Page 11 of The Truth of Our Past

“You’ll have to teach me to swear in your language so I can keep up.” Alec grins as if he’s won something.

“I was rude.” I’m unsure how to apologize without giving myself away.

“Jealous?”

“No.” I stiffen, unwilling to admit the truth.

I’m a hypocrite. I’m obsessed with Alec and his past, while intent on keeping mine to myself. He’s the type of guy who attracts attention, which I am trying to avoid. But he is a sun drawing me into his orbit.

“You give me the sign, I’ll bend you over and give you the ride of your life.” He captures a lock of my hair and wraps it around his hand, making me hard. My body craves the attention, and my mind desperately longs for a fraction of his joy and happiness.

“What if I give you the ride of your life?” I’m not sure what would be worse: taking him up on his outrageous offer or finding out it’s a joke.

“That’s not how I roll.” His tone is light, but he’s firm about the meaning—he won’t bottom.

That’s a deal breaker for me. Everyone has their preference, which I respect. But even in a country as liberal as Sweden, misogyny and toxic masculinity exist. In my experience, it shows up in gay men who think being a top is more manly or the right kind of gay.

It speaks more to identity than preference.

I could never be with a man who belittles being a bottom.

If I had found out Alec refuses to bottom the first time we met, it would make sense to me. But the more I know about Alec, the less I understand. He might be a lot of things, but I don’t see him as misogynistic. None of that is important. His response is one of the many reasons this is a terrible idea.

“Then this cannot happen,” I say and walk away. The twink winks at me and I tamp down my infuriating disappointment.

Alec is not the guy for me.

Chapter six

Alec

Madyson’s being cagey. She’s usually direct and to the point, unless she thinks she’s done something wrong or she’s afraid of hurting my feelings.

She’s playing with her intricate new necklace. It’s three interlocking triangles of dark metal, but there’s a riot of color each time the light hits it. It’s never the same, a flat multi-triangular kaleidoscope.

She asked me to stop by on my way home to discuss the charity event. It’s in a couple of days and there is so much to do. But she won’t look me in the eye and there isn’t a mile-long list in front of her.

My mind wanders back to Von for the millionth and one time. I haven’t seen him in eleven days.

I’m not counting.

Nope. Not counting.

It’s ridiculous because any sort of relationship with Von is impossible, so there’s no point in giving him another thought.

I’m also worried about the weather. It’s unseasonably cold for October and if the temperature dips low enough, it might snow the day of our event. New Yorkers are hardy, but the first snow freaks everyone out. My worst fear—no one shows up. Maybe she’s nervous too.

“Mads, did you ask me here to stare at my pretty face?”

She takes a deep breath. “I ran into Jessica yesterday and you don’t know everything about the past.”

“I don’t care,” I blurt out before she can say anything. Jessica is my ex’s sister and whatever Mads thinks she needs to tell me, she doesn’t. Nothing good comes from dredging up the past. Nothing.

“But I just found out––”

“There is nothing you can say that will change the past. What’s done is done. There’s a ton of things to go over before the charity event. Let’s go over the floor plan. I’ll start moving things tomorrow so we can get everything in place. You’re closing thegallery, right?” I can see her struggle to move on to talk about the auction.

Mads knows the state I was in after everything that happened, so I can’t imagine why she thinks it’s a good idea to talk about it. It’s been almost a decade. I put it behind me. It’s a trip down memory lane I refuse to take. I don’t think about him or what happened. The betrayal and guilt would eat away at me. I refuse to let myself sink back into the pit he threw me in.

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