“Well, I’m gay,” I said.
She dismissed me. “Tsh, as if that makes a difference. Men can marry men these days. I’ve been trying to find Atlas a husband, but he fights me every step of the way.”
Hugh took a small bite of the cake, probably feeling the same pain I was, but he wore it better. “I’m not married either. I just haven’t found the right person. My father gets on me about marriage and family as well.”
Elena nodded as she took a sip of her coffee. “Family is everything. When you have no one, you will always have family. It needs to grow, thrive, and be protected at all costs.”
“Mama,” Atlas said again, more gently. “Not everyone wants marriage and kids.”
“I suppose, but I don’t understand it.”
“Maybe one day,” I said with a smile to appease her.
“I bet Atlas wouldloveto have a lot of husbands,” Athan teased and winked.
‘Shut up,’ Atlas mouthed back.
His parents must not have heard since they were engrossed in their own conversation.
After dessert, I wanted to curl up into a fetal position and cry, but Atlas didn’t let us rest or cry. He dragged us upstairs to show us his childhood bedroom.
It was a small space, but filled to the brim with stuff, from books to décor to photographs, and furniture. There were stuffed toys on the bed and a rainbow pillow. The vanity dresser had a jewelry box sitting in the middle. And the walls had several pieces of art.
Did Atlas paint those?
I knew he was a painter, but he’d never shown us his work before, and I stupidly didn’t ask when I should have. If we were trying for something long-term, we should know all aspects of each other’s lives.
I stood in front of one painting. It was mostly white, but in the center was a watercolor of two men kissing. The colors were bright and vibrant, and the two men were emotive. You could feel what they were painted to express. It was beautiful and touching.
“Did you paint these, Atlas?”
“Yep. My mom hung them up here. She likes them more than I do. I’ve always wanted to be a painter, but I just don’t think I’m good enough. I haven’t found my… I don’t know, my style, I suppose. Everything I do seems like an experiment, you know? Nothing seems to stick.”
Hugh stood next to me to inspect the painting. “This is stunning, Atlas. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I looked back at Atlas, who shrugged and picked up his jewelry box. He opened the lid, and long fingers sorted through the items inside before pulling out a pair of vintage earrings with black-and-white gemstones. I doubted they were expensive. He dropped them into his jeans’ pocket.
“I forgot I had these.”
Feeling ill, I sat and lay back on Atlas’s bed. It was a bit lumpy, but I was spoiled with my expensive memory foam mattress.
“I think I’m going to die.”
Atlas giggled and climbed into bed. He hovered and leaned down to kiss me, then he fell in next to me. I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him close.
“I’ve been dying to kiss you both all night,” he said.
The three of us couldn’t fit into Atlas’s tiny bed, but instead of just kissing him, Hugh dropped his body on top of ours.
“Oof!” I complained, but honestly, he felt right being on Atlas and me. “I’m full, man!”
Hugh laughed. “Suck it up, buttercup. I’m full, too.”
I had to admit that I liked this playful side of Hugh. It was something I hadn’t seen in years.
As much as I wanted to ruffle his hair in response, I kept my hands to myself. Meanwhile, Atlas wrapped his arms around Hugh’s neck and pulled him down tighter over us.
“Oof,” I whined again.
