicken fajitas."

"Olé!" Mitch said in approval.

—

Corey walked up to me with a sheet of paper.

"Dad? Is it okay to write the same thing in Mr. Pike's and Mr. Larry's card?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. If you want them to be different you can too. The important thing is to mean what you write. How will it make them feel?"

"Hm. I think this is okay. What do you think?"

I looked at what he had written:

Mr. ____,

This has been a good year for me. Many nice things have happened. I have taken a great trip with Dad. Mom has been helpful with all my school projects. I love my new bedroom at Dad's new house. Choir is awesome. I've made a lot of friends. I'm glad you are one of them. I apreciate you treating me so nice. It's easy to have friends my own age, but I like having grown up friends too. I'm glad I have met you, and I look forward to seeing you. Thank you. I hope you have a happy and fantastic Christmas.

"I think that's very nice. Good job, son. `Appreciate' has two p's, though."

"Oh, thanks." He made the correction. "Everyone says `Merry Christmas.' I didn't use those words. Is that okay?"

"Putting it in your own words just makes it more authentic." I kissed him on the top of his head. "Good job."

"Did you not want to give one to Brad?"

"Yeah. But I knew what I wanted to say to him."

"Oh. Okay." He walked to the stairs. "Good night. See you in the morning."

He mumbled something similar back. At least I assumed he did.

—

Although Mitchell had loved his newfound passion for being loud, the weekends Corey stayed with us, we had to be quieter in our lovemaking. If our panting could fill in, it was as loud as human beings were able to breathe in air. My cum was already splattered on my chest and Mitchell was there. My tongue titillated the head of his dick as my fingers stroked the base. He was on his knees with his crotch at my face.

"Cooper," he gasped.

He shoved his cock in my mouth and just panted so loudly it was almost moans. I took all of it. His hardened male flesh thrust in and out of my face. My fingers dug into his ass cheeks forbidding him to remove his phallus from my skull. He was spent, but I held him there. My tongue petted the underside of his penis as it lost its rigidity. He knew I wasn't going to let him go. He allowed me to admire his penis with my tongue for an extended moment.

I let him go, and he sat next to my messy body. With a swish of a finger through my semen, Mitchell audibly sucked it off as he walked into the bathroom to get a warm, wet washcloth for my chest.

—

"Gentlemen, if we're going to make coffee at 9, we need to get a move on," I called out to the house.

"Coming," a youthful voice called out from upstairs.

Mitchell walked out of the bedroom looking freshly showered and groomed. He was handsome. I like how he let his beard grow in for winter. He was keeping it trimmed short.

Corey came downstairs with cards in his hand. He was wearing a choir shirt I had not seen.

"New shirt?"

"Yeah, we just got these long sleeve T-shirts for this year. I like it."

"Me too. Let me see."

He turned to show me the back. All the names of the choir members were listed alphabetically. The school colors looked nice, but there were burgundy accents with white trim that made it more eye catching than his short sleeve.

"Mitch," Corey said looking into his face. "Is it okay if I give you your Christmas present closer to Christmas?"

Mitchell was flustered. "Uh. Well, sure. Okay. You don't have to get me anything."

"I already have. I know you are out of town next weekend, so maybe we can see you sometime closer to Christmas. Or Dad can give it to you at work if we can't."

"We'll make it happen," Mitch said with a smile. He gripped Corey in an endearing headlock. Corey giggled.

Upon entering Joe, Emory and Laramie had a table near the windows. We placed our order. Corey said he wanted a minute to talk to Brad and give him his card. I nodded that that was fine.

As we pulled out our chairs, I left the one next to me empty for Corey, but an almost tangible electric perspiration on my skin begged me to sit next to Laramie.

We all spoke our morning pleasantries. Laramie's and my eyes connected, but I tried not to let them linger too long. Then it hit me. I have had sex with everyone at this table. I instantly felt slutty. And dirty. And after a moment ... desirable. But thinking I was desirable also made me feel dirty. My old Baptist upbringing reared its head to strike me across the face with its lashes of sexual indecency. For a moment, my breathing seemed off. It was as if I wasn't taking in enough oxygen.

I craned my neck to check on Corey. He was in an embrace with Brad. It didn't appear that Brad had opened his card yet, but the gesture alone must have been well received. They let go and Corey headed to our table with the other cards.

Brad brought Laramie his cappuccino. Then Corey sheepishly handed Emory and Laramie their cards.

"Mr. Pike, Mr. Larry, I wanted to give you something. It isn't very much, but I wanted to say Merry Christmas."

"You can call me Emory if you want. We're on equal footing here," Emory said with a wink.

They both opened their cards. As they read their message, I got the impression they were touched. We had cut squares of wrapping paper and folded them in half to create makeshift envelopes. The blank side of the wrapping paper within made for a spot for him to write "The next cinnamon roll is on me. Corey" and a five was included.

"You are the sweetest kid," Emory said. Corey gushed.

Laramie stared at Corey's words. He was silent. His hand kept rubbing his trimmed moustache and beard over and over. I thought I detected his eyes watering, but I couldn't be for sure. He didn't even open the five inserted in the giftwrap. All eyes turned to him.

"Yes. Yes, for sure. You are a sweet kid. And ... and I've enjoyed meeting you this year too. I hope you have a fantastic Christmas as well, champ."

Corey didn't like nicknames like that. He preferred to be called by his own name, but he let this one slide. He could tell something had unsettled Laramie. I, myself, had no idea.

Brad returned with our three beverages. He hugged Corey from behind. "The sundae at Caramel Moo will be awesome, but your words were the best of all." Then he kissed my son on the cheek with a sloppy smooch. "You're a good person."

I still didn't know what he had written in Brad's card. Corey giggled at the affection.

"Hey! How come Brad gets a sundae!?" Emory called out in mock hurt feelings.

"He works here. I can't get him a cinnamon roll," Corey explained.

"So there!" Brad retaliated with a whirl and a fierce snap.

I loved the whole scenario. I winked at Mitchell. It was all good. Except Laramie. His eyes fixated on the card, then he looked out the window, but not at us. Corey got up to select something for his coffee.

"You've done a wonderful job with him," Emory said. "He's a great kid."

"Natalie probably deserves most of the credit," I said.

"Bullshit," defended Mitch. "I've seen you with him. You're an incredible father. Don't sell yourself short." He leaned over and kissed me.

Corey returned quickly. "What did you put in?" I asked.

"Just milk."

"That's it?"

"It's all I needed."

I looked over at Laramie's hand. I rubbed my forefinger over the plastic bandage. I wanted to hold his finger like I did the other night but just pulled my hand back.

"It's getting better," he said, emerging from his trance. "I probably won't even need a Band-Aid in a couple of days."

"What happened?" my son asked.

"I sliced it with a knife," he said.

"Ewww," the other three said simultaneously.

"I was a dunce."

"What's a dunce?" Corey asked.

"An idiot. I was a stupid idiot. I was in the kitchen, and I wasn't very careful."

"Keep that in mind, son, when you are fixing these dinners," I said. He nodded.

"Corey fixed us fajitas last night," Mitch offered.

"Marvelous!" Emory said. "How nice to have an emerging chef in the house."

"He's really good in the kitchen," I said with pride.

Corey started talking about his recent interests in cooking. I got up to talk to Brad for a moment.

"I love your son. He's ... he's very special. You are a great father."

"He's got a great mother as well." I put my hand on Brad's arm. "I'm having a dinner party Saturday evening. I'd like you to come. If you're free and would like to, that is."

Brad's head tilted in both surprise and appreciation. He put his hand on his chest.

"Between you and your son, you all are really touching my heart today. I'd be honored to come. Thank you."

I texted Brad my address and gave him a time to arrive.

Returning to the table, I heard the boys laughing about something. It sounded like the conversation was wrapping up.

"So, Corey, my man, are you and this girl making out all the time now?"

"Emoreeee," I warned.

Corey laughed. "No. But. We have kissed a few times."

"OoooOOOooo," the table swooned.

"Tell us everything," Mitch insisted.

"I don't know. You know. It was after choir. We were waiting for our rides. I passed her a note before choir started. It said that I liked her. After choir she came up to me and said she liked me too. We held hands. When we felt no one was looking, I ... leaned in for a kiss and she did too."

"Why didn't you want anyone to see?" Laramie asked.

"I don't know. I guess I didn't want anyone to talk about us. But we held hands after that, and people know now. We kiss each day after school."

"Look at you," I said.

"It makes me happy."

Laramie looked at me. I looked at him.

Twenty minutes later we were heading to our cars. Mitchell said he needed to use the bathroom first. As we paused near the door to Joe, Laramie pulled Corey to the side.

"Hey, kiddo," he smiled. "I just wanted to thank you for this," he said, holding up the card. "It was sweet. It's probably the only gift I will get this year, but you should know that I don't think any other gift could beat it."

Corey smiled, but his expression twisted into one of confusion. How could a cinnamon roll possibly be the best gift that he would get?

"Do you not give gifts with your family?" my son asked.

Laramie was at least six feet tall; Corey had just grown to the five-foot mark in the past month. Laramie sat down so that Corey could look down on him instead. He held my son's forearms.

"No. I haven't seen my family in a few years."

I could tell my son was unsure of what to say.

"Why not?" he softly asked.

"It's complicated, but ... they don't really care if I come home or not. That's why your words touched me. I haven't had a fantastic Christmas in a while. In that moment ..." Laramie's eyes actually watered. "... for just a second, I ..." He wiped his eyes. "It just felt like Christmas. So thank you."

He stood and hugged my son. Corey wrapped his arms around him.

"So ... what do you do on Christmas then if you aren't with family? Who are you with?"

"Well, no one actually. I make myself a nice dinner and enjoy the holiday with some quietness."

"By yourself?! That's not fair." Corey looked at me. "Dad, that's not fair."

"Well. No, it's not. But life doesn't always play along with how you want things to go."

"Can he spend Christmas with us?"

"Aw," both Laramie and I said.

"Buddy, we're going to Grandma's and Grandpa's after I pick you up Christmas Day."

"Oh. Can he come with us?"

The two of us chuckled.

"My friend, that is so incredibly sweet. But it's not nice just to invite another person to go to someone's house. That would be intrusive." Laramie rummaged his fingers through Corey's hair. "But you wanting to make sure I'm okay means the world to me. I'll be fine, kiddo."

Laramie kissed him on the top of his head. Then he kissed me on the cheek. Corey didn't flinch.

Mitch returned from the restroom. "Everybody ready?"

I handed him his cup and we walked to our cars.

—

The three of us had finished up a second round of Corey's favorite board game. Mitchell had treated us to pizza at lunch. We wrapped Corey's gifts for Natalie too. He asked if he could keep them here so she couldn't see them.

"I told your mother I would have you home for dinner. Can you gather up your things?" I told Corey.

He ran upstairs.

"Is it okay if I am here when you get back?" Mitchell asked.

"Um. Sure. Want to go with us?"

"I'm not sure if Nat likes me."

"She likes you fine."

"You two go on. I'll be here."

As Corey and I neared my old house of many years, he was a bit quiet.

"Our friends at Joe were very touched by your gesture this morning. You made me proud," I said.

"I like them. They treat me nice. They like you a lot, too."

"I guess they do."

"Can I ask you a question, Dad?"

"Always."

"Are you dating Mr. Larry?"

Gobsmacked! Had I been drinking a beverage it would have been spit all over the car.

"What ... why ... where ... why would you ask that?" I said in shock.

"I've seen the way the two of you look at each other."

"Oh really. And how do we look at each other?"

"The same way I look at Grace. The way girls look at boys they want to notice them."

"Do we now."

"Yeah. So. Are you?"

Honesty. I promised honesty.

"We have gone out a couple of times." I paused. "How does that make you feel?"

"I don't know." He was silent a moment. "Part of me wants Mitchell to be in our lives. But it was also nice when we were a family earlier this week, with Mom, you know. I don't know, Dad. It's hard. And weird. What I feel one day isn't what I feel the next day every time."

"Truer words were never said," I smiled. "Feelings can be a challenge."

"But what I want or feel isn't important."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I want you to be happy. I want you to do what makes you happy."

"Dang it! You say things like that, and you make me want to be mushy!"

"Don't. Guh. Don't go there."

We giggled.

"Dad, I love Mitchell. But Mr. Larry is really nice too. You don't have to worry about me."

"You're so important, of course I'm going to care how you feel. Sadly, son. I don't have it figured out. I've been honest with both of them, so there isn't any hiding on my part."

That was kind of a lie. I hadn't told Mitchell who I was dating.

"You like nice people. I don't see you dating a serial killer."

I laughed out loud. "Let's hope not." I had never really thought about having the conversation about another man with Corey, but he seemed to handle it incredibly well. With the decisions I had set in place, I supposed it was inevitable. "There are days you seem like you are 25 years old."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said.

"It is." We pulled into the driveway. "I love you, son."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, opening the door. "Me too," he returned before shutting the door.

Natalie waved to me from the doorway.

As I drove back home, I questioned how long I would see both Mitchell and Laramie. How long was it fair? At least Corey seemed to be able to handle it, whomever I chose. Or if I chose anyone at all.

When I returned to the house, I discovered Mitchell in the bedroom. He had a candle lit but was reclining on the bed fully dressed. His shoes were at the side.

"Hmm." I looked at the candle. "Are you suggesting something?"

"Maybe." He looked into my face. "Do you want me?"

I kicked off my shoes. My body climbed over his. Our lips met. As we kissed, he placed his arms around me. The weight of my body pressed him into the covers.

"Mitchell seems to be a little insatiable lately, huh?" I said sarcastically.

"I can never get enough of you," he said, trying to sound sexy.

We wriggled out of our clothes and moved into the sheets. Minutes of sucking and kissing and fondling and licking and groping served as pleasurable foreplay.

"Fuck me before I go home?" he asked.

I didn't say anything. I just leaned over to grab lube and a towel.

He purred as I fingered his ass. His hole was delightfully slippery. I coated my cock in a sheen of lubricant. It glistened in the candlelight placed on Mitch's nightstand. He arranged the scene. Everything was in place, and his hands and arms spread his legs wide for me. I positioned my probe right at his hole. It glided in.

"Ohhh yeah!" he called out.

"Mmm," I moaned.

The flesh of his inner walls warmed my skin as I thrust in and out. My skin against his skin. In and out. Rubbing skin. In and out.

"FUCK ME! Fuck me, Cooper." He groaned. "Oh, gaaaawwwwd, yes."

I grunted as I moved my shaft rhythmically inside him. It felt so good. I leaned in to kiss him. It was sloppy. I stopped thrusting. We just licked and slurped each other's tongue and mouth. Our gasps and pants breathlessly warmed our necks and faces. I pushed inside him again.

Mitchell placed his hands on my hips. It wasn't as if they were guiding my crotch into his hole, it was as if they were joining them. Occasionally he would try to shove my erection into him deeper. Our rhythm continued, as did our breathing. And groaning. And panting.

"My cock feels so good, Mitchell."

"I love how it fills me. Fuck me. Fuck me hard."

I did. He spread wider and lifted. My dick drove deep. I pounded his hole, slamming my groin into his awaiting offering. Growling like animals, we were loud. I slammed harder. Mitchell reached for his cock to work it back to a full erection again. I felt his fist jerk against the skin around my navel. He began screaming in his masturbation. As he jerked his flesh, his ass muscles pulsed around my cock making it throb even more.

I began to jackhammer my stiff shaft inside him. My howl announced my impending orgasm.

I came first. It was a loud, pounding, thrusting, shoving groan.

"Don't pull out," Mitch directed. "Just stay in. Fuck me some more."

I complied when he gave me directions like that. After coming, my cock wasn't erect for much longer. But I kept driving. It had been a good orgasm but not among the best we'd had. I pushed into his ass harder. It was pleasurable enough to still make me moan.

His breathing quickened.

"Ungh. Keep fucking me."

I tried. I felt myself losing my erection, but I kept sliding my cock in and out.

"Ungh. Ungh. Keep fucking me. Fuck me. Fuck me!"

My crotch crashed into his hole.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. Ungh. UNGHH!" He came. Semen escaped his six-inch pole. It dripped over his thumb onto his chest. I gave one last lunge. "Yes! Ungh!"

My penetration had ended; my flaccid cock became loose from its mooring.

I rolled over to his side. I nudged my body next to his so my hip would touch his hip. I heard him exhale as he came down from his orgasm.

We just breathed and panted for a minute.

"Are you dating Larry?" he said to break the silence.

"What!!?"

What was the deal? Was this painted on my forehead?

"Are you dating Laramie?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"I figured it out this morning. The way you touched his finger. You didn't ask what had happened. You already knew. You two steal glances with each other." He paused. "Do you still love me?"

"Wow. Well, yes, Laramie and I have gone out twice. And, yes, I still love you."

"Doesn't that seem weird?"

"Did it seem weird when you told me you loved me and FUCKED Derek the next day?!"

I never cussed in front of Mitch. He knew that struck deep. I surprised myself with that outburst of rage.

"Man. Man oh man. Cooper ..." He pulled the towel from beneath him and started wiping cum from his torso. "You've been upfront with me, and this still really hurts. I can't imagine the pain you went through actually seeing me and Derek in bed."

I didn't know what to say. The situations were different but still painful.

"Yeah. It hurt bad. Bad enough that I don't know how to get around it. But ... I know I love you. That's where I'm at. But if I date someone else, to see what dating is actually like ... maybe I'll work it out. Or maybe we decide to move on."

"No! Don't say that. I love you so much. You have to know that!"

"I know you love me. But that doesn't solve my problems. I just hope they can be solved. I ... I am trying to be honest with you, Mitch, but I still don't know if I'm the right man for you."

Mitch got dressed without even rinsing the sticky residue from his skin. The next few minutes were awkward. We were rarely awkward. That's what was really good about the two of us.

"I've got an AA meeting in a half hour."

"I know. I'm heading out."

I walked him to the door. I was completely naked. I was so comfortable with that when I was with Mitch. We kissed. It was not passionate; it was ... a kiss.

I felt weird. I didn't talk much at AA. I knew a few people there, but I didn't engage them. However, I found the serenity prayer to always be helpful.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference." I breathed. "Please."

—

Mitchell and I didn't communicate in any way on Monday. I had lunch with him in his office on Tuesday, but we didn't talk a lot. Affection was simple but not tender.

"I had to have made you feel horrible, worthless. I hate that I ever did that to you," his afternoon text read. "Please try hard to forgive me. I love you."

Another text came in. I questioned how bad Mitchell was really hurting. But it was from Laramie.

"I know we have the dinner party Saturday, but I'd love to see you before then. Are you free tonight?"

Instantly, I was a victim of split personalities. My heart lit up to read his words. My brain combatted it with thoughts of what Mitch and I had discussed. I knew I had placed myself deep into a situation to where I had feelings for two people. I could no longer see a pathway to turn back.

—

I shared my latest drama with Laramie over a Canadian bacon and mushroom pizza. No longer were we just an emerging love triangle, we were an unsettled one. Now that it was out in the open, things seemed ... off. Regretful. Dangerous. All of the above.

"I said I wanted my chance with you," Laramie said. "Maybe it is my fault for moving you into this position. Maybe I pushed too hard."

I wasn't sure I agreed.

"These are my decisions. I own them."

"I still love you. That hasn't changed. Whenever we are together, the world is alive. I love every minute that I am with you."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same about our time together," I said looking directly into his eyes. "But we've reached a point that I probably have to hurt someone."

We were quiet. Both of us drank our beverages and got lost in our own insecurities and doubts.

"I don't know what to do, Laramie."

"I'd love to make the choice for you, obviously, but it is your choice to make."

"Right."

I looked at his empty tea glass. He put his foot on mine. They were pressed together. I sighed. I was living a schizophrenic life, or perhaps manic-depressive. I was so happy with both men, but I felt horrible when I knew I had created a monster.

"If things went well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go further tonight. I was hoping you would fuck me tonight, but ..." Laramie said.

"... but, yeah. Not tonight."

I reached over and held his finger. A small smile formed on our lips. I held his finger for several minutes.

The pizza arrived.

—

"Even though he seems okay with me seeing other people, can I be putting Corey in a position that it will affect him emotionally?"

"Parents do that every single day, Cooper," Logan said. "You seem to describe him as emotionally mature."

"He is. Almost freakishly mature."

"Don't get too comfortable. He is a teenager and has several years to go. But from the sounds of it, you've eased him into this, and you've been very honest."

"I promised him I would always be honest."

"That doesn't mean you have to tell him everything."

"I understand that," I said, nodding. "But we were discussing things. I think Corey feels comfortable talking about things to me. Sometimes more comfortable than with Natalie."

"That's good." Logan's eyes drifted to a notepad, but then he jerked back to me. "Tell me more about how you feel about the dating."

"Before Mitch knew it was Laramie, I was loving it."

