I wince. I should probably be the one doing the introductions. Not that I mind Gabe taking charge. In fact, it’s nice that he is.
Dad accepts his hand. “Sean.”
“It’s good to meet you.” Gabe’s voice is warm and genuine.
“Finally,” Mum says as she shakes his hand. “Call me Katherine.” She looks over my head to Calvin. “And you must be…?”
“Calvin.” He shakes first Mum’s, then Dad’s hand. “Let me take those from you.” He takes both bottles of wine. “We’re a shoes-off home, I’m afraid.” He gestures towards the shoe rack to the right of the front door.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Dad says, toeing off his shoes and stowing them on the rack neatly beside my boots.
Calvin puts the white wine in the fridge before uncorking the red and leaving it on the kitchen counter to breathe. Once he’s done, he comes back to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. I realise how tense my muscles are as he gently kneads them. I envy Gabe because he gets to return to the kitchen to carry on cooking. He’ll be able to hear every word we say and chip in if he wants to, but it will be equally easy for him to remain quiet.
I’m not sure if I’m meant to offer to show my parents around or whether I should suggest we go and sit down. To be fair, they can see the whole downstairs in one go.
“This is nice,” Mum says, looking around the open-plan space.
“Looks expensive,” Dad muses.
“No more than we can afford.” Calvin kisses my cheek. “And Blake’s done a great job of unpacking everything over the last few days.”
“While you and Gabe are at work?” Mum queries.
“Around his modelling gigs,” Calvin replies, his voice a little tighter than before.
He gives me a reassuring smile when I glance at him over my shoulder. I know I should be standing up for myself, but it really is easier to let him do all the talking.
Would you like a tour?” Calvin asks.
“Please,” Dad replies.
Calvin takes hold of my hand. I follow him like a little lost sheep while he shows my parents around. The tour doesn’t take long, and Mum and Dad don’t say anything as they cast their gaze over every inch of the apartment. I’ve hidden away all of Gabe’s ropes and the blindfolds, so there’s nothing lying around I wouldn’t want them to see. I’m home more than Gabe and Calvin, so I made it my mission to turn the apartment into a home.
“What is it you do?” Dad asks Calvin as we sit in the lounge, me and Sir on the sofa, Mum and Dad in armchairs.
Calvin’s arm is looped around my shoulders, and I cuddle up to him, resting my hand on his knee. Being close to him is comforting. I keep glancing across at Gabe too, wishing he was sitting with us rather than on the other side of the apartment. Food smells great. Hopefully, it’ll be ready soon.
“I’m a photographer,” Calvin replies. “I’ve got my own studio in London. I mostly do boudoir shoots, but I also do headshots and fashion photography on the side.”
I can’t tell whether my parents are impressed or not.
“That’s how Blake and I met. I took some photos of him for a clothing company.”
“And you, Gabe?” Dad asks, not responding in any way to Calvin’s comment.
“I’m a welder.”
Again, my parents don’t comment at all. I press closer to Calvin as the weight of my parents’ judgement weighs heavily upon me, like it always does. They don’t even have to express an opinion to show their disapproval. Being down on me is one thing, but I hate that they don’t seem impressed by the men I adore.
“Blake tells us you're both accountants,” Calvin says, breaking the awkward silence.
Small talk is the worst. I wonder if it was this uncomfortable when Archie introduced Hamish to Mum and Dad for the first time.
“Yes, we both work in central London,” Dad says.
“Blake, would you set the table, please?” Gabe asks.
I’m glad to be given something to do. I wipe my clammy palms over my jeans and then get up. We bought a table that can extend to seat six people, although it makes the gap between it and the stairs quite small when it’s that size.
