Madison nods.
The three of us head into the city for our meal. It won’t be long before the media catches wind of my new living arrangement, so this might be our last chance for a while to enjoy a night out in relative peace. Relative because, no matter where we go or when, fans and paparazzi always show up if Ezra is there.
The man is like a flashing beacon. He can’t even help it. He doesn’t try to draw attention to himself, but draw it he does. It’s always been this way, as long as I’ve known him.
I get my fair share of requests for autographs, as well, or people sneakily taking my picture. But it pales in comparison to the infamous Ezra Gold.
If charisma had a face, it’d be my best friend’s.
We decide on a cozy restaurant that can seat us at a fairly secluded table. Ezra browses the wine selection as Madison removes her light jacket. She’s seated opposite us. Less likely to be caught in a photograph that way.
“How are classes?” Ezra asks her.
She makes a quiet sound, glancing at the menu. “Fine. Are you scared?”
We both pause at the question, and Madison’s gaze lifts, her blue eyes catching Ezra’s first and then my own. She looks worried—forus—and I hate that we live in a time where being anything other than straight still comes with stigma and potential danger. Add onto that being high-profile like Ezra and I are, and I understand my daughter’s concern.
“We’ll be okay,” I assure her.
“I know you will,” she says, although her voice shakes. “But that’s not what I asked. I asked if you’re scared.”
Ezra reaches for Madison’s hand from across the table. “Peaches. I’ve been ready to come out for a very long time. This is just the push I needed. Our agent will be assigning us extra security until things die down. Our assistants will be checking our mail and email and filtering out any hate we don’t need to see. It won’t be easy. I know that.Weknow that. But I’m not scared. I’m…relieved.”
She nods, swallowing.
“It’ll be worth it,” I put in, knowing it’s the absolute truth. “It’s hard to understand for you, I get that. But spending the rest of my life with this guy?” I tip my head in Ezra’s direction. “Worth everything coming our way.”
Ezra bumps my shoulder with his own, his smile so warm and familiar I ache with it. His eyes flick up the next second, and he leans back, letting Madison’s hand go.
Our waiter takes our order as my mind turns over. No, none of this will be easy. We’ll be bombarded with attention, questions, requests for interviews. The world will make assumptions, but Ezra and I already decided we’ll let them think what they’d like. We won’t lie by saying we’re in a relationship. But we won’t bother defending the truth, either. Shawn is right. No one would understand it. They certainly wouldn’t believe it.
But every bit of the attention will be worth it at the end of the day. Because I’ll have Ezra. Close, like I’ve always wanted, even before I understood it.
I notice a few gazes finding our table throughout dinner. It’s no surprise, and I ignore it like usual. When the waiter comes with the bill, Madison takes a moment to use the restroom. I keep one eye on the back hall while she’s gone, even though I know my daughter is perfectly capable of looking out for herself. The mace in her purse is a nice reassurance, too.
Ezra chuckles lightly, apparently having noticed my protective glances. “Life of a dad.”
“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” I ask, knowing he’s just as watchful of Madison as I am.
He snorts. “Loving said dad?”
“Ez,” I say without heat, my gaze turning his way. “Maybe keep that to yourself until after all hell breaks loose? I’d rathernot have someone overhear you and get swarmed on our way out the door.”
He shakes his head, arm on the back of my seat as he finishes off his wine. “Gray, buddy. If people can’t see how much I love you, they haven’t been paying attention.”
I let out a sigh. “You’re going to have a field day with this, aren’t you?”
He grins. “Honestly? I can’t wait. Do you think Shawn would have a conniption if I tell the reporters I enjoy taking it up the ass just as much as dishing it?”
“Christ, Ez.”
He laughs, the sound of his infectious enthusiasm catching the other diners’ attention. Ezra Gold. Can’t take him anywhere.
When Madison returns, we leave the restaurant. The moment we’re out the door, there’s the flash of a camera bulb.
“Everywhere we go,” I mutter.
Ezra doesn’t even blink, giving the paparazzi a winning smile. “More. Give me more. C’mon, you know I love it.”