"Why?"

"I had a great time. Things seem natural with Laramie."

"And they don't with Mitch? Explain."

"I'm not sure I can. Do you have a husband? I assume the ring indicates as much."

"Yes. Three years."

"Wonderful. Are there times when you have a blast with your best friend but you might not have as much fun with your husband? But other times you and your husband have the best time together?"

"I see your point."

"Over the past two or three years, Mitch and I are ... like in a routine. And not that I mean that's a bad thing. We have a great time together. Sex is fantastic." I couldn't believe I said that. "But there's a ... a layer," I said while karate chopping the air horizontally. "If I go any higher than that layer, I might run into ... eggshells, so I retreat again. With Laramie, I think I've seen all his dark spots. His shortcomings are ... adorable. Well, that's not the right word. Endearing."

"So now that Mitchell has found out it is specifically Laramie, why has anything changed?"

"Well, they are casual friends from our coffee group, so now that is kind of awkward. Now I feel he is comparing everything. Mitch seems to be trying so hard ... with sex."

"Is it good?"

"It's always good. Sex is never our problem. But he seems to be pushing. I don't know if he wants to satisfy me in every way or if ... if he thinks if we love each other and we have this great sex, then I won't want someone else."

"Do you want Laramie?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"This troubles you, doesn't it?" Logan said, touching the notepad but not writing anything.

"Yes."

"Why now?"

"People are starting to get hurt. Mitchell found it painful when he knew I had slept with Laramie. Which got compounded because he then knew what I felt when I caught him with Derek. I never wanted Mitchell to be hurt. I just wanted to figure out me. Me."

Logan looked at me, but we didn't say anything for a moment.

"Go ahead. I give you permission to write something down." I gesticulated to his notepad with a grand flourish. "I know it's killing you."

He gave a simple nod and smiled at me. He couldn't have written more than six words, but I was dying to know what they were.

"Let's talk about what you've figured out then."

"Meaning ...?"

"What have you figured out? When you're with Laramie, how do you feel?"

"It's ... wonderful. He's incredible company. I love everything about him."

"So ... sex is good there too."

"I guess. Not sure. The first night was a disaster, but I won't go into that. But, yes, I liked the simple evening we had. I love his body; I'm attracted to him, and I melt when he kisses me."

I wanted to tell Logan about the finger, but that would have prompted an entire pad of written notes. I was such a weird oddball.

"How do you feel when you're with Mitch?"

"As long as Mitchell and I are good, I still love our time together. I find him very handsome. I'm attracted to him. Sex is off the charts ..."

"What do you worry about when you're with Laramie?"

"That I'm falling in love with him."

"Hm. What about when you are with Mitchell?"

"That if I love two people, I have to hurt someone." That hit me. For the first time in months, I wanted to reach for a drink. That feeling scared me. That lost instinct returned in a momentary flash. Maybe just a nanosecond, but I thought a shot of whiskey was what I needed. My hand shook for a moment.

"Cooper." Logan brought me back. "I think you should think on these items. What brings you joy? What hurts you? If you can pinpoint why, I think you can work through the issues that trouble you."

—

"Hi Lance."

"Cooper! We can't wait to see you Saturday. Can we bring anything?"

"No. I'm good. In that regard at least."

"Oh? Tell me why you called."

"An hour ago, I wanted a drink."

"Oh man. Where are you now? Talk to me."

"I'm on my way to an AA meeting."

"Good. Good. I miss our old Wednesday nights."

"Yeah. I miss you and Jakob. I ... I'm in a situation."

"I'm listening," said Lance, trying not to interrupt.

"I was trying to ... well, I was encouraged ... damn. I'm seeing someone to help me."

"Like a shrink?"

"Well, I'm not sure that is the term he would use. Therapist, yes."

"Fair enough."

"Mitchell suggested it. But in talking things out, I was encouraged to ... well, Mitch was all I knew, so to get out of my comfort zone, I was trying to date a little bit. I was hoping I was going to figure out why I couldn't get around these walls I put up when Mitch..."

"Cheated?"

"And ... yeah. I love him. I love him. But ... I couldn't completely commit, but I didn't want to break up, so I just said, `Let's date.' And now ... I've got feelings for two people. And I am going to have to hurt someone. And that's when I wanted to take a drink. Back when I was an alcoholic, I just tried to suppress things. I couldn't admit I was gay, and I just drank."

"Been there. I get it," said Lance. "I'm glad you are on the way to a meeting."

"Yeah. I need it. Lance, do you ever crave it?"

"Alcohol? Rarely. If it's triggered, I remember my father picking me up in the hospital and ... I almost get the shivers. I never want to touch it again. I just picture my dad identifying my body in a car wreck. I still ... I still am ashamed I ever got to that point. Dad is my safety net. Corey is yours."

"He is. He's my rock."

"Remember that."

"Well, I'm here. I ... I just wanted to talk. Your voice helped."

"Call me anytime. I am here for you. So is Jakob. We can't wait to see you Saturday, but if you need anything until then, call. Okay?"

"Okay. Love you, Lance."

"Love you too."

During the meeting, I wasn't listening to shares as much as I usually do. I was still lost in my own world. I watched Rex walk up.

"Hi, I'm Rex. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Rex," the group replied.

"I went to get a haircut. I think it looks okay. I'm not expecting miracles. I know girls aren't going to fall all over me now, but ... I'm trying to be optimistic."

His haircut did look good. I was pleased that he tried to stay optimistic, but I was saddened that he dwelled on his looks.

"Since I've stopped drinking, it doesn't seem to require such a long workout to work off the calories. I'm still going to the gym, but I do have to say I feel better. My mind is clearer. My workouts even feel better."

Rex's body was amazing. He was so toned and so built. It's truly a shame that he wasn't better looking.

"Thanks for listening."

The group clapped.

I had no intention of getting up, but maybe sharing would help my thought processes.

"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.

"I'm ... I'm standing here and I ... don't know what to say. For the first time in months, I had a kneejerk reaction. To drink, that is. I was opening up about something I was struggling with. I thought ... well, I knew ... I – I – I am going to probably hurt somebody. I hate that. I don't have things figured out, but when I do — when I make a choice — somebody is going to get hurt."

My lip quivered.

"And ..." I gasped, trying to get air. "And ... that made me want to just do what I used to do. Slam a drink, thinking that would make it better. But ... saying that out loud ... I know it won't. No problem ever goes away when you're drunk. You think it pushes it down, but it really doesn't it. I remember all that now. It just makes it worse when the real world just crashes in on you."

Ophelia looked at me intently. I saw her put her hand on her heart.

"I feel better." I took a couple of deep breaths. "I – I – I'm okay. I'm going to make sure I get through this." I thought of Corey. "Thank you."

The group clapped. As I returned to my seat, I had no idea what I had just said aloud. It must have been good to get it out, because the temptation to drink was indeed gone.

I sent a quick text to Corey.

"Hope you had a good day at school. You have become a fine young man. I just wanted you to know that I think the world of you."

As we all stood, I intended to put away chairs. A text came in.

"Mushy, mushy, mushy."

The chairs were all stacked.

"But thanks." A smiley emoji was attached to the follow-up text.

"Your haircut does look good, Rex," I told him as the last chair was stacked. He carried them three at a time.

"Thanks. Not sure it will help me with ... women ... and everything, but I try. Thanks."

"I know this sounds horridly cliché and everything, but it's really what's on the inside that counts."

"I agree," said Ophelia walking past us with the trash bag near the coffee pot all tied and ready to deposit outside the door. We watched her gently place it and then walk back to us. "Sweetie, if I told you looks didn't matter with me standing here with all this makeup on, I would be a total hypocrite. The world is superficial, and life isn't fair. In that regard, I'm sorry. But, honey, you have a beautiful body. But what really counts is how nice you are and how you treat other people."

"I guess. I suppose I know that. People tell me that, but ... how do I even have a chance to be nice to others if people just walk away from me.?"

"Stay out of bars," she retorted.

"Well, with me being in AA, that's obvious advice."

She chuckled. "What groups are you involved in?"

"Groups?"

"Get involved. Are you a church-going person?"

"Not really. But I guess I believe in God. I haven't been in a church since grade school."

"It's a suggestion. But ... volunteer. Join a group surrounding a hobby you like. Strike up conversations with coworkers. Put yourself in situations where you can simply be nice. You don't have to be meat on a rack. Just be you. If you are nice to people, maybe they will enjoy your friendship; maybe they will look forward to spending time with you. You never know. Sparks have started with simple conversations."

Bless O. Those were kind words. I knew all too well how artificial the world was. I knew I was lucky in that regard. People always wanted to sit next to me, usually girls growing up and in college.

"Hey. I'm having a dinner party Saturday. I'm sure I can seat one more. Would you like to join us?" I offered to Rex.

"Oh, I don't know. I'd hate to butt in."

"You aren't. I'm asking."

"I wouldn't know anybody."

"That's partly the idea, but you would know Ophelia and Richard. I am NOT setting you up with anyone. Just come. Be yourself. Fair warning, several will be gay."

"I don't care about that."

"My husband won't hardly know anyone either, so you two can hit it off," said Ophelia.

"I guess."

I gave Rex the necessary details.

When I got home, I received a text from Natalie. "Call me."

"Hi, what's up?" I said once she answered.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. I thought you had your meetings Wednesday night. Um. Can we have lunch tomorrow?"

"Lunch?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow??"

"Yes."

"What's wrong."

"I don't think anything, but ... I think we should talk about something."

"Corey?"

"Yeah. I'm concerned. I want to discuss it with you."

"Okay." I wish she had given me more to go on. "Do you have a place in mind?"

"Yes. A coffeeshop called Joe."

What the what???!!! That answer would have been 100 on a list of 100 I thought she would choose.

"Why there?"

"Do they serve lunch?"

"Umm. I seem to recall they have sandwiches and such. I've only been there for morning coffee."

"That's fine. Noon?"

"Uh ... yeah ... sure. What's going on?"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

—

I got to Joe a few minutes before Natalie. I couldn't fathom why she would choose this place. It worried me. I didn't order anything. I chose a table next to the window. For lunch, they wrote the options on a chalkboard. I never noticed it much on our Sunday mornings. I guess I never paid attention to it. Today's selections were a veggie wrap with fresh mushrooms, bell peppers, tomatoes and gouda cheese; a BLT with avocado; or a club sandwich. Today's soup was tomato bisque.

Natalie walked in. I waved. I stood and hugged her as she approached the table.

As she sat down, she tried to casually scan the place without being too obvious. None of the wall décor was threatening. There were two male couples and a lesbian couple. Other than that, the place was fairly quiet. In the brief time I was there, I noticed more of the business at lunchtime stemmed from people taking things to go.

"Okay. I'm curious. Why this place?"

"Well, actually, Corey has mentioned it frequently, and ... I just sort of wanted to check it out. See what it was."

"And?"

"It's cute. Quaint."

"It's really more of a coffeeshop, but they make fresh baked goods and pastries in the mornings. To die for."

I motioned to the chalkboard. She slightly squinted to see her choices. Her eyesight was fine. She had done that as long as I had known her.

"Oh. I guess I'll have the BLT ... and a Dr. Pepper."

I went up to the counter. Brad was shocked to see me on a Thursday. I motioned I was with someone. When he saw a woman, his mouth partially opened. I knew he had questions. He was bewildered with everything being off from my routine.

I carried a bottle of Dr. Pepper with a straw in it and my cup of black coffee back to the table.

"So tell me, why the mysterious lunch?"

"Well." She wasn't sure how to start. "Corey has been kind of ... obsessing over something the past few days."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Do you know a Mr. Larry?"

"Yes."

Now what?! What was going through Corey's head. Was me admitting I was seeing Laramie causing him problems?

"He's worried about him."

"Worried? Why?"

"For some reason, Corey has fixated on him having nowhere to go for Christmas."

"Oh." Thank heavens that is all it was. But clearly, it was unsettling enough for Nat to notice. "Has he done anything?"

"That's just it. He stares blankly at times. When I ask if something is wrong, he stays quiet. Finally he told me, `No one should be alone on Christmas.' Once I got him to open up, it turns out he is one of your friends here at this coffee shop."

"Right. Corey has taken a shine to my friends in my coffee group. It's a small group. He gave them all cards on Sunday. Laramie ... Larry ... was really touched by it. He hasn't seen his family for years and so his Christmases are spent alone."

"Huh. Should we be worried?"

"About Corey or Larry?" I asked, pretty much knowing my answer, but not completely sure.

"Corey, of course. How old is this Larry?"

"I ... don't know. I'm guessing young 30s maybe?"

"Why would Corey care?"

"Because our son is a kind person. He is loving and kind ... and we should be proud of him."

"I am. I am. This just struck me as strange."

Brad brought our sandwiches to the table.

"Brad, I would like for you to meet Natalie. This is Corey's mother, my ex-wife."

Brad gasped. "It's so nice to meet you. Your son is amazing. He is such a good boy."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"You and Cooper have done a wonderful job raising him."

"Nat probably deserves the most credit for that."

"I wouldn't say that. Aside from that year or so that ... you weren't at your best ... you and Corey have a special relationship. You're a good father."

"Thanks, Nat. And Brad knows I am in AA. He's a good friend."

"Would you like a glass of ice for your drink, Natalie?" Brad offered.

"That would be nice. Thank you, Brad."

Brad scurried off, and I was grateful that he had kept his flamboyance partially in check.

"Corey has talked about him too."

"Oh really? For some reason, Brad and Corey have hit it off."

Brad returned with a glass of ice.

"My son thinks you are quite cool," Natalie told Brad.

Brad gasped again. "He's talked about me?" He placed a fist on his heart. "I love that young man."

We snickered.

"Do you two need anything else?"

"We're good. Thank you, sir."

Natalie pried open her bag of chips.

"I remembered you liked Doritos over potato chips."

"Thanks," she said. She took a first bite of her sandwich. "Mmm. Good."

I took a few bites of mine. Neither of us said anything for a couple of minutes.

"Corey wants you to take Larry to your parents' house for Christmas."

I laughed. "He suggested that Sunday." I laughed again.

"You're laughing, but ... this Larry being alone on Christmas Day has sort of ... freaked him out. I'm not sure what to do."

"The kid has a good heart," I said. "I can't imagine subjecting anyone to my family."

"They aren't that bad," Natalie scolded.

"They love you," I said. "Me? I'm not so sure."

"Cooper Snow! Of course they love you."

I set my sandwich down. I glanced out the window. "You really have no idea, Nat. Since our divorce, since they know I'm gay ... it's different. I feel it. My brother and sister are so cold to me. Anita is horrible."

"She was always a bitch. I have no idea what Curtis sees in her."

"Hah!" I laughed out loud. I looked at her again. I slightly shook my head. "They ... they just don't accept me, hon' ... I mean, Natalie."

She put her hand on top of mine. She patted it. "Two years ago I would have been outraged you would call me that. Now ... it's kind of nice. I think the two of us have moved past the ... well, past."

"A part of me will always love you, Nat. And a part of me will never forgive myself for hurting you. It ... it still bothers me."

"Stop punishing yourself. I can't say it has been easy — because it hasn't — but it's been harder for you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Yes, I was in shock, but you ... you had to start over figuring out who you were. Life had to be scary for you. All that. Corey being taken out of your life."

"Two weekends a month."

"Right. I know it wasn't easy for you. Once I realized you weren't being mean, or foolish or `confused,' I realized you were just ... hurting."

"I was. And sadly, I turned to alcohol."

"Yeah. Those couple of years were pretty bad. But ... we've come to accept what it is."

"I am so grateful you are able to forgive me."

"The Lord helps me with that. And I have."

"When Corey wanted to stay over that one night, he was enjoying us being a family again under one roof. I just bawled when I found out. I never really know what I have put him through."

"We all good here?" Brad said, stopping by.

"It's very good," Natalie nodded. Brad walked away. "He seems like a character," she smiled.

"You know it!" he said with a snap from across the room.

"He has great hearing too."

"So. This place. This part of town. Is it safe for Corey to be here?"

"Do you feel safe right now?"

"Sure. Yes."

"Then, why would you be concerned?"

"You're right. When I think `gay part of town'..." she said using air quotes. "I just ... wasn't sure what to picture."

"Well, give me credit for not dragging him to a nightclub at 1 in the morning."

"This coffee group. All of them are gay?"

"Yes. There are four of us. You know Mitch."

"How are you and Mitch doing?"

I exhaled a long sigh. "I'm not sure, Nat. I'm really not. I want to get over my obstacles, but I just ... seem stuck."

"Don't roll your eyes, but maybe you should pray on it."

"You too? I'm gay, Natalie. I can't `pray it away.'"

"That's not what I meant. I know ... this is the way God made you."

"You do? You believe that?"

"I do. I can't say I understand it, but I know who you are, Cooper. You're a good man. Let God guide you. Lean on Him."

"That's a nice sentiment. I'm not sure God really believes in me."

"Don't say that."

"More importantly, I am glad that you and I are to this point. Please know there are times that I do miss all of us being in the same house. I do miss your company."

She made a small smile and looked down. "Well. I guess I should say, `thank you.' I can't say I necessarily feel that way, but I do remember some really good times." She gazed out the window. Gay men walked by. None of them seemed outrageously dressed. It wouldn't be too hard to determine their sexuality, but it was fairly routine. She glanced at the Indigo nightclub on the corner and then the gift store. A burger place and Chinese food restaurant were in view. She sighed. "I guess I do miss you at times too."

"I'm sorry I wasn't who I wanted to be — for you."

"You're who you are supposed to be. I ... we both ... just got run over along the way. But ... you're in a good place."

I laughed. "If you only knew. I'm kind of a mess. When Mitchell and I split, I felt so adrift. I had no idea how to be ... gay. All I knew was the attraction to men."

"Is there a test?" she said sarcastically.

"No, of course not. I just wasn't really feeling like I fit in. But this past year ... I've learned that I just need to be me. I've come that far."

Brad topped off my coffee. He didn't say anything, but his look said: "True. Just be yourself. You are wonderful who you are." Or maybe I just imagined that. A slight nod from him made me think I was right.

"When you pick up Corey on Christmas Day, would you like to have lunch with us?" Natalie asked.

I lit up. "I would enjoy that very much. Just ... the three of us? Or will you have others over?"

"My parents are coming in on Christmas Eve. Daryl will join us for Christmas."

"Wonderful. Yes. Thank you."

Brad cleared our plates a few minutes later. It was a pleasant lunch. I handed him my credit card.

"You didn't have to pay," my ex-wife said.

"It's my pleasure, Nat." I winked at her. "I wish we could do this more often from time to time."

"Maybe."

"So. Now that you are here, are you glad you chose this place? Have you ... accomplished ... what you set out to do?" I said sheepishly, not really knowing how to address her choice.

"I don't know if I was necessarily wanting to accomplish anything. Corey just speaks of it. I felt I should have at least a general idea what the place was. It's fine."

"Does it bother you that our son comes here? To a part of town known quaintly as the gay-borhood?"

"Would it be my first choice? Probably not. At the same time, I do feel it is important for Corey to be more inclusive. He has Black and Asian friends. If he is accepting of gay people, then I think he can also respect different cultures, different ways of life. Uck! As long as we can steer him from politics."

I laughed. She joined me. "I think being open-minded and accepting is the best thing for politics," I said.

"So what do we do about this Larry situation?"

—

Corey was surprised to see both his mother and father in the same car to pick him up.

"Why are you both here? Did someone die?"

"No. No, not that at all." Natalie chuckled. "We want to ask you something."

"Okkaaaayyyyyyy," he said with major trepidation.

"I discussed your feelings about this Mr. Larry with your father."

"Oh." Corey looked down and felt belittled. "I just felt sorry for him, that's all."

"And we love that you care for others. That's a wonderful trait," I said. "It might be a bit unusual, but to be honest, your feelings for someone else surrounding the holiday is very commendable. If you would like, I'm okay if Laramie joins us on Christmas Day."

He looked up, brightly. "You are??"

"I am. Your mother stopped by to meet him today, so she is confident he isn't a kidnapper."

"Oh stop!" she warned with sarcastic mockery.

"He was very touched by your gesture. He really was. However, he doesn't just want to show up at someone's house uninvited. He thinks that would be rude. So. We want you to call your grandparents and ask if it is okay."

"Okay," he said, much more excitedly.

He dialed.

"Well, hello there, Corey bug! How are you!?"

"I'm fine, Grandma. School is going well. Our choir gave our last Christmas performance today."

"Well, I wish I could have seen it."

I could hear the voice on his phone.

"Me too. Mom and Dad didn't even get to see it."

"How is your mother?"

"She's good. She's right here. Want to talk to her?"

Before Natalie could even speak, the phone was shoved to her. I grinned.

"Hello, Mrs. Snow. How are you doing? Merry Christmas."

