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“Yeah, I suppose she is.”
Tate, the emotional hound dog, leans in with his eyebrows furled together. “I’m sensing a but. Or maybe some hesitation on your part still. There’s more you haven’t told me, right?”
The last thing I want to do is go into the drama of all that.
“This thing between us,” I say with a huff, “isn’t ideal. It’s kind of fucked up, really. Our parents can’t know.”
As soon as I blurt the last part out, I wish I could reel it back in.
“She’s not eighteen?”
“No, she is,” I grunt. “It’s other stuff.”
“Hmm.” Tate studies me long enough for me to fidget in my seat. “Other stuff you don’t want to tell me about?”
“Not really.”
“Two,” he says slowly, “are you sure you’re not making it out to be a bigger deal than it is? This other ‘stuff’?” He reaches over and touches my arm. “Imagine, just for a moment, the worst-case scenario. You introduce her to your dads. What does that look like for you?”
I close my eyes and imagine me and Gemma kissing in my car. Then I see myself holding her hand as I bring her onto the porch. Dad greets us at the door, thrilled that I’ve actually brought home a girl. Pops is waggling his brows at me from behind him, letting me know she’s cute and I did well. I’m proud to have her beside me.
Until I introduce her.
Gemma Park.
The Gemma they almost had from their past.
My twisting gut has my eyes popping back open. “They’ll be hurt. I can’t bear seeing pain in their eyes. It’s too much.”
“Okay,” Tate says in a soothing voice. “It’s okay. We’ll explore this some more Wednesday if you’d like. Maybe we can figure something out that doesn’t hurt the ones you love.”
Ideally, I should just break contact with Gemma and put this whole thing behind me. But I don’t want to do that. I actually like kissing her and talking to her and spending time with her. That’s what makes this all so fucking stressful.
“Think about it,” he urges. “I think exploring this and working it out is important for your happiness. Holding it all in and keeping it a secret is going to become a heavy burden causing strain on your mental well-being.”
He has one thing right.
I’m feeling the strain and it sucks.
“Which do you prefer?” Dad asks, showing me two different wallpaper samples. “Understated or bold?”
I bounce my gaze between the two samples and then hand him the bold, geometric gold pattern on black. “I like this one.”
Dad grins. “Me too. I was hoping you’d say that. Your father, on the other hand, is going to be miffed. If we go with this design, then I’m going to have him replace their tub because it’s black and clashes with the matte color of the wallpaper.”
“Where is Pops?”
“He’s out doing a bid. We were thinking of grabbing Chinese later and watching movies on Netflix. You joining us?” He clasps his hands and places them under his chin before batting his lashes at me. “Please, please, please, please.”
I smirk at him. “Your theatrics don’t work on me. Plus, I have project stuff to get to this afternoon.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, “but we’ll find time to sit down as a family again here soon. Being busy is understandable. However, we both miss you. Make some time for your dads.”
“I will,” I promise and mean it. “So what did you need me to stop by the shop for?”
Dad’s playful nature fades and he narrows his eyes, watching me for any tells. “How are you liking Tate? He won’t tell me anything other than the fact you make your scheduled appointments.”
I stifle a sigh of relief. “I like him. A lot. He’s easy to talk to.”
