Teaching Tenderness_Forever in Middlebury

by Brittany Cournoyer

  So once my class was dismissed—and fuck did it seem to go on for forever—I raced out to my car and drove straight to Frazier Advertising. The drive was quick, but I felt sick to my stomach. Never had I had to do something like this and my old self-doubt and insecurities were coming out to play. What if he turned me away?

  I parked in front of the small, one story building, and let myself inside. I explained to the main receptionist that I was there to see Marcus and she made me sign in on a clipboard. I watched as she picked up a phone and when I heard her say my name, she nodded and then graced me with a smile that wasn’t there before. “You can go on back.”

  I smiled back at her and went through the indicated door. I walked between some desks and fought the urge to blush when I felt curious eyes on me. I just kept my head held high, and my focus on the lady who sat outside the office that was marked Marcus Anderson. The office where the man on my mind was currently located. And the name placard on the desk let me know that I was about to come face with face with Sheila.

  “You must be Anthony,” she said with a sharpness to her tone and an even sharper gaze. Oh this wasn’t good.

  “I am. And you must be Sheila,” I replied as I and shoved my hands in my pants pockets. I recalled her name from when Marcus mentioned her in previous conversations.

  “That I am.” She cocked her head to the side. “And you’re also the reason Marcus is in the worst mood I’ve seen in months. Care to explain yourself?”

  Not really. But I knew that answer wouldn’t go over well with the fiery blond who currently had me feeling six inches tall, from where she sat behind her desk. “I screwed up.” I hoped that answer would work.

  “You did. I don’t know the details, but I do know hurt when I see it.” Fuck, make that four inches. She stood up and placed her hands on the desk to lean toward me. “Marcus is my family. We might not be blood, but that doesn’t matter. He is the happiest I have seen in years, with the exception of today. And after what that bitch, Rebecca, did to him, I was worried I’d never see him happy again.”

  I hung my head in shame. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just didn’t want him to have any regrets.”

  “Marcus is a big boy. He knows what he can and can’t handle. This is your last chance to make things right with him. After that, I will cut your balls off and feed them to my bearded dragon. Do you understand me?” Sheila warned.

  I gulped. I had no doubt in my mind that she wasn’t kidding. “I understand. So where is Marcus?” I asked.

  Sheila opened her mouth to answer me when I heard a voice behind me. “Anthony? What are you doing here?”

  I turned around and saw the man in question walking toward me. Confusion was written all over his face as well as something that was way worse—distance. He was starting to close himself off again, and I was the reason for that.

  “I came to ask you a question. Well two questions,” I said with a shrug.

  “Okay, well,” he looked around at everyone. I could tell they were faking interest in their work, but were listening to everything that was being said. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “No?” He furrowed his brow.

  “No, I want to ask out here in front of everyone.”

  Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me. “So ask,” he challenged.

  I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. This was it. He could either agree, or say no and make me look like a fucking jack ass. Only one way to find out.

  “The first question is, do you still want me to come as your date for the party?”

  “And the second?” he asked instead of answering me.

  “Would you and Jackson like to come home with me for Thanksgiving?”

  Marcus stared at me and all activity in the office ceased. The quiet roared in my ears, and I felt my body start to tremble as I waited for him to answer me. If he did say no, I would understand. I was a dick the night before and would deserve his rejection.

  With slow, even strides he walked over to me until our toes touched.

  “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets,” he said as he threw my words back at me.

  “I’m very sure. I’d be honored to show up on your arm, and I’d love for my mother to meet the men in my life.”

  Marcus’s eyes lit up at that comment, and I watched as his face transformed. Gone was the distance and confusion, and in their place was the openness of the man I was beginning to care for, a lot. “Then yes to both. I’d love to introduce everyone to my boyfriend and meet his mother.”

