Page 73 of The Fireman and the Flirt

Except, the babysitter was his husband.

“Are we clear?” Cal said to Russ.

“As clear as the glassware you incorrectly load into the dishwasher despite my multiple tutorials.” Russ gave his husband a sweeter-than-sweet kiss on the cheek. “Have fun you two.”

Cal and I were grabbing a brotherly bite to eat before meeting up with our friends at Mitch’s bar. Apparently, he ran this weekly event called Musical Mondays where they played clips from musicals on the TVs and people sang along. Not usually my cup of tea, but we’d see how the night went.

“Thanks for watching the kids tonight. Don’t tell anyone, but you’re kind of the best.” Cal cocked a loving eyebrow at his husband. He took his hand and squeezed it tight. “And bless your heart for thinking I actually paid attention to any of your dishwasher tutorials.”

“Derek…he’s all yours.”

I drove us to C&J Pizza, which was a few blocks away from Stone’s Throw Tavern. Cary was right. Their pizza remained primo delicious. Salty, buttery tomato sauce, hot cheese dripping with oil, and a crust that had to be folded, as pizza was intended to be eaten.

“The Hogan brothers. Back together. Causing trouble. Should we hold up a liquor store?” Cal asked.

“What?” I truly did not understand how his brain worked, but bless him for playing to the beat of his drum.

“I’m thinking of fun things straight guys like to do.”

A fresh layer of sweat covered my hands. My heart began to amp up like a roller coaster clicking to the top.

“About that…” I put down my pizza, took a sip of soda. “Cal, I gotta tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, fully serious.

“It’s not bad,” I clarified, though I appreciated his concern. “I’m fine. So is Jolene.”

“Did you need help with the down payment for the new house?”

“No. I’m good on that front.” Our offer was accepted on Sunday evening. Cary texted me with lots of emoji. “The owners wanted to get this done fast, so I think we can close by the end of the month.”

I didn’t know how the hell they were going to pack up and move out all their shit by then, but that was their problem to solve. And more importantly, I was stalling.

“Cal, I’m bi.”

“You’re by what?”

“No. I’m bi. Bisexual.” It felt weird to say it out loud, to permanently give myself a label. Like any nickname, it would feel more comfortable the more I said it.

Cal was on a three-second delay as he processed the news. His response was more muted than I expected for a guy who preferred playing to the rafters on a daily basis. His mouth opened slightly, but he chose to stay quiet.

“Good. That’s good.”

“Surprised?” I asked jokingly.

“Uh, yeah. Kinda. Yeah.” I wasn’t used to Cal holding in his thoughts. It was unnerving and against the natural order of things.

“It’s something I’ve known for a while, but I hadn’t acted on it since I’d been with Paula.”

“How long have you known about it?”

“If I’m being honest, probably high school. I definitely noticed some of my teammates’ bodies in the locker room more than I should have. So I guess I knew about it on some level, and as time went on, I became more sure of it.” And because I was in a sharing mood, I added this whopper: “And Cary and I are dating.”

“Dating? Cary, as in my friend and your real estate agent?”

“Uh huh. It’s new. And wonderful. We wouldn’t have met were it not for you pushing me to buy a house. You’ve always wanted to be a matchmaker.”

A pause fell between us, a very uncommon thing when talking to Cal. We had a relationship where we preferred constant noise to silence.

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