"When was this picture on the wall taken of you and Claire?" I called to him in the adjacent room.
"May 24. I took her to an All Time Low concert at Pier Six in Baltimore. It was awesome!"
I straightened two more of the ship prints, but they tilted askew as soon as I took my fingers off the frames. I sighed and left them be. I wandered out to where Tristan was in the kitchen. "I've never heard of All Time Low," I confessed, taking in the horrific scene in the kitchen. Flour dusted every surface. Counter, floor, cabinets, and even the handle on the refrigerator had flour sprinkles or flour fingerprints. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This is his house. I will be fine.
Tristan didn't notice my agitation. As he stirred his batter, he said, "They're an alt-rock/pop-rock type of band, I guess. They're a local Baltimore band, which I think is cool. Claire really likes them. She used to play their music so much, one day I started singing along and didn't even realize I knew all the words." He laughed. "Their sound is unlike anything I normally listen to, yet I think they're a great band. The lyrics are solid, their sound is clean, and the drummer's hot. What's not to like?" He moved over to the stove and turned on the skillet.
I liked pop music, but I couldn't think of talking about bands when the kitchen was atrocious. I wet the dishrag, which hung over the spigot, with hot water and rung it out. I couldn't help myself. The counter and such needed to be wiped clean of flour. I started with the fingerprints on the fridge.
Tristan said, "Thanks. Sometimes I forget to clean it off for days."
I flinched at the notion, but again, this was his house.
"I thought you'd take a shower. I swear it's clean."
"I know. I was going to, but I don't have any clean clothes. I couldn't bear the thought of showering and then putting my dirty clothes back on." I rinsed the towel and wiped another section of flour-covered counter. Tristan left the pancakes and came up behind me.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the back of my neck. "How about you stay until after we're done with breakfast, and then you take my truck and drive home for a shower and a change of clothes. In the meantime I'll see what's wrong with your car, and maybe later we can have dinner or go bowling or something?"
I turned in his arms. "You bowl?" I hardly knew anyone who did that anymore.
"It's been a long time since I was on a league, but Claire and I go every now and then. She likes ten pins, but I prefer ducks."
I ran my hands up his chest, thankful he hadn't donned a shirt when he pulled on the shorts. "I do too! I'm not very good, but I love the challenge of duck pins." His pecs were tight and hard under my fingertips and touching his chest hair piqued my desire to rub my face over it.
"Then we'll go tonight. Loser buys dinner next weekend."
I snorted. "Thanks. I'll take you out for hot dogs."
"Don't underestimate your chances. Besides, I like hot dogs," he said with a wink, right before he kissed me. We both smelled the pancakes burning, and he rushed over to scoop them off.
I got the full view of his tattooed back and nearly drooled on the floor, but then I glanced at the pancakes and made a face. "Eww, they're black."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. If you smear peanut butter on them, they make a great sandwich. I'll eat them on Monday."
"Really? I wouldn't."
"I eat pancakes all the time. They're a great snack. I usually make a big batch on Sunday and eat them all week. If you put blueberries or strawberries in them, then you get fruit in each bite."
"I love blueberries."
"Then tomorrow morning, I'll make blueberry. That is … if you want to stay again tonight." That damnable grin was difficult to resist.
"No sex?"
He frowned. "No sex."
I considered it for all of two seconds, but waking up in his arms had felt really nice, despite not having sex the night before. "Okay."
WE ATE breakfast in silence and flirted with our eyes. He made me giddy without any conversation. After the dishes were in the dishwasher, I went into the bedroom to get dressed. As soon as I entered his room, I heard a door slam.
A woman yelled, "I can't believe you told Claire you're gay!"
I stopped in the middle of bending down for my pants and crept over to the door to peek around the frame.
"You had no right to inflict your perversion on our daughter like that!"
The woman yelling must have been Tristan's ex. Claire resembled her a great deal, except Claire had been nice to me. This woman had just offended me by calling homosexuality a perversion, and one to be inflicted on others. I waited, but I was ready to jump out and give her a piece of my mind if she kept going. This was his house; she had no right!
"I'm not perverted, Teresa!" he yelled back. "Why do you think I've never told you?"
"Because you're ashamed?" she spat.
Her exclamations sent my mind whirling back to last December and Raymond's ex-wife. Shit! I hope Tristan doesn't reconsider dating me because of her.
"Because you're a hateful person!" Tristan countered. "All I've ever done is work my ass off to take care of Claire, but nothing's ever good enough for you. So yes, I told our daughter I'm gay; excuse me for wanting to be happy for once in my life!"
"Happy?" she questioned. "You're happy taking it up the ass, spreading diseases, and perverting everything God intended for marriage?" Teresa stood opposite Tristan with her hand on her hip and her attitude puffed up like a cobra's hood. But if she spat venom like those accusations much longer, I'd have to join the fray myself. She pissed me off.
"I'm perfectly healthy, Teresa. I know how to be safe. I get tested regularly, which is something you should think of doing with the number of men you sleep with." His reply made me feel better, but his ex was not easily placated.
She gasped and glared. "I do not!"
"That's not what I heard. I've heard a rumor you've had three boyfriends this year alone, and all of them have lived … . In. Your. House." Tristan growled the words he wanted to emphasize. "Who are these guys, Teresa, who you let live with you and our fifteen-year-old daughter? What if they hurt Claire?"
"They wouldn't."
"How do you know? Rumor has it you can't keep a man long enough to remember his last name."
Her teeth were clenched-I could tell from across the room. Tristan was getting to her, and she was formulating her counterargument. "Like you're any different. All men are whores," she argued, her words stabbing my very sensible and virtuous heart. "Gay men are no different. Is that what the Navy did to you? All those nights on a ship at sea, you had to find a way to get off so you decided to be gay?" She was laughing in her hatred. "I should have known. You always were a pussy."
"I've always been gay, Teresa. The Navy had nothing to do with it. Sleeping with you was the only mistake I made, but I would never take it back because I love my daughter."
"So you say."
"I do!"
"So how many men have you been with, if you're so high and mighty about my affairs? Tell me. Fifty? A hundred? Two hundred? All men think with their dicks. I bet you'll fuck anything that moves."
I could have jumped out of my secluded spot and argued her points, but I was curious about what Tristan would say. How many guys had he been with? I kind of wanted to know.
"Thirty-eight. Two before I was deployed, three while I was in the Navy, and thirty-three after I got out."
"And you think you're so much better than me!" she spat.
"I am. I have never brought a man to my house. I kept my sex life separate, because I didn't want to hurt Claire. Until now, she was too young to understand anyway."
"She's still too young!"
"She's fifteen and in high school, Teresa. How naive are you? She knows exactly what you do as an adult, because you don't hide it."
"That's a whole lot better than sneaking around fucking in bathrooms," she argued.
At this point, I lost my restraint and jumped into view. "We do not!" I shouted.
Both of them turned their attention my way. Teresa questioned, "Who's this?" while Tristan mumbled, "Grant," lowering his head and clenching his jaw. Maybe my entrance wasn't the best idea.
Teresa argued, "I thought you said you've never brought a man home, Tristan? Or did you find him abandoned on your doorstep, so you brought the stray puppy in?"