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  He spotted the PTA people right away, crowded into their usual semi-circular booth. Morgan was on one end, having just arrived, and Joel squeezed onto the other, so they were opposite each other. “Hey,” he said, giving a dumb little wave.

  “Hey, how’re you doing?”

  Morgan looked more distant than last time they’d met. Restrained. Handsome too, in a serious way. Ollie’s stomach gave a little cramping squeeze. “Good. Dried out from the car wash. I, uh, have your sweatshirt. Thanks for the use of it.” He slid the bag over the table. “I washed it.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Morgan took the bag. His fingers tapped against the table. After a pause, he said, “Um, how are the boys? Is Nia babysitting again tonight?”

  “Yeah. Rory likes her, but he was a little—” He made a wobbly gesture with his hand. “Hopefully he’ll be okay.”

  Morgan tipped his head in query. “A little what?”

  “Anxious.” He sighed, glanced around the table but nobody was listening because they were still busy organizing drinks. In a lower voice, Ollie said, “Rory was with a babysitter when his mom— When the accident happened.” He pressed his lips together, fingers gripping the edge of his seat. “His parents died in a car accident.”

  “God,” Morgan said. “That’s awful.”

  “Yeah. He’d just turned four, so… He remembers. Sometimes he worries that I won’t come home.”

  “Poor kid.” Morgan blew out a breath, looking genuinely moved. After a moment he said, “Rory told me, actually.”

  That was a surprise. “Really?”

  “Well. He told me his parents were in heaven.”

  “Interesting.” Very interesting. “He doesn’t often do that.”

  Morgan smiled. He had a nice smile, it started in his eyes and filled them with warmth. “He’s a great kid. He seems happy, despite everything. Which I assume is your doing.”

  “Me?” Ollie shook his head. He didn’t even know where to start with his own doubts—and the Palmers’ doubts—about his ability to provide the boys with the home they needed. “He still sees a therapist. His grandparents pay for it. She’s been great, really helped him deal. I’m just—” Embarrassingly, his emotions slipped out from under his control and he had to pause before he said, “I’m just making it up as I go along.”

  Morgan watched him, frowning slightly. He looked so certain, so solid, it made Ollie want to grab his certainty and hold on for dear life. “Well, looks like you’re doing a good job to me.”

  “I hope so.”

  A jostle at his side tore Ollie’s attention away from Morgan, and he realized the woman next to him—Sandra, was it?—needed to get out. He stood up to let her pass, and Jackie cooed at him from the far end of the booth.

  “Ollie! Are you boys joining us for wine?”

  He glanced at Morgan who had a set look on his face. His teacher face, Ollie realized. “I’ll just grab a soda,” Ollie said. “I’m driving. Mr. Morgan, you want anything from the bar?”

  “Soda for me too. I’ll get them.” Morgan stood and headed to the bar with Sandra, leaving Ollie to slide back into his seat. He felt wobbly—always did when he talked about Jules—but lighter too, fizzing after Morgan’s praise. Nobody except his mom ever told him he was doing well, so to hear it from a guy like that meant something. It meant a lot.

  “What a gentleman,” Jackie sighed from the back of the booth. “Such a shame about his wife. What was she thinking? I’d snap him up in a heartbeat.”

  “Good grief,” Alyssa muttered, while some of the other moms laughed awkwardly. “She’s shameless.”

  Ollie smiled, watching Morgan standing at the bar, one hip cocked to show off a rather nicely shaped ass. “She’s got a thing for Mr. Morgan, huh?”

  “And you. And every other guy who crosses her path, apparently. You haven’t noticed?”

  “Well.” He hesitated, trying to gauge Alyssa’s reaction. “Flirting with women isn’t exactly my thing.”

  She laughed. “I guess not, but don’t worry, you’re safe. Mr. Morgan’s Jackie’s real crush.”

  “Can’t blame her for that,” he said, and then flushed. “Shit, sorry. That’s inappropriate. I didn’t mean— That is, I don’t—”

  “Honey, relax. Half the parents in school have a crush on Joel Morgan. I think it’s all that brooding reserve and dedicated home improvement he’s got going on.” Her gaze drifted over to the bar. “Either that or the cute butt.”

