Page 181 of The Holy Grail
JULES: Please don’t hate me, but I won’t be able to make it to dinner.
JULES: I have to finish some things at work.
Neither man was surprised. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised since her workload had backed up due to their last-minute trip to see her parents the week before.
MALCOM: We don’t hate you.
EVAN: What Mal said.
JULES: I’ll see you later tonight.
JULES: And bring me some dessert, preferably something with chocolate in it, or on it, or both.
MALCOM: Will do.
MALCOM: Love you!
EVAN: Love you!
JULES: Love you!
“Justthe two of us, then,” Evan said, getting the waiter’s attention so he and Malcom could place their order. After it was taken care of and they’d gotten their drinks, they talked about each other’s day, enjoying the time with just the two of them. Evan knew from experience one-on-one time was as important as time spent all together, but in Malcom’s case it was even more important to get him comfortable during ‘romantic’ time with a man—especially in public.
After their meals arrived, and they began eating, Evan turned the conversation to meeting Malcom’s father.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Evan asked. He figured the answer was ‘no’, because otherwise it would have been mentioned, but Evan wanted to provide a little nudge, so Malcom would get on it, since it had been a few weeks since all the other parents had been told.
“Not yet, but I will,” Malcom replied.
It was obvious he was totally dreading talking to his dad, and Evan leaned to his side and picked up Malcom’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know it probably won’t be easy, but he needs to know, too. And until he does, we really can’t move forward.”
“I know. I promise I will.”
“Good.” Evan smiled, then even though he knew it was a bit of a push, gave Malcom a quick kiss, one that was short and sweet.
Malcom let himself enjoy it, and even managed to resist looking around to see if anyone was watching, something he’d been working on for the past several weeks. However, as he pulled back and went to resume eating his meal, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively glanced up … only to see his father approaching the table Malcom and Evan were seated at.
It was obvious Monroe had seen the kiss, by the flat, deadly look on his face as he came to a stop, just behind Evan.
To his horror, Malcom felt himself freeze, even as his stomach gave a nauseating lurch and he started to break out in a cold sweat; this was his nightmare come to life.
Evan, oblivious to who was standing right behind him, but seeing the abrupt change in Malcom, immediately asked, “Mal, what’s wrong?”
Malcom tried to respond, but his throat was sealed, and all he could do was blink at his father, who was now saying in a clipped voice, “What’s going on here?”
At the sound of Monroe’s voice, Evan turned to look, and upon seeing him, noticed the striking resemblance to Malcom, and quickly surmised the older man was his father … and he was clearly less than pleased.
Monroe pinned Malcom with a hard expression, while completely ignoring Evan. “I hope this isn’t what it looks like,” Monroe said softly, coldly, like a razor-sharp blade. “Because if it is, then my disappointment will be such that I will no longer be able to acknowledge my second son.”
His eyes widening at that, Malcom swallowed hard, before finally finding his voice. “Dad—”
“I won’t tolerate it, Malcom. I won’t.” Monroe paused for a moment, before adding, “And I think you know by now I never say anything I do not mean. So, think carefully about what you’re going to do from this moment on, and what the consequences will be if you make the wrong decision, because that decision will be yours to live with in perpetuity. Do I make myself clear?”
Then, apparently finished—and not interested in waiting for an answer to his last question—Monroe left without another word, leaving Evan and Malcom to watch him walk away.
Evan was the first one to break the silence. “So … that was your dad.”
Malcom nodded, numb. “Yes.”
