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“No… and no.”

“Questionable,” I muttered.

“I’m gay.”

I stopped, and Omar tilted his head. “You’re what?” I asked him.

“Gay,” he repeated.

“And you work for my father?”

“Yes.”

“Pastor Xavier ‘Homosexuality Is Civilization’s Rot’ Carter?”

“He doesn’t phrase it quite like that…”

“He did when it was his son he was throwing the words at.”

Omar rubbed his mouth, trying not to laugh.

“How?” I continued.

“How what?”

“How are you employed?” I clarified.

“He doesn’t know. Who I prefer to love is not exactly a resume question.”

“Oh.” My stomach sank unexpectedly.

Omar’s lips twitched, bouncing between a smile and frown before landing on neither. “You look disappointed.”

“I’m not,” I assured him.

“You are.”

“I am not disappointed.”

“You made the face.”

“What face?”

“The gay face.”

Now I frowned. “We have a face?”

“It’s subtle.”

“What does it look like?”

“Like you’re about to explain Pride to a Republican uncle.”

I laughed before I could stop myself, and Omar grinned.

“There.”

“There what?”