Our whole family was sitting at the round table in a shy, exclusive corner tucked away in the Thai fusion restaurant. I was sitting proudly with Evan by my side; nothing filled me with greater joy.

I wished I had time to channel this joy into more artwork, but that could be paused for now. What mattered was spending quality time with Evan and my family.

I could only hope that my dad wouldn’t say anything to ruin this perfect evening.

The waiter came by and offered us drinks. A creature of habit, I ordered an old fashioned.

“Do you want anything sir?” the waiter asked Evan.

Evan glanced at me, and I wondered if he felt odd being served. Just a few weeks ago he was a server himself. I put my hand on his knee to comfort him.

“Yes please, I’d like a…” He glanced at me again. “Whiskey sour?”

I nodded the slightest of nods for encouragement, wondering why he was being so weird.

“Whiskey sour.” He confirmed.

Then it dawned on me. Evan had just turned twenty-one; he wasn’t used to ordering drinks at restaurants. He probably didn’t go to restaurants because he was so broke.

The rest of the family ordered; Katie with her traditional strawberry daiquiri, my mom with a margarita, and my dad with a craft beer.

Conversation ensued without a hitch, and there was lots of laughter and we all had a good time. Then midway through the night, right before we got our food, my dad decided to open a can of worms.

He sized me up, leaning back with his arm around mom, and holding his second beer in his hand. “So son, how is art school?” He asked, a subtle bite to his words.

I knew no one else at the table would catch that; I knew I was in this alone. Mom and Katie were carrying on a jovial conversation across the table. Evan was watching them, getting involved in their chatter and oblivious to the subtle jab my father had just given to me.

I sipped my cocktail, knowing that if he was allowed to go down this path, it would be a long night. I didn’t want to show Evan that side of us. Not yet. Not when he was feeling so at home here.

“Oh it’s great, I’m really happy there.” I said, my throat tight. No matter how old I got, I still got nervous under his gaze like that.

“What kind of art projects do you do?” He asked.

I knew exactly what he meant. He was referring when I talked about switching my major from business to art. Back when crushed that, saying, “What, you gonna play with your crayons and draw stick figures and get paid peanuts? Be a starving artist then!”

No one knew about that moment except me and him. I had never told anyone. Never in my life did I feel so… rejected.

I startled as I felt Evan’s hand on my knee. He was acting like he was paying attention to Mom and Katie, but he was really tuned in to our conversation!

I suddenly felt like I could do anything.

Looking my father dead in the eye, I said, “It makes me happy.”

On the surface, it looked like we had a normal conversation. But underneath, in those rip currents, there was blackwater dragging me out to sea.

Somehow, Evan understood what I was going through. He was there for me.

My father turned his attention to Katie and Mom’s conversation. I squeezed Evan’s hand under the table.

Three days at home in Aspen flew by with Evan by my side, and without further incident from my father. Evan hadn’t asked about it or tried to pry; he was only supportive.

Add that to the list of the many reasons why I loved him.

We held hands walking down the street in downtown Aspen, and we were both bundled up in high-fashion mens clothing. I felt like I was walking next to a fashion model. We went shopping and I bought him everything he thought was cute, or that drew his eye. Including a highly fashionable, extremely cozy new winter coat.

I knew that his old camouflage one made him feel insecure. It was a constant reminder of where he came from.

The money didn’t make any difference to me, and it made him ridiculously happy.

For some reason, being with Evan made the sun shine brighter, the winter a little less cold, and laughter bubbled up more easily from my stomach. Before, making me laugh had required a perfect chemical cocktail of cynicism and dark humor. But with Evan, the laughter flowed freely out from me and into the world.

Being with him was just easy. It was easy and fun. I wanted to love him, to cherish him, to make his dreams come true.

I had never felt this way about anyone else.

A few days into our trip, I wanted to introduce him to all my friends from back home. So I scheduled a brunch with them near the ski resort, with an enclosed balcony with a view of the mountains.

When we sat down at the table, Evan was looking around wide-eyed for a moment. I wondered if he felt uncomfortable. Then in a flash it was gone. We sat down together at the small table, like we were a team. Like we were more than a team.

I gently grabbed his hand and looked into his steely gray/blue eyes, getting lost in them. In the cool light reflecting off the mountains, they almost looked purple.

“SAM!” Cried an all-too-familiar voice from across the room.

I looked over to see my first friend Karen bustling over in her short-person, hurried way.

“Karen!” I cried, and got up from my chair, nearly tipping it backwards with my eagerness to see her. Wrapping my arms around her, I gave her a huge hug. It was still there; that familiarity, that warmth.

“Karen, I’d like you to meet—“

“EVAN!” She squealed, and practically jumped over me to hug Evan, who was rising out of his chair.

