It's surreal to read the words, knowing they're about me. Just like I trusted him to do, Sam has treated the matter with the care it deserves. It's also clear he spent the time between the interview and the release hard at work, as he details other significant cases of homophobia in and around the League, including Jamie's decision to go to the NCAA four years ago.
As I finish the article, I hand the phone back to Jamie.
“That was nice, he did a good job.”
“Nice?Nice?The man's gonna win a Pulitzer for that.”
I snort.
“Did you, uh, plan that ahead of time?”
I pause, thinking over my reply. I know Jamie is afraid that I've rushed into this headfirst because of him, that I haven't thought it through.
“Over the past couple weeks, I spoke to Alexei and my agent about it. We had decided that I would stop going to such lengths to hide it, and Jack was going to start shopping the story to some magazines...which I may have messed up. Whoops.”
He laughs at this.
“Something tells me they'll still be interested.”
He's turned toward me, our knees just barely touching. I chew my lower lip, wondering if I should just leave this here. Thank him for coming, and worry about any other conversation another day. That would be sensible.
Unfortunately, I'm not sensible.
“Why are you here, Jamie?”
His eyes go wide again, and I can tell he wasn't expecting me to ask.
“I, uh, wanted to make sure you had someone here. You know, to support you. It sucks to go through that alone.”
I think about letting him off easy, but I know that is only kicking the can further down the line.
“I guess when you didn't reply to my text this morning, I thought you, uh, weren't a fan. Of me coming out.”
He bites his lip, and I can see he, too, is struggling with whether or not this is the right time for this conversation.
“I turned my phone off. I've been...”
He clears his throat and takes a deep breath.
“...I've been missing you so much, and I had a really hard conversation with Avery earlier this week about you, aboutus, and I just...I needed some time to think. About what I want.”
I guess we're all in on this conversation, then.
“And...did you decide? What do you want?”
I can feel the anxiety bubbling up in my stomach, my chest going tight. In his eyes, I can see the same feelings – fear, anxiety, uncertainty. I reach a hand out, squeezing his thigh gently.
“I want you. I want us. I don't know what that looks like or how that works, but that's what I want.”
The tightness eases immediately, the relief washing over me. I give him a small smile, meeting his eyes with my own.
“I want that, too. And I want us to decide what that looks like together. We, uh, haven’t been very good about that.”
As much as I want to just lean into the joy of having him back with me, I know I have to do this.
“I should never have talked to Jack about how to handle that article without you. You should have been in on that conversation from the beginning.”
His eyes go wide, and it’s clear he wasn’t expecting this. I hope that it isn’t too late to do this, to be honest with him – honest withmyself.
