I’m a little busy at work this week, but we need to get together for some volleyball with the guys.

I read Ty’s text, excitement rising within me. Are we suddenly besties again because of the camping trip last weekend? No, but the fact that Ty’s even talking to us again gives us hope that maybe there’s a way to navigate all this.

After I finish up at work, I head to Eric’s condo and make us some dinner. Unlike Eric, I may not be the best chef in the world, but I do my best. When he gets home from the gym, he’s sweaty, a big wet stain on the front of his shirt. He looks tired, depleted, but as he approaches me, that smile suggests otherwise.

He takes me into his arms and slams his lips down against mine. I relax in his hold, any stress I was feeling from my workday easing up. When he pulls away, he studies my face.

His nostrils flare, and he glances around the room. “Smells great. What’s for dinner?”

“Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“I love the way you make fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Stop teasing me,” I tell him. He’s saying that because that’s one of the few things I know how to make.

“I wasn’t kidding.”

“Well, it’s one of the many things I picked up during college, learning how to survive.”

“You need help with anything?”

“I got this. You shower up and get your sexy ass over to the table as soon as possible.”

“Deal,” he says. He heads off, cleans off, and then joins me for dinner.

“Ty messaged me today,” I tell him.

“Really?”

“He’s trying to round some guys up for volleyball, and he wanted to see if I was free. It’s a step in the right direction.”

“It’s more than that,” Eric assures me. “Ty’s definitely doing a hell of a lot better than I ever figured he could under the circumstances.”

“Yeah. I was stunned he was willing to go on that camping trip to begin with, and even when I put my foot in my mouth—”

“We both had our moments of putting our feet in our mouths.”

“Fair point. I saw you put that picture in the office. How does that feel?”

Eric’s expression turns serious. “I experience a lot of emotions looking at that picture—fear, regret, excitement, appreciation.”

“Why did you say fear?”

“Back when I found out about him, at first, I was so scared of doing it all wrong. I’m always afraid I’ve done it all wrong, and clearly, I have. It was my job to bridge this gap, and I can’t say I ever had the confidence that he cared enough to do that, and all this has proven me wrong about that.”

“I’m glad,” I say. “I know it’s shitty, but maybe, in some fucked-up way, all this crap will bring you guys closer together.”

I almost feel bad saying that. I’m not reveling in the fact that Ty’s hurt by what we’ve done, yet what happened on that camping trip, how they both seemed to push a little harder to talk than I imagined they would, how they both tried to open up and reach out to one another, makes me feel like they’re finally taking steps they weren’t willing to take before. In a way, until we started messing around, until the whole thing blew up, I think they’d both given up, thought their chance was over. It doesn’t feel like that anymore.

“Did you guys talk any today?” I ask.

“We did. He called and asked how work was going. Evidently, he’s having some work shit he has to sort out again.”

There’s another burning question on my mind, but I’m not sure if I should push and ask, because he hasn’t brought it up yet. I feel it’s almost negligent for me not to mention it at all.

“You didn’t really mention anything after your appointment earlier today,” I say. “Did everything go well?”

I was waiting for him, like usual, but I left him to tell me what he wanted, and he preferred to listen to podcasts and talk about those rather than whatever came out during his session with Troy.

“Appointment?” he asks. “You’re saying that as though you don’t know what it was for.”

“No, I’m just—”

“Sorry. I get a little defensive about this. It went okay. He gave me another worksheet, like last week and the week before. I have my homework. Gonna need a file folder for all this stupid shit.”

He’s trying to blow it off, but I can tell this still rattles him. I only went to one session, last week. Troy says I’ll be more involved in the process as his treatment continues, but it frustrates me because all I want to do is to be there for him and help in whatever way I can.

“You don’t have to come with me every time,” Eric insists. “I know you have a job, and you can’t just leave.”

“It’s basically taking the time off my lunch break. I am hardly making time for that anyway, and I want to be there.”

“That means a lot to me, so thank you.”

“You seem kind of frustrated about the process. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I would rather get through my week and not think about it.”

I tense up because I know that not thinking about it, not dealing with it, is what made the problem stretch out. It’s the reason we’re having to deal with it the way we’re dealing with it now, but maybe today isn’t the day to push. Maybe today’s the day to give him some space.

“Speaking of which,” I say, “did you schedule that mindful yoga thing we wanted to try?”

When Troy suggested the idea, I pushed because it sounded kind of cool, and I figured it would be better than us working on it in Troy’s or Michelle’s office.

His lips curl into a smile. “I did. We have our first session next month. I’ll add it to our calendar.”

He’s referring to the shared calendar on our iPhones, which we’ve been using to keep track of his appointments and schedules. It helps make it easier for us to find time to spend together.

“The whole yoga thing is a little weird,” Eric says. “Sounds kind of cheesy and ridiculous.”

“Cheesy and ridiculous could be fun.”

“We’ll see what this nutjob shrink has to say. I’m curious what the hell it’ll be about.”

“Everything I’ve looked up online looks like it’ll be just meditating and stretching. Of course, I’ve never been the best with yoga, so don’t tease me if I’m shit.” My jokiness doesn’t ease him up the way it normally would, so I reach across the table and take his hand. “It could be fun.”

“Everything’s more fun when you’re here,” he says, shifting his hand with his palm up so that he can grip mine softly. “Speaking of things that stress me out, I’m freaking out a little bit about next Tuesday.”

“I can’t imagine what there is to freak out about for next Tuesday,” I tease. “Nope, not at all.”

“Shut up. No, just to hear that I’m finally going to be meeting your parents does feel like a certain rite of passage for us, with where we’re at in our relationship.”

I went ahead and coordinated the dinner with them, figuring we needed to deal with it sooner rather than later so it didn’t become something that loomed over Eric. He doesn’t need any more stresses in his life, especially something like meeting my parents.

“Are you nervous about where we’re at in our relationship?” I ask.

“Not about us. The timing of all this feels right. More about if your folks will like me or not. I’m not exactly the warmest person in the world.”

“You, Eric Westright? I can’t imagine that.” He chuckles. “You have a lot going for you, including a glowing reference from me.”

“Oh, a glowing reference?”

“Yeah, didn’t you see the look on my face when you first walked in?”

He looks as though he’s trying to stifle his grin but can’t.

“They’re going to love you, Eric.”

“They already think I’m a shit father for what I did to Ty.”

“They’re surprised by the situation, but they’re not the judgmental type. They want to understand. They want to be on board. So be you, and they’ll fall as in love with you as I did.”

“Say that again.”

“What? That I’m in love with you?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Eric Westright, I’m fucking in love with you.”

“I’m fucking in love with you too.”

We kiss, and Eric really is right. It does feel as though everything’s moving just right for us.