  Ollie flushed. “Oh my God, shh!”

  Alyssa’s expression changed, her smile falling away. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m kidding.”

  “I know. Sorry.” Embarrassed by his overreaction, he nudged her elbow and dropped his voice to a murmur. “I was totally checking out his ass. But also—I shouldn’t be, I guess?”

  “Maybe we just shouldn’t discuss it, huh?” Alyssa covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “Joel Morgan’s a nice guy, he doesn’t deserve to be the butt of anyone’s jokes—pun intended.”

  Ollie laughed. “Right. He is a nice guy.”

  She studied him, a slight smile tugging her lips. He thought she might say more, but in the end she just squeezed his hand again before letting go, and Ollie gladly changed the subject by returning the clothes he’d borrowed for Rory. A moment later, Morgan and Sandra returned to the table—him carrying a tray with two bottles of wine and several glasses, Sandra holding two sodas. There was another shuffling around of seats in the booth—Ollie wondered why they didn’t just sit at a long table, so they wouldn’t need to keep performing this little dance—and, when he went to sit down again, he found that the only remaining free space was next to Morgan.

  Hip-to-hip with him in the cramped booth, Ollie caught Alyssa’s eye across the table. She smiled and turned to Jackie. “Shall we get started?”

  The meeting got underway—a breakdown of earnings from the car wash, points to take away from the event for next year, thankyous to be sent to Theo Wishart and Luca Moretti for the use of the hotel. And then on to planning for the next event: The Beach Fun Run.

  Ollie was only half listening to most of it. He was far too aware of the way his leg was pressed against Morgan’s warm thigh and the way Morgan had folded his arms across his chest so as not to intrude into Ollie’s space. Was he uncomfortable? Was this the awkwardness of a hetero guy too aware of the gay man sitting next to him? Or did Morgan feel—as Ollie did—a zing of attraction communicated entirely on a physical level. As if their bodies, independent of their minds, were sending little electrical pings backward and forward.

  Because Ollie could feel .him.

  All the nerve endings on the righthand side of his body were reaching out toward Morgan, eager to make a connection. Surely Morgan could feel it too, this awareness? It couldn’t just be Ollie.

  He shifted a little, their hips sliding against each other, and felt Morgan tense. His folded arms tightened like he was tying himself into a knot. Ollie crossed his legs away from Morgan, attempting to put some space between them. Whatever opinion his body might have, his rational mind knew that crushing on teacher was a Bad Idea. Capital letters. He had to stop it. Now.

  To that end, as soon as the meeting was over, he said a quick goodbye to the group and fled.

  It didn’t help that he could feel Joel Morgan’s eyes on his back all the way to the door.

  Chapter Eight

  “This is an interesting development,” Amy said the following evening, regarding Joel across her low coffee table with obvious interest.

  He sighed. “I knew you’d say that.”

  It had been a long day and Joel felt gritty and disgruntled after working on top of a poor night’s sleep. Yesterday’s PTA meeting had unsettled him. Not the meeting per se, but his encounter with Ollie. First, the expression on Ollie’s face when he’d spoken about the death of Rory’s parents. And then that excruciating hour when Joel had sat pressed up next to the guy, his whole body lighting up like the fourth of July, reverberating with a sexual tensi
on he’d been surprised the whole table couldn’t feel.

  A tension he’d neither felt nor wanted in years.

  Panicked and overwhelmed, the whole episode had left him feeling off-balance and anxious and he’d phoned Amy this morning in hope of a last-minute appointment.

  She smiled at him now, her calming non-judgmental smile. “And how does it feel, to be attracted to someone again?”

  Electric. Terrifying. Intense. “Wrong.”

  “Wrong?”

  “You heard the part where I said he’s a parent at the school, right? And a guy? And practically a child.”

  She cocked her head, frowning. “A child as in…?”