"And to you, dear. I so miss seeing you..." Nat stepped away, and I couldn't hear the conversation anymore. What could my mother be saying? Was I being chastised for breaking up a marriage? Was she lamenting that things aren't what they once were? Or was she just asking about Natalie's welfare? I just hoped it was the last one. Luckily, that torturous mystery was brief.

"... mmm ... oh, haha ... yeah ... thank you. Here's Corey again. He has something to ask you. Take care now ... mm-hmm ..." Nat handed the phone to Corey.

How was this question going to go? How do you ask if you can bring a grown man — a stranger to my family — to Christmas?

"Grandma, I have this friend. I found out he doesn't have any family to go to at Christmas, and ..."

"Oh my. That's a shame."

"And I was wondering if ... would it be okay if he came Christmas Day with Dad and me?"

"Well, of course! Aren't you sweet," I could hear come from the phone.

"Thanks, Grandma. His name is Larry."

I noticed Corey had completely left out that Laramie was a man in his 30s. I wasn't sure if this was shrewd or if he truly didn't feel that it mattered.

I wiggled my fingers to Corey, motioning for him to give me the phone.

"Hi, Mom."

"Cooper! You're there, too. Well, isn't this nice."

"Yeah. Uhh. Thanks for letting Larry come, Mom. But just so you know, he isn't a classmate of Corey's. He's older."

"Oh, that fine. I think Corey has a wonderful heart to think of others."

"Right. He sure does. But, just so you know, Larry is..."

"Cooper. Don't worry about it. It's fine. Really."

I dropped it. If there was any furor when we arrived, at least I had the defense that I tried.

"We're going out for burgers, so I guess we should move on. I'll give you back to Corey."

"Thanks, Grandma! I'll see you on Christmas."

"Looking forward to it, dear. It'll be here before you know it."

After hanging up, Corey asked, "We're eating out?"

"Are burgers okay?" I replied.

"Sure. Uh, all three of us?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"Of course." He smiled. He didn't think I heard him, but I could tell he said "yay!" under his breath.

"Hi, Mr. Snow! Hey, Ms. Snow," a voice from behind us said. I turned to see it was Aiden.

"Well, hey Aiden. How are you? Glad to get the last performance out of the way?"

"Totally, but at least we got to ditch a couple of classes to do it today."

"That's the spirit," I said comically. "Um. We're going out for burgers. Would you like to ask your parents if it is okay if you could join us?"

"They will be fine with it." He tapped his phone. "Someone's picking me up. Probably. I might just walk."

What??? How did a kid not know how he was getting home? I was flummoxed. His phone dinged.

"It's fine." He looked at us emotionless.

"Um, tell them I will drop you off when we're done."

"Sure." His thumbs moved at lightning speed.

Dinner was a delight. With Aiden there, Corey seemed much more willing to open up. They talked at length about the concert — or more specifically the setting and people who were there. They felt important today. Corey dripped ketchup on his shirt, and Natalie made a fuss. She fiddled with the stain by dipping a napkin in water. Embarrassed by the attention, Corey waved his mother away with maneuvers akin to a judo master.

Before we left, I treated us to milkshakes. The boys loved them. They were half empty when we headed to our cars. Corey got in his mother's car.

"I remember getting milkshakes in college. Do you?" Natalie said.

I smiled and nodded. "I do. Good times."

She gave me a hug and thanked me again for both lunch and dinner. It felt good to do things with her, both with and without our son.

"I enjoyed this. Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Snow," Aiden said as I closed my door.

"My pleasure. Will your parents be home when you get there?"

"Probably. I'm not sure."

"I see."

"They're not cool like you are, Mr. Snow."

"I'm not sure how I made that high ranking, but thanks, Aiden."

We didn't say anything. For the first time, I picked up on something. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was just a vibe that made me wonder if Aiden was questioning. Was I cool because I was gay — because he wondered if he was? There wasn't a single phrase, mannerism or indication that he was, but ... it was there. I picked up on it. He was 14. Or maybe 15. Kids started feeling things at that age. They had questions. And for the rest of the drive, I felt this overbearing weight of trying to be a perfect role model as a gay person, whatever that was. I just wanted to come off as nice and normal and just like any other dad. It was silently exhausting.

With a final right turn, we were at his driveway. It was a nice house.

"Do you want me to come in to see if your parents are there, or meet them or anything?"

"Nah. I'm good." Before he shut the door, he poked his head in. "Thanks again, Mr. Snow. I enjoyed it." He turned his head away. "You're nice." And the door was shut.

—

I brushed my teeth. Taking one last look around the house, I went upstairs to Corey's room. He had been keeping it pretty neat. I looked at things he had pinned to a bulletin board. A concert schedule, now out of date. A note from someone named Badger about a metal band. A heart drawn by Grace with a decorated edge. Pictures of us at Great Adventure from last summer. A picture of him and Mitchell from the company picnic. A spirit button from school. A coupon for a free cone at Caramel Moo — if you bought a burger combo. He had gone through about a quarter of a box of tissues on his nightstand since moving in. I assumed that was from masturbation mostly. He didn't seem to blow his nose much. I couldn't remember the last time we washed sheets. I would do that in the morning. I pulled back the comforter. I could detect a spot on the sheets, not so much as a stain, but just slightly crusty. Yep, laundry in the morning. I checked the thermostat and went back downstairs.

As I slipped below the covers, I reached for my phone.

"Like it or not, you're coming with us for Christmas," my text to Laramie read.

"You sure?" a reply came a minute later.

"Yes. It means something to Corey."

"Okay."

I turned out my lamp.

I stared at the ceiling. I wasn't sure what I felt about this upcoming visit. I thought it would be nice for Laramie not to be alone. I dreaded what he would think of my family. His sounded pretty crappy too, so maybe he wouldn't judge them so harshly. Would they assume he was gay? Did that matter?

"Ker-plick" indicated another text. I reached for my phone in the dark.

"I wish you were next to me."

"Sounds nice," I replied.

I put my phone back. A minute later I was rock hard. I'd be washing all the sheets in the morning.

—

I had everything I needed for the dinner party tomorrow. I was excited. I think feeding ten people was doable. I would prepare the salad in the afternoon. I had a strawberry cheesecake in the fridge. I would pick up fresh bread in the morning. The sides were easy enough. I would bake a pork tenderloin in the oven, and I had all the seasonings I knew I needed.

I looked at the house. It looked appropriately festive. There were only a few presents under the tree. It was sparse. Corey's keyboard would be picked up next week. I had purchased gifts for Natalie and my parents at Visions, Jakob's old store. The pathetic showing of presents almost intimidated me to wrap empty boxes just for the sake of appearance.

I wish I had something to give all my guests, but by the time I bought for everyone, that would have been a bit silly. Some I knew very well, but people like Rex, not so much. Then I noticed the box of cards still on the dining room table that Corey had used. I decided a card with a handwritten message in each might be nice. Emory and Laramie had already received that design. I think he took one for Mitch too.

I zipped off to a nearby card store and bought three with a different design.

I made myself a hot chocolate and sat down to write a note in each card.

Lance and Jakob were first:

Lance and Jakob,

I feel so happy that we had
a chance to become friends
in the past. I hope you know
that I miss you every day,
but I'm also thrilled that our
friendship has endured.
You are true friends that
have helped me on my
journey, and I can never convey
how much you mean to me.

I hope your Christmas is every
bit as happy as you can picture
it.

I love you both.

Your friend,

I started a new card.

Trent and Mike,

I cannot tell you how important
your friendship this past year
has become. Your support during
some tough times means the world
to me, and I thank you for that.

I wish you both an extraordinary
Christmas and a holiday you will
remember for many years to come.
I hope it is okay to say I love you,
because I do, and you being in my
life is a blessing.

Your friend,

Emory was next.

Emory,

Who would have thought that
having coffee spilled down my
leg could be one of the happiest
accidents to ever happen? I am
so truly grateful to have your
friendship in my life.

This year has been a challenge
at times, but you have helped
me through many of those
difficult moments. Thank you for
building my confidence.

Our Sunday morning coffee
has become a weekly highlight.
I hope it continues forever.

Have a wonderful Christmas.
May it be full of blessings.

Your friend,

The next one:

Richard,

I am blessed to have your
friendship in my life. I learn
from you weekly, although
you never realize it. I see
gestures of kindness and
thoughtfulness and know
that God did a wonderful
job when he created you.

I know Christmas is a hard
time of year for you, but
always know your friends
are here. I hope there are
joys in this holiday that
find their way into your
home.

Your friend,

This one would be easy:

Ophelia and Kaden,

I am delighted to see the
happiness in your lives and
know you are a blessing to
each other. Your daughter
is fortunate to have loving
parents such as yourselves.

My wish for you is to just
continue being you and
bringing joy to those who
enter your world. Thanks for
being wonderful parts of our
community and an example of
love and patience for all to see.

Have the merriest of holidays!

Your friend,

Brad was next.

Dear Brad,

Of all my friends, you are the
one that exhibits life to its
fullest. Your enthusiasm and
zeal and character have endeared
yourself to me in such a
meaningful way. I am blessed
to call you my friend.

Thank you so much for your
kindness.

I wish you every moment of
happiness that Christmas can
bring to you. You deserve the
world.

Holiday hugs,

Rex's card was going to be hard. I didn't know Rex well. My heart went out to his situation, but I wasn't sure what words I should say.

Rex,

I'm encouraged by the steps
you have taken. I am inspired
by the way you are moving
forward.

Believe in yourself. You are a
good man who has a lot to
offer. I believe in you. I am
glad you are my friend.

I wish you the best moments
for this Christmas. I hope your
holiday is full of blessings.

Your friend,

I hope that sounded okay. I felt overly syrupy words would come off as insincere. Hopefully that read sentimental enough.

I only had Laramie's card left. I played out my words in my head over and over. I didn't like any of them. Nothing I was coming up with was working. I took a break and signed all the others.

I grabbed a carton of ice cream out of the freezer. Cookies and Cream. I didn't get a bowl. I just stood at the counter and ate straight from the carton. I kept shoveling spoon after spoon of dairy decadence. I struggled with the words I wanted to say. I slammed the spoon on the counter.

"What do I want to say!? What do I feel?" I screamed to no one.

What did I feel? I pictured Laramie next to me.

I walked to the dining room table and sat down. I picked up my last card.

Laramie,

Crashing into you was a sheer
accident, and perhaps the best
one in my life. You have helped
me grow and feel love in new
ways.

My life is better for having
you in it. I wish you all my
love and that of others at
Christmas. You are a blessing
from God to me.

_I love you and want you to
know it.

Yours,_

I signed it. It was done. I wasn't taking it back. I sealed it. I did love Laramie. I couldn't deny it. And I was willing to say I was IN love with him.

And Mitchell.

"Damn it!" I screamed, throwing the pen across the room. How had I done this to myself? And to them? I loved them both. My time with Mitchell is great, but I can't wait to see Laramie again. What had I done?

—

The bread looked magnificent when I picked it up. My guests should be impressed with it. As I made the salad, I kept contemplating what Laramie might feel when he sees the words written: "I love you."

I placed the salad in the fridge for tonight. I still had four hours before guests arrived. The house looked clean. I dug out some pine-scented candles to give the house somewhat of a holiday ambience when they arrived. I had picked up a wreath during the morning errands. I thought it was one more decorative touch to add to the season. Plus, this close to Christmas, it was already marked 25 percent off.

It was 3:15 when my cell phone rang. It was Laramie.

"Hey, handsome,"

He chuckled. "Thanks." For some reason I didn't think he sounded like himself.

"Are you okay?"

"No. I'm totally bummed."

"What is it? What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I'm sick. It's like a ... a stomach bug or something. I haven't thrown up. Yet. But I feel wanky. Kind of queasy. I feel a little stuffed up. I was hoping it was just temporary, but ... there's no way I can be around people tonight, Cooper."

No. I was telling him I loved him tonight. No, he couldn't cancel.

"Really? You sure?"

"I am, babe. It would be completely irresponsible, and all those people would hate me if I gave it to them."

"You're not just saying this because you'd feel odd around Mitch, because he won't be here."

"That's not it. Really. I feel sucky."

"I'm sorry. Man, I'll miss you."

"Me too. Maybe we can see each other before Christmas."

"I hope. Well, rest up. I hope you feel better."

"Yeah. Hopefully." He paused. "I'm very sorry, Cooper."

That depressed me. Now that I had admitted to myself that I loved him, it seemed oddly crushing. It was simply a dinner. But ... damn.

"Damn!"

I didn't like myself when I cussed. I made myself a promise not to use cuss words. Until I was screwing Laramie.

I exhaled an elongated sigh like someone who had just witnessed the passing of a loved one on their deathbed.

Still, I had many other guests. I would be very pleased to see them, and I needed to get final things in place. I placed the cards under the tree. Fanned out a bit, it helped fill out the space.

When it came time, I seasoned the pork loin with rosemary and thyme. I thought about Laramie. For some reason a couple tears seasoned the entrée as well. It was just a dinner; that was silly. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. I ground a little fresh salt and black pepper onto the pork. I placed the lid on the roasting pan and set it aside. The green beans would be easy. I had just a touch of bacon drippings and some almonds already slivered. I knew the big hit would be Mom's cheesy hashbrown bake. People always loved it. That recipe was the one I copied when I moved out from home.

Home. At least I would see Laramie Christmas Day.

—

Lance and Jakob arrived first. I was glad. Any extra time with them was a gift. The hugs seemed endless. I didn't want to let them go. They both kissed me, and I gladly received the affection. A year ago, I probably would have felt awkward. Not now.

"The place looks wonderful," Jakob beamed. "I can't wait to see it all."

"Once everyone gets here, I'll give you the grand tour."

Jakob went to look out at the backyard.

"I haven't done much back there yet," I hollered.

Lance pulled me aside. "You doing okay?"

I grabbed his hand and held it. "I'm not sure. I'm just taking it one day at a time. For now. But I can't just stay stuck where I am. I'll have to make a hard decision soon."

Emory arrived. He had briefly met my friends at Trent's event. They offered yuletide pleasantries to each other.

"Typically I would have brought a bottle of wine, but ... you know," he whispered.

"That's fine. Nothing was necessary ... or expected. I'm just glad you're here."

The doorbell rang again. It was Kaden and Ophelia. They both were dressier than I expected. Not formal, but by no means casual.

"Look at you two! Aren't you a handsome couple."

They snickered and handed me a gift basket. It had a red bow tied to it and it was filled with cheeses and gourmet condiments. "Thank you for inviting us. Merry Christmas, Cooper."

I welcomed them in, but had noticed Mike and Trent exiting their car, so I waited at the doorway. They were both in nice jeans and Christmas sweaters. We smiled at each other and gave kisses of friendship. I admitted to myself that I now loved doing that.

I had beverages chilled, so those that had arrived helped themselves to something. There was a bit of contradictions of aromas in the house. The living room had the scent of pine from the candles. The kitchen had both the seasoned pork loin cooking and wassail I had warming on the stove. The lights on the tree gave the living room a festive glow. I was pleased at how it all looked. Fortunately, I had only lived here less than two months, so there was not much clutter that had accumulated. The house still looked new.

The doorbell rang. I opened it to find Brad standing there. He was supremely dressed up. His dark magenta suit was definitely gay, but very dressy. Gay formal. "You're a knockout!" I said. "Get in here you handsome hunk. Welcome!"

He ducked his head like a five-year-old receiving flattering attention. Outside of Joe, I noticed a slight shyness to Brad. "Your house looks beautiful," he said entering, looking up. "Oh, this is for you. It's just a little something." He handed me a box of chocolate caramels. He had placed a bow on it. I hugged him.

Richard stepped in the doorframe before I could even close it. "Welcome, Richard, Welcome. Come on in." He was dressed in a long sleeve shirt. I pictured him having owned it for probably 20 years, but the pattern was still a smart choice for the season.

Rex, my final guest was walking up. "Normally you offer a bottle of wine when invited to someone's home, but ... it's us, right?" He handed me a poinsettia. "I hope this is fine."

"It's awesome. How perfect. I actually didn't have one in the house. Thank you, Rex."

I welcomed him in and placed the poinsettia in the center of the dining room table.

With everyone there, I placed the side dishes in the oven and then began a house tour. For ten to fifteen minutes, we strolled through the house. Jakob lit up when I pointed out elements that he had helped me select and received praise for his taste. They thought Corey's room looked very nice. Appropriate for a teenager, but still presentable and personable. At the guest room, I maneuvered to Lance and Jakob to encourage them to stay for a weekend soon. They felt bad for not being able to this time, but Jakob's responsibilities during the season were ramped up. The upstairs bathroom was beautiful. My guests seemed envious of the master bedroom and its size. I had spent 20 minutes cleaning the master bath this morning, so it still sparkled in its lack of grunge and film.

Once back in the kitchen, I noticed the time and felt we should get started.

"I have some wassail to begin things tonight, if you'd like."

I had small Christmas mugs on a mat placed on the kitchen counter. I ladled the hot festive beverage into them and encouraged my guests to enjoy one. They complimented me on the flavor and appropriateness to the holiday.

Rex didn't know many people, only Ophelia and Richard, and not even those two very well. I made sure he was introduced to everyone.

"You and I are kind of in the same boat," Kaden said. "I don't know many people either." He and Rex shook hands.

"I'm very glad you could join us, Kaden," I said. "Ophelia speaks so fondly of you all the time. It's nice to spend some time with you."

All of us would not be able to fit in one room, so both the kitchen table and dining room table were set with appropriate place settings.

"Oh. Laramie sends his apologies, everyone. He has some kind of stomach bug and knew he should stay home. I'll remove a place setting to give us a bit more room."

I pulled one chair out and simply rolled up the setting and placed it on top. The chair was moved over to the side out of the way. Jakob helped me arrange the remaining settings to look more symmetrical.

"Where's Mitchell tonight?" Mike asked, with Trent and Lance next to him.

"He's got a family thing out of town."

Trent looked confused as to why I would choose a date that Mitch couldn't be here.

"Mitch has been to the house a lot. He's here each week," I explained. Trent's expression was still blank.

As everyone had salad, I pulled the side dishes from the oven and sliced the bread. That, of course, reminded me of Laramie.

If I didn't feel the dinner was a success, my guests certainly made me feel so. Each dish came out just right. I thought everything was tasty, yet nothing seemed particularly pretentious. Kaden, Ophelia, Rex and Brad sat at the kitchen table; the rest of us were in the dining room. Because of the two locations, I left all the food on the kitchen counter, so the movement of people helped keep things from feeling too separated. I was having a good time, but my glance to the empty chair pulled aside reminded me of who was missing. Emory seemed enamored of anything Trent said or did.

The evening flowed well. I played server picking up everyone's finished plates. Jakob helped; it was in his nature. We paused between the main course and dessert. I gathered everyone into the living room. The Christmas music I had playing through the speakers was turned down lower.

"If I may adopt a move from Trent's event, I'd like to say something. The last year has been ... a challenging one for me personally. I'm not sure if I would have fared nearly as well if weren't for you people. I want to thank you for helping me through it all. I'm not necessarily good at words, but ..."

I reached down to pick up all the cards. I handed each one out. My glance looked under the tree to see Laramie's card still "undelivered."

Each person or couple opened their card and responded that it was sweet.

"What? No sundae again?!" Emory quipped aloud.

Brad laughed.

"Well, Emory Pike ..." I pulled a gift card from my pocket. "Ha! Here you go."

"What??" he said, startled.

"You were the inspiration. I have sundaes to go around." Gift cards can seem quite impersonal, but the small gesture was whimsical enough that I thought it would be fine for the occasion. I was lucky Emory played right into my hands. "With you being jealous of Brad's..."

"Trendsetter!" Brad said mockingly, pointing to himself.

"... I thought I could treat everyone to something sweet whenever they felt like it."

Everyone chuckled. Emory stood to give me a hug. It was the most I had ever seen Emory dressed up. He had a white button-down long sleeve shirt on underneath an attractive sweater. Khaki pants and casual shoes made for a good look.

"Speaking of sweet ... I do have strawberry cheesecake for all of us."

No one returned to their seats where they had dinner. They either held their plates or sat in the living room. I liked this. It was much more social.

Mike and Trent came up to me. "This has been just lovely," Mike said.

"Thanks. I've enjoyed having everyone here. I think it has turned out well."

Trent stepped closer. "I saw you look at that empty chair a hundred times during dinner. How are you doing?"

I sighed. "I miss him, Trent." We sat down at the kitchen table. "I'm surprised that missing a simple dinner party has bummed me out so much."

"Go on."

"I just can't wait to see him next," I confessed.

"Oh." Trent was silent a moment. "That sounds like..."

"I'm in love with him. I've admitted it to myself."

"Have you said it to him?"

"I was going to tonight."

"And what about Mitch?"

"It's everything you've warned me about. I've fallen in love with two men."

