“It's good to see you, Michael,” Danny greeted him stiffly. He turned to me. “I didn't know you were coming over tonight.”
“Surprise,” I deadpanned. Alarm bells blared in the back of my mind. For some reason, I wasn't so sure this hadn't all been some sort of set up. And if it was, I wanted to know what game Mom was playing at. “Mom didn't tell me you'd be here, either. I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you but…”
“Yeah, I get it.”
Michael very quietly excused himself and disappeared through the front door. It was only then that I realized how fucked up this entire ambush was to him. “Shit. I'm going to go talk to him. Grab me a soda, and I'll meet you and Dad out on the back porch.”
I rushed out the door and had to jog to catch up to Michael, who was already halfway to the barn. “Michael, hold up!”
“I shouldn't have come.” The pain on his face when he spun around nearly buckled my knees. “It was stupid of me to think something like this wouldn't happen. But maybe it's for the best that it happens now, before we're both in too deep to save ourselves.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?” More than anything, I wanted to wrap my arms around Michael's torso and hug him as tight as I could while I reassured him he was making a mountain out of a molehill. But he wasn't, and we weren't in private.
I placed a hand at the small of his back, steering him toward the barn. If anyone questioned the casual touch, I'd remind them we'd been friends for over thirty years and he was, understandably, upset.
The barn door slammed shut behind us, leaving us concealed in near darkness. I pulled him against me, holding him tight as I kissed the side of his head. “I'm so sorry, babe. I don't know what in the hell she was thinking. I hope you believe I didn't know he'd be here tonight.”
Thinking back, that had been a foolish assumption on my part. Anson was out of town for the weekend and Mom had mentioned Carson had plans tonight so he couldn't make Friday dinner, but she'd never said anything about Danny. I'd (incorrectly) assumed he was going to the club with Blake tonight because why in the world would Mom have suggested I pick up Michael and Henry only to drop them right into a field of emotional landmines.
“I believe you.” He buried his face in the crook of my neck and inhaled deeply. “But seriously, maybe it's for the best. We're fooling ourselves if we think no one's going to have a problem with us being together.”
“Will it be an adjustment period? Sure. But if you give them a chance, I think you'll realize you're the only one still holding onto the past.” I hated saying it so bluntly but Michael would receive that better than me dancing around the subject. “As it stands, no one but us knows we're anything more than friends. And it's going to stay that way until both of us agree we want to come out to them. So, what do you say we head back to the house? If it'd be easier for you, you can stay in the kitchen with Mom and Henry, and I'll take care of Danny and Dad.”
“Yeah, that could work.” He didn't seem certain but he trusted me.
As we made our way back to the house, the golden glow of the setting sun painted the landscape in warm hues. The scent of lilacs wafted through the air, and the gentle evening breeze rustled the leaves. I couldn't help but notice how the tranquil beauty of this setting juxtaposed with the turmoil that had just unfolded.
My stomach growled loudly when the aroma of grilled steak hit me. I could hear Dad and Danny engaging in friendly banter on the porch, bickering about something, probably baseball. Dad was a diehard Mavericks fan and Danny had started rooting for the Chicago Bulldogs when he was little, just to be contrary. By the time he really understood the game, he'd been stubborn enough to stick with rooting for the archrivals of everyone else's favorite.
Henry proudly followed my mom around like her little duckling, and his giggles filled the room as she tickled him and praised his helpfulness. This sight eased some of the tension in Michael’s shoulders.
I took a quick peek at Michael to check that he was alright. He offered me a slight nod. I allowed my hand to drift along his spine, wishing I could steal a kiss before heading out to join the others.
“Can I help with something?” Michael offered, glancing at my mom.
She smiled warmly. “Could you open this bottle of wine and take it to the porch?”
Michael took the wine and opened it, while I slipped out the kitchen door and joined Dad and Danny on the porch. The evening air was cooler now, and the soft hum of crickets began to crescendo.
“Hey,” I said, settling into a chair next to Danny. “I’d like it if we could chat for a bit after dinner. Is that okay?”
Danny’s eyes searched mine for a moment before he nodded.
As we sat down, Mom placed a tender hand on Michael's shoulder. “We're so glad you're here,” she whispered.
Dad, still holding the wine bottle that Michael had opened, raised his glass. “To family, and to moving forward together. May we cherish these moments, and always be there for each other.”
The glasses clinked, and a chorus of “cheers” went around the table.
As we began to eat, the conversation started to flow more naturally. Henry was telling a funny story, his words tumbling out with the innocence only a child could deliver. Laughter bubbled up, and for a moment, all the tension seemed to melt away.
Michael glanced at me with a small smile. His eyes were still guarded, but they had regained some of their sparkle.
Dinner was lively, with everyone talking over each other. Henry was giggling with my mom, and even Michael seemed to relax as the night wore on. But the undercurrent was there-the unspoken history between Michael and Danny, the glances they exchanged.
As the night progressed, I could see Michael’s shoulders starting to hunch. It was subtle, but I knew him well enough to see that he was retreating into himself. I had to do something.
Later, when we were saying our goodbyes, Danny approached Michael.
