Page 81 of Frosted Fakes

Tara took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. "I think…" she said. "No, I know. Not think. I know. I know that I would like it from now on if you could call me Tom." He let out another long breath. "If that’s alright," he added.

"Tom," Julia said gently.

He nodded, face pale and stretched tight with anxiety. "My name is Tom." His eyes glittered with tears that he didn’t shed. "I get that this is probably really weird for you to hear, and if you want me to leave or if this makes things awkward, I understand, I just—"

"Tom," Julia said firmly, and watched his face transform at the sound of his chosen name. "You're not going anywhere."

"But…"

"But nothing." Julia moved closer, keeping her voice soft but certain. "I spent years trying to be someone I'm not. Pretending to be a baker when all I want is to be a nurse. Pretending to be happy when I was miserable. Pretending my mother's dreams were my own." She met his eyes. "I know what it's like to feel like you're wearing someone else's life." She knew better than he might understand. The difference was, Tom was brave enough to say something, do something.

Tom's lip trembled. "You're not… you don't think…"

"I think you're brave." Julia reached out and squeezed his arm. "And I think Tom is a good name. Strong, like you."

The tears spilled over then, tracking down Tom's cheeks. "I was so scared to tell you. It’s stupid. I thought you'd fire me or think I was weird or…"

"Never." Julia pulled him into a hug, and he clung to her for a second. "You're part of this bakery. Part of this weird little family we've built. Nothing changes that."

The storeroom door opened.

Elliott stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. "Everything okay in here?"

Julia looked at Tom, "Shall we tell her?"

He nodded, biting his lip, not trusting himself to speak.

Julia grinned. "Elliott, I’d like you to meet Tom."

Elliott's expression didn't change. "Right. Tom it is, then."

"That's it?" Tom looked stunned. "You're not going to say anything else?"

"What else is there to say?" Elliott leaned against the doorframe. "You know, I got kicked out of my house at seventeen for being gay. My family decided who I loved was more important than who I was." Her voice was matter-of-fact, but Julia could hear the old pain underneath. "I know what it's like to have people reject you for being yourself. I'm not going to do that to you. I wouldn’t do that to anyone."

Tom's face crumpled. "I didn't know. About your family."

"Not many people do." Elliott's expression softened slightly. "Coming out is terrifying. I remember thinking the world was going to end. But it didn't. It just… changed. Got smaller in some ways, bigger in others." She met Tom's eyes. "It's hard. I won't lie to you. But being yourself, actually yourself? It's worth it."

"How do you know?" Tom's voice was barely a whisper.

"Because pretending to be someone you're not is exhausting. I tried it for years." Elliott glanced at Julia, something warm passing between them. "Eventually you realize that the people worth keeping are the ones who love you for who you actually are. Not who they want you to be."

Tom was biting his lip again. He sniffed. "Cheers. Thanks. I… I appreciate it."

"You don't have to explain anything," Julia said. "We've got you."

"Whatever you need," Elliott added. "Different name at work, time off for appointments, whatever. Just say the word."

Tom laughed wetly. "I think I need to sit down."

"Storeroom floor's clean," Elliott offered. "Mostly."

They ended up sitting among the flour sacks and cardboard boxes, the three of them, an open bottle of wine between them.

And later, once Tom had gone home, Julia stood in the middle of her bakery, surrounded by the smell of fresh bread and the warmth of people who felt like family, and thought that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay.

Actually, maybe better than okay. Maybe perfect. Maybe her life was finally becoming what she’d always wanted to be.