"Ohhhhh, man. Coop, I – I – I don't know what to say."

"I know. I know. I can't do this forever. Knowing I have to hurt someone is already killing me. The hard thing is that I truly love them both."

He patted my hand. "I'm just a phone call away."

Lance walked up. "Who is this Rex guy? Man, he is built!"

"He's in AA."

"I mean, I work out, but — man!!! — he is buff to the max. A shame his face isn't more handsome."

"Don't say that."

Lance gasped. "Could he hear me?"

"No. But that's why he is an alcoholic."

"Really? Not everyone is consumed by looks."

"Think of the world we live in, Lance. It's nice to say that — and I hope it is true — but for having a killer body, he hasn't had much luck with women."

"That's too bad." Lance looked at Rex from afar.

"I wonder..." Then he went silent.

"His dick is apparently nice too," I said flatly.

Lance whirled to me. "Cooper Snow! How do you know that?"

"He alluded to it in a share." He turned back to look at Rex. "I seem to recall someone else sharing TMI in a share too."

"Shut up," Lance said, but with love.

Brad was sitting with Emory. I went to join them. "Will I see you both in the morning?" I asked.

"I'm almost always scheduled on Sunday. It's my long day," Brad said. "I loved meeting your ex the other day."

"Oh?" Emory inquired with a single word.

"Yes. Natalie actually picked the place."

"Why?" they both asked.

"Apparently Corey speaks of it and the group from time to time."

"I love him," said Brad. "Is that okay to say about someone else's child?"

I laughed. "I think he is taken with you too."

"He's going to be a lady killer, Cooper. I hope you're ready for that," warned Emory.

"I'm totally not. He's a great kid. I'm so proud of him. I'm just worried about all the pressures of the teen years."

"You've raised him well. He's going to make mistakes because he's human," said Emory. "Be there for him, but let him be his own man."

"Man. He's 14. He's going to be 30 before I know it."

"You're a good dad," Brad said, hugging me while I was still seated.

"I'm so glad you could come," I whispered in his ear. He gripped me tighter.

"You have no idea," he said. "Really," he said, looking me in the eyes. "I appreciate you sharing your family and your house ... and your friendship. You have no idea, Cooper."

I really knew nothing of Brad's outside life. That comment indicated there was more to him than I knew.

Around 9:45, people began making their way to the front door. Hugs were aplenty. Ophelia dawdled with Lance and Jakob, whom she dearly missed. Lance seemed awkward around her husband, Kaden. I wasn't sure why.

"How about we do a run the first nice weekend we have," Trent said to me.

"I would enjoy that," I said. "You two have a wonderful Christmas!" I hugged both him and Mike.

"Thank you for inviting me," Rex told me at the door. "I enjoyed myself."

"I'm glad you came. I know you didn't know everyone."

"Brad told me my body was `smoking hot.'"

I sighed and chuckled at the same time. "He can be very forward. I'm sorry if he offended you."

"No. I'm not gay or anything, but I appreciated the attention." Rex smiled. "I'll see you sometime soon. Merry Christmas, Cooper."

It was down to Lance and Jakob. "I wish you didn't have to go. I wish you were staying here."

"We promise we will soon," said Jakob. "I'll make it a New Year's resolution to visit more frequently. Particularly since you have become good friends with Trent and Mike, that makes it that much easier."

"Indeed. I love you gentlemen. You have no idea how much I miss you."

"And we are just a call away," Lance reminded. He kissed me; Jakob followed.

As I shut the door, I scanned the room. There were a few dishes to deal with, but nothing was overwhelming. I blew out the candles. It wasn't quite 10, but I turned out most of the lights. Sitting on the couch, I reflected on a wonderful evening. The Christmas tree was still illuminated. The brightness of each light pleased me. I felt the essence of the holiday.

Laramie's card still slumbered beneath the tree.

I pulled out my cell phone and texted.

"Tonight went well. I missed you."

"I missed being there. I'm glad everyone had a good time," he replied.

"I wasn't sure if you would be up. I figured you would be resting."

He called.

"Why text. I'd prefer to hear your voice."

"How do you feel?"

"Threw up once. Kind of felt better after that. Sluggish. Tired. Slightly stuffed up but not really coughing."

"Not fun," I said sympathetically. "I just ... just wanted to ... tell you ..." I didn't want to say it over the phone. "I missed you all night."

"I slept for about four hours, but now I'm up again. For a little bit at least."

"Drink lots of fluids. At least that's what they say."

"Like a pint of whiskey?"

"Ha. Not on my watch." We just listened to silence for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. "I'll let you get back to your rest."

"I'm glad you called. Good night, Coop."

I sat in a trance for a moment. I didn't get up. I didn't turn on the television. I just vegged.

Then in a flurry, I grabbed my coat, picked up his card, went to the kitchen and ran out to the car.

Twenty five minutes later, I called him again.

"Are you still up?"

"Yeah. I'll probably turn in shortly."

"Are you dressed?"

"Really? Is this a sex call when I'm sick?"

I laughed. "Put something on and come to the door."

Ninety seconds later, the front door opened. I was standing 15 feet away.

"What is this? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." I gestured to his doorstep. He saw what I had placed near his feet.

"You're insane, Cooper. What is this?"

He picked up two bags and my card.

"I ran to the supermarket to get you soup. Ironically, they had chicken noodle in the deli. I also have a beef vegetable. That's all they had. I thought they might be good for you tomorrow. In the other bag is some of my leftover cheesy hashbrowns and a slice of cheesecake — when you are up to it."

"And the card?"

"I had one for everyone at the party. I ... wanted to deliver yours before I went to bed."

"You're a nut. It could have waited."

"I didn't want to."

"I am sure I look completely horrible," he said, leaning down.

"You look awful."

"Thanks a lot."

"You're still sexy as all get out."

"Too late. You already insulted me," he joked.

Laramie moved back to set the two small bags inside. He stepped into the doorframe with the card. He ran his finger under the seal and opened it. I watched him open the card. He smiled at the printed greeting. His eyes scanned my written words. His mouth dropped and he placed the card to his chest. He looked up at me.

"I love you," I said. "I wanted to tell you tonight."

"Great. A night I can't kiss you or even get near you."

"I know."

"I love you, too, Cooper. But you know that."

"I know."

He held up his finger to show me it had healed. I held up my finger and then with my other hand gripped it tight. He did the same. We smiled at our mirrored gesture.

"It's rather chilly, so I should let you shut the door. I will see you next week. Sometime." I waved to him. As I saw the door shut, I noticed he opened the card to look at it again.

—

"It's just you and me today," I told Emory as I sat down with my black coffee. I placed the lid next to his stir stick and empty packet of raw sugar.

"Just like old times. I had a great time last night, Coop."

"Me too."

"I know Larry was sick. But, why no Mitch?"

"He's been to the house many times. He has slept over. I just wanted to ... not have an awkwardness with Laramie there."

Emory leaned forward. "You've fallen for him, haven't you!?"

There was no point denying it. My eyes could never lie. "I have. I'm in love with both of them."

"Oh my dear boy, you have gotten yourself into a mess."

"Tell me about it."

"So now what?"

"Any suggestions?" I asked sarcastically.

"Heck! I had a crush on you this summer too. Don't look to me." Emory took a sip. "Remember when you thought no one would ever want you?"

"Yeah." I thought a moment. "How strange. I still don't think I fit in with the gay world. But Laramie gets me. I think that's part of it."

Two gentlemen sat near us. One was neck to chest tattoos. The other had a pink mohawk gelled to the max. I was glad no one like that was in here when Natalie had lunch. Corey would think these guys were super cool, Natalie not so much.

"You're pretty easy to love, Cooper."

"Oh, shut up."

Brad swooped in and warmed Emory's coffee. He then surprised me by leaning over to kiss me on the top of the head. "Mwah. Last night was so nice. Thank you for inviting me."

"I loved you being there. I enjoy your company, Brad."

"You're just angling for a free strawberry kalachi," he said. "Coming right up."

I chuckled. Brad walked away and topped off coffee at a few other tables.

"How much do you know about Brad?" I asked.

Emory looked his direction. "Not much. Nothing more than what we see here at Joe. Why?"

"I don't know. There seems to be more to him than just his flamboyant server persona."

"Could be. He's a nice kid." Emory sipped his coffee. "I loved visiting with Trent again last night. I hope I haven't come off as a groupie. He has told me some about his upcoming play. It still sounds a few months away."

"It is. Did he tell you it's loosely based on Jakob?"

"Yeah. Just some circumstances. Apparently, it is about a songwriter."

"Right. It's not about about Jakob, just some of the things he had to go through in his life."

"I talked to Jakob some last night. You two go back a ways, don't you?"

"He, Lance and I were all starting AA fairly close together. You aren't supposed to really date your first year of sobriety, but those two somehow made it work. I guess the thinking is if there is a breakup, it challenges your mettle to stay sober. I sure slipped the first time Mitch cheated."

"Oh?"

"Just that once. Mitch was just kissing another coworker. It wasn't like he was screwing him, like Derek."

"You're pretty gracious to forgive him twice. I would find it hard to move past all that."

"That's just it. I love Mitch. I LOVE Mitch. It's just hard for me to sweep all that away."

"So is Laramie some kind of revenge?"

"No. Not at all. The two of them are both very different, but I like who both of them are."

"By `like' you mean `love.' I don't envy you, Coop. One of them is going to be hurt. Or you."

"Exactly. I'm thinking I should make a decision by January 1. It's not fair to string them along. But ... I don't know how to decide."

"Here you are, you sweet man," said Brad, setting down a kalachi. "They just came out of the oven, so its piping hot. Fair warning. But they are so damn good, it will make you come." Brad then swished away.

Emory and I both smiled at him.

"What are your plans for Christmas?" I asked.

"As much as I am not looking forward to it ... the folks."

"Hey. They are in their late 80s. Feel lucky. Most people don't get to keep their parents that long."

"I suppose."

"Do you ever seen Gene's family?"

"Both his parents are gone. We lost them when he was still alive. I get a Christmas card from his sister in California. That's about it."

"Hm. The family dynamic is so peculiar. The holidays are supposed to be all about family, yet so many people feel it a drudgery of obligation."

"Was it always that way?" Emory asked.

"No. It was pretty enjoyable when Corey was younger. Nat's family really liked me. My family adored Natalie, and everybody loves Corey." I glazed over into the middle space. But it did change. "When we got divorced, it all ... turned upside down. I was a black sheep."

"Because of the divorce or because you are gay?"

"Both. Divorce was bad enough, but gay?? My siblings and their spouses were just ... cold. Dad became distant. Mom was better but still not the same. I became the `broken one.' I could feel it. Laramie is going with us next weekend."

"Really??"

"Yeah. Corey was upset that he was alone on Christmas. He asked my parents if he could come."

"And they didn't ask why a 14-year-old wanted to bring a man in his 30s?"

"Oh, they don't know."

Emory howled with laughter. It continued for a long time. The tattooed man smiled at first, but his expression indicated that Emory's outburst had gone on too long.

"This is delicious," Emory said. "You should film it!"

"Whatever. I assume he will be better by then."

"Let's call."

I nodded and dialed. Laramie picked up.

"Hey. I'm here with Emory. We're just checking on you."

"Aw. Thanks guys," he said on speaker. "I guess I'm okay. Am I better??? I'm not sure. But I'm not worse, so I'll take that as a small victory."

"Cooper was just telling me about the Corey-Larry version of Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?" Emory said.

"I'm doing it for him."

"Be sure to blame my son when my family turns out to be more than you can stomach."

"After what my stomach feels like right now, nothing could be worse."

The three of us chatted for a few more minutes. Soon, I bid farewell to Emory and Brad, wishing them both a Merry Christmas. I wouldn't see them until the new year.

—

"So you told him, huh?" Logan asked.

"I – I did. But now I'm in love with two men. This is not good."

"It's certainly not ideal."

"You were the one to tell me to date other people."

"I never told you to do anything. You seemed willing to explore feelings and you've acted on them."

"Is it really possible to love two people at the same time?"

"Oh lord, yes. Not every adulterous affair is a brief fling. Many men are deeply in love with their mistresses while not wanting to leave their wives."

"Well, it's not for me. I'd end it right now if I knew which one to choose. But I dread hurting one of them."

"Well, let's look at what has happened since you first started seeing me. You wanted to know why you couldn't get past these demons. You call them walls."

"Right."

"And do you still feel them?"

"Yes."

"You've dated another man to now further your experience. Do you have any demons with Laramie?"

"Only that if I choose him, I will have to hurt Mitch. I mean, Mitchell was my world. I never could have come out without him."

"Do you feel a sense of duty to him?"

"No. I love Mitch."

"Does it feel different with Laramie?" Logan asked.

"It does. It's just so ... down to earth. It's so natural."

"And it's not with Mitch?"

"We're really good together. Everything is good. But ... I would say up to a point."

"Can you tell me what that point is?"

"I'm not sure I can. I love him. I love being with him."

"Go on."

"And I feel the same way about Laramie."

"Go back to Mitchell. You've always loved him. He's cheated on you twice. You still love him."

"Yes. I need him. I need Mitchell."

"Go with that."

"When we're good, we are so good."

"You've told me you don't want to ask him to move in. If I said right now, do you love Mitch enough to commit to him moving in, what does your body and mind feel? Warmth or resistance?"

"Resistance."

"Why?"

"I can't figure that out."

"Yes, you can. Picture Mitch moving in."

"No."

"He's moving in. What do you feel?"

"No. He can't."

"But he is."

"He can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because he is going to cheat on me again!!"

The room was silent. My breathing had unknowingly become so heavy, that was the only sound. My body was so tense.

"Close your eyes," said Logan. I complied. "Let all this tension go. Shake your hands. Let it out." I felt silly, but I did. "Now breathe. Now picture Laramie moving in."

"Too soon," I said, still keeping my eyes closed. "We've only dated a few weeks."

"Breathe. But let's say it isn't this week. Let's say it is three months, five months from now. Picture him moving in." Logan paused. "Now... how does your body feel?"

"Relaxed." I breathed deeply. "Relaxed. I like picturing it."

"This is a good breakthrough, Cooper."

"But it isn't three months or five months. Laramie and I don't know each other as much as Mitch and I do."

"That's fair. This is just one perspective, one train of thought. But you let something surface. Why do you think Mitch will cheat?"

"Because he needs something ... something I won't be able to give him."

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

"Think. Like what?"

"Like a big dick!" I gasped in air. Then I softly said, "I don't have a big dick."

"And you think this is why Mitch cheats?"

"To be honest, I don't know. But he is wanting something else other than me. He has that stupid book!"

"You've told me he wants to be faithful. He says he loves only you. Do you believe him?"

"I do. I think Mitch believes that. He truly does."

"But ... what?"

"At some point, he's going to ... want something else. He just doesn't know it himself."

"Why are you sure?"

"I'm not. I'm just afraid."

"You said sex between you has always been good. Has he mentioned anything lacking?"

"Not at all. We actually ... we ... last night ... we ... sex was outstanding last night. I went to his place. He wanted to tell me about his family trip last weekend, and we made love. It was ... really good. It was great."

Neither of us had been loud. It was all breathing. Mitch was more self-conscious at his apartment. We had not 69'd in a while. We did that for 15 minutes. Or an hour. Or three. It was forever, and neither of us tired of tasting each other's stiff meat. Eventually he rolled to his back and uttered, "I need you inside me."

I had stamina. I started slowly. His moans were soft but tender. Mitchell loved my cock inside him. He was much more the bottom than me. I seemed to have lasting power on my side. We fucked as long as we had sucked. Somehow. My breathing and temporary pause to kiss kept me going.

"Fuck me more. Fuck me for Christmas."

He rolled over on his stomach. I re-entered him and had a more rigorous rhythm. My chest to his back had developed a layer of sweat. Pressing them together, we were then adhered. Both of us shined in the candles he had lit. My forehead actually developed beads of perspiration. I grunted softly. My erection moved in and out of him with incredible sensations. This elongated lovemaking session was one of our best. I panted in his ear. I moaned in his ear. My tongue stretched for his ear. "I'm so close, Mitchell," I whispered into his ear.

"Yes. Come in me, Cooper."

I pushed hard and whined as my final thrusts brought me there.

"Fuck me."

"I'm coming," we both softly said. Mitch's hands gripped the rails of the headboard and released everything inside him. Our hips gyrated. We panted for more air. My arms under his chest gripped him tighter.

"Merry Christmas," I whispered.

"You too. I love you, Cooper."

We rose to our knees. A washcloth nearby was used to wipe my dick. We looked at Mitch's cum all smeared into the sheets.

"You've never done that when I've fucked you before."

"I don't often hear you use that word," Mitch said. "But yeah. Tonight was hot. You got me there."

The notepad materialized again. Logan was bound to write a novel. He jotted maybe four words.

"Anything else?"

"But I know how I feel. I don't want to give up on us if we can make it work. I can't give up on Mitch. That has to mean something that I feel this way."

"Where does Laramie fit in?"

"Gah! I don't know. I just love who he is. I love our time together."

"As a friend or as a lover?"

"Both. My heart beats faster when I'm with him. I know I'm in love with him. Too. Damn."

"I think you have brought forward much to think about."

"Yes. I want to be done with this by the time January 1 gets here. I want a fresh start."

"You are setting goals. That's good. Is this a realistic one?"

"I'm not sure, but I know by prolonging it, I'm only making it worse. The new year is an obvious starting point. I'm committing to it."

"Well, I'll be ready to listen the next time we meet. We're closed all of next week, so I will see you in the new year. Merry Christmas to you, Cooper."

—

I didn't share at the AA meeting. It was a smaller group closer to Christmas. O was chairman tonight. She handed out two chips to members. Apparently, Kaden survived the dinner party just fine. He told her he enjoyed it. There was a lot of gay there. At least a couple token straight guys helped take the edge off. I hadn't seen Perry in a couple of months. He was down to less than 200 pounds. What a difference for him in the two years he had been coming. He received major applause at his share. Even though smaller, it was a nice meeting.

Laramie texted afterward. "Not sure if you were out with friends or not."

I called. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. It was probably a 48-hour thing. I've felt more like myself. Today was good."

"That makes me happy."

"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'd like that."

"Dinner at my place? But we'll order in so that all the knives stay in the drawers."

I laughed. "It's a date."

—

I wanted to give Laramie something for Christmas. I had no idea what. Everyone had their own tastes for their home. His was a bit eclectic, so I could have been safe. I dedicated my lunch hour to begin the search. I finished after work that day. I had time to wrap the gift before heading to his place.

I had told the man I loved him, so this date would probably be taken to the next level in so many intangible ways. I wasn't sure how, but those words have impact. I started to question if we had gone too far too fast. But even if we had, I loved him. I knew I loved Laramie.

He let me in just before 7 o'clock. I sat an overnight bag near the front door.

"If you've brought that, you can set it in the bedroom," he smiled.

"You invited me to dinner. You didn't invite me to spend the night," I deviously teased.

"Consider it an open invitation," he said pulling me in for a kiss.

We stood next to the door and kissed for a couple of minutes. His hand was on the back of my head, pressing our mouths further together. Our kissing was borderline sloppy. The first difference of saying those three words had made itself evident.

"If you weren't staying the night, I'd have you take me right this instant," he breathed into my ear.

"I take it dinner isn't here."

He laughed. "I was waiting until you arrived to order. Thai, Chinese or American?"

"Which is the kindest to your stomach?"

He smiled. "I can make anything dangerous."

"Thai sounds nice," I returned, smiling.

Laramie phoned in our order. He chose basil fired rice with chicken. I opted for something I hadn't tried: Sach Ko Ang with shrimp. It sounded good.

Laramie's kitchen had a bar top. I could tell he had cleaned. The place looked a little more spruced up. I sat at one of the bar stools while he fiddled in the refrigerator. He held up a peach tea and a flavored black cherry sparkling water as if to offer me a choice. I chose the tea. When he put the other back, I saw several beers chilled in the fridge. I smiled that he chose to have an iced tea with me. He pulled down two glasses and filled them with ice. I found watching him do the simplest things adorable. The man was just putting ice in glasses, but I was captivated.

I knew I was in love.

He sat next to me. He held up his glass. "Cheers." We clinked our iced teas.

I asked about work. He said he was swamped, and yet he still took off Monday because of the stomach bug. He had worked late the rest of the week to make up time.

"I hadn't been out of the shower ten minutes when you showed up," he chuckled.

I stood and moved forward to hold him. "No wonder you smell so wonderful." I kissed his neck. I heard him breathe deeply. I nibbled his ear. His slight moan was ethereal, but I heard it. I unbuttoned the top two buttons on his bright cobalt blue, long-sleeved shirt. My lips kissed his throat. My tongue protruded and licked down to where his chest hair began.

"Coooooopeeeerrrr," he whispered.

