A monthafter the cabin weekend, Jasper met Emily for brunch. Bennett had been nervous about it in that quiet, controlled way of his. He’d changed shirts twice before they left.
“She’s going to like me,” Jasper had said.
“You don’t know that,” Bennett replied.
“I do,” Jasper said. “Because she loves you, and you’re happy.”
The brunch went well. Emily was warm, curious without being invasive, and had Bennett’s same dry humor without the sharp edges. She asked Jasper about his work, his family, his intentions.
“Intentions?” Jasper had echoed, amused.
“With my brother,” Emily clarified. “He’s not good at casual.”
“Neither am I,” Jasper replied, meeting her gaze steadily.
Emily smiled. “Good.”
Bennett had relaxed visibly after that, the tension in his shoulders easing as conversation flowed naturally. When they left, Emily hugged Jasper without hesitation.
“Take care of him,” she said quietly.
“We take care of each other,” Jasper replied.
Emily nodded, satisfied.
In the car afterward,Bennett was quiet for a long moment.
“That went well,” he finally said.
“It did,” Jasper agreed.
“She liked you.”
“I liked her too.”
Bennett reached over and took Jasper’s hand. “Thank you for doing that.”
“You don’t have to thank me for meeting your family,” Jasper said.
“I know,” Bennett replied. “But I want to.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
bennett
Three months into their relationship, Bennett realized something had changed. His calendar no longer felt like armor. Still full. Still precise. Still color coded. But it no longer existed to keep everything at bay.
Some things had simply been added.
Dinner with Jasper on Thursdays. Weekends that stayed open on purpose. A standing reminder on Sunday nights to do nothing at all. Jasper’s name in his emergency contacts. A drawer at Jasper’s place. Small things that added up to something bigger.
He’d told his mother last month. That conversation had been harder than Emily. More formal. More weighted.
Bennett had driven to her house on a Saturday afternoon, the kind of bright autumn day that made everything feel exposed. His mother’s garden was in full bloom, dahlias and chrysanthemums lining the walkway he’d walked a thousand times.
She’d been in the kitchen when he arrived, as she always was. Tea already steeping. Cookies on a plate he recognized from childhood.
“Bennett,” she’d said, smiling. “This is a nice surprise. You didn’t mention you were coming.”
