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“Then I will. But after, okay?” He pulled back and rubbed at his eyes, and I fought the urge to ask how his vision was doing. I told myself he’d tell me if something properly changed.

With a huff, I took his hand and kissed his wrist. “Fine.”

“I’d do it now, but I don’t think the radiologist will appreciate the huge boner making that list will give me.”

I bit my lip, then pulled back. “Wait here.”

Rushing into the room, I dove into the little bag I’d packed for us and came up with what I wanted him to have. A secret piece that would mean nothing to anyone else and everything to us.

Tiago was standing in the doorway, leaning on his walking cane with one hand, holding his folded white cane in the other.

“Come here,” I told him.

He took three steps, and then I had my arms around him, hand pushing into his pocket. “Don’t take that out while you’re in mixed company.”

“Aravind,” he said, his tone warning.

I kissed him quiet. “If you want a ride, call me. But if you take a car home, I’ll be at my dad’s, okay?”

He huffed and nodded before pressing his lips to my forehead. It was a soft, unthinking, tender thing. And I wasn’t sure any past lover had ever given me a kiss there. Not once. It was always on the mouth, always deep, always seeking more.

“I love you,” he whispered to me.

I hadn’t said it back at the table, and I struggled to get the words to form on my tongue now. I felt like a bastard. Was it cruel to know that I loved him and not say it back?

Tiago didn’t seem to expect a response though. He stepped back with a soft smile on his face and rolled his shoulders. “Alright. Wish me luck.”

“What kind of luck?” I asked.

He huffed a laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve been debating about whether or not I want the universe to decide my career for me or if I want the choice.”

“Then I wish you whatever your heart really wants,” I told him. I watched as he maneuvered around me and made his way to the door. When he opened it, I saw a sleek black SUV waiting for him, and my chest ached.

This was the first time we’d be properly apart since we came together to play fake boyfriends, and now we were something. Lovers definitely. Figuring things out, of course. And somewhere in between that, falling madly in love.

Closing my eyes, I turned my face up to the sun as my foot bumped against Ferris in his raft. On the other side of the pool, Quinn was swimming laps. The aunties were having drinks under an umbrella, and Logan and Liam had gone down to the beach to try a little bodysurfing in the shallow waves.

My dad was somewhere. He’d given me a cautious look when I showed up and a hug because he never failed to hug me, but he didn’t say much as I made my way back into the house and immediately changed into my swimming trunks.

This was what I wanted. Some time with my family where I didn’t have to talk about my dad’s offer or what Tiago and I had planned for our future. But I didn’t think the peace was going to last.

“Do you like it if I call you Ara or Aravind?” Ferris spoke up, gently taking me out of my thoughts.

I lifted my head from where it was being held up by a pool noodle and peered over at him. He was floating with his ass in the center of a blow-up doughnut with wet hair and shades high up on his nose.

“I don’t really care either way,” I told him. “I don’t like being called Ara if people don’t try and pronounce my name right. You can call me whatever feels best for you.”

He nodded. “Did I make things worse last night? Sometimes thoughts pop into my head, and I say them without meaning to.”

“No.” I kicked my feet so I could float closer to him. “I appreciated you saying something. It was all a lot last night, and my dad kind of surprised me with the whole job thing. He knows I hate surprises.”

Ferris hummed and lifted his drink out of the water, taking a long pull from his straw. “My parents can be like that too. Like the wedding. Sometimes I think I want to cry because there will be so many people, and it’s going to be loud. A lot of music and dancing—I hate dancing. And my fraternity brothers all want to come. My mom’s inviting them because she helped take care of them when we lived together.” He dragged his fingers through the water, then lifted them up and watched the water fall back into the pool. “Sometimes it feels like I’m not allowed to say no.”

“I know what you mean. There’s that fine line between wanting to set boundaries and respecting tradition.”

“My dad always defaults to what my mom wants,” Ferris said. “Because sometimes I think he feels like he robbed her of her culture. He said it to me a few times when he thought I hated him because I was so different.”

“Was it hard in a house like that? With siblings and a parent who are so different from you?” I grew up with parents from opposing backgrounds, but they had so much shared culture, and I never looked around and wondered if I belonged. I didn’t look different than they did.