Page 30 of The Geography of Happiness

Then Terry smiled and the room lit up. “I think we’ve both lost our freaking minds. How does that sound?”

I laughed. “Sounds about right. And you’ve seriously never talked about this stuff with any of your friends?”

That lost look returned to his blue eyes. “No, and considering nearly all of them are gay or bi, I have zero excuse. Ugh—” He held his head in his hands for a second. “—it’s pathetic, I know, but I can’t bear to see that look of pity in his eyes, and I don’t want to risk losing him as a friend. But then I can’t tell my other friends if I haven’t told him. That would be brutally unfair. It’s such a fucking mess.” Terry threw me a mortified look. “And I’msosorry. I don’t knowwhyI’m telling you all this.”

“Perhaps preciselybecauseyou can’t tell your friends,” I suggested. “Besides, this country has a way of digging into your brain whether you want it or not. Spend any time in the Mackenzie and somehow all those problems you’ve been successfully or unsuccessfully trying to avoid in your life suddenly start tap dancing to the front of your brain.”

He huffed. “And here I thought it was just me.”

“Not even close.” I studied him closely. “You’re just another name on a long list of casualties... including most everyone you’ll meet around these parts.”

He chuckled. “Way to make a guy feel special.”

I was tempted to tell him just how special I thought he might be, but yeah, I figured that would go down like a lead balloon. Instead, I met his gaze with a long silent one of my own that made him fidget in his seat.

“Dammit. What is it about you?” Terry looked at me, shaking his head. “My sexuality and sex life or lack thereof, wasn’t one of the things I was supposed to be working on this week. Then you come along looking all handsome and shit and start flirting with me, and all those buried thoughts and questions rise to the surface again, only this time it doesn’t take months, and I... panic.” He groaned and slid further down in the chair. “See, I told you it was an embarrassing story.”

“Hey, it’s not,” I countered, caught up in those haunting blue eyes that looked so fucking lonely I wanted nothing more than to haul the guy into my lap. Colour me surprised. “There’s no right way to be gay or bi or straight or demi or whatever, and I know you get that. We all travel a different road in discovering what works for us and how to live that truth. And you just said you’re only thirty. Thirty with a fourteen-year-old daughter. Hell, you’ve barely started the journey of who you are. Who knows what it will look like?”

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair. “Yeah, maybe.” He reopened one eye. “Exactly how old are you then?”

I chuckled. “Forty-two and starting to feel every single year of it.”

“Pfft.” Terry sat straighter in his chair. “I have a fourteen-year-old kid. That has your forty-two years beat, hands down. It’s gotta make me at least fifty in dad years.”

I laughed and he smiled at me with warm eyes. He really was quite lovely. Quite lovely and lost as hell.

I stood and circled the coffee table so I could perch on it, right in front of him. I slid both hands onto his knees, palms up, and waggled my fingers in invitation.

He looked down and then eyed me sideways. “Really?”

I waggled them again. “Come on.”

His shoulders tensed and that lower lip disappeared again between his teeth. It took a few seconds until he finally caved and slid his hands into mine, and the warm feel of his skin against mine settled something that had been churning in my belly all night. I locked his hands in place, relishing their dry warmth, and squeezed gently.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” I said softly, losing myself in those blue, blue eyes. “Sexuality is complicated and romance is a risky business—” I shot him a wry grin. “—or so I’m told. Not a huge fan of it myself.”

He chuckled and the warm sound filled the room, lightening the mood.

“Maybe we’re more similar than you think,” I proposed. “Neither of us knows shit about romance.”

He arched a brow. “But at leastyouhave a handle on the sex part.”

“A handle, plus the whole cup and saucer and the entire crockery set, if you ask some around these parts,” I added, making him laugh. “Besides, sex isn’t romance, I can tell you that much.”

Terry glanced down to where our hands sat joined on his knees but made no move to free himself. “I guess. But I might be a bit more confident if I’d experimented more.” He paused, shooting me an odd look.

I narrowed my gaze. “What?”

He winced. “Well, you know about my crush on Judah, but I did actually take another guy home... once.”

My ears perked up. “Really?”

Terry chuckled. “You should see your face. I’m not atotalloser, you know.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest—ugh.” I lowered my head in shame.

“It’s fine.” Terry dipped his head to look me in the eye. “I’m not offended.”

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