Once we all got settled down, we were all smiling and joking around.

“Who else did you invite?” She asked me, putting her elbow on the table and leaning her head into it. She was probably the most friendly person I’d ever met.

“Steven and Michelle.” I said, gesturing to the two empty chairs.

Speak of the devil, the two familiar faces emerged from inside the restaurant, led by a hostess, and making their way to our private little room. We were all catching up and having a great time. I loved watching Evan tell stories the way he did; he charmed and captivated them all.

I was in awe of this man; he had absolutely no problem talking to strangers, capturing their interest, and making everyone feel special and important somehow. We were all having a jolly good time, drinking mimosas in the morning sunlight and basking in the glory of the mountainous view. Evan looked so handsome in his turtleneck sweater. I had to contain myself, thinking of ripping it off of him right then and there.

I had to keep remembering that the point of this was to introduce Evan to my friends, and see what they all thought of him, and make Evan feel included. I wanted to show him off.

We were all laughing, sipping our drinks, sharing updates in our lives, and then Evan said, “Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” He got up from his chair, squeezed my hand briefly and shuffled away.

Then, Michelle took a swig of her mimosa, set it down on the table, and I knew she was about to dish some juicy gossip. She put both of her elbows on the table, palms down.

I couldn’t wait to hear it.

“So,” she said in her low voice, “Have you heard from Kyle lately?”

The smile ran away from my face immediately. I hadn’t thought about Kyle since I was back in Aspen, actually, and Michelle just had to bring it up.

“I haven’t,” I said curtly.

The expressions on Steven’s and Karen’s faces shifted. I could tell that they had been wondering the same thing.

The drama with me and Kyle had poisoned me and my life, and left me devastated. It leaked into my friendships too as I leaned on them for support. There was a two week period after we broke up where I came back here to Aspen and did nothing. I was on the couch for days, not eating, not sleeping. It was my darkest time.

Why did she have to remind me of that, fish that out from where I’d tried to submerge it in the backwaters of my mind?

“I was just asking…” She said, her face falling.

I took another sip of my mimosa. “I haven’t heard from him recently, no, and I don’t ever intend to again.”

Michelle shared a concerning look with Karen. “Should we tell him?” Michelle asked.

“Michelle—!” Karen started.

“He’s got to know! Someone has to tell him!”

“You just love drama…” Steven chimed in.

“No you guys!” Michelle held her arms out, exasperated, “If we don’t tell him, he’s going to find out from somebody else that he doesn’t know.”

“Why?” Steven said melodramatically.

“Okay, just fucking do it.” Karen said, resigned.

Michelle turned her intense stare to me. “Kyle is in town right now. He’s staying with Steven.”

Steven looked away guiltily, not meeting my eyes. I was gripping the champagne flute so hard that it burst, shattering and spilling the remainder of my mimosa on the tablecloth. I checked my hand to see if it was bleeding, and a bright ruby red bead of blood was oozing out, following the lines in my palm in a cryptic pattern.

“Oh my God, Sam, your hand!” Karen exclaimed, “I’ll go find a bandaid!”

“He wants to see you.” Michelle continued, completely oblivious to the emotional barrage she was putting me through. “Are you open to seeing him?” She asked.

I was silent. A few seconds passed.

Steven looked like he wished he could evaporate from that chair and cease to exist.

Then suddenly, Evan was behind me. He put his warm hand on my shoulder again and said, “What did I miss?” He asked, leaning over me. Then his eyes fell to my bleeding hand.

“Oh my God Sam, what happened?!?”

“Nothing,” I said, making eye contact with Michelle that told her to shut the hell up. “It’s nothing, babe. Just a scratch.”

“I don’t know what her problem is!!!” Karen texted me after brunch was over and me and Evan were exploring more of downtown Aspen.

I waited, eyeing my phone as I walked, watching her three dots shimmer on my screen. I’d known Karen long enough to know exactly what she was doing right now: She was whipping herself into a frenzy. Before she could say anything else, I tried to mitigate the situation by typing back, “She probably sees this as smoothing things over.”

Evan looked at me inquisitively as I tapped “send” with my bandaged finger.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Just some friend drama, that’s all.” I said with a smile and linking my arm with his as we walked down the street.

Again, touching him felt so magical that it was like all of my worries were literally melting away.

“I hope not about me…” He trailed off, his fuzzy dark blonde eyebrows coming together. “Was it about me?”

“No, no.” I assured, “They loved you!”

I didn’t want to cause Evan to worry any more, so I made the conscious decision to put that conversation with Michelle on hold for the rest of the day. I was going to spend it with Evan, and then later at night when I was alone I’d rifle through this emotional baggage that it clearly stirred up.

And just like that, it was buried.