Nixon, quieter as always, offered Frank a genuine smile from his seat. “It’s good to see Angie happy. She deserves it.”
“She does,” Lincoln agreed, and when he looked at Mom, there was no trace of awkwardness—just the kind of warmth that came from wanting good things for people you cared about. “Patrick would’ve wanted that for you, Angie. You know he would.”
Mom’s eyes went bright, but she blinked it back. “I know. It took me a while to believe it, and I still sometimes think it’s too soon, but I know you’re right.”
The evening stretched into conversation and coffee. Lincoln told stories about my dad I’d never heard, and Nixon listened with the patience of someone who understood that grief and love lived in the same house. Frank listened too, asking the right questions, laughing at the right moments, his hand occasionally finding Mom’s on the table.
Lincoln and Nixon left late, more hugs at the door and promises to keep in touch. I stayed up with Mom after Frank went home, the two of us sitting at her kitchen table drinking tea while I tried to explain what it meant that someone like David Holloway wanted to invest in my work.
“Your father would be so proud,” she said, echoing Lincoln’s words, and this time, I believed her.
The drive homefelt shorter than it should have—I’d left Mom’s place after breakfast, the two of us lingering over coffee and leftover pie while the morning light turned the kitchen gold. She’d hugged me at the door for a long time, and when she pulled back, her eyes were dry, but her smile was genuine.
“Call me more,” she’d said. “And bring Seth to visit when you’re ready. I want to meet this boy who makes you light up like the sun.”
The words echoed in my head as I unlocked our apartment door, as I set down my bag and looked around the space that had become ours over the past few months. Evidence of Seth was everywhere—his coffee mug in the sink, his jacket draped over the back of the couch, the textbook he’d been reading still facedown on the end table. The sight of his things made something in my chest unclench.
I checked my phone. His flight was supposed to land around four. I had hours to kill.
I spent them cleaning. Not because the apartment needed it, but because I needed to do something with my hands while my brain ran in circles. The conversation with Mom had cracked something open—all that talk about choosing love despite fear, about reaching for connection instead of running from it. I’d meant what I’d texted him. We would talk. We’d figure out whatever had gone wrong between us before we left.
By the time I heard his key in the lock, I’d reorganized the kitchen cabinets, scrubbed the bathroom floor, and run out of things to distract myself with.
The door opened. Seth stepped through, and for a moment we just stood there looking at each other.
Something was wrong.
He looked exhausted—not the regular kind that came from travel, but something deeper. The dark circles under his eyes had weight. His shoulders curved inward like he was bracing against impact. When his gaze met mine, there was a flatness there I’d never seen before.
18
SETH
The flight home was delayed.
I sat in the terminal for three hours, watching families reunite and separate, couples kiss goodbye, and business travelers stare at laptops with dead eyes. My phone stayed silent. Tanner hadn’t texted since yesterday. I’d started and deleted five messages, never finding the right words.
What I wanted to say:I’m sorry. For not being brave enough. For making you feel like you’re someone I hide instead of someone I’m proud of.
What I couldn’t say:I’m terrified that if I lose them, I’ll have nothing left. Even though having them means having nothing real.
When they finally called boarding, I was one of the first in line. Found my seat, shoved my bag in the overhead, and turned my phone to Airplane Mode before the urge to text Tanner became unbearable.
Somewhere over Georgia, I admitted the truth to myself: I’d failed. Failed to be honest, failed to stand up for what I wanted,failed to prove I was anything more than the disappointment my father already thought I was.
And the worst part was knowing that Tanner deserved better. Deserved someone who could choose him without hesitation, who wouldn’t spend four days performing straight for parents who’d never approve anyway.
I thought about the messages he’d sent.I told her about you.Four words that represented more courage than I’d managed in twenty-two years.
By the time we landed, I’d made a decision.
I’d tell him everything. The conversation with my father, my mother’s careful avoidance, my sister’s perfect life held up as the standard I’d never meet. I’d tell him I was sorry for not being braver, for making him feel like a secret instead of the best thing that had happened to me in years.
And if he decided it wasn’t enough, if he needed someone who could stand up to their family the way he had—well. I’d understand that too.
The terminal was crowded, everyone rushing toward baggage claim or rideshares or people waiting to pick them up. I pushed through the crowd, phone already out, pulling up Tanner’s contact.
Before I could type, a message appeared.
