A Marine and a Gentleman(7)

“Okay. Then how about we just catch up? Talk about today—or, better—talk about tonight.”

The flirtatious comment threatened to leave Liam without words once more, so he laughed. “You start.” That seemed safer than flipping open the toy box on all the things he’d thought about doing with Brenden over the years.

“All right.” Music filtered through the speakers and the din of the crowd rose in a soothing hum. Letting go of Liam’s hand, Brenden turned in the chair so he could sit forward and rest his elbows on the table. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Oddly enough, he really did. “Boot camp. Deployment. We see a lot on the news. My mom still talks to yours so she throws me dribs and drabs of when you’re out of country—well, as much as your mother shares.”

Hard to ask for more without tipping to a deeper interest, so he tucked that part away—locking it up into the closet of might-have-beens where it lingered, dusty and half-remembered—till the invitation arrived.

“Are you seeing anybody?” The giddy bubble of feeling popped and his smile faded. “Are you seeing anyone?” He repeated, trying not to stare at Brenden’s hands, but he hadn’t noticed a ring. Of course, not all men wore them.

“Telling you everything might take a while and no, I’m not seeing anyone. I have had a few nights here and there over the years. But nothing long-term, nothing concrete. You?” The steady answer did more to soothe the knee jerk, gut reaction than anything else.

“I was. We broke up last year.” Thankfully, answering didn’t open that wound, the disappointment and regret of the relationship having healed into a scar. He could appreciate the good times and not dwell on the bad.

“Bad breakup?” Concern filled Brenden’s face, and that was the chokepoint where Liam’s feelings for the man always bottled up. He cared. He always cared—if the Marine could do something about it, he would.

“Not bad, not great.” Do I really want to tell him about this? “We were—were being the key phrase, here—pretty solid for five years and so one night, over wine, celebrating our anniversary, I asked him to marry me.”

Brenden said nothing, just watched and waited with a patient calm Liam envied.

“As you may have guessed from the broken up comment, that didn’t go over well. So—we parted on acrimonious terms—more on my part than his. But I’m over it. It wasn’t the right call for him, but it is for me.” Something shuttered in Brenden’s expression and Liam leaned forward. “Don’t worry. I’m not sizing you up for a tux.” He let him soak in that relief for the barest of moments and softened the blow with a teasing, “Yet.”

“Nice.” Brenden scratched his jaw and shook his head.

“Yeah, well if you saw the momentary flash of pure panic in your eyes, you’d be laughing right now, too.” He wouldn’t be asking the marriage question again anytime soon—not unless he could be damn sure of the answer. “Besides, I don’t know that you’re my type.”

“Oh, I’m definitely your type. But my life doesn’t lend itself to long nights hanging out on the sofa and football games every Sunday. I’m a lifer, Liam. I go where the Corps send me, and I don’t intend to change that.”

“I figured. The haircut, the attitude, everything—it suits you.” Oddly, it did. He would never take his own hair that short, but the high and tight accented Brenden’s strong features and gave him an almost dangerous, yet comforting air. It defied description.

“I’m not going to lead you on. It’s what I do. I’m on leave now, but I’ll be pulling up stakes in a couple of weeks for a new assignment.”

Gut twisting at the thought of where those assignments might take him, Liam retreated from that topic. “So…when did you know—that you were gay?”

“Oh, during prom—junior year.”

“No fucking way. You nailed Jenny Lang that night.” Liam held his tongue as the waitress delivered another round.

“You want food?” Brenden glanced at him. “I need a burger, fries, whatever you have. American cheese.”

“I’ll take the same.” He didn’t care what he ordered. The waitress needed to leave so he could ask the question burning in his mind. She wasn’t five steps away when he rounded on Brenden. “You fucked her. I know—I ran into you walking out of her hotel room during the after-party looking really pleased with yourself.”

“For a guy as comfortable with his sexuality as you’ve always been, why are you having such a hard time wrapping your head around this?”