Tears start to fill my eyes. “Really?”
His smile widens and he pulls me close, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Of course. It’s your home now, Charlie. And I don’t want my stocking hanging on the mantle looking sad and pathetic all by itself. Go on.”
I smile and grab a pink one in the shape of a mermaid tail, making him laugh and kiss me. We grab some reindeer stocking holders next, and some blue and gold ribbon for garland. Then he lets me pick out a tree skirt. I choose a blue one with gold stars scattered across it.
“Okay, that’s it or we’ll go broke,” he says, and we head to the check out.
We spend the afternoon putting up the tree and then make hot chocolate and settle back on the sofa admiring our handiwork, the fireplace crackling andThe Santa Clauseplaying in the background. It’s cozy and perfect. I’m so excited to celebrate Christmas with him in a few weeks. I haven’t had a good Christmas in ages. I have to think of something to get him. It has to be good, too, after everything he’s given me.
Paul’s phone rings, and he reaches forward to pick it up off of the coffee table. “Hey, Carlos, what’s up?” There’s a pause and then he says, “Oh, yeah, he’s right here, let me ask him.” He turns to me. “You interested in going out tonight with Carlos, Aaron and Diego?”
“Where? And yes,” I say, grinning. He smiles and tells Carlos we’ll be there, wherever there is, then hangs up the phone.
“There’s a club nearby he’s been to a couple of times with his wife. Planning to meet there at eight. And Diego is looking forward to seeing you again.”
I smile. I like Diego. He’s fun, and really nice, and having someone else there who won’t be able to drink will make me feel better.
The place is lively as ever when we arrive, and Carlos and Aaron are already at the bar when we walk in. I don’t see Diego yet but Carlos tells me he’ll be there soon. He’s driving separately because he was hanging out with his girlfriend.
True to his word, Diego arrives only minutes later. He gives me a wide smile and a hug when he sees me. I’m not used to other guys being my same height, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s kind of nice. He’s only a couple of inches taller than me. There’s some dancing going on a few feet away from us and he gestures for me to join him. I smile and nod. I get Paul’s attention to let him know where I’m going before we head off.
I’m having the time of my life with Diego, sweat dripping down my forehead, my arms raised and my hips swinging to the steady beat around us, when I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Paul there. I smile at him.
“Come to join me?” I ask over the music. Before he can answer, someone runs into him and he in turn runs into me, nearly knocking me over. Diego grabs me and keeps me upright as the stranger turns around, facing Paul.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he starts, but then his eyes widen and his face turns red with rage. His dark eyes narrow as his jaw clenches, and before I know it he’s gripping Paul by his shirt and shoving his face in his. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarls.
“Hey, take it easy, Dylan.” Paul’s voice is calm but he’s trembling as his hands grip the younger man’s forearms. This stranger can’t be older than twenty-one and I know I’ve never seen him before. Who the hell is he and why does he look like he wants to fucking murder my man?
“Let him go,” I say, stepping up to them, even though this Dylan character towers over me just like everyone else. His arms are bulging as he keeps his fists clenched in Paul’s shirt and I’m certain he could annihilate me with a single punch. But I don’t care if I get hurt. No one treats my Papa Bear like this.
“Are you serious?” Dylan says, looking at me and then back to Paul. His face is getting even redder and the veins in his very large forehead are bulging. “Is this your fucking date? Are you fucking kidding me?” His hands only tighten on Paul’s shirt, his knuckles turning white. “After what you did to Trey you show up here with a fucking twink on your arm? You’re a real piece of work, you son of a bitch!”
I see Paul’s face going ashen and my heart rate spikes. “What is he saying?”
Dylan laughs maniacally. “You don’t know?” he says. “Oh, that’s epic. You don’t know you’re dating a murderer.” His eyes glare daggers at Paul, who is shaking now, and I can’t breathe. Surely this must be some kind of a joke.
“You’re wrong.” I shake my head. “He wouldn't hurt anyone. You’re wrong.”
This Dylan character looks back at Paul, studies his face for a moment, then says, “What do you call a man who kicks his son out of his house for being gay and leaves him in an alleyway to die with a fucking needle in his arm?” He shoves Paul back, causing him to stumble, then glances between us. A look of glee crosses his harsh features when he sees the horrified expression on my face. “You’re a fucking monster,” he snarls, pointing an accusatory finger at Paul. “I hope you rot in hell.” Then he’s gone, making his way through the crowd.
PAUL
It takes every ounce of courage I have to turn and face Charlie. And when I do, I wish I hadn’t. His face is ghostly pale and he’s shaking. Tears are filling his eyes and his lower lip trembles. His hands are clenched in fists, gripping the sleeves of his cropped sweatshirt. He swallows.
“Is it true?” he asks. I can barely hear him over the noise around us.
“Charlie, can we go somewhere else, please?” I reach for him, but he jerks away.
“No!” he shouts, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Tell me now!” We’re attracting quite the crowd now and I’m more humiliated than I’ve been in my entire life. This is not how I wanted him to find out. Why didn’t I tell him sooner?
My stomach clenches as bile rises in my throat, my temples heating. I can’t do anything but nod.
He takes off through the crowd before I can even blink. “Charlie!” I call and go after him as fast as my legs will carry me. It’s hard to find him in the throng of people dancing and gyrating, especially since he’s so small. I spot him outside the double glass doors. Diego is with him, and Charlie whispers something in his ear. Diego nods and hurries off, and I crash through the door.
“Charlie, please,” I beg. “I can explain.”
“I want to believe you, Paul,” he says, and I flinch at the sound of my own name. He’s never called me that before. “But how do you explain what I heard in there?” He gestures inside. “Maybe you aren’t the man I thought you were. Maybe this was all too good to be true. Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy.”
