“Hey,” Noah said cautiously.
Gideon wasn’t going to waste anymore time. “I’m sorry, Noah. I’m sorry I left your wedding.”
Noah didn’t say anything for a few moments, and Gideon’s throat closed up with fear. “I wish you hadn’t run.”
“Me, too.”
“You didn’t get to watch Mom cringe when they served iceberg lettuce in the salad instead of romaine.”
It felt good to laugh.
“Noah.” This would never be easy, he realized. There would always be a lump in his throat before he told people one of the most personal parts of himself. “You were right.”
“I always am.”
“I was…I mean, I am…”
“I know, brother. I know. It’s been a long road.” Noah always put everything so well. “Have you told Mom yet?”
“No. Has she said anything to you?”
“No, she’s just worried as usual.”
“Because of what you told her,” Gideon said. “When I spoke to Mom a few days ago, she said that you said I was ‘going through some stuff.’”
That had caught him off-guard during his phone call in his hotel room, more off-guard than talking to his mom while a naked guy was in his bed. He figured that it was a screw you move from Noah for ditching his wedding.
“I had to tell her something. You bailed on my wedding! She likes to worry, and you gave her something to worry about.”
Noah had a point. Gideon picked at peeling white paint on the bench. “I’ll tell her.”
He just hoped that his admission wasn’t drowned out by the whispers.
“I know you will. I say just rip off that Band-Aid.”
Noah lived his life by ripping off Band-Aids. Acting now and thinking later.
“Thanks for being an awesome big brother, Noah.”
“I’m not that awesome. I should’ve been there for you more growing up. I was so into my own shit. I kind of imploded when Dad died. I hoped you would just follow my lead, but you went in the opposite direction.”
Maybe there was a part of Noah in Gideon, a part that made Gideon kiss Mac for the first time, the part that made him book a bus ticket and hotel room five minutes after hearing about Mac’s aunt. Noah might have been a troublemaker, avanceas their grandmother would call him in Yiddish, but he followed his heart.
“There’s nobody else who I’d want as my brother,” Gideon said.
“Just ’cause you’re gay doesn’t mean you need to get all mushy on me. I’m already bawling at the first ultrasound photo.”
Gideon remembered he was going to be an uncle. “How does he or she look?”
“Like an it. Kind of like a potato.”
“Did you tell Christina’s parents yet?” Gideon got up and began his trek back to his apartment, where Mac would be waiting. His feet were nearly floating down the street.
“We just told them. We told them and showed them the ultrasound picture at the same time, to soften the blow. Her dad gave me this look that almost made me shit my pants, but now they’re focused on the baby. So it all worked out.”
“It all worked out,” Gideon said. He hoped that saying held true when he spoke to his mom, whenever that would be.
CHAPTER twenty-five
