“Oh,” Charlotte says, her jaw dropping as she sits next to Stan on the couch. I sit in front of them, on the ottoman, fingers interlocked, nervous as fuck about how this will go over.

“Charlotte, you okay?” I ask.

The expression on Stan’s face isn’t much more reassuring.

Are they upset? Disappointed?

I didn’t figure either of them would be happy when they found out the news about me and Ty’s dad, but it had to happen at some point, and if Ty showed us anything, it was that it’s better sooner rather than later.

I started at the beginning, obviously leaving out the parts about having banging-hot sex, but telling them about the spark, which steadily evolved into so much more. I focus on the connection I discovered, but admitted we didn’t tell Ty until it was too late for both of us. We’d fallen too hard, too fast.

While I’m not exactly comforted by their response, it’s about what I was expecting.

Stan bites down on his lip and nods, a familiar habit of his when he gets to thinking hard about something. “It was one thing discovering you’re bi,” he says, “but you have to admit this is…something else altogether.”

“It’s difficult,” Charlotte adds. “It all sounds really bizarre, but also…knowing Ty makes it even stranger. He’s never been anything but friendly when all that stuff happened with Granny. And then whenever he’s come to dinner. I know how much your friendship with him matters to you, so I have to believe you have very strong feelings for Eric if you’re willing to put that on the line.”

“Surely Ty knows you care about him, though,” Stan adds. “Regardless, if when Granny was around my best friend had told me he was dating her, it wouldn’t have gone over well, especially if they’d kept it from me. I don’t know. I’m trying to put myself in a similar situation, and it doesn’t turn out well.”

“Thanks, Stan,” I say.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I understand you’re all in a really unusual situation.”

“Yeah, it’s not ideal,” I admit. “But it’s where I’m at, and I’m trying to figure it out.”

“How is Ty now?” Stan asks. “Are you guys talking?”

“He needed some space, and I’ve been giving it to him.”

“And are you okay?” Charlotte asks.

I see the concern in her expression, the genuine worry about me. They both know how close Ty and I were…how much that friendship meant to me. Seeing their concern about us outweigh their judgment about what Eric and I are doing means a lot to me, more than they can know.

“I’ll be okay,” I reply. “I’d feel better if Ty reached out to me again. Last time we talked, it was an okay conversation. He wasn’t thrilled, but he’s a lot more understanding than I thought he’d be.”

“You guys will work it out,” Charlotte says, the perpetual optimist.

Admittedly, I’m having a harder time understanding how that’ll happen, though I have to believe it’s true. I have to believe somehow it’ll all work out.

Stan leans forward on the couch and sets his hand on my shoulder. “It’s not great, but we support you. We’re here. We love you. And seeing as we’ve never met Ty’s father, we would really like it if you would bring him by at some point for dinner.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Charlotte says. “You’re a very responsible person, Jesse. And it’s clear based on everything that’s happened that you care about him…a lot.”

“So see if you can drag him to dinner so that we can do the typical interrogation of your latest love interest,” Stan chimes in.

“I don’t do an interrogation,” Charlotte says.

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

She laughs, a loud, boisterous laugh, and it’s clear Stan’s humor has lightened the mood.

They assure me they love me and trust my decisions, and then we eat dinner before I head back to Atlanta.

I’m relieved to have told them. Eric and I need to be out about this now so that we’re not left feeling like we’re sneaking around anymore.

When I get back to Eric’s condo, I head in, searching for the man who’s the reason I had to have that conversation with my parents…the man who’s the reason I’ve done so many things I never imagined I’d do—kissing a guy, letting a guy inside me.

I find Eric in his office, earbuds in as he sits at his desk, typing away on his laptop. The way he punches at the keys, vigorously, like he’s pissed about something, makes me wonder if he’s had a good evening.

“Hey, sexy,” I say, not sure if he’ll hear me.

He shakes his head as he turns away from the screen, pulling the earbuds out. He can’t seem to stifle a smile as soon as he sees me, and his eyes light up. I see him relax, like my presence has pulled him out of whatever stress he’s dealing with.

He pushes to his feet and approaches, his lips curling into a grin, like I made his day by being here, which would be funny as shit considering he knew I was going to be here tonight.

“How was dinner with the parents?” he asks as he reaches me and slides his hand around my waist.

“I told them about us.”

His expression twists up. “You…told them? What do you mean? About me being an older guy or about…?”

“Everything. About you being Ty’s dad.”

“What did they say?” he asks, his expression rife with worry.

I chuckle because I know my answer is going to surprise him. “They want to meet you.”

His jaw tightens and his arms lock in place.

“Relax. They don’t bite, Eric.”