  I had to. I didn’t care that everyone in the office was openly watching us. I didn’t give a shit that Sheila had just threatened my balls. I missed giving him a goodbye kiss the night before, and I had to rectify it. So I did. Right there in Frazier Advertising, I planted a scorching kiss on my boyfriend that he returned with enthusiasm. And at that moment, everyone in his office knew that Marcus was dating a man. And from the response we received, the claps and cat calls, they didn’t mind at all.

  Chapter 23

  Marcus

  “Are you sure she doesn’t mind?” I asked Anthony as he navigated his SUV down the street.

  “For the love of…” Anthony said before he stopped and took a deep breath. “Yes, for the twelfth time, I am sure she doesn’t mind.”

  “Are you su—” I asked before Anthony reached his hand across the center console and covered my mouth.

  “Do not ask that question. Yes, I am sure. Yes, she knows and is excited that you and Jackson are both coming. And yes, when I told her about it, she asked me a whole barrage of questions. It’s fine and I’m sure. Now if I remove my hand, will you please shut the hell up about it?”

  If it weren’t for the twinkle in his eyes and smile on his lips, I would have been offended by the question. But I knew I was driving him crazy by repeatedly asking if it was okay that Jackson and I tagged along for the holiday. So with a quick lick to his hand with my tongue, I nodded my head.

  “That’s gross,” Anthony complained as he jerked his hand away and wiped it down the side of my arm.

  “Well, don’t wipe it on me,” I gasped and looked down at the sleeve of my dark blue dress shirt. Thankfully, my shirt still looked decent. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve asked a couple of times, but I’m just nervous.”

  Jackson snorted from the back seat. “A couple of times? Dad, try at least thirty. You asked so much that even I was getting annoyed.”

  “Seriously?” I turned in my seat and glared at my son. “No one asked you.”

  Jackson shrugged. “So? I was trying to help my man, Anthony, out.”

  Anthony reached his hand over the seat and Jackson leaned forward to give it a high five. “Thanks, CJ.”

  “How come he’s allowed to give you a nickname, and I can’t?” Somehow, Anthony went from calling Jackson, Cracker Jacks, to CJ. He explained that it was still his way of giving Jackson a nickname. But it didn’t sound so juvenile that he’d be embarrassed to get called it in front of the class, in case Anthony accidentally slipped up.

  “I like Anthony,” Jackson deadpanned and pointed to his black button down. “He didn’t make me wear this stupid shirt.”

  “Ouch. You’re grounded,” I teased before I turned back in my seat. “And you, we’ll discuss your punishment later,” I said to my boyfriend.

  “I wanted him to be comfortable,” Anthony explained. “Same as you. But I can’t wait to see what you come up with later.” He ended that sentence with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

  Since the first night we’d had together, Anthony and I hadn’t had the chance for sex again. I was way too sore the next day and the other times, Jackson was around and Anthony didn’t feel it was appropriate with him in the house. I gladly pointed out that Jackson had a bedtime, but still he refused. Of course, my old insecurities got in the way, and I was worried that maybe I wasn’t good enough or had done something wrong. So after pres
sing the issue about his hesitation, he finally admitted that I was the first man he’d ever dated with a kid. Apparently, he was worried about overstepping boundaries. While it was adorable and endearing, it was also incredibly frustrating. Aside from a few stolen kisses and the occasional ass graze, I felt like we were back to square one. It was like someone had finally baked me a cake, but only allowed me to have just a teeny tiny sliver. I wanted my cake. Especially after the stunt he pulled at my office.

  “You’re not the only one who’s nervous you know,” Anthony said when he stopped at a red light.

  “Oh really?” I asked him, a little surprised that he admitted that to me.

  “Yup. I’ve never brought anybody home for the holidays before,” he told me before he pressed his foot back on the gas.

  “But I thought you and King Douche were together for two years?” I asked, confused.

  “Hey, you told me we weren’t allowed to use that word,” Jackson piped up from the back seat.

  “Do as I say, not as I do,” I replied, and Jackson mumbled something under his breath that I chose to ignore.

