Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“That’s not what I want,” he said, sounding broken, his breath catching. “I want Harper, but my family and my friends—I mean… I can’t be gay.”
“I understand,” I soothed him. “And no one can make any decisions for you that you’re not ready to make.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s sad to think that in 2022 there’s still people out there who care about another person’s sexuality. If I live to be a thousand, I won’t ever grasp that whole thing. That what you do in your own bed affects me in any way—it’s a mind-blower.”
“It is.”
“Your only issue is that Harper is out and proud and doesn’t hide who he is. So it’s only fair to him that you explain that you’re not in the same place and let him decide if that’s okay for him or not.”
“I know it won’t be,” he said sadly. “And I don’t want to lose him.”
Hard for me to make him understand that in life, love was vital, but timing was something never to be ignored. The whole love conquers all was something I believed with all my heart when I was twenty, but now I understood that there were other factors that had to be considered as well. Shared values, shared interests, shared beliefs, and a sense of humor. If you couldn’t laugh at yourself, you were never going to make it out of the parking lot.
“What are we doing?” Sam asked as he walked back into the room. “Because I could swear you said that you were carrying in the platter and we could eat as soon as I came down.”
I shot him a look.
“How ’bout you guys keep talking and I’ll carry in the platter?”
Stepping back, I let him reach the counter so he could carry everything out to the table. Hannah was next, in to get the salad out of the refrigerator, and then Jake last to grab the pitcher of unsweetened ice tea.
Once they were out, I met Tighe’s gaze again. “Just have a talk with Harper and let him make an informed decision.”
“Okay.”
“After dinner, though,” I told him. “Long talks are best done on full stomachs.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, and he looked both sad and dejected, and his face didn’t change even when he got to the table.
“Are you all right?” Harper asked, concerned.
“Yeah,” he replied, “but we need to talk after dinner.”
“Sure,” Harper agreed, glancing at me.
I smiled back and gave him a little nod. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Okay,” he agreed, passing the salad to Tighe. “You’re really going to love this meal. I’ve been eating here since I was little, and this is my favorite.” He then looked at me. “Thank you for making it special.”
“Of course,” I said, smiling at him.
After dinner, Kola and Harper started the dishes, Jake was clearing, and Hannah was getting out the dessert plates and asking what everyone wanted. My husband was studying Tighe, who was still sitting at the table, on his phone.
“If you were having some kind of cathartic moment, staring off into space, contemplating the meaning of life and your place in the universe, I would let this slide,” Sam said to him. “But since you’re not, I gotta wonder, are you allergic to cleaning up after a meal?”
Tighe jolted and got up, bolting to the kitchen.
“Sam,” I scolded him.
“What?” he muttered, gesturing after Tighe. “Who raised him?”
“He probably had servants his whole life.”
“I don’t care,” he grumbled, getting up. “Somebody cooks for you, you say thank you, and you get your ass up and help clean. That’s how it works in polite society.”
I scoffed. “Like you’d know.”
“Listen, my family is annoying—and I mean the extended one, not you and the kids or my folks—but everyone else is a pain in the ass, but even they get up and help. And I’m telling you right now, since you’re cookin’ this year, I better see a whole assembly line of people in there helping out, because if I see you scrub anything after we all eat, I’ll lose my shit.”
I chuckled. “Duly noted.”
“And where the hell is everybody gonna sit?” he groused at me. “We don’t have the space for––”
“I’m renting chairs, and we’re going to bring the table up from downstairs and put the extra leaves in this one. It’ll be fine.”
He whined. “I hate putting the leaves in and taking them out.”
“Samuel Thomas Kage, this is your family.”
“No, I just covered who my family was.”
“No,” I corrected him. “They’re related to you, we’re feeding everyone, just knock it off. Thanksgiving is a time to be grateful for our blessings.”
“I thought that was Christmas.”
“It’s both.”
“Make up your mind.”
“You’re very growly this evening,” I assured him as Jake appeared and wiped the table before putting down three trivets.
“You’re gonna hafta do less hours at that restaurant and less bed-hopping if you want those grades of yours to rally,” Sam told him.