His hands gripped my head and pulled my face up for a kiss.

"I got hard the moment you entered the front door," he said. "Right now I have a bed post in my briefs. If we don't stop, I'm going to have to answer the door with a hard-on that even my jeans can't conceal."

He gave me a peck on the lips. The back of my hand graced his firm bulge. His hand groped my erection protruding in my Dockers pants. I was dying to rip his jeans open and consume his stiff penis as an appetizer. But then I lost my courage. I was certainly bolder than I used to be, but I still worried I would come off as a lunatic. I let the moment subside. But I still couldn't wait to be naked with him.

We returned to conversation. He spoke of the ongoing projects that were intended as Christmas presents. He had to finish two smaller pieces tomorrow. A customer was fine with the final one being picked up Christmas Eve, Saturday.

"You're working right down to the last minute."

"Yeah. Sunday would have almost been peaceful to be here alone."

"Hey," I said firmly. "If going to my family is an inconvenience, then we can make Corey understand."

"No. I'm fine. I am truly touched by the gesture. I can sleep in late that morning. You don't pick him up until after lunch, right?"

"Correct. We'll swing by from there."

He glanced at my overnight baggage.

"You brought a small suitcase. As much as I would hope you are staying several days, I ... don't think that's it."

"Well, it is my smallest one. I have to dress fairly professionally tomorrow. But it's only a half day since Christmas Eve is on Saturday. However, your Christmas gift is in there, so I needed something slightly bigger than a gym-type bag."

"Oh." He was instantly taken aback. My mention of a gift wasn't received well.

"Uh oh. I've said something wrong."

"No. No, not at all. Can you ... excuse me a moment. If the door rings, I paid for everything online, including tip, so just accept it."

"Uh ... okay."

Laramie darted to his office. He came out with scissors and dashed into his bedroom. I was perplexed.

Two minutes later, the doorbell rang. I thanked the driver.

"Dinner is here," I called out.

Fifteen seconds later, he emerged from the bedroom. "Okay. Done."

"What was all that??"

"It's fine," he said, not offering anything further.

We spread out the containers around the kitchen table.

"Mmmm! This is outstanding," I said by my third bite.

"Agreed. I'm glad we chose this."

Over dinner, I gave him a crash course on my two siblings and their spouses. I hoped I had prepared him enough for the descent into the cavern of darkness that is the Snow family. He felt he could weather the storm.

The meal was finished, but we didn't even pick up the containers. We simply basked in the pleasure of each other's company. Laramie acted like anything I said — investments, accounting, interest rates — was riveting. I found his trade — wood finishes, aluminum brackets, lathes — equally as fascinating. Maybe it was because we were engrossed into looking into each other's eyes. He had commented on mine being the purest blue. I was lost in the mahogany flecks within the burnt amber of his gaze.

God, I loved him.

After an hour of conversation, we decided to clear the containers and clean the table.

I carried my bag to the bedroom. Placing it on the bed, I zipped it open and pulled out his gift. I walked back into the living room. Laramie had not bought a tree for himself. His decorations consisted of a wreath on the door and an arrangement of candles and garland on his coffee table. I placed the gift next to that. He looked at me earnestly.

"I wasn't expecting a gift. I thought the card that said `I love you' was ... was the most wonderful thing." His glance led my eyes to a wooden sleigh. It was positioned next to the television. It probably stood a foot tall. It looked like he had received a few other cards. Mine was standing on top of the stack.

"Well, don't get your hopes up." I rolled my eyes. "This is by no means amazing."

We sat on his couch. I handed him the gift. By its size and shape, it was pretty indicative that it was a book. He ripped off the paper and revealed a heavy coffee table book on the Jackson Bend courthouse.

"You told me you've always been impressed with the courthouse here."

"It's magnificent."

"I thought this book was beautiful." He nodded at my assessment. "When I bought it, the owner of the bookstore said the author still worked at the courthouse. I darted over there at the end of the workday today to get her to sign it." I turned to the autograph in the front.

To Laramie,

Thank you for respecting one of
Jackson Bend's most wonderful
treasures.

There was a signature, but if the name wasn't printed on the page, I wouldn't have been able to decipher it.

"I hope you don't already have it."

"No. No, I don't. It's wonderful," he said, looking at the book. "You're wonderful," he said looking at me. "It's absolutely perfect."

He kissed me. Then he stood to walk to the bedroom. He came out a minute later with a wrapped box. It stood about a foot tall, maybe an inch or two taller.

"I just wrapped it a while ago. Probably not my best work." He nervously handed it to me. "Merry Christmas, Coop."

I tore the paper away to reveal a plain brown cardboard box. I popped the tape that kept the box closed, tearing it away. As I opened the flaps, I could see a wooden sculpture of some sort filled most of the volume. I gently lifted it out. There were two abstract figures facing each other. It was a modern sculpture, very contemporary. The taller of the figures had enough sculpted angles to make out a face. The other one was an inch or two shorter. There were no distinguishing features of clothing or body parts. Just two figures slightly curved toward each other. Each one of them had an arm reached out. The slight cuts indicated fingers as the two hands just barely touched.

"It's – it's called `Father and Son.' I wanted to add a base to it with a nameplate on it that said, `Father and Son; Cooper and Corey.' I've been so busy — and then I got sick — I wasn't able to get it finished as much as I wanted."

"Wait, you made this? You carved this?"

"Yeah. I've been working on it when I can for the past few weeks."

"I thought you did cabinetry and carpentry. I didn't know you carved sculptures."

"I don't really. I dabbled with it on the farm growing up. It's slow. But I ... I wanted to do this for you."

"I LOVE IT! It's wonderful. It's incredible," I enthused.

"I wish I could have finished it."

"I love it just as it is! You don't have to do another thing. I know just where I want it in the house. I had been trying to figure out what should go on the mantle. I figured once the garland came off, I would go pick up something. This ... this is ..."

I planted my lips on his. I pushed him down further into the couch as my body weight overtook his. Our lips remained locked. No sounds. No tongues. Just a sealed kiss. I gently pulled our faces apart.

"I love it," I whispered. "I love you."

We stood. Laramie took a moment to turn out all the lights. We walked to the bedroom hand in hand. I took the toiletry kit from my suitcase and moved it all out of the way. He lit a candle and turned out the lights. We went to the bathroom to brush our teeth. Each of us peed, although I was already so hard that it took some effort to secure my aim.

When we returned to the dim bedroom, we turned and held each other. We were fully dressed, but we just stood and gently swayed in each other's arms. There was no music, we just swayed. It was reminiscent of when we were at The Black Stallion. We put our chins on each other's shoulders and continued to sway. The candle flared up for a second. I noticed our shadow silhouetted on the wall briefly. I liked it. We swayed. We held each other.

"Brand new," I whispered, lost in my thoughts.

"Huh?" he said, pulling back.

"Oh, it's just something Emory said last spring. He suggested the song `Brand New' when I needed to feel good. Holding you right now, I feel brand new."

Laramie's eyes darted back and forth trying to make sense of any of that. "I'm not sure I understand, but ... I feel the same." He leaned back in for a kiss. For a long time we just stood and swayed, locked in our kiss.

His hands left my back. I felt them move around to my waist, then the waistband of my pants. He unbuttoned them, then unzipped the fly. His hands moved inside, circumventing their way around my hips until they dug in and clutched my ass.

My fingers completely unbuttoned his shirt. I pulled it from being tucked into his tan jeans. Spreading it open, my hands roamed his chest.

As our hands explored masculine bodies, our breathing in our kiss became heavier. His tongue entered my mouth, rubbing against mine. My hands moved up to feel the warmth of his skin between his back and the shirt. We breathed harder. My hands maneuvered his shirt to fall from his shoulders. It draped from his elbows. His hands left my ass and rubbed my erection from the outside of my boxers. Then he let his arms hang freely so his shirt could drop to the floor. Bare chested, Laramie pulled the bottom of my sweater until it was lifted over my head. I had only a T-shirt on underneath it; it was removed seconds later.

Our breathing was panting now. My fingers fumbled with the fly on his jeans. I momentarily couldn't get them unbuttoned. Then it pried loose. The zipper went down easily. "Yes," I slightly uttered. I dropped to my knees. I yanked his jeans down. He lifted each foot one at a time for me to rip the denim from his legs. My fingers slid into the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down to release the heroic captive within. Instantly, my mouth devoured his member.

"Ahh! Cooooooop!" he yelled as he felt the lubrication of my mouth suck on his meaty flesh. "Fuuuuucck, yeah."

Laramie pushed his briefs down to where they fell to his ankles. He stepped out of them while I continued to suck on him, this man that I admitted I was now in love with. I wanted to suck and swallow and feast on him the whole night. My hands were free, so I wriggled a grip into my boxers and pulled out my cock. I jerked my own erection while I consumed his. His neck was craned as he moaned toward the ceiling. My tongue roamed and detailed the feel of his brick penis.

His hands slipped under my armpits and lifted me up. We kissed for a brief moment. Then he dropped to the ground, stripping me naked, free from my pants and boxers. I pulled my socks from my feet, and we fell onto his mattress.

"You smell good," I said. My face plunged to his freshly showered balls, and I teased their tenderness with my tongue.

"God! Yeah!" my lover howled.

My teeth gently tugged on his scrotum, and then I resumed suckling his testicles as if they were ice cream. Laramie continued to moan. My tongue explored further. I spread his legs and buried my face in his perineum. He groaned in approval. My tongue wriggled into the beginning of his ass crack, and my lover squirmed in a euphoric frenzy. I wanted more.

I forcefully turned Laramie over. My hands groped his beautiful ass, massaging each cheek until I spread them apart. With my face pressed into his soap-scented crevice, my tongue descended into its depths like a cast anchor.

"Ohhhhh, fuck! Oh, Cooper. Fuck yes!"

He whimpered as I continued to rim him. I moaned as I inhaled the scent of a man. My tongue managed to hit a sensual spot.

"Ahhh! Holy fucking fuck!" he cried. "Ooooohhh." He writhed in my service. "Cooooperrrrr."

My tongue had lubricated his ass with passionate saliva. Then I felt his body jerk away from me. He lunged to lean over the side of the bed. His arm reached behind his back, handing me a bottle of lube.

"Take me. I want you inside me. Fuck me, Cooper!"

I saw a towel in the nightstand and leaned over to get it. With a pop, the lube bottle opened, and quickly I was sliding tropical-scented slickness in his hole. My fingers in his ass made him growl loudly.

"Fuck me," he pleaded.

I slathered clear lubricant on my steel rod. Positioned right at his hole, I let the tip enter as I maneuvered my body on my elbows. He exhaled. I exhaled. Then all five inches of my cock were inside him. We had only thought we had exhaled, because every iota of oxygen then escaped us in an audible groan.

"Yeah," we both said quietly.

I started slowly. Gradually, my enflamed organ slid as if the ebb and flow of the tide. In. Out. In. Out. It was gentle. It was tender. Two or three minutes with this slow rhythm had us breathing slowly but deeply.

"I am so glad you are inside me," he cooed into his pillow. "Fuck me harder."

I did. I increased my syncopated thrusts.

"Gaaah! YES!" he screamed, with his ass starting to take on more. "Ungh. Ungh."

As I continued to penetrate him, my breathing was ragged. My words had stopped, replaced by labored breathing and gasps for air. My cock felt so good.

Laramie's arms squeezed the pillow below his head. I moved from my elbows to slide my arms below his chest. My body rested on his. I gripped his pecs. My thumbs rubbed his nipples. My mouth kissed his neck and shoulder blades. I wanted to move up higher. I shoved my cock in deeper, slamming his ass cheeks.

"Holy fuck! Yeah! Fuck me, Cooper."

I panted near his ear.

"Does it feel good?" he whispered to me.

"Oh yeah," I panted back.

"Does your cock feel good in me?"

"My cock loves being inside you. It feels so good." My thrusts increased.

"How good?"

"Fucking good." My thrusts were strong.

"Yeah? Tell me more."

"FUCKING GOOD! Laramie! My cock loves fucking you! Ungh! Ungh! Gah!" My thrusts were compressing Laramie into the mattress like a steamroller.

"Keep fucking me!"

In and out, my red shaft pumped like a freight train causing us to snarl and growl.

"Laramie. Laramie."

"Oh, yes. Cooper. I love you inside me. I love you!"

My body was a jackhammer. It was drilling the man I loved. I loved it. I loved him. I loved my cock. I loved my cock inside him. I loved fucking. "Gaahhh," I growled. "Oh, babe, I'm getting close."

"Keep fucking me!" he screamed.

"Ungh! Ungh!" My dick was throbbing like there was no tomorrow. It had put all its sexual sensations into this one moment. My body felt an electricity emanating from my phallus that reverberated through my body. "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah."

"Keep fucking me, Cooper."

"Oh yeah. Fuck, I'm there. I'm there, Laramie."

"FUCK ME! Come in me!"

"Gaaahhhh-AHHHHHHHHH!!" I yelled.

Cum shot inside him. It felt so powerful, almost as if the semen would escape his throat, his lungs, his nostrils, his eyelashes. I kept moaning next to his trim beard. Pulse after pulse created ecstasy within my cock. It was furious. The surge of cum through my erection was overwhelmingly intense. It was a climax in every sense of the word.

It was over.

My body melded into his. "Ohhh, fuck, baby. Ohhh." It took a moment for my breathing to regulate. My face was pressed to his moist shoulder. I felt the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. My dick was still in him. It would soon retreat, but I didn't want it to. He was my bed. I rested on him.

"I wish you could stay hard so I could ride you some more," he said softly from his pillow.

"Me too. But that's not me. Unfortunately. Not for a half hour at least." My deflating penis fell from his ass.

With a sharp inhale of air, I raised my chest on stiff arms.

"Wow, you're sweaty," I said.

"Perfection," he said.

I felt perspiration on my chest. "I am too."

"Heaven."

"Will you straddle my chest?" I asked.

I wiped my dick, and then he placed one knee on each side of my torso. I felt him slide his balls through the moisture on my chest.

"Yeah," I breathed in adoration of his beautiful body hovering above me. "Rub it in my sweat."

He nodded and smiled.

I felt his chest and tugged on its moist hair as his groin gyrated into my body.

"I love it when you touch me that way," he said, sounding sexier than ever.

His grip surrounded his cock, and he began stroking his six inches of manhood. My fingertips massaged and caressed his chest. I touched his nipple as he started to groan in his masturbation. It was wonderful to watch his strong arm jerk on his flesh to pleasure himself. I wish my cock could have remained stiff enough to still be inside him. The sensations in my crotch were still in afterglow, particularly watching Laramie please himself.

Our eyes met. We had found more light in the past twenty minutes, and the candlelight made him more beautiful than ever.

"You're so hot," I said.

"You are too." Our eyes pierced each other's souls. "I love you in my bed." He groaned in his strokes. "Ungh. Ungh!"

"May I?"

He nodded vigorously.

My hand moved his arm and gripped his erection. Gently I pulled and tugged. Then I added more gusto.

"That's it, Coop. Harder, baby."

I jerked. My rhythm was faster. He wailed and stretched his body upright; his neck bent backward to where his audible approval was moaned to the ceiling. Maybe it was sweat dripping down his back, but I thought I felt some of my cum leak from him onto my navel. His cock felt magnificent in my hand. I loved how it felt. I jerked it. And jerked. He groaned. And I jerked it. And he groaned. And I jerked it.

"Fuck. Fuuuckk. FUUUUUCKKKK! Harder, baby. Harder, Cooper!"

I tried to detach his dick with my strokes. Laramie screamed as if being murdered. His cock sent volleys of semen to my chin and across my neck. Stream after stream painted my chest and nipple with warm liquid love.

"Come all over me," I whispered. "Coat me."

I continued to jerk. The last bubble of cum escaped. I continued to jerk. He continued to moan. Then the two of us kind of made a sound that was a combination of a gasp, smile and laugh.

"Wow," he said. He put his hands on his knees to regain strength. He smiled. "Merry Christmas to me," he joked.

Laramie leaned over to grab the towel. My body was covered in cum and sweat and whatever else might have oozed from our pores.

"Should we shower?" I asked.

"Is it crazy that I want to sleep this way. If anything is on the sheets — and I'm sure there is — it just makes it more blissful."

We kissed for several minutes. Tongues roamed to greet each other. Our hands found flaccid flesh to still hold gently.

As we rolled to lie on our backs, our hips touched. The warmth of our skin continued to radiate to the other. Our arms intertwined, and we interlocked fingers.

"I'm so glad you came over tonight," he said.

"Me too."

We were quiet a minute just watching the flickering of the candle and smelling its peach aroma. Our fingers connected us. It was the sensual stillness that followed incredible lovemaking. The only movement was our chests heaving in and out as we breathed.

"There's one thing we didn't talk about tonight," Laramie said, breaking the silence.

"Hm?"

"Mitch."

An orchestra of cellos stretched out long death calls of its lowest possible notes in my ears. This could not be a good conversation. I was not prepared for it. I had no answers for any questions he could ask. I was not in a position to make this conversation go well.

"Oh."

Laramie let go of my hand and rolled onto his side facing me. I felt obligated to do the same. We looked at each other, but I was no longer mesmerized by his gaze. I feared it.

"You ... you say you love me. Are you IN love with me, Cooper?"

"I am."

"So where does that leave Mitch? Do you still love him too?"

I closed my eyes to answer. "I do." I said nothing further. He was silent as well.

"I know this isn't easy," he said. "For either of us."

I sat up in bed. I nodded. He then sat up and turned 90 degrees to face me. The sheets were thrown back so that he could cross his legs. As a small child, they used to tell us to sit "Indian style." Laramie was a sexy, naked Indian.

He put a hand on my hip. "Coop, I told you I was just wanting to have my chance. And you gave it to me. And I am so grateful. I know you've had a lot of things on your plate to sort out. And I know I have complicated all of that. And I'm sorry. But ... WE work," he said, moving his hands back and forth between us. "I just don't know what happens now. I love you. You love me. But ... but I can't be a contestant on The Bachelor hoping I get a rose each round. I don't know how we move on from here."

"I know." My lip quivered. "I don't know what to do either. I'm in hell. I do love you. I am so in love with you. I feel it more each day." I sobbed out loud. Tears poured. "But ... I can't see my life without Mitchell. He is such an important part of my life. I don't see how to let that go. I love him. He's ... he's been my guide for the past two years."

"Until he cheats on you!!"

"I know, I know. But we have loved each other. We still do." I sniffed back tears and snot as best as I could, but I kept sobbing. I reached for a tissue. I dabbed my eyes continuously as waterworks failed to shut off. "It – it – it terrifies me, Laramie. I don't know how I did this. I was just supposed to find my way around these walls. Just to see what I need, what I want ... so that I could figure things out. But I found my way into your arms, and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do!" I wailed in my tears.

"Hey, hey." He held me in his arms. "I'm here. We'll figure it out. Maybe not tonight, but things will be okay. Maybe you'll decide you want me. Maybe Mitch. Maybe neither. I – I – I just need you to know it can't be both. If we have to go back to being friends, it will kill me — I love you — but if that's what is best, I'll – I'll – I'll have to take it."

I sobbed louder. "I hate this! I don't want to hurt anyone."

We gently rocked back and forth in bed, him trying to comfort me. A few minutes into the silence, I stopped crying. He gently reclined me. I blew my nose a last time and dropped the tissue on the nightstand. He got up to blow out the candle. In the darkness he reached for me. I turned on my side and his arm reached over to hold me. I moved millimeters back into his body to feel his warmth. He held me tighter.

`I'll make a decision by the end of the year."

My hand reached for his.

"Do you really watch The Bachelor?" I softly asked in the darkness.

"Lord, no." He was silent after that. Thirty seconds later, he said, "I did the first season."

I held his finger.

—

Laramie slightly stirred awakening me. He was spooned into my body, but my hand was on his bare ass cheek. I moved it up to his chest to squeeze him to me more tightly. His slight hum was a purr. A minute later, he turned to face me. My fingers drew a path from his chest to his hip ending on his morning wood. He smiled.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning," I echoed.

"How do you feel?"

"Lying next to you, waking up next to you, being naked next to you ... I'm good. But that's just the moment I'm in. It can't last forever. But ... I'm okay for now, if you're okay."

"For now."

He rolled over. His lips met mine. He turned back, and I spooned him back into my body. My penis pressed into the small of his back. He reached around to hold it.

The moment was short-lived; the alarm went off.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Is that an invitation to join you, or do you want to know if I wish to go first?"

His hand gripped my dick like a vise. His lips were on mine. "What do you think?" he mumbled into the kiss.

—

Everyone had left. The luncheon at work was enjoyable. We were free to go following the social gathering, but as I had no Christmas Eve plans, I stayed a little longer.

Mitchell knocked on my door frame. "Are you not taking off?"