  He waved his hand, embarrassed. “No. I mean— He said he’s ‘nearly twenty-five’.” He put heavy air-quotes around the words. “Which… What the hell does that mean? Twenty-four and three-quarters?”

  Amy gave a soft laugh, unusual for her. “Well, excuse me for saying so, Joel, but from the perspective of over fifty there’s not a great difference between ‘nearly-twenty-five’ and ‘just-turned thirty-two’. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with being attracted to someone a few years younger than yourself.”

  He shifted, uncomfortable with the memory of his body’s intense physical response to Ollie’s proximity last night. It had been so primal—nerves and synapses firing without consent, blood pounding, heart racing. Terrifying and arousing.

  “So, let’s talk about his gender. You’ve had a serious relationship with a man before, in college...”

  “Yes, Isaac. But that was—” He leaned forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees, and looked out over Amy’s garden. More leaves had fallen since the day of the car wash. Their first winter storm had blown through that night, taking the last of the summer with it, and fall was here for real now. “It’s not that I have a problem with my sexuality. It’s just that… Look, I haven’t dated anyone since I came to New Milton. Nobody here knows I’m bi and I just…” He sighed. “I don’t see the point of coming out again, especially at school, just because I have an… inappropriate crush.” He looked up at her. “You see what I mean?”

  “It sounds like you’re saying you don’t believe this attraction will lead anywhere, so why upset the applecart for nothing.”

  “Right. Exactly.”

  She hummed thoughtfully. “I guess my question is, why don’t you think it will lead anywhere?”

  “Because—” Panic fluttered its wings behind his breastbone. “It just can’t. I don’t want it to.”

  Into the silence, Amy said, “What do you think it means that you’re experiencing sexual attraction again, after over four years?”

  That was something Joel hadn’t wanted to think about and he squirmed under her direct gaze, mind slipping away from answers he didn’t want to give. “Does it have to mean anything?”

  “I think it’s significant, yes.”

  His fingers, dangling between his knees, clenched tighter. “I think it’s a pain in the ass. I don’t want to feel it. This is the last thing I want to feel.”

  Amy studied him for a moment, folded her hands in her lap. “Coming out to Helen ended your marriage. She said the idea of you being sexually intimate with a man made her nauseous. And that was…an extremely hurtful betrayal from a woman you loved and trusted.”

  He knotted his fingers, stared down at his whitening knuckles.

  Thinking of you fucking a man? It makes me sick to my stomach, Joel.

  He’d never forget the look of hurt on Helen’s face when she spat those words at him, as if he’d betrayed her. As if his sexuality excused her cheating on him… Even now, the memory stung like a slap. He had to blink his burning eyes.

  After a moment, Amy said, “What about Isaac? How did he feel about your sexuality?”

  “Isaac? I don’t know. He teased me about it, I guess. We were kids.”

  “Teased how?”

  He shrugged. “The usual. Are you sure you’re really gay? Am I your ‘experimental phase’? Don’t give me girl cooties. That kind of thing.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s a pretty common experience for bisexual people.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, unlike a straight or gay man, you’re faced with the question of whether to come out to any potential sexual or romantic partner and risk their rejection. I can see why you’d be afraid to start something new.”

  “It’s not—” He stopped and scrubbed a hand over his head. He’d just had his hair cut and the short strands ran silky-smooth over his palm. “It’s not just your partner, either. Everyone judges you.” His lips twisted wryly. “Neither fish nor fowl, I guess. And everyone has an opinion.”

  He reached for the pitcher on the table and poured himself a glass of water, embarrassed at the tremor in his hand. Because of the insomnia, probably. He hated insomnia, hadn’t had it in months. He’d thought it was behind him—and now this.

  After he set the water back down, Amy said, “Tell me about him.”

  “Tell you what about him?”

  “Anything you like. Talk to me about why you find him attractive.”

  “You want me to tell you he has a tight ass, and abs to die for? That I want to lick ice-cream off his pecs?”

  Amy’s eyebrows rose at the attitude.

