Am I doing enough? Or is there something more I could give him, something that would quiet that fear for good?
Actually… I think there is.
“We’ll have plenty of time to eat,” I tell him. “But maybe . . . you’ll come to the cake shop with me? Meet my dad?”
His eyes widen, his muscles tense, and his expression becomes uncertain. “You... you want me to meet your dad?” he asks softly. I nod. “How old is your dad?”
“Fifty-three. Why?”
For reasons unknown to me, he looks a little relieved about my answer. Maybe it was because he thought my dad wouldn’t be much older than him? I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I’m mainly curious to hear his response. More than anything, this should convince him I’m here for the long haul.
“Okay,” Cody says, looking deep into my eyes. “I’ll meet him.”
I swallow. “I feel I should tell you, it’s not going to be easy.Mon père peut être difficile.”
“How is your dad difficult?”
“He’s not always...sympathique. You know, kind.” I reply, hoping Cody won’t change his mind. “When I was fourteen, he forced me to move away from home with him without caring what I wanted. Ever since we left, I’ve missed France, but he never listened. He still doesn’t. All that matters to him is the cake shop. He was in love once, but nowadays, work is all he cares about. I’m hoping that will change once I introduce him to you.”
Cody nods. “Alright. I’ll be there for you.”
I smile at him. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind about that.
***
After brunch, Cody and I walk together, hand in hand, to the cake shop. Given the hour, I’m sure my father will be there, which is both a comforting and unsettling thought. Honestly, I have no idea how he’ll respond to me introducing my English-speaking, thirty-six-year-old boyfriend to him. My dad’s not homophobic, but I think he’d sooner expect me to bring home a cute local around my age, someone like Maxime, Xavier, or Jean. But Maxime and I don’t like each other that way, Jean has a girlfriend, and Xavier isn’t my type... whereas Cody very much is. Who would have thought?
Everything about him makes me want him more. the way he looks and the things he does. I plan to show my dad just how much he means to me, no matter what it takes.
We enter the shop together, and at first sight, everything’s the same: the “open” sign hangs from the door, my dad’s standing behind the counter wearing his apron, the bell above the door rings softly when we enter... it’s all very normal. But Cody and I are entering the store together, which is one of the things that makes this entirely different. This is far from an ordinary start to my shift; I’m not even here to work. No, this is for something much more important.
“C’est qui?” my dad asks when he sees us. He’s looking between me and Cody, asking me who he is.
I take a deep breath before answering him. This is it, another significant moment in my life. My answer must be the right one, or my dad won’t take me seriously. “Mon partenaire, Cody,” I reply, my muscles tense. “Je suis amoureux, papa.”
Suddenly, the room goes dead silent. Based on how quickly Cody turns his head to look at me, I know he understands what I said. His eyes widen, and it’s no question why: I just introduced him as my partner and told my dad I’m in love with him. Seeing as this is the first time I’ve mentioned anything about love, it’s no wonder he’s surprised.
I meant for it to reassure him, to prove my commitment, but instead of softening, his gaze is caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. On top of that, my father doesn’t look convinced either.
After a few long seconds, my dad exhales, a humorless chuckle slipping out. “Amoureux?” The way he says it is cold.
“Yes,” I switch to English. “Cody’s from Canada, and I’m in love with him.”
My father raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Luc, be serious,” he replies in French. “You’ve never spoken of him before, and now suddenly you claim to love this man? And he doesn’t even speak French?”
My jaw tightens. “Speak English, please.”
“As you wish.” His tone is sharp. “Luc, you don’t know what love is. And this man you call your ‘partner’... he looks older than the people you usually surround yourself with. So tell me, what is this really? Are you trying to provoke me?”
The words sting more than I want to admit, even though part of me expected them. Much too quickly after my fantastic night and morning, the warm feelings I had are slipping away.
“I’m not provoking you,” I insist, my voice low but firm. “It’s love, Dad. I just told you.”
He studies me, then shakes his head. “We’ll see. For now, put your apron on. And if your... guest isn’t buying anything, he should leave.”
Heat rises to my face. Maybe he’s in one of his moods, but that doesn’t excuse him from brushing me off like I’m a child.
Clinging to my anger for courage, I grind my teeth and plant my feet more firmly on the floor. My hand reaches out for Cody’s, gripping it tightly. His hold back is weak and hesitant, but at least he doesn’t pull away.
