“I’m honored that you picked me to come out to first,” Connorsaid. “And I won’t tell another soul until you tell me otherwise.”
Max breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
He’d come out in his own time. Now that he’d said it out loud, thewhole idea was so damnedexciting.
He felt more like himself already. More like he was becoming theperson he was meant to be.
All thanks to Connor, and his kindness and patience.
… and his great ass, but Max wasn’t sure that part was supposed togo in the list of things he was grateful for.
“I mean, I figure you kinda knew anyway, but…”
“I wouldn’t have assumed anything until you told me yourself.Maybe you would have picked a different label, maybe you wouldn’t have wantedone at all, maybe… maybe the last few weeks have been a weird blip in anotherwise totally straight existence.”
“No,” Max said, shaking his head. “No, it’s not… it’s notjustyou. I didn’t see it before, I guess because I was too young and stupid toreally know how I felt, but… it’s not just you. And I’ve spent a long time notquite being able to put my finger on what made me feel weird. Different,y’know? Even if all my friends are gay.”
“None of your friends are quite like you,” Connor said. “They’regood people, but… they’ve had different lives, and they’re at different stages.I don’t think it’s unusual that you didn’t figure it out sooner.”
Max blinked at him.
“Sorry,” Connor said. “I’ve… been thinking about you a lot.”
He smiled a warm, kind smile that made Max blush.
“Well, anyway… there it is, and I just wanted you to know.”
“I sincerely appreciate that,” Connor said, unpacking the last fewcontainers and spreading everything out between them.
“Are you expecting, like, fifteen more people?” Max asked.“Because this is a lot of food.”
“At the risk of sounding like my grandma, you don’t eat enough. Iwanted to make sure there was plenty.”
Max wet his lips, shifting to sit down with his back against thetree beside Connor. It was more than wide enough for both of them to leanagainst it, with most of their picnic between them.
Max grabbed a crusty roll stuffed with filling, peering at it inan attempt to identify the ingredients.
“It’s roast chicken, and stuffing, and an apple slaw,” Connorsaid. “But I didn’t roast the chicken myself. It came that way from thesupermarket.”
Max chuckled. “You could have told me you roasted it yourself. Iwould’ve believed you.”
“I’d never lie to you,” Connor said softly. “Not even about roastchicken.”
Max hesitated, looking over at Connor. He didn’t know how torespond to that, but he knew it was important.
“Thank you,” he said eventually. It didn’t seem like enough, andhe had so much to thank Connor for, but he barely knew where to start.
He focused on his sandwich instead, taking a generous bite andmaking a soft, happy noise as all the flavors hit him. Connor might not haveroasted the chicken, but he sure as hell knew his way around a sandwich.
He seemed to know his way aroundallthe nice things inlife. Clothes, food, home decor… all the things Max had never really had timefor.
It was nice to have that shared with him. Aside from the weddingitself, Connor had done alotfor Max in the process of planning it.
He’d never forget that.
“That sounded like approval,” Connor said, grabbing a roll forhimself. “The other ones are braised pork belly, and Ididcook thatmyself.”
“You’re spoiling me,” Max responded between mouthfuls of hissandwich.
