Lifting a shoulder, I mask my unease with boredom. “He’s protective. What brother isn’t?” I set my half-empty glass on the patio table before us. “If you’ll excuse me ...”
I walk away, thankful he doesn’t follow, and return my attention to Isaac’s speech.
“And so, that brings me to a very special announcement.” Isaac inhales, grips the mic tighter, only releasing the breath once he looks at Bridget and Vincent. “Mom. Dad. If there’s anything I’ve learned from your example as a married couple, it’s that marriage is something to take seriously. Something to safeguard. And something to commit to only when you’re ready.” His eyes travel through the crowd to land on the same ruggedly handsome face he introduced me to earlier.
Nerves twist my stomach. I knew he was going to tell Vincent and Bridget about Thomas tonight, but I assumed it’d be in private ...
“With that in mind, I’ve asked the love of my life to marry me.”
Murmurs and “awws” circulate around me.
Bridget’s jaw drops, and then, a genuine, beaming smile quickly transforms her expression from shock to pure joy. She clasps her hands together, holding them to her chest. “Oh, Isaac ... you didn’t.”
He nods. Swallows. Rakes a hand through his short brown hair. “I did. And he said yes.”
Bridget’s smile wobbles, but the rest of her remains frozen as she watches Isaac’s fiancé trot toward him with a barely contained grin. Isaac pulls him into an embrace, and they share a brief, classy kiss.
Bridget goes sheet-white. Vincent looks too stunned to flinch. But as claps erupt through the yard, a few whistles climbing above the noise, they collect themselves, putting on composed faces as they slowlyclap, clap, clap.
I shake my head in amusement. I guess going public was the way to go after all. Isaac and his fiancé are protected by his parents’ social veneer. For now, anyway.
I find Easton with his eyes on me. His eyebrows rise as he claps, and he nods toward his parents. They couldn’t look more unnatural if they tried. I chuckle, and his lips lift in a crooked smile.
Warmth slides up my chest, but the sensation doesn’t last. Once the speeches end and the crowd starts to dwindle, everything changes.
Bridget and Vincent’s fa?ades drop. Isaac’s shoulders go rigid. The evening’s cool air grows stale on my skin.
The pair of them quietly lead Isaac into the house, leaving a confused Thomas behind. Easton frowns as he tracks their movements, and soon, he’s following them, keeping enough distance to stay off their radar. My footsteps quietly fall in sync behind his.
We pass a few people lingering in the living room, and we wind up walking through the same deserted hallway Easton and I hid in earlier. Except Vincent and Bridget don’t stop. They lead Isaac farther and farther down the hall, until they push open the door to the back kitchen.
Bridget’s scolding is already piercing my ears before I sneak inside after Easton, quietly shutting the door behind us. We’re mostly hidden from view, thanks to a black partition dividing the kitchen area from the endless rows of boxes Easton’s parents have cornered Isaac near. Still, all it would take is a glance in this direction for us to be spotted.
“Is this amusing to you, Isaac? Do you find itentertainingto spring something like this on me in front of everyone?” Her cheeks are flaming, each hushed word loaded ammunition.
Isaac works his jaw, shoves his hands into his pockets. “Of course not. You were happy when I announced I was getting married.”
“Of course, I was happy.” She throws her hands up as if it’s obvious. “I pictured long hair and high cheekbones and future grandchildren, not ... not ...”
Isaac arches a brow. “A man? Mom ...” He glances from Bridget to a silent Vincent, whose back is to me and Easton. “I came out to you years ago. How can you still act so surprised?”
“Because, Isaac. Young people don’t know what they want, so they experiment—fine. But peoplegrow. People change.”
Finally, Vincent breaks his silent streak. His low, penetrating voice snaps all heads toward him. “That’s interesting, Bridget. I think you of all people know we don’t change.”
Her face pales.
“Perhaps a private announcement would have been the way to go for this, Isaac,” he says. “But your honesty is refreshing.”
What?
Isaac’s lips part. Then close. Then part. “It is?”
Easton’s expression is a blank slate. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His eyes are fixed on his father as though a tether is keeping him from looking away.
Slowly, Vincent angles his head, turning his scathing focus back to his equally stunned wife. “You, on the other hand. So vapid. Soselfish—”
“What? I ...” Bridget’s eyes widen to saucers. “How could you? I’m just looking out for our son. For his future—”