  Joel knew he was being difficult and, with an apologetic sigh, said, “He’s… Okay, his name’s Oliver Snow. He calls himself Ollie. He’s raising his sister’s kids alone and he’s… There’s just something about him that gets to me. He’s doing a great job in difficult circumstances, but he’s kind of uncertain about himself—like, he thinks he’s always being graded or something. Or that people are judging him. But he’s still upbeat and fun, getting involved with stuff, trying to be a good dad. It’s admirable, you know? And he’s on his own here, I guess. He’s…” He turned to gaze out over the garden, letting the trees and lawn fade as he conjured an image in his mind’s eye. “He’s got a cute smile and this overgrown mop of curly hair, and you think it’s just an ordinary dark brown but when you look closer there’s this beautiful auburn undertone.” His hands flexed as if he could feel Ollie’s curls running through his fingers. “I guess he’s just kinda…charming. I’m charmed.”

  “He sounds like a guy with a lot on his plate.”

  “No kidding.” He looked back at her, sinking deeper into his chair, lighter for having articulated his feelings. That had been the point, he supposed. “It’s really not something that could go anywhere.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He ticked the reasons off on his fingers. “He’s too young, too male, and a parent at the school.”

  “Well, we’ve talked about his age and gender. Is there a rule against dating parents?”

  “Yeah. No. I don’t know—probably not. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing’s going to happen.” He frowned at her. “I feel like you’re trying to push me into something.”

  Amy fixed him with a steady look. “Imagine for a moment that you allowed yourself to pursue this attraction. What would that feel like?”

  “We both know what that would feel like: terrifying. Because I got screwed over by the woman I loved, and I don’t ever want to put myself into that position again. It’s not rocket science, Dr. Freud.”

  “And yet here you are, almost as if you don’t already have all the answers.”

  Irritable, he huffed out a sigh.

  “We’re not talking about love, Joel. We’re talking about maybe going for a coffee. About letting yourself explore your feelings of attraction.”

  “What’s the point of exploring them if I’m not ready to let them go anywhere?”

  “Perhaps you’re more ready than you think? You won’t know unless you allow yourself to try.” After a pause, she added, “I think it’s interesting that the first person you’ve been attracted to since Helen is a young, single parent.”

  He’d thought about that himself—why Ollie Snow? Why a parent at the school? Why a hot young guy who must have
a dozen better offers? “I figure it’s because he’s safe.”

  “Safe?”

  “There’s no danger of… reciprocation.”

  “You mean like a child testing out being in love by crushing on an unobtainable movie star?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s possible,” she conceded. “Except you’re not a child and Ollie isn’t in Hollywood—he’s a guy you could ask out for that coffee.”

  Joel bit his lip. “So, what are you saying?”

  “I’m wondering whether you see in this young man some of the things that were missing in your relationship with Helen.”

  “Like a cock?” He grimaced. “Ugh, sorry. That was— Sorry.”

  “It’s alright,” Amy said. “This is difficult work. But it’s good, Joel. You’ve been in a holding pattern for a long time. This attraction you’re feeling, even if nothing comes of it, is a sign you’re emotionally ready to move on with your life.”

  “But what if—?” His voice caught. “What if I’m not ready?”

  Amy smiled, leaning forward in her seat to look him straight in the eye. “I think you are. That doesn’t mean it’ll be easy. Trusting someone in an intimate relationship when you’ve been betrayed and hurt is never going to be easy. But you have a lot to gain from trying.”

  “And a lot to lose.” He’d never forget the utter shock of discovering that his own mind had betrayed him. For a guy who’d prided himself on his mental resilience to suddenly find himself unable to get up in the morning, unable to sleep, unable to work, had changed everything he believed about himself. It had taken him four years to put himself back together, and the man he was today bore only passing similarity to Joel Morgan: investment banker. And the cracks were still there, he could feel them deep in his foundations. The prospect of risking another collapse terrified him. He couldn’t survive it again.

  In a gesture unusual for her, Amy reached out and patted his knee. “You’re stronger than you realize, Joel. You’re ready for this.”