"Nah. Nowhere to go. I have Corey all next week, so I thought I'd get things completely wrapped up. I won't be back until the 2nd."

"Wow. You know, we are two of probably five people in the building. Want to do it in here right now?"

"I'd prefer not to be discovered by the cleaning crew," I smiled.

Walking to me, he planted a big kiss on me. Mitch was a good kisser.

"Have dinner with my family," he offered.

"Tonight?"

"Yes! You're by yourself on Christmas Eve. You know they aren't far. Come. They'd love to see you."

"I have no reason to say `no,' I suppose."

"Dinner is at 6:30 but come as early as you'd like."

"Thanks. I'll be there. I have to wrap a few gifts for my family first."

"I love you," he said as he departed my office.

"Love you too." I felt a stab of guilt in my heart. It was the same when I left Laramie this morning. Those words now felt deceitful, even though I was upfront with both of them. To love both of them seemed insincere, disgraceful. I had become the villain in my own life's story. I needed to stop saying it until I made a choice.

—

My dining room table had all the gifts I had to transport. Each was wrapped carefully. I had a second gift for Corey under the tree. Mitchell had brought me Corey's gift at work on Wednesday. I helped him pick it up, but he insisted on wrapping it himself.

In the driveway of his parents' home, I reflected on the many times we had come as a couple. Mitch's family welcomed me from Day One.

Upon opening the door, his mother squealed at seeing me. Mitch walked up behind her.

"Ohhh, it's so nice to see you," she smiled in delight. A bear hug then attacked me.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Sanders."

It was so rare I called her that. She was always Mom when Mitch and I lived together.

Mitch's sister, Penny, had flown in from Virginia. It had almost been two years since I had seen her. Mitch's grandparents on his father's side were there too. They lived fifteen minutes away. They preferred to let the "kids" handle all the holiday work nowadays.

Mitch's grandparents were also delighted to see me. It was a total 180 degrees from my family experience. There were many hugs all around. An aunt, Mitchell's father's sister was also in town. I had never met her, but she seemed pleasant and well aware and accepting of who Mitchell was. I was introduced as Mitchell's partner. I didn't want to correct anyone. I didn't feel that was true any longer. We were just "dating." Their happy reminiscences were adumbrated by my consciousness of our current situation.

Dinner was divine. It was home cooking at its finest. I enthusiastically praised my hosts, and they gushed in adoration. I helped collect the dishes once we were all stuffed to the gills.

I glanced out their back patio. I could see several houses that seemed elaborately decorated. Mitchell came up to me and held me from behind.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"Nothing. Just noticing the lights."

"Want to take a walk?"

"A walk?"

"Yeah. Just stroll the neighborhood. Look at lights."

I had a brief flashback to when Lance, Jakob and I took Richard around to look at lights. It helped him connect with his wife who had passed years before. It was one of their favorite things to do at Christmas. The last two years seemed to have passed so quickly.

"I'm in," said Penny, who heard our conversation from the couch.

"It's cold, but there's no wind, so it isn't a biting cold."

Mr. Sanders found me some extra gloves. I snagged a ski cap from my back seat. Mr. Sanders wished to join us so the four of us ventured into the winter night.

Had we not been wearing gloves, I speculated that Mitch would have tried to hold hands. As it was, he put his arm around me. As we walked by a few houses, I reached my arm over to do the same.

Mitch and Penny recalled things from their childhood. I didn't understand a few references, but they laughed a lot about foolishness that they remembered. Penny and Mr. Sanders went up to the front door of one of her closest friends when she was a child. Her dad explained that the parents still lived there. They were home and chatted a few minutes. I could hear they invited us in for hot chocolate, but we didn't want to impose.

Mitch wrapped his arms around me from behind.

"I'm glad you came."

"It's been nice."

"I wish you were spending the night," he said softly into my ear.

"Mitch, I only live 30 minutes away."

"That's not my point." He pressed his crotch into my ass. Even fully clothed, I could feel a hard erection stamped into my rear. Considering how cold it was outside, I was impressed.

"How can you be hard? My dick is freezing. It's almost a vagina."

"You make me hard. I wish we could make love tonight. Christmas Eve."

"There is NO WAY you would have sex in your parents' house."

"Dare me?"

"I know you. Until a few months ago, you shushed me during sex so people couldn't hear. Remember hearing your parents as a kid?"

"I can still tap into my stealth skills."

I turned to him in his embrace. "We just had sex three nights ago. Incredible sex."

He smiled. "It was hot."

I kissed him on the sidewalk. "It's Christmas. Focus on your family."

He sighed. "I'd love for us to be a family again. You, me, Corey."

I walked out of his arms as I saw his parents wave goodbye.

Our stroll lasted about ten more minutes and then we conceded we were ready to go in. Mrs. Sanders had the foresight to have hot chocolate of our own waiting.

"This one is for you," she said, handing me a mug. I assumed that meant everyone else received a spiked version of some kind.

"Would I come off as a glutton if I went to the kitchen for another slice of pie, Mrs. Sanders?"

"Oh, Cooper dear, of course not." She locked her arm in mine and led me to the kitchen.

I pointed to the chocolate pie this time. I saw her add additional Cool Whip to my slice. I nodded in appreciation. I leaned against the counter holding the small plate that contained more calories than I would possibly run off in the next few days.

"You know, I remember when you used to call me Mom," she said, handing me a fork and napkin.

"I know." I looked down. Calling her "Mom" right now didn't seem right. Mitch and I weren't the couple we once were.

"I'm just glad you two are back together."

I ate a second bite but didn't say anything.

"You two make such a handsome couple," she said.

I took a third bite.

"I'm just glad whatever was in the past is all over and done."

I swallowed my fourth bite.

"It's not done," I said softly. "It's not over." I sat the pie down.

She motioned us to chairs, looking perceptibly concerned.

"Mitch and I are seeing each other again, but ... we aren't in a committed relationship like we used to be."

"But he loves you!"

"I know, Mo- ... Mrs. Sanders. I love him too. But ..." I looked at the moon out the kitchen window. Then I turned to her and said, "I'm not sure love heals everything. I wish it did. I want the two of us to be what we once were. I just don't know how to get there."

"He hurt you, I know."

I nodded and didn't say anything further.

"I'll leave you to your pie," she said, patting my hand. She kissed me on the cheek and got up to return to the living room.

"Thank you," I said, as her figure moved away. "It's delicious."

There were numerous gifts under the tree. Their family tradition was to open one Christmas Eve and the rest Christmas morning. I asked if I could go to the car to get mine. I returned with two.

"I brought your gift over once I knew you were coming," Mitch told me.

"Same here."

The eight of us gathered around the tree. Mr. Sanders put on some Christmas music on the stereo. A chair was brought in for Mitchell's aunt. He and I sat on the floor. Everyone else filled the furniture.

"May I go first?" I said.

My hosts looked shocked as I handed Mr. and Mrs. Sanders a wrapped gift.

"Why, Mitchell, we certainly didn't expect anything," Mrs. Sanders said. "You shouldn't have."

"I didn't want to show up empty handed."

They ripped off the wrapping paper.

"Oooo. Chocolate caramels. Lovely. Thank you."

Only I knew that the present was a regift. I honestly didn't want to show up empty handed, so I wrapped the box Brad had given me.

Each of them opened a gift. The family did a good job of making sure each giver had at least something opened. Gloves, lotions, scarves, an air fryer, etc. — each one was cheerfully received. There was still a nice supply for the morning.

Mitch and I handed our gifts to each other at the end.

He opened his first. It was a shirt/tie combination from Jackson Bend's swankiest men's store. I knew Mitch liked to duck in there from time to time.

"I love the combination. It looks great, honey. Thank you." He leaned over to kiss me.

I unwrapped mine. It was a watch. Mitch said to look underneath. Inscribed inside was "I will always love you."

Gah!! It was much more personal than my gift. The thought put into my gift to him didn't seem as loving.

"It's beautiful, Mitchell." Everyone asked to see it; they agreed.

At 10 o'clock I began to excuse myself for the night. Everyone seemed very pleased to have seen me. Mitch walked me to the door.

"I'm glad you came," he said.

I hugged him. "Me too. I'm glad you asked me."

"Can I see you over the holidays."

I paused. "I was really trying to commit this time to Corey and me. I get him for a full week so rarely. However, we get back from my parents on the 26th. We'll open gifts that night if you want to join us. That way you will be there when he opens yours."

"I love that." He kissed me. "Can I stay the night?"

"That night, yes, but I want all other days just for him and me."

"I understand. I get it."

As I drove home, my brain swirled with conflicting emotions. I was a train wreck.

—

The car was loaded for one night. I had snacks in the back seat, gifts and a small suitcase in the trunk. I had Kelly Clarkson's Christmas album — Corey's favorite — on a USB drive.

For Christmas morning, it didn't seem much like a holiday. Part of it was nervousness of Laramie meeting my family. Part of it was worrying something was missing from the car. I was unsure of who would be attending lunch at Natalie's and how that would go. I guess so much was on my mind, I didn't really think about it being Christmas morning. Christmas had fallen on Sunday. I looked at the time: 10:03.

I don't know why I felt the need to go to church. I had hardly ever attended in the last three years. I certainly wouldn't go to my old one. It was farther away now anyway. An online search indicated a Christmas service would take place at the church around the corner at 10:30.

There were open pews near the back. Christmas décor made the auditorium reflect the season. I always found it curious that the protestant faiths had lighter attendance if Christmas was on a Sunday, but the Catholics went no matter what day of the week it was.

The component of attending church services I missed the most was singing. I wasn't a good singer, but I wasn't off-key either. Corey had a much better voice than me, but I still liked to sing. The selection of Christmas carols intermingled with traditional hymns made it even nicer. That helped bring the holiday to the forefront. I needed that.

The reverend's sermon was uplifting. It was positive and encouraging. I felt I treated people well, but his message inspired me to do more. I was now making more money. While I no longer gave to a church, I should give to other charities. This was good for me.

As the service was winding down, I glanced over the congregation. I didn't know a single person. That was fine. They didn't know me. I felt like an intruder being a gay man in a church. Having had sex with two men in the last week, I wondered if I would leave singe marks on the pew from my smoldering sin.

I swung by the house for a moment to grab one last mug of coffee, then headed over to Natalie's.

There were two cars besides hers.

Corey welcomed me at the door. "Merry Christmas, Dad!"

"Likewise, son! I swear you are growing an inch each week."

"Whatever. Come on in. Meemaw and Papa are here too."

As was Daryl. We shook hands and spoke holiday sentiments. I wasn't sure if he ever really enjoyed seeing me. I didn't mind his company though. I was glad Natalie had some companionship.

"Cooper!" cried Natalie's mother. "How lovely to see you." She gave me a tight hug.

"Merry Christmas, Adele." She never let me call her Mrs. DeVry. But I didn't call her Mom either. It was easy with Mitch's mother. "You're looking good. Has life been treating you well?"

Mr. DeVry shook my hand. "Cooper" was all he said. He treated me coldly once I came out to everyone. Nat's mother was distant at the beginning. I found she was much more understanding now. I'm sure they still both thought homosexuality was a sin, but she treated me kindly.

Adele pulled me to the couch to answer my question. She spoke of all the groups she was involved in. The town of Price was 35 minutes away. It was small, but it was an active community. She was working part-time at the library and loved reading to the kids in the summer. Their church had painted the building recently. She thought the color was too garish.

I missed talking with her.

Natalie called us to the dining room. So that the two couples could sit alongside each other, Corey was at the head of the table, and I was at the opposite end.

Ham was a traditional meal for Christmas, but Natalie's father hated ham. We typically had roast, and that was fine with me.

"Did you make the gravy, Adele?" She nodded. "No one can touch your gravy. It's the best."

My comment made her smile. Natalie got defensive.

"I will have you know, Cooper, that I am quite capable of making a mean gravy myself. I am her daughter after all."

We chuckled at her snark.

"The cranberry sauce is made with fresh cranberries. I made it," said Corey.

"Well, gee, now I feel bad for not contributing."

"It's all fine, Cooper. We have plenty," said Natalie.

"I picked up rolls," said Daryl, flatly. There was empathy in his words, but it was delivered as a punchline.

Conversation was light and the food was outstanding.

"Corey, your cranberry sauce is off the charts!" I said.

"I was about to say the same thing," said Mr. DeVry. "It's incredible."

"There's bits of apple, orange zest, cinnamon, nutmeg and blueberries. When cooking I used orange juice instead of water," he said informatively.

"But it doesn't have the shape of a can, you know."

He laughed. "True."

"He is becoming quite the cook," Adele said.

"He sure is. I find him going through my cookbooks asking if he can try this or that," said Natalie. "More power to him."

When there was a lull in conversation, I said, "I went to church this morning and..."

"You did?!" the table said in unison.

"It was close to my house. It was nice."

No one confirmed it, but I felt they liked the idea that I attended a service.

After we had a slice of pumpkin pie, we moved to the living room. I didn't find Natalie's house any more decorated than mine. I struggled to remember what it used to look like when we were married. I was so tuned out during the last two years of it.

"Dad! I got a coffee maker!" Corey pointed out with great enthusiasm.

"Yeah, how `bout that," Natalie deadpanned, giving me an evil glare.

"It's just like yours, Dad, so I already know how to use it."

"Your gifts are under the tree at my house," I told him. He nodded indicating that it was all good. "We'll open them tomorrow night."

"I have yours in my bag," he said.

"Speaking of which, we should head out soon. However..."

I walked to the car and retrieved the wrapped gift I had for Natalie. I re-entered the house and handed it to her. "Merry Christmas."

Her look of surprise was not unexpected. "Cooper? We don't ... you and I don't do gifts anymore."

"You're Corey's mother. I'll – I'll always think of you as family."

"Well, you shouldn't have."

I hoped Daryl would be understanding — and certainly not threatened — with my gesture. I saw Adele give me a sweet smile. I felt she found it touching.

With the wrap torn away, she slid open the box. Her eyes lit up as the glass bowl was revealed.

"I saw it. I knew those were your favorite colors and..."

"Yes, they are."

"... and I just wanted to give it to you."

"It's beautiful, Cooper," her parents said.

Natalie scanned the room for an appropriate place. She moved a small potted plant off a narrow table in the hallway.

I leaned toward Daryl and softly spoke, "I hope that's okay."

"Of course," he said. "No worries. Corey will always connect you two. It's lovely."

Corey emerged with a big suitcase.

"Man, I haven't seen that since our summer vacation."

"Well, you do have him for a week," Natalie said. "Plus, I think he wants to move some clothes to your house to free up some space."

"Okey doke." I looked at the faces in the room. "I suppose we should move on. It has been wonderful seeing you all."

I received a hug from the women. Mr. DeVry shook my hand and said, "It was good to see you, Cooper." I felt this was a baby step toward a kinder relationship. Daryl reached out a hand. I shook it but then pulled him in for a hug. I couldn't fathom why I had done that, but I was already committed to it.

"Merry Christmas, Daryl." His surprised look and smile conveyed that he hadn't found it unpleasant.

It took us ten minutes to get to Laramie's house.

"Hey there, champ! Merry Christmas," he said, pulling Corey in for a hug.

"You too. Merry Christmas," my son said, looking happy to see him.

Laramie placed his bag in the trunk. "Do you guys need a soda for the road?"

"Well, I have snacks, but nothing really to drink. I just figured we could stop if we need something. But ... yeah. Corey?"

"What do you have?"

"Go check the fridge. Coke and Sprite, I think. At least that much."

"Grab me something, buddy," I said, as he ventured into Laramie's house.

"Are you ready for this?" I said to Laramie, sneaking in a fast kiss.

"It really is sweet," Laramie said. "I know you think it is silly, but Corey really touched me with this. The card alone was heartwarming enough, but to care for someone like this is ... it's something, Cooper. You have a great son."

"Thanks," I said, going in for a second kiss.

I didn't realize Corey was walking up with our drinks. He was sure to have seen that kiss, but it didn't faze him.

"I'll go lock up," Laramie said. He returned half a minute later with a Coke of his own.

"Corey, let Mr. Jenkins sit up front."

"Who's he?" said Laramie, sarcastically.

"I was going to, Dad," my son scolded.

Each one of us had time to add to the conversation. Corey talked about opening presents last night and some of the songs Mrs. Martindale said would be in the spring program. Laramie was relieved that he got his final projects done for customers who were expecting them as presents. He was happy to have more work lined up, but he would no longer be under the pressure of extreme deadlines. I talked about the gift Laramie had given me, but I made it sound like it was to the both of us. My suggestions for Corey and I were bowling one day and an arcade another day. I asked him to select a movie he wanted to see too. Laramie said it sounded so fun he was jealous.

"I'm really looking forward to a great father/son week," I said. "We had so much fun on our trip this summer."

"We sure did." Corey stared out the window, watching the bare trees move along past the car. "Is it too soon to start thinking about next summer?"

That made me happy to hear. I put on the Christmas music and the two of them sang along. Laramie had a nice voice. I had never really heard him sing. He and Corey seemed to enjoy harmonizing. When "Run Run Rudolph" came on, I joined in and belted out the lyrics with them. The drive was so nice, I wished it could last all day. I knew my family would suck the fun out of everything.

At one point I reached over to hold Laramie's finger. He let me. I wasn't sure if Corey would find it odd, but I could show positively no affection at my parents' house. Laramie was to be Corey's "friend," not my boyfriend.

We weren't hungry, but we broke into the Doritos anyway. Corey's favorite was "cool ranch," so I made sure to pack Wet Wipes too.

After less than two hours on the road, we pulled up to my parents' house. There was no traffic or weather issues to delay us. I probably would have been grateful if there had been.

"Hey buddy, instead of dragging the whole big suitcase in, grab one of the shopping bags in the trunk and pull out just what you will need for overnight." I opened the trunk and pointed to the bags. Corey grabbed one. "We'll come back later for things tonight, but this will be easier in the daytime."

We rang the doorbell. I prayed and prayed my family would not be a freak show.

Thomas had run to the door to answer it. He was excited to see Corey. He paid no attention to the stranger with us.

"Come in, come in," I heard my mother call out.

We entered the house. My father got up from his La-Z Boy chair. Mom came from the dining room.

"Grandma, Grandpa, this is my friend, Larry."

Larry meekly raised a hand to wave. My parents had no possible way to conceal their surprise. Emory was right. I should have been filming it.

"Oh. Uh. H – hello," stammered my father. It took him a moment to extend his hand.

"It's nice to meet you," Laramie said. As terrified as I was, I enjoyed this moment to the max.

My mother was speechless. "Well, Merry Christmas, Larry," she finally managed to utter. "When Corey said he was bringing a friend, I guess I wasn't expecting a grownup," she said with a chuckle.

"I tried to tell them, but Mom said it didn't matter if he was older." I felt deliciously devious.

"Your grandson is an incredibly thoughtful young man," Laramie pointed out. He opened a sack. "I wasn't sure what to bring, but I didn't want to arrive empty handed." He pulled out a bouquet of flowers. I thought it was stunning with deep red roses, lavender stock and tiger lilies.

Mom gasped at the beauty of it. "Let me get a vase. How absolutely lovely. Thank you."

Curtis and Anita, Wayne and Judith, and Uncle Randy moved in. I introduced them.

They all looked completely perplexed at Corey's "friend."

"Larry is part of our coffee group," Corey explained, which didn't help clarify a thing to my relatives. "He said he didn't have any family to be with on Christmas. It just seemed unfair to have to be alone today, so I asked if he could come."

"Aw," the ladies in the group said.

"You have a caring heart, Corey," Uncle Randy said, putting one arm around him.

"You're so sweet, Corey bug. I'm proud of you," my mother said, slowly accepting the quirkiness of the situation.

This had gone well. I'm sure my family members had a million questions. What happened to Laramie's family? What was my role in this? What kind of a coffee group has kids? Was he a pedophile?

After finding out Laramie was a carpenter, my father immediately invited him to the garage. I had no idea if they would discuss a project Dad was working on, power tools or if Dad was asking advice on repairs. If it just shielded Laramie from the bulk of my family for a short time — and if any bonding was taking place — I was good with it. Judging Dad's expression during the invitation, I felt safe Laramie wouldn't be grilled with personal questions while in the garage.

Thomas wanted to show Corey some toys and games he got for Christmas. Mom went into the kitchen to piddle with dinner. That left me with my siblings. I was less than overjoyed, but I knew Uncle Randy was my safety net.

"Okay, what the heck?" Judith said.

"What kind of coffee group?" Anita asked pointedly. "This isn't your drunken friends, is it?"

"Anita!" Curtis admonished.

"No. I'm the only AA member in the group. It actually happened by accident. Emory spilled coffee on me back last winter. He was mortified. I was fine. It was an accident. A couple weeks later, he asked if he could join me. He's in his late 60s. Kind. Mitch would join me now and then."