  “We were, but he wasn’t the kind of person you took home to meet the folks, you know?” Anthony said as he flipped on the turn signal and went left. “He met my mom occasionally over the years when we went out to dinner and stuff. But holidays just weren’t our thing.”

  “Did he ever want to go?” I asked, completely fascinated by what he told me.

  Anthony shrugged. “I don’t think he cared. My mom tolerated him for my sake, and I think he was aware of that.”

  “I see.” Well fuck, I hope that wasn’t the case for me and Anthony’s mother. “What about anyone else you dated?”

  “I haven’t dated many people long enough to get to the holiday stage. They weren’t the kind of guys that I wanted to bring home.”

  I let the significance of what he just said sink in. “Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Did he just imply what I thought he implied?

  “I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes,” Anthony said and briefly glanced at me.

  “What am I thinking?” I challenged.

  “You’re questioning whether or not you’re someone I want to bring home to meet my mom. And like I said, the answer is yes. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this car right now. So please relax, baby. My mom’s going to love you both.”

  My heart melted just a little. “I sure hope so.”

  ****

  Anthony’s mother was amazing. I had no idea why I was nervous. The minute she opened the door, she pulled me into her arms with a squeal and squeezed me so tight I couldn’t breathe. I glanced wildly at Anthony, unsure what to do, and he simply shrugged and winked at me. Asshole! Rebecca’s or my parents weren’t affection people, and we didn’t hug each other. I finally returned the hug, and awkwardly patted her on the back. That seemed sufficient enough, but when she let me go, she swooped up Jackson next.

  For being such a small woman, she was larger than life. She was shorter than Anthony, a little over five and a half feet, with black hair that was streaked beautifully with gray, and the same piercing blue eyes. She was beautiful, and her gorgeous and welcoming smile put me instantly at ease.

  It took every ounce of willpower I had to hold back the laugh that tried to escape as I watched Mrs. Capriotti with my son. She fawned over him. Gushed about how adorable he was. How much he looked like me. Pinched and kissed his cheeks. And hugged him just as tight as she hugged me. When she let him go to focus on Anthony, I watched as he straightened his hair and tried to fix his shirt. But I also saw something on his face besides the irritation I expected; he was happy and filled with joy.

  “So how did you two meet?” Anthony’s mom asked after we had filled our plates and were seated around her table.

  “He’s my teacher,” Jackson answered for all of us.

  “Is that so?” she asked and fixed her stare on Jackson. “How does he do at his job?”

  Uh oh. I suddenly felt nervous to hear the answer to that loaded question. I loved my son to bits, but sometimes he could be a complete shit head just because he thought it was funny. As I waited for Jackson to answer, my leg began to bounce anxiously under the table. Anthony, who was seated beside me, reached out and placed a calming hand on it. He gave me another one of his signature winks to let me know that whatever Jackson answered, that it’d be okay.

  “He’s great, Mrs. C,” Jackson answered after he wiped his mouth off. “He’s actually my favorite teacher, and he’s helped me out a lot with my reading problem.”

  “Calling me your favorite teacher isn’t going to help with your grades, buddy,” Anthony teased him.

  “Darn,” Jackson replied.

  “Is it weird? Knowing that your dad and your teacher are boyfriends?” she asked him. Damn why was Anthony’s mom grilling Jackson so hard? I felt like I needed to step in and say something, but Anthony squeezed my thigh. I knew that was his way of telling me to stay out of it, so I did.

  “At first I thought it was. Not because it’s my dad being with another dude. I don’t care about that. I just thought it was weird seeing Anthony outside of school, you know? I see him enough at school. So why would I want to spend time with him after?”

  I choked on the drink I had just swallowed. I didn’t even think about that concept when Anthony and I began dating, and the look on Anthony’s face told me he thought the same thing. Fuck. Was I really that selfish that I didn’t even stop to consider my own son’s feelings when it came to me dating someone? Sure Jackson and Anthony had that discussion that I’d overheard after school. But it wasn’t anything really in depth. I was about to comment on what Jackson had said when he started to speak again, and what he said next floored me.

