Free Love's Awakening by Stuart Kelly Page B

& Associates.”
    Oliver laughed, and Celia smiled, enjoying the sound and Oliver’s straight, white teeth. “I did something today I probably shouldn’t have,” she confessed.
    “It’s okay to toilet paper the boss’ office.”
    “Of course. I did something else, though.”
    “What?”
    “The women—secretaries or whatever from the building—asked me if I was married. I said yes. I said I have a husband.”
    “You do.”
    “I know. I know.” Celia blew out a breath. “But…I would have tried to understand about your father. I really would have.”
    “I know,” Oliver whispered.
    “Did he have a name picked out? A female name?”
    Oliver bit his lip. “No idea.”
    “The thing is, I would’ve tried to understand, but I probably…I don’t want a wife. I don’t want a woman. I told the secretaries that my husband cooks. Cleans. Does laundry. Helps me with the baby. I didn’t plan to lie. Not to that extent, anyway. It squished—squicked—out.”
    “It’s okay to lie sometimes.”
    “I think your father couldn’t tell me because he knew that I could try to understand all I wanted, but in the end, a woman isn’t who I desire. David knew we were done either way.”
    Oliver’s expression was troubled. Contemplative. His mouth was red. Full. Tempting.
    “Does that make you think less of me?” Celia ventured.
    “No,” Oliver said in a rush. “Of course not. Dad should have transitioned long ago and met someone in the body that fit him. Her.”
    Celia sighed. Find a distraction. She dared not ask about Oliver’s children, so she glanced toward Chili’s. “I did some waitressing in college. Saw lots of families. Smiling. Laughing. There were couples who didn’t talk to each other. Couples of all ages and colors. Some weren’t even couples, but mother and son, or father and son. Whatever. They sat, drank, ate, maybe said something once in a while such as: ‘Oh, it might rain tomorrow,’ or ‘You have that hair appointment tomorrow, don’t you?’ “
    “I know what you mean.”
    “Are these types of people happy or sad? Happy they are so comfortable with each other they don’t need to talk, or sad that they have nothing to say to each other? That their life together is nothing anymore?”
    “I hate to do this, but I gotta get back to work. We’re really busy. But stay awhile. I’ll comp you another drink. Or food.”
    “No, that’s okay. I have to be going too. Thanks for taking the time you did.”
    They walked to Celia’s car, and Celia asked: “Do you miss your father?”
    Oliver cocked his head. “You want the truth?”
    “Please.”
    “Sometimes I miss him. Not as much as I should.”
    “It wasn’t right of him to burden you with the secret. The note.”
    “That’s life,” Oliver muttered. He kicked a pebble then met Celia’s gaze. “Hey, would you like to have lunch with me and Sebastian soon? Or dinner. Or coffee. Maybe talking with him would, uh…would help you.”
    Celia liked the idea of spending more time with Oliver, and he was right—maybe his friend could help. “Sebastian, huh? Okay. Starbucks this weekend? I might have to bring the baby.”
    “No problem. I’ll text you later with the time and which Starbucks.”
    Celia wondered if she should hold out her hand for a handshake goodbye. Or attempt a hug? She and Oliver had held up well this evening. No awkwardness, no weird exchanges. Best not to ruin that. But Celia remembered Oliver looking at her breasts, these amazed eyes, that kiss. The power of Oliver’s erection as their tongues explored each other’s mouths. Celia’s heart went thump-thump-thump.
    Oliver’s gaze was hesitant, yet alert. Indifferent too, or trying to be. Celia wet her lips. Do you still want to touch my breasts, Oliver? She and Oliver could have a fling. Why not? A harmless little fling. Oliver was not in love with her. Oliver barely knew her. So a harmless little—Celia’s throat closed up. What the hell was she