"Oh. Goodie," said Judith.

"Over the summer, I ran into Laramie — Larry — and spilled coffee all over his shirt. Well, we..."

"Are you sure you all aren't drunk? That's a lot of spilling going on there," Anita snidely said.

"Anita!" Curtis snapped again.

"ANY-way," I continued. "Corey asked if he could come one time. I took him. He loved it. He fit right in, and now he goes with me on the weekends I have him. He gave cards to all of them for Christmas, including our barista. Those two really hit it off."

"What kind of parent lets a 14-year-old drink coffee?" Judith said.

"Thomas drinks Coke. It's just a beverage with caffeine. What difference does it make?" I calmly noted.

"I actually starting drinking coffee at 15," Wayne told my sister. "It's no big deal."

"I'd just hate to see him become one of those addicted people who are in a 20-minute line at the Starbucks drive-through every morning," Judith said, rolling her eyes.

"I'll try not to disappoint you, Aunt Judy," Corey said walking by Judith, to her surprise. She was caught off-guard.

Corey grabbed an iced tea from the kitchen and walked back past us, trying to look mature while doing so. I wished I had recorded that too.

"He is getting so big," Curtis said.

"I know." I sighed. "He's growing up so fast, but Natalie and I are both proud of him. He has a good head on his shoulders."

"Indeed he does," Uncle Randy said.

"Natalie has done a good job with him," Anita commented with bite.

I rolled my eyes and went into the kitchen to see if I could help Mom.

"How are you doing, Mom? Need any help?"

"I don't think so, dear. But thank you."

"Looks like Dad has Laramie preoccupied."

"Oh, I'm sure. He's probably in heaven showing your friend all the woodworking projects he has been working on."

"They seem to have hit it off."

"He seems very nice."

"I hope it is okay that Corey wanted him to come. I'm not sure he understands that some people unfortunately have to spend Christmas alone."

"He's such a sweet boy. I was taken aback at Larry being a grown man, but he seems nice. I'm glad he could join us."

"I tried to tell you."

"Yeah. Yeah. It's all good."

Mom pulled a cherry pie from the oven. She sat it on potholders on the counter.

"Yum. I don't care if everything else for dinner is made of plastic. Your cherry pie is enough for me."

"Plastic! I think not. But I think there is a compliment in there ... so thank you," she said with a smirk.

Curtis ducked his head into the kitchen. "Hey, Mom. How long until dinner?"

"Oh. A while. At least an hour if not about 90 minutes."

"Okay. Hey, big brother, how about a walk before it gets dark?"

I was floored. Curtis and I hadn't spent time together in years. Not on our own anyway.

"Sure. I guess so."

Uncle Randy joined us. The garage door was open. I checked on Laramie. "You guys okay?"

"We're doing fine, son," my father said. I looked at Laramie. He gave me a nod.

"Okay. We're going for a quick walk."

A few minutes into our walk, small talk stopped.

"Uncle Randy, I hope I can talk openly with you," Curtis said.

"Sure, nephew."

"I'm struggling."

"How so?" I asked.

"I'm ... I'm not sure what my feelings are for Anita anymore."

Whoa! This was a heavy conversation. I was stunned that Curtis was able to open up — with either of us.

"I'm not sure what to say," I said. "I remember when you two got married. You were so happy."

"We were. I am just not sure I love Anita anymore."

"Might you know what changed?" Uncle Randy asked.

"She's a bitch."

I burst out laughing but contained it a second later.

"Curtis!" Uncle Randy rebuked.

"She is," muttered Curtis. "When we were young, she was wonderful. We enjoyed our time together. We tried to have a child for three years. We finally discovered that's not possible."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," I said.

"We talked about adoption, but ... it wasn't the same. She struggled to fill her time. She went to work, but we weren't the same. She became critical of everything. We haven't made love in a year."

"Natalie and I almost got that way before our divorce," I said. "Couples just `settle in.' I guess."

"Yeah, but that's not the same. You became an alcoholic. And you are gay! It's not like you didn't like Natalie anymore."

"True. I couldn't stand lying to her any longer, but she was always great. I grew more distant. I tried to bury it all in alcohol. I was pathetic."

"You were being honest," said Uncle Randy. "It's a shame the alcohol took you down. But you have overcome that."

"Not to mention the stigma Mom and Dad put on you for getting a divorce."

"Oh yeah. That was a blast," I said dryly.

"Curtis, you aren't to that point yet, are you?" Uncle Randy asked.

"I'm not sure. That's why I wanted you to walk with us. Is there any hope for us?"

"That will be up to you two. I think you should explore marital counseling before you make any hard decisions."

"I'd be willing to. I'm not sure if she would be up for it."

"Do you think it would be easier if you both talked to me?"

"Maybe. It's hard to tell with her."

"I will pray for you both," my uncle said.

"Divorce is no fun, so if you can work it out, it's worth a try," I offered. "I hope you can."

We tried to keep conversation steered toward the kids after that. That topic held less weight. When we returned, I found Laramie playing with Corey and Thomas. The man was adorable. Had anyone been paying attention to me, they would have seen my eyes aglow just looking at him.

As I walked back to the living room, Judith stopped me and said, "You're sure it's okay for him to be playing with the boys?"

"I don't follow."

"Well, you know."

"No. I don't."

"How well do you know him, really?"

I turned her to me. "Judith, I know you want what's best for me. Deep down, I think you really do. But I hope you can find it in your heart to accept me for who I am. It would be nice if you found a way to love me."

Judith was disarmed. She gave me a shocked look.

"Cooper. Of course, I do. I'm..." She touched my arm. "I ... I am sad that you didn't know that." Stumped, she slowly walked away rather dazed.

Maybe Logan was on to something.

Just as with my dinner party, the group was too large for one room. Some of us ate in the dining room, others at the kitchen table. Mom and Dad sat in different rooms. Both of them wanted Laramie to be in their room. I found it cute that he had fit in so well. What a contrast to what Mitchell had to go through.

"I got a coffee maker for Christmas!" Corey told the table. Judith gave me a "seriously?" look, indicating that I had brainwashed my child.

Anita and Curtis prepared to leave shortly after dinner. They intended to stop in and visit with Anita's relatives. I gave him a hug. The extra squeeze conveyed more than words I could have spoken. Anita only waved. She did offer Corey a hug. Curtis said nice pleasantries to Laramie. Anita waved.

Once they had departed, the rest of us gathered around the tree. Mom plugged it in. They weren't the type to have things set up with timers.

Corey opened his gift from his grandparents. He gave him their gift of assorted nuts. They told him it was perfect. I had given them a glass bowl that was very similar to the one I had given Natalie. The colors were slightly different. They told me it was beautiful and that they loved it. I received a gift card to Target, "for anything I might need for the house."

Not long after, Wayne and Judith started preparing to leave.

"Aw, Mom. I was hoping to play with Corey some more," Thomas wailed.

"Honey, you know we have to go to your other grandparents' house."

"I see them all the time. I hardly ever get to see Corey."

Judith looked at Wayne. "All right. I know they will miss seeing you. But I know you would like to spend time with your cousin. We'll pass close here on our way home tomorrow, so we will swing by just after lunch to pick you up."

The kids seemed happy. I knew Corey was five years older than Thomas, but he kind of liked being looked up to.

"I noticed Curtis didn't ask Wayne to walk with the gentlemen," Judith said softly to me.

"If you don't know, then you don't want to. Just ... let him reach out to you when he is ready." She gave me a concerned look. "Just let him ... talk to you. We'll play games with the boys tonight, and they can visit some in the morning. We're heading back about 10:30."

"Okay."

"Merry Christmas," Laramie said to them. "It was nice meeting you."

"And you," Judith said with questionable sincerity. Wayne shook hands.

Thomas had received two games, Pictionary and something called Ka-Blab. I wasn't familiar with it. We opted for Pictionary. We allowed Thomas to pick his partner. He chose his grandfather. Corey chose Laramie, which produced a "yes!" from my lover.

"Fine! Mom and I are taking all of you down!!" I called out in bravado.

Truth be told, we were all terrible. But that was what made it fun. We laughed hysterically. Thomas wasn't a bad little artist. He wasn't quite ten yet, so we had to explain a couple clues to him, but he wasn't bad. Actually, my father was a much worse artist, but the two of them enjoyed being a team.

Mom tempted us with more desserts. We all indulged.

"I can put sleeping bags in the office for the boys," Mom said.

"I'll take the couch," I offered. "Mr. Larry can have the guest room."

He looked at me. His raised eyebrow said a lot of things, mostly: "We aren't sleeping together?"

I slightly shook my head, which said: "Not at my parents' house."

Once the boys got settled in, Mom offered to brew some decaf. We thought that sounded great.

As the four of us sat at the kitchen table, both my parents told Laramie how much they had enjoyed his company and were pleased that Corey had looked out for him. At 10:45, Mom brought out bedding to the living room to make up the couch. She showed Laramie where things were in the bathroom and made him feel at home in the guest room.

After we both brushed out teeth, he came out to the living room to say good night.

"I can't believe we aren't together."

"In my parents' house? No way. You realize not only do they not know we aren't a couple, they have no idea that you are even gay."

"You think?"

"I know. They like you waaaay too much."

"They aren't that bad. I've had a great time."

I pulled him in for a kiss. "I'm glad."

"I love you," he whispered.

"Me too," I returned, knowing a sword of guilt would pierce my side.

We kissed again, and he went to the guest room and shut the door.

I stripped to my boxers and put on a T-shirt. I listened at the door of the office. The lights were out, and the boys were quiet. I assumed they had turned in. In the living room, I turned off the lights, but there was enough ambient light from outside that I could still make out most everything in the room. The couch was comfy enough. As I stared at the ceiling fan above, I conceded that the day had gone infinitely better than I had expected. Laramie's presence was surprisingly a delightful inclusion.

It killed me that he was in bed in another room. It was, what, fifteen feet away? Mitchell and I had never spent the night in this house. It was always drive over and drive back. We had arrived mid-afternoon, so to head home would have been rather abrupt for this visit. Curtis and Anita had stayed last night, but Mom had said she had changed the sheets in the guest room. He was in there alone. It killed me.

Alone.

I was alone.

I flipped on my side. My eyes didn't want to close. I stared at the small bookcase. Even in the darkness, I could makeout the yearbooks from our high school years. I thought about looking at a picture of Henry Kammerdeiner, but I couldn't get my thoughts off Laramie.

Alone.

I was alone.

I wrestled in the blanket to flip again. Staring at the couch now, I found it easier to close my eyes. My eyes were closed. I wasn't sleepy. I thought about Laramie. I hadn't realized my eyes were open again. I closed my eyes again. My eyes were closed. And I pictured Laramie again.

Alone.

I was alone.

"Guh!" I softly called out as I rolled on my back. The ceiling fan was still there; it hadn't left. I wasn't sleepy. My eyes were not closed. How long had I been at this? Was it only two minutes? Or an hour? I grabbed my watch. Apparently, I had been fidgeting for about fifteen minutes. My watch had an alarm setting. I entered a time for 5:30 a.m.

With a light rap, I opened the guest room door a few inches. "Lar'?" I softly called out.

He took in a gasp of air and rolled toward me. "Huh?"

"Were you asleep?"

"Not really."

"Can I join you?"

"Hell yeah."

"I've set my alarm on my watch. I'll go back to the living room at 5:30. I – I just wanted to be in your arms."

He lifted the sheet as an invitation. I placed the watch on the nightstand and slid in. We gave a simple kiss. His arms wrapped around me. I held his finger.

I felt better. We were silent. I could hear and feel him breathe. I wasn't necessarily any sleepier, but I was happier. I loved being in his arms.

My hand reached back. I wanted to grip his ass cheek. I could feel he had briefs on, but the abundance of skin — and hair — revealed he only had briefs on. I just let my hand rest on his leg, and my fingers gently brushed the hair on it.

He was not alone.

I was not alone.

I felt sleepier.

A few minutes later, his hand slid down to my boxers. Gently his grip felt my dick, checking to see if it was hard. It was previously when I had joined him in bed, but now, that erection had receded somewhat. A couple extra inches were there, but my dick was not firm. His hand just rested on my genitals.

He was not alone.

I was not alone.

A minute later, I felt a firmness at the edge of my butt cheek. He pressed his hard-on into me. That caused me to get erect. His hand slipped into my boxers and ever-so-gently stroked my five inches. Bliss. That was the only movement between the two of us. Slow. Slight. Steady. My cock felt like a baseball bat.

A few minutes later, he started pushing his erection into my body. His thrusts were evident.

I rolled over to face him. Our lips met. We kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

"Cooper," he whispered.

"Laramie," I breathed.

Our tongues were in each other's mouths, and our hands were on each other's dicks. He shoved his briefs down about half a foot until they were below his beautiful balls.

We were panting in our kisses. "I want you so badly, but we can't have sex here," I said. The slightest of moans escaped my mouth into his. He stroked my dick. My grip on his cock was fiercer.

"I know, I know." He whispered. "This is fine."

We felt and groped and kissed and licked. His stiff rod in my hand was magnificent. I loved holding it, stroking it, feeling it, stimulating it.

We kissed more. And more.

"Oh shit. Shit! Oh, oh, oh shit," he softly called.

"What's wrong?" I asked back.

"I just came on the sheets."

"You did?" And then I felt the stickiness on the side of my hands. It was there between us.

"Shit! Your mom can't seem my cum staining her sheets! Fuck! Fuck! Why do I always ruin everything?"

Our voices had not gotten too loud, but we were no longer quiet. I turned on the lamp.

We stared at the pool of cum that had shot partially on his leg, but mostly on the sheet.

"Jesus Christ!" he exasperated, as he threw himself down on his back.

"Hang on, hang on," I tried to say comfortingly.

I leaned over and ran my tongue through as much cum as I could lick up.

"If I wasn't humiliated, I would say that was hot." We looked at it. "Oh, God. The wet spot is going to stay there. Shit."

"Maybe it will just dry clear."

"What if it leaves a stain? She'll know. I will be some kind of sick friend of Corey's. Dear lord, what will they think?"

I walked to the bathroom to get a damp washcloth. We tried to dab and rub. The wet spot was larger, but we couldn't tell what was cum and what was water.

"Great. Now there is a wet spot where you are supposed to sleep." Laramie was beside himself.

I turned out the lamp. "Just move over."

Two grown men squeezed themselves onto half a bed. I put my arm around him and kissed the back of his neck.

He was not alone.

I was not alone.

—

I put on my jeans from the night before after hearing Mother move around in the kitchen at 7:30.

"Good morning, Mom," I mumbled as I walked in. "Want me to start coffee?"

"Good morning, dear. Yes, please. Did you sleep okay?"

Actually I had. I hardly remembered the alarm going off at 5:30. When I moved back to the living room, the last thing I remembered was setting my watch down and remembering Mitch's inscription on his gift to me: I will always love you. I felt my inner turmoil work its way to the surface, but apparently, I was drowsy enough to fall back asleep.

"I was fine. With the four of us needing to be in the bathroom, I will shower first."

I gathered some clothing items and went into the bathroom. I would have loved for Laramie to join me, but just sneaking into his room last night was risky enough.

Freshly cleaned, I softly knocked on his door. Ducking my head in, I said, "Coffee's on. The shower is free if you want to jump in."

No one could really see the hallway from the guest room to the bathroom unless you were actually in the hall. Laramie soon darted with new clothes in his hand. He stood in briefs and a T-shirt. I gave him a quick peck on the lips in our nanosecond of privacy.

I hadn't shaved, but I could tell Laramie trimmed his beard to make him as presentable as possible. He looked so attractive. I was aware he never let his beard get too long, and I liked it neatly trimmed.

By 8:30, I got the boys up. Corey hopped in the shower. Thomas said he would take a bath when he got home, but he did have a change of clothes.

Mom was deep into making pancakes for all of us. Dad was halfway through his plate, and she sat a stack in front of me as I pulled out my seat. After Laramie offered morning sentiments, he helped himself to a cup of coffee, and Mom told him he was up next. She had blueberries or chocolate chips as options to add to the batter. Laramie said blueberries would be a treat. She appreciated his acknowledgement of her efforts. Once the boys joined us, they opted for chocolate chips, to no one's surprise.

"Mrs. Snow, can I help you by taking the sheets off the bed?" Laramie asked.

My eyes drifted to his. I assumed this was an effort to reduce the opportunity for Mom to "see something."

"Oh, that's okay, dear. I'll get to them later."

I smiled that she called him "dear," but I could tell from his expression that he wanted the sheets off the bed.

Everyone said how much fun they had playing games last night. Thomas was pleased his mother let him stay.

Following breakfast, I went into the guest room with Laramie. "Can you tell?"

"Mm. If you LOOK for it, maybe. There's a slight discoloration, but it's a bit ... crusty ... in that spot."

I examined the sheets. Nothing was too noticeable. As I knew where to look, I could slightly determine the cum spot, but it didn't look bad. "I don't think she will notice."

He gave a huge sigh, more in frustration than relief. "I hope so. Good lord, Cooper. I'm so sorry I am such an embarrassment."

I put my arms around him from behind him. "Nothing could be further from the truth. You're pretty terrific."

He gave me a quick kiss, knowing anyone could walk in at any point.

Laramie then spent a little time with the boys. Instead of a game, they actually decided to draw, probably stemming from our fun with Pictionary the night before.

"Surprised as I was with a grown man, your friend is very special. I'm glad Corey invited him," my mother told me as we watched from the kitchen.

"Yes, he is. I'm glad he wasn't alone on Christmas. Although he probably would have loved some rest."

Once the time arrived, we packed up the car and began the drive home.

—

Halfway through the drive, we had already agreed to order a pizza before we dropped Laramie at his home.

We sang along a little bit with the radio.

"I hope you had fun, Mr. Larry," Corey said from the back seat.

Laramie twisted around to look directly at him. "I absolutely did. Your grandparents were very nice to me. It was much better than spending the day by myself. Thank you for inviting me."

"Last night was a blast, wasn't it," my son returned.

"Yeah, I can't even remember who won."

I cleared my throat incredibly loudly. The two of them giggled.

"Okay, yes, you and your mother won," Laramie said.

"We stomped your butts!" I said in my best trash talk. I loved watching Corey smile at that from the rearview mirror.

As we sang some more, I saw Laramie put his hand on the center console. His finger was situated to make it stand alone. I held it. I liked Corey seeing moments of affection, but I wasn't sure what he was thinking of seeing me be loving with two men.

We entered the house at 12:20. We had already decided the pizza toppings as we were making turns through our neighborhood. I phoned in our order immediately.

Corey dragged his suitcase upstairs.

Laramie and I took the free minutes to hold each other. A passionate kiss caused us to embrace more tightly.

"I guess I won't see you for a while," he said.

"I guess not. It's a father/son week. I hope you understand that."

"One hundred percent."

As Corey was making his way downstairs, I had a fleeting arrow of panic pierce my chest. If I truly was committed to making a choice between Laramie and Mitchell this week, the next time I saw him ... would I see him? As friends? Boyfriends? The uncertainty was more real. It was looming. But I knew I had to make the excruciating choice. My heart beat a little faster as I saw Corey put a couple gifts under the tree. Not only would I have to decide, but I would have to break someone's heart. I hated it. The decision was coming too fast.

"Come look at what Laramie gave us," I said, trying to think of something else.

We showed the father and son sculpture to Corey. He didn't seem overwhelmed but smiled. "Cool" was his elaborate review. Laramie explained that he would still like to make a base for it, but I told him I loved it as it was.

Corey went to the kitchen to fix beverages for us. We said we would prefer our sodas over ice.

I went to take my suitcase to my room. I threw the dirty clothes in the hamper and placed the small suitcase in the master closet. When I came back out, Laramie was sitting in the living room in front of the tree. Corey was placing napkins at the kitchen table and placed our three beverages on placemats.

"Should we buy you coffee before you go back to your mother's next week? Now that you have your own coffee machine and all," I said.

"Actually, Meemaw and Papa bought me some. I guess they talked to Mom."

"Maybe we can find some flavors or creams for you," I said.

"Maybe."

A few minutes later, the pizza arrived. I tipped the driver big and said, "Merry Christmas."

Corey rebuked me. "Christmas was yesterday, Dad."

"Yes. But you can still express happy greetings for a few days. Besides, we still have gifts to open tonight. Christmas can last a while."

"Yeah. I guess."

The pizza was tasty. We approved.

I hated taking Laramie home. Part of me was terrified that I might not see him again. But if my decision were to call "us" off, surely, we could remain friends. We talked about that. But if I chose him, then when Mitch came over tonight, that could be the last time I would spend time with him as a lover. I was on the verge of a panic attack. If Corey hadn't been with me, I was sure I would have had a breakdown.

We pulled into Laramie's driveway at about 2:10. He pulled his bag from the trunk and carried it to the front door. We walked with him. He looked at my son.

