Her eyes meet mine, steady and unflinching. “Invite him over,” she says. “It’s time he knows everything.”
Her words settle over me, heavy but certain. She’s right. If I’m serious about this—about us—then it’s time my dad knows. No more hiding. No more bullshit.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.
I open it, and there he is—Dad, standing on my front porch, looking every bit like the man I remember. Tall, clean-cut, with that permanent air of approval etched into his features. His eyes sweep over me, then past me, taking in the unfamiliar house.
“This is where you live now?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say evenly. “This is home.”
He steps inside, his gaze flicking around the room until it lands on Dylan. His brows lift in surprise, but he masks it quickly. “And you’re here,” he says, his tone neutral but loaded with unspoken questions.
Dylan doesn’t flinch. “I’m here.”
Dad looks between the four of us, confusion settling into the lines of his face. “What’s going on, Matthew?”
I take a breath, glancing at Dylan, then Ford and Jacob. Their steady presence grounds me.
“This is my life,” I say quietly. “They’re my life.”
His frown deepens. “What do you mean?”
“We’re together,” Dylan says, cutting through the awkward silence. “All of us.”
Dad stares at her, like he’s waiting for her to say it’s a joke. When she doesn’t, he turns back to me. “You’re telling me you’re... what? In some kind of... relationship with all of them?”
I nod, my jaw tight. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
He looks like he’s seen a ghost. “What the hell, Matthew?”
“This is my life,” I say again, firmer this time.
His gaze shifts back to Dylan. “Does your mother know about this?”
Dylan’s expression hardens. “No. And I don’t care if she ever does.”
Dad’s brow furrows. “You really don’t care?”
She shakes her head, and there’s a quiet finality to her words. “Not right now. Maybe not ever.” She pauses, then adds softly, “Who knows what the future holds? But for now... I’m happy without her in my life.”
I see the flicker of something in my dad’s expression—understanding, maybe. Or at least acceptance.
He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bisexual?”
“I’m not,” I reply.
“But you said–”
Dylan giggles. “I’m with Matthew, Ford, and Jacob. They’re just friends. Nothing romantic between them.”
“But while the wedding is off for now, we do still plan to get married. You’ll be step siblings. You can’t be romantically involved with your stepsister.”
“Why not? There’s no blood shared,” Ford interrupts.
“I-I-I… Alright,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m not upset, just trying to wrap my head around all this. You know I love and accept you no matter what, son, and the same goes for you now too, Dylan.”
And just like that, the tension in the room eases, if only slightly. It’s not a perfect resolution—hell, it’s barely a resolution at all. But it’s a start.
