“I know.” My voice came out small.
“Sweetie, I don’t want to rain on your parade. He sounds wonderful. But you need to be realistic. At his age, he’s probably done with that phase of his life.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Maybe.”
“Oh, honey, don’t cry. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. With him.” But even as I said it, doubt crept in.
“For now. But what about in five years? Ten? When you want a family and he doesn’t?”
I wiped my eyes. “I should go, Mom. I need sleep if I have to get up early again for work tomorrow.”
“Pascal…”
“I’ll call you later in the week, okay? Love you.”
I hung up before she could say more, but the damage was done. All my carefully suppressed doubts came rushing back.
I’d always wanted a family. Even as a kid, I’d wanted to be a dad someday. The fact that I was gay hadn’t changed that dream. If anything, it had made me more determined. There were ways, after all. Adoption, surrogacy, fostering…
But Stanton was forty-eight. Would he want to start a family at his age? He’d probably already accepted he wouldn’t have kids. And even if by some miracle he did want them, he’d be in his sixties when they graduated from high school.
God, what was I doing? This thing between us was moving so fast, and I was already in so deep. Every time he smiled at me, my heart did backflips. When he kissed me, the world disappeared. And the sex…
No. I couldn’t think about that right now. I needed to be rational about this.
The truth was, I was falling hard for Stanton. Maybe I was already in love with him. But if we wanted different things…
It played through my head as I changed into my pajamas and got ready for bed. I’d never felt about anyone the way I felt about Stanton. He made me feel…everything. Joy, passion, happiness—all in levels that were new to me.
But was it enough? Was it worth giving up my dream of being a dad? What if I regretted it down the line? What if ten years from now, I woke up and realized it was too late, that I had missed my chance at having a family?
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I curled up in my bed. I needed to end this before I fell any deeper. Before it would hurt even more.
Tomorrow. I’d talk to him tomorrow after Safe Space. I didn’t want to face the teens right after, so I couldn’t do it before. Plus, we’d have time to talk and wouldn’t be under the time pressure of the teens arriving soon.
It was for the best, I told myself as I cried into my pillow. Better to end it now before I fell even deeper in love with him.
But if that was true, why did it hurt so much?
8
STANTON
Something was off with Pascal.
We were setting up the room for Safe Space, but he wasn’t himself. The usual spring in his step was missing, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. When I’d tried to kiss him hello, he’d turned his face at the last second, so my lips landed on his cheek instead. That had never happened before.
His movements were mechanical as he arranged the chairs, none of his usual fussing over getting them exactly right. When I asked if he wanted coffee—our usual pre-meeting ritual—he’d declined with a barely audible “No, thanks.” Even his clothes seemed subdued, just plain black slacks and a gray sweater instead of his usual colorful outfits.
I kept catching him looking at me with an expression that made my chest ache. Like he was trying to memorize my face or maybe steel himself for something. Whatever was going on in that beautiful head of his, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it. Had I said or done something wrong? Had something happened?
But before I could corner him and ask what was wrong, the first teens started arriving.
The evening felt off-kilter. Pascal went through the motions, but his usual warmth was muted. The teens noticed too. I caught Violet and Byron exchanging worried glances, and even Gabe seemed concerned.
“Today’s topic isFamily,” Pascal announced, his voice lacking enthusiasm. “We’ll talk about different types of families and what family means to us. Who wants to start?”