"Thanks for coming," Corey said.

Laramie squatted down to eye level with him. "Thanks for asking. It meant the world to me." He stood tall and gripped Corey in a headlock. "Love ya, kiddo," he said and kissed him on the head.

Corey giggled. "You're as mushy as my dad."

"You poor over-loved child."

"Hey buddy, can you give the two of us a minute?" I asked.

Corey nodded and went to the car.

Laramie looked me in the eyes. He didn't say anything. I didn't say anything. Our eyes were handcuffed.

"I'm scared," I whispered.

"Don't be. We're going to be okay."

"It's impossible for everyone to be okay." My right eye watered, and a tear ran down. I wiped it away with my sleeve. "But I love you."

"I love you too," he said.

We kissed. Hard. It was long, and it meant everything.

We placed our foreheads together and took in a deep breath of air.

"If the pressure gets tough, call Lance. Or Trent. You'll be okay."

I nodded, but I knew I disagreed. There was no chance I could be okay. I broke free of him and walked to the car.

"Are you okay, Dad?"

"No, I'm not, buddy."

"Is there something I can do?"

"No. I'm glad I have you with me this week. You're my rock."

"How?"

"I have to make a hard decision. If I'm being honest, I'm scared. But whenever I get scared, I think of the one thing that keeps me grounded. And that's you."

"Oh. Wow." He didn't know what else to say.

Back at the house, we realized we had no plans for dinner. Having ordered out for lunch, it seemed like cheating to order out again. Mitch texted that he would be over at 5. We'd open gifts at 7. Dinner would take place in between. Corey looked in the big freezer in the garage. "Dad, you have frozen shrimp."

"Um hm. What are you thinking?"

"Well, we had pizza already, so spaghetti seems like a wrong idea. But I could make us shrimp scampi. It's still Italian, but not tomatoey."

"Sounds brilliant."

I had pasta and butter, but no fresh garlic. We went grocery shopping. Not only did we get tonight's ingredient, but we made sure we had plenty of fresh produce for the week. He also had a dish in mind for another night, so we placed those items in the cart. He then selected a box of cereal.

Back at the house, I saw him looking at the father and son sculpture. "Do you like it?" I asked.

"It's nice. I can tell it took some work. But I don't think it looks like you and me."

"Well, it's symbolic. It isn't supposed to have our likenesses. It's abstract."

"Like Picasso?"

"Well, at least our eyes and noses are in the right place, but ... yeah, kind of like that. Modern."

"He probably put a lot of time into it."

"I'm sure he did. He's a nice man. It's a touching gift."

Mitch arrived right on time. When he did, Corey was in the kitchen already making salad.

"What is this? Are you making this kid work to be able to stay here?" Mitch said sarcastically.

"You know he loves to do this for us," I said.

We entered a lip lock right in front of Corey. "Mmmm." Mitch felt nice in my arms. What didn't feel nice were the feelings I had, wondering what kind of horribly twisted impressions I was giving Corey by being in love — and affectionate — with two men.

Mitch noticed I was wearing the watch he gave me. His fingers graced the band on my wrist. "It looks good on you." He looked over at the ingredients on the counter. "So what's for dinner, chef?"

"Shrimp scampi," our cook answered.

`Oooo. De-lish."

It was. Forty minutes later we were complimenting Corey on a job well done. Mitch shared a few Christmas tales of being with his family. Corey talked about all of us playing Pictionary.

As we cleaned up dishes, I said we would have ice cream after gifts.

I had the Christmas tree on a timer. It went on at 5:30 each evening. I lit candles and gathered us in the living room. It was just after 7.

"To Dad from Corey," my son said, handing me a gift.

"Thanks, buddy." I tore away the paper. Opening the box, pajamas were revealed. "Ooo. They feel very soft."

"Don't tell Mom. You two match."

"Why?"

"This was the nicest color. I liked it. I know you two will never wear them in the same place, so I ... I wanted you both to have the best color."

"I see. Well, I like them."

"This is for you, Mitchell," Corey said.

Mitch opened his card first. He saw the five and the note for the cinnamon roll, which made him laugh. He read the card. "Awww, thanks, Cor'. Love you, buddy."

Mitch opened the small box. At first, his face expressed surprise. He lifted out a bottle of foamed hand soap.

"There's a story there," Corey said. "The first time I stayed at your place, you made blueberry waffles. So when I saw this soap — and the name of it was Blueberry Waffles — I had to get it for you because it reminded me of you."

Mitch laughed. "I LOVE IT!" He unscrewed it to take a whiff. "Mmm. Awesome."

Corey reached for one. "To Corey from Dad." He peeled off the paper. It was obvious it was a Blu-ray, but he revealed Despicable Me 3. "Yay!" He held it up and smiled.

He handed me another gift. "To Dad from Corey."

"Another one? Wow."

A minute later I was holding up a pair of coffee mugs. They both had a big gold letter C on them.

"I wanted to us to have mugs here that matched. You know, father and son?"

"Aw. Look who's mushy now!"

"Whatever. Don't start, Dad."

He reached down for another gift. "To Corey from Mitch."

"Oh, wait! You have to open something else first," Mitch jumped in.

I pointed to a box. Corey reached for it. "To Corey from Dad." He held up the box with a confused look. "It's so light." He tore off the paper and popped the tape off the box. "It's empty! Wait, there's a note." He unfolded the note. "Go to the hall closet."

Corey stood up and walked to the hall closet. Mitch and I smiled watching him take his journey. The door was opened, and he peered inside. Moving the vacuum, he saw the long, wrapped gift standing up. He gasped. "No way!" He ran with it to the living room. Positively shredding the giftwrap, the keyboard was revealed. "Wow! This is a really nice one. Thank you, Dad. It's awesome."

"Now open mine," Mitchell said.

He did. "It's headphones."

"Yes. They plug into the keyboard. So you don't have to worry about playing as much as you want. You can plug those in, and you are the only one who can hear. Your dad says you might like to write songs."

"Yeah."

"So you can figure out what you want it to sound like, and no one else will know the song until you've finished it."

That was probably more of a gift for Natalie, but Corey appreciated it. "Thank you, Mitchell. That's so cool."

"Looks like one more, bud," I said.

Corey reached for a box I didn't recognize. I assumed he brought it, but he turned it to read the tag. "It's to me from Larry."

"It is?" Mitch and I both asked.

Laramie must have slid that under there at lunchtime. It took me by surprise. I had no idea what it was. It was a slender box.

"It's a microphone!"

"I think that plugs into your keyboard," Mitch said. "Your keyboard has a recording feature."

There was a note taped to the box: You're an awesome kid and an even better friend.

Corey got up to hug us both. "Thank you. I love my gifts. I'm excited to start playing."

"Although we can transport it in its case back and forth, you will probably want to keep it at Mom's place since you are there most of the time."

"I know where I can put it." He stared at the box for a while. "Can I call Mom?"

"Sure. Absolutely."

"I'll call Larry too to thank him."

"That would be very nice."

Corey went to the study to make phone calls. We couldn't make out the conversation, but we could detect his enthusiasm. When he returned, he said Laramie had heard me talk about the keyboard and he looked it up to see if it had a recording feature — and it did. He was afraid someone else had already given him a microphone.

We paused in the middle of Despicable Me 3 for ice cream. Corey had his head resting on a pillow atop Mitchell's legs. I snapped a photo of them. It was precious. We enjoyed the movie.

—

My cock was deep into Mitchell. We were in my favorite position: him on his side and me maneuvered up behind him on my side. When we fucked this way, we could still kiss. I loved that. And we did. My thrusts came with grunts embedded into our kisses.

"Mitch. My cock feels so good. I love being inside you. Your ass makes my cock throb."

"Yeah. Fuck it good. I love you, Cooper. Keep pushing. It feels so good."

We grunted and groaned. We were confident we were not audible enough for Corey to hear us upstairs. If he had come to the kitchen, he might have. I accidentally got loud in one of my thrusts.

"Fuck me, Cooper," he panted.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh! I'm there, Mitchell. Fuck. I'm there. Ohhhhhhhhhh, I'm there!"

I squeezed him tight as my erection shoved every millimeter of its hard flesh up into him. I panted at each spasm of cum that fired from me. I nibbled his ear as my orgasm subsided.

"Holy cow," I breathed, as my penis withdrew.

I reached around to grope his dick. I pulled and jerked. It made me think of feeling Laramie just last night. It was less than 24 hours that I had licked Laramie's cum from the sheets. What if this was the last time Mitchell and I had sex? I had to taste his cum too.

"Come up here," I commanded.

Mitchell got on his knees. He moved his tool to my face. I consumed it. Mitch moaned. My fingers dug into his ass cheeks forcing his cock into my mouth and throat. Mitchell softly moaned. He worked it in and out. I sucked on him like he was a soldier going off to war, possibly never to be seen again. I questioned if there would be no more tomorrows for us. I had to taste his cum. I shoved my middle finger up into his hole. I probed as I sucked.

His body language conveyed he was enjoying it. He was writhing as my digit worked his ass. I sucked harder. He breathed harder. We worked in sync.

"Cooper! I'm gonna come."

I hummed in approval. My finger wriggled inside him. He whimpered as I felt hot liquid coat my throat. He gyrated and squirmed. I sucked harder and swallowed all of his cum. I had accomplished my task.

He flopped on the bed next to me. "Oh, wow."

"We are hot."

"We are."

A long passionate kiss followed. We then went into the bathroom to pee and clean up affected parts. While he was still in there, I noticed his card from Corey on the dresser. I looked inside.

Mitchell,

I'm glad you are in my life.
You know you are important
to Dad, but you are to me too.
I enjoy the time we have
together.

Love,

Corey

Corey. I had shoved him into the middle of my problem. Mitch loved him. He loved Mitch. Laramie and Corey had become close too. How many hearts did I have to break?

When Mitchell returned to bed, he turned out the last lamp. He rolled into my arm. My fingers teased the hair around his nipple. I leaned down to kiss.

"I love you," he said up to me.

"I love you," I returned.

And I loved Laramie. And I licked and swallowed cum from two different men in under 24 hours. And I didn't recognize me anymore. And I had no idea how to fix it. And my heart was breaking. And I had no idea how I became this person I was. And I was despicable.

Despicable me.

—

"Want me to start coffee?" Mitch asked in the morning.

"Sure."

I didn't move. I didn't budge. I was stuck. Once Mitch left, I was committed to making a decision. An impossible one. Mitch and I were ... us.

He came back in and curled up next to me. He always felt so good next to me. I rolled him over so I could slide my hand inside his boxers to hold his ass cheek.

"You were kind of racy last night," he said amusingly.

I didn't answer. I just kissed his shoulder.

The two of us turned toward each other. I just looked into his eyes. His beautiful eyes. I've loved looking into them for three years. And now I had made a mess of it.

"I'm sorry that I have all these problems. I will come to a decision before the end of the year."

He nodded, but his expression was forlorn and sad. He gave me a simple peck on the nose.

The three of us ate cereal. Corey asked if he could go buy some sheet music in the afternoon.

Mitchell hopped in the shower first. As I stepped into the shower, he looked in the mirror. He talked about maybe shaving his beard off again soon. By the time I was drying off, he was fully dressed. He still leaned over to kiss the head of my penis.

Corey came down having cleaned up. We prepared to say goodbye. Mitchell had his bag, including Corey's gift. The two of them hugged. I held him tight.

"I know you'll work things out. We're good," he softly said. "I will always love you."

"I love you too."

The door shut. My chest was in pain.

—

I was not going to let my entire father/son week become completely mired in soul-searching. Corey and I would have a great week.

During the activities we chose, my son surprised me by being open to talking about things on his mind.

On Tuesday we talked about "Mom."

"Do you think Daryl loves her?" I asked.

"I think so. I think I've heard them say it to each other. They might be afraid to around me though."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. I think they worry that I will be messed up."

"I don't understand."

"You know. She's with someone different than my own dad."

"You're old enough to deal with that."

"Exactly! But she's not as mushy as you."

"That's not fair. She gets you all month. I only get two weekends. I have to cram all my mushy talk into a few days."

He laughed.

It was our turn to get a lane. The bowling alley was packed. Schools were out and families had swarmed the place. Corey aspired to break a hundred. Unfortunately, he only scored an 81. He was disappointed but not distraught. I scored a 123. Mediocre for an adult, but I was fine with it. Our second game was about the same. After an hour, we had to relinquish our lane.

—

On Wednesday we talked about church.

"Son, does it bother you that we don't go to church on the weekends you stay with me?"

"No. It bothers Mom, but not me."

I laughed, making him laugh.

"We can go if you want to. It just wouldn't be your church."

"Is that because people would be mean to you there?"

"I don't think anyone would be mean, per se. I just don't know if I would be welcome. It would be awkward."

"Because of the gay thing."

"Yeah. But there are other churches. One is right around the corner from the house."

"Nah. I'm fine."

I smiled. I probably would have liked to get out of going to church as a kid too.

We had read all the instructions for his keyboard. We dabbled for a few minutes, then I let him explore.

—

On Thursday we talked about sex.

We were on our way to the arcade, when Corey asked, "Dad, when do people start having sex?"

Plutonium bomb.

"Can I ask why you are asking?" I prayed that he hadn't started exploring or was even contemplating it.

"A couple of my friends have older brothers in high school. I guess they talk about it a lot."

I was slightly relieved by that answer.

"And I will tell you right now, guys like to TALK about having sex. Half of it is made up. It is such a private thing, but they act like it is bragging. I don't want you to be one of those people. Sex is personal; it's not something you go around talking about. That is really impolite to the other person involved."

Corey stared out the window but didn't say anything.

"To get back to your question, people's bodies go through changes around your age. They might start to desire intimacy with other people, but not everyone acts on it. Your mother and I waited until we were married."

"I know. Mom has made that quite clear," he said, sounding like he had heard it more times than he had needed to.

"Some people might start in high school. Others in college. Some wait for marriage. And some choose to not engage in sex at all. Everyone gets to choose what is right for them. Are you ... having any of these feelings...??"

"No. I mean I like girls. I guess. But I know all the parts of the body people use. It just seems weird. And kind of gross."

Good. Think that way. Think it's gross. For ten years. For twenty years.

"Well, when you look at it that way, you're kind of right," I said. "It is all the smelly parts and icky parts. When your hormones get all crazy, sometimes it causes you to look past all that. But sex has consequences. Hurt feelings. You can catch diseases. Girls get pregnant and lives are changed forever. It's a serious thing. You don't treat it like miniature golf. It comes with a great responsibility."

He chuckled. "I know."

"Also, when you get those urges, you can handle them ... by yourself. I know you know what I mean. And I know you know that I know you know ... so we'll not talk about that and just leave it there."

He didn't express any emotion at all. He just stared at the window.

"I'm glad you asked. You can always come to me. Did I answer your questions? Are you good?"

"I guess." He still didn't look my way. "How often do you have sex?"

Second explosion.

"Well ... I always said I would be honest with you, but there are some things that are personal, so I prefer not to talk about that. And you can do the same thing when friends ask you questions that you think are too personal. It's none of their business."

We spent two hours in the arcade. Gone were the days of carrying around redemption tickets from my day. Points were stored on a card, which was much easier to handle. We played a few games side by side, and I watched him play some of the others.

It was a great time.

That evening as I lie in bed, my mind returned to our talk. I hardly remembered my first orgasms. You'd think that would be huge. I didn't even recall picturing any person when I "did it." At what age do others' bodies enter your mental picture? What did Corey think about?

—

On Friday we talked about me.

I had heard Corey practicing, but he had also been polite enough these past few days to insert the headphones for most of it.

It had given me time to contemplate — seriously contemplate — the questions Dr. Horwood had encouraged me to think upon.

With a dip in the temperatures, I made a second pot of coffee. It was decaf as I didn't want to be wired for sound all day, but just the warmth of the mug was comforting as I stared out the patio window.

I had so many questions.

I loved Mitch, so why get involved with Laramie?
I fell in love with Laramie. Why didn't that change my feelings for Mitch?
How does Mitch make me happy?
How does Laramie make me happy?
Who helps me? Who guides me? Who makes me whole?
Who do I long to take care of?
Who meets my needs?

Corey's arm came around from behind.

"I didn't hear you come down. How's it going?"

"Good. I love the keyboard. You probably spent too much on it, but it is really great." He leaned into me. "Who are you thinking about?"

"Both of them. How did you know that was what was on my mind?"

"You've said you need to choose. Are you any closer?" he said, removing my mug from my hand to take a sip.

"I've made another pot. It's decaf so we won't be jumping beans if you want some more."

"Jumping beans. You're so weird, Dad," he said, heading toward the kitchen to pour a cup. "I mean what does jumping beans even mean?"

"I have no idea. I've just heard it all my life." I went into the kitchen, and we sat down together.

"I know this makes you feel sad. I'm sorry," he said to me with sincerity. He stirred a little eggnog-flavored creamer into his mug. "It's hard, isn't it?"

"Incredibly. They are two wonderful men. It's funny, a year ago, when Mitch and I split, I figured I would be alone the rest of my life. Now I have to decide between two men."

"Why would you expect to be alone?"

"I'm kind of a misfit. I accepted I was gay so late in life. I just didn't think I fit in with other people."

"Dad. You're my dad, so that's the only way I know how to see you. But I see how Larry and Mitch look at you. My friends think you are nice. Mom fell in love with you. I mean everybody falls in love with you for heaven's sake. I'm surprised Mr. Pike didn't!"

I didn't feel it necessary to interject that Emory had a crush on me in the summer.

"You're really awesome, Dad. Don't be hard on yourself."

My eyes watered at that. "It's taking all my strength to resist saying something mushy to you right now."

"Resist. Try hard, or I'm going upstairs." His warning came with a smile.

I pulled him to me and kissed the top of his head.

"When I make this choice, how do you think you'll feel about it?" I asked my son.

"I'll be okay. Your decision should be about what makes you happy. I like them both. It ... it would be nice if I didn't have to say goodbye to one of them. Can they still come to the coffee group?"

"Oh, man. That's a good question. Like you, if I can keep the other one as a friend, I'd really like that. But ... when you get rejected, it's very painful. It might be hard to be around me. That might hurt them too much."

"That sucks."

"It does."

"I like that you would still want to be friends with them," I said with sincerity.

"Well, totally. I am not the one breaking up with them."

"And I think they would both love to still be your friend. They've seen you grow a foot and a half this year."

"Whatever! I have not. I'm going back upstairs."

I followed him and sat on his bed to listen to him play. He was a beginner but was doing fine. I asked if he would like to take lessons each week. We decided to talk it over with his mother. He said he had actually learned a lot online but having a professional tutor him might be good.

I told him about Trent and how he was a songwriter too. He mostly knew him as my friend who was on the radio.

Watching him play added another layer of pride to being his father.

—

For New Year's Eve, we were attending Jackson Bend First Night. Families could gather in downtown for an alcohol-free, all-ages party.

We bought goofy glasses and hats to be in the moment. We took 20 million pictures and texted them to friends of ours. The coffee group loved them. Corey's friends loved them. Nat told us to have a great time.

The temperature dropped below freezing just before 11. We were cold, but we tried to dance in place with the live band to help keep us warm. We were determined to make it to midnight. We had our third hot chocolate in an attempt to stay warm. There were a few fire pits around to where people could buy and make s'mores. We just loitered near them to warm up a degree or two.

Corey ran into a friend from choir. They talked a while. I visited with her mother. We both admitted we would much rather be at home in front of the fireplace but knew that would be no fun for the kids.

The band played "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas. We shouted and sang along with the lyrics loudly. It was fun and helped us get a few minutes closer to midnight.

His friend and her mom had to move on, so we wished them a Happy New Year.

"Zoey's mom thinks you're hot," Corey said casually.

"What!!? How do you know this?"

"Zoey said so. Several of the girls in choir have said the same thing."

"I'm a little old for them."

"No! Their moms have said that."

"Out loud?"

"Apparently. I told you. Everyone loves you."

"That isn't love. But I will take the compliments."

It was something Rex would have given anything to hear. Life could be cruel in so many ways. Here my problem was two men who wanted me. He simply wanted one woman to notice him. I wished that the new year would be kind to him. And all my friends in AA. I was close to my two-year chip. That was coming up soon.

The band finished "Don't Stop Believin'" and said we were two minutes away. The crowd got energized for the countdown.

When the moment arrived, Corey and I counted down as loud as anyone. After screaming "Happy New Year!" I looked around and saw a few couples and parents kissing. Corey was caught up in the fireworks. I was oblivious to them as I knew who I wanted to be kissing.

* * * *

NEXT: The final chapter

A chapter this long deserves a blog post. Look for "December" at timothylane414stories.blogspot.com

Thanks for your support. Let me know your thoughts. Timothylane414@gmail.com