“No, I haven’t had to do the meet-the-parents thing in a long time.” He takes a breath, as though he’s trying to process it all. “Now you’ve told them, the awkwardness is out of the way. It’s bizarre how many people we have to essentially come out to about what we’re doing.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. “It’s fucking exhausting, but…I don’t mind telling people that I’m falling for a pretty incredible guy.”

Eric smiles again. “Only pretty incredible?”

“Eh, I say that to keep that asshole boyfriend of mine from getting a big head.”

“That’s clever,” Eric says. “I’d be careful with that Mr. Bougie asshole, if I were you. He doesn’t need an ego boost.”

“Well, Mr. Morgan enjoys giving him ego boosts nearly as much as he enjoys talking to him in third person. Hell, Mr. Morgan enjoys giving him pretty much anything else he wants. I think Mr. Bougie’s kind of spoiled.”

“Mr. Bougie likes being spoiled.” He kisses me after he says that, and as if I wasn’t already enjoying the relief of talking to my parents, the relief he gives me with his lips and tongue is so satisfying.

When he pulls away, he offers that soft growl that gets me going.

“So how about your day?” I ask. “You seemed pretty intense typing away when I got here.”

“I’m losing money on this company I invested a lot into. The CEO is making some crap decisions, and I need to meet with him to talk about executing some of the plans he’s made about pitching changes to the board. Fun times.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. That’s my life. In better news, Michelle’s assistant called with the name of a therapist here in Atlanta who specializes in the sort of trauma I need help with.”

I can tell he’s still struggling with saying sexual assault or rape. I can’t fathom what that must be like to carry the pain of something so traumatic around for so long, to have been terrorized by it since he was a teenager.

“I would love to come with you, if you’ll let me,” I offer.

“Absolutely. It’s the first Wednesday in May.”

“That’s sooner than you thought,” I say, recalling his complaints about the mental-health industry.

“I’m kind of relieved to do it sooner rather than later. After everything that’s happened, I’m ready to deal with this.”

“See? My parents don’t think I’ve lost my mind, and you’re able to schedule a therapy appointment earlier than you thought—it’s been a pretty fucking amazing day.”

Eric laughs.

“Speaking of May,” I add, “we need to come up with a little special something for your birthday weekend.”

“Ugh, that.”

“Yes, that. It’s your birthday, and I’m gonna celebrate my boyfriend’s birthday. You take that weekend off. Why don’t we do something crazy? I was thinking maybe camping.”

Aside from the incident that transpired last time we went camping, we had a great time. I’m eager to get back to that…and in a way, maybe make up for the trauma he experienced with me before.

His expression relaxes once again. “Now that’s something I would be fine with.” He thinks for a moment. “Any chance you’ve ever gone rock climbing?”

“I’ve gone indoor rock climbing.”

“Well, that’s good enough. We should do a little rock climbing at a place I go to about three hours north of here. Have us a fun camping outing. I think we could both use that.”

“My first time outdoor rock climbing. Hmmm… All my first times with Eric Westright?”

“I like being your first times,” he says before offering a kiss.

I hear a familiar sound coming from one of his earbuds. It’s a chime. As soon as we part, I glance down.

“You’re listening to Rocks and Hard Places,” I say. It’s my favorite podcast, one that I know I must’ve bored him to tears talking about since we first met, particularly when we were confined to the condo, working jigsaw puzzles as I annoyed him with my ramblings about the latest episodes.

He blushes and glances at the floor before his eyes return to mine.

“I wanted to get a little more informed about some of these subjects you like to bring up.”

“Which one are you listening to?”

“That woman, Mags, is talking about this Newport sex scandal.”

“Oh, yes. About the undercover operation to bust up gays in the navy?”

“Yes!” he says, those thick brows of his pulling together. “It sounds like something out of a slapstick comedy. These allegedly straight guys were letting other guys blow them so that they could find the secret gays and—”

“I know. I listened to it back when I was still with Whitney.”

“And you didn’t even get a little chubby?” he asks, resting his hand on my crotch as one brow arches higher than the other.

“I jerked off after listening to it,” I confess. “I’m bi, not oblivious.”

He smiles. “What are you going to do now that I’ll be able to carry on discussions with you about these podcasts you’re so into?”

“Me? You’re the one who has the misfortune of not being the victim of my seminars about them. Poor you.”

“I always enjoy when you talk about things you’re interested in, Jesse.” He’s sincere about that, no teasing, no jokes.

He strokes my crotch some more, and I keep getting harder. “Do you have much work to do?”

“I could stop now, especially if my alternative is getting to throw my boyfriend on the bed and do whatever my greedy hands desire.”

“Here I was thinking we needed to finish that jigsaw puzzle,” I tease.

“Jigsaw puzzles can wait,” he says, before cupping his free hand behind my head and reeling me in to him.

And while it might’ve been an awkward-ass afternoon, I have a good feeling it’s gonna be a much better night.