  “I can see where that would be weird,” Anthony’s mom agreed.

  “Yeah, but Anthony is really cool. So after the first couple of times he came around, I got used to it. I like hanging out with him. We have fun together. And he doesn’t treat me any different at school just because he likes my dad. And he doesn’t pretend he likes me like Miss Kathy does. And he’s really nice to my dad.”

  “I hope your dad is nice to him, as well,” Mrs. Capriotti said with laugh.

  “He is,” Jackson said with a firm nod. “I don’t think either one of them has stopped smiling since they got together. And it’s nice to see my dad smile. I haven’t seen that since my mom left, and I missed it.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, and Anthony squeezed down hard on my leg. I blinked furiously to try to stop the tears that were beginning to well in my eyes. I had no idea that Jackson felt that way. That he knew I wasn’t happy. I tried to fake it. Lord knows I tried hard to feign happiness for my son’s benefit, but it was hard. And I obviously did a horrible job at it.

  “Does Anthony make you smile, too?” Mrs. C. asked.

  Jackson shrugged and scratched his hair. “Yeah I guess. Like I said, Mrs. C, Anthony’s cool. And he makes my dad happy, so that makes me happy, too.”

  “Well, that makes me happy, too,” she said with a smile. “And call me Cindy. Mrs. C was my mother.”

  “Okay, Cindy,” Jackson said before picking up a bite of his turkey. “I can see why Anthony is so awesome. He gets it from you.”

  Cindy smiled wildly at Jackson over his innocent comment and appeared to be at a loss for words momentarily. “And for that comment right there, young man… you get an extra piece of pie.”

  Cindy was great. Her food was delicious. And after that little emotional moment at dinner, the conversation was shifted to lighter matters that were age appropriate for Jackson, but with some adult humor mixed in. It was hands down the best Thanksgiving I’d ever had. And later on that night, when I kissed Anthony goodnight, he let me in on a little secret.

  “You know when we were leaving, and my mom pulled me down to whisper in my ear?” Anthony asked.

  “Yeah, I had wondered what that was about, but didn’t want to pry.”


  “It was about you,” he said and kissed my neck.

  “What about me?” I asked. Instantly my mind went into negative mode. Did she not like me? Did she not think I was good enough for her son?

  “Stop whatever it is you’re thinking. Apparently she was curious about how Jackson felt about us being together, so that’s why she gave him the third degree like that at dinner. And then she saw how you handled it. She could tell you wanted to interject, but let her continue to question Jackson because she could see you were interested in the answers as well. She could also tell how much it affected you when Jackson made the comment about you not smiling before we got together.”

  “Damn, she’s a shrewd woman,” I muttered.

  “Yes she is. But it’s okay. Because my mother loved you.”

  I jerked my head back and stared at Anthony in surprise. “She did?”

  “Of course, she did. Who wouldn’t? And she warned me not to screw things up with you.”

  I gulped. “And what did you say to that?” Did I really want to know the answer to that question?

  Anthony grabbed my head and kissed me thoroughly. “I told her that I didn’t plan on it. You’re mine for as ever long as you’ll have me, Marcus Anderson.”

  “Well that’s good to know, because I have a hard time letting things go.”

  Anthony laughed and lightened the heaviness of the mood. “Good, well now that Thanksgiving is out of the way, it’s on to the next shindig. And I can’t wait to see you all suited up.”

  I furrowed my brow at him. “You see me in a suit all the time.”

  Anthony appeared to be deep in thought for a second. “Very true, but this time I’ll be on your arm as your date while you wear one. And Jackson will be spending the night at his friend’s, correct?” I nodded. “Exactly. So when the party is over, I get the pleasure of pealing you out of it.”