I cannot believe I'm having it while Gio is literally hidden behind a sliding wooden door with my winter coats and my suitcase.
"Mom," I say, "can we…not?" She raises an eyebrow. "But I'm not judging," she says gently. "I just want to know if you're okay."
I want the floor to open and swallow me whole.
"So?" she asks, eyes twinkling now. "How was it?"
I almost cry. I laugh. Someone please shoot me in the head. A sharp, stupid, disbelieving sound comes out of me. I pull off my glasses and rub my face like I can squeeze the moment out of existence.
"It was...fine," I mutter. My voice is weird. I am glowing red.
She tilts her head. "You've been so happy lately. Is there any chance that maybe…you actually love him? I'm not judging, I love him too, you already know th—"
"Oh my GOD, mom." I jump up from the chair. I grab her gently but firmly by the arm.
"Okay, okay, no. Enough. I love you. I really do. But I can't." I start guiding her toward the door. "Not now. Not here. Please. We will talk about this later, I promise."
She laughs. "I'm not judging, Rava!"
"I know, and that's worse somehow—"
"You can tell me—"
"Later, okay? I swear. Just—please go."
I open the door. She walks out slowly, smiling like she's just won something. "I love you too," she says before I shut the door. The moment it clicks shut, I press my forehead against it. I stay there. Completely and utterly ruined. I lean against it for a second. Then I turn. Slowly.
The closet is still shut. I walk to it, embarrassed as fuck. I open it. He is still there. Sitting down, back against the inside wall, one arm draped lazily over his knee, the other tapping slow circles against his thigh.
His eyes lock on me the second the door opens. I can’t even look at him right now. I'm still trying to recover from the fact that I had a literal sex talk with my mother while he was hiding in the closet and then she basically said, "you're glowing, sweetie, keep fucking with him."
I might never emotionally recover.
"So..." His voice is silk dipped in sarcasm. "How long have you been in love with me?"
I want to die. Right there. Collapse.
Bury myself in the floorboards. "Please don't."
I rub my temples. "Just—don't do this."
"Do what?"
He stretches a little, still in the closet, knees drawn up.
"Ask valid follow-up questions? Try to process the fact that I just listened to your mother have a very heartfelt conversation about your bisexual crisis while my ass was jammed between your winter coats?"
I shut my eyes. "God."
"I mean, she was sweet. Really. Supportive. Almost made me tear up. I always knew she was a real one." I drop onto the bed, red all over. He stays where he is. Still sitting inside the damn closet. "And the'it was fine'part?" he continues.
"Rava. Baby. You're breaking my heart."
I groan into my palms. "Can we please pretend that never happened?"
"Nope." He grins. "That one's staying with me. Maybe I'll get it tattooed on me. 'It was fine'—right over my heart."
"You're a demon."
