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“I’m not ready to say.”

That almost made her smile. She carried the food to the door. Before leaving, she turned back. “Think about what you’re taking from them by not telling them.”

The words were gentler than the accusation beneath them. Then she left. I locked the door and stood with my hand on the deadbolt.

Then, I paced.

From the door to the kitchen. From the kitchen to the windows. From the windows to my desk.

The entire place contained evidence of a life that had changed. Hudson’s sweatshirt. A framed copy of our Golden Wok Wall of Fame photograph. A drawing from Caldwell taped beside my desk. He had added me to a family picnic, seated between him and Hudson beneath a tree. A pie plate Julie had sent home with me after Grandpa’s birthday dinner, still holding two cookies because she believed no one should leave without food.

The group chat vibrated on my phone.

Grandma Ruth: WHO IS BRINGING SALAD SUNDAY

Karen: I already said I would.

Grandma Ruth: YOU SAID GREEN VEGETABLE

Karen: Salad is a green vegetable.

Trevor: debatable

Mason: Lettuce is mostly water.

My eyes burned.

I loved them. Not in the abstract way people claimed to love large groups. I loved all their annoyances. Grandma’s capital letters. Trevor’s schemes. Julie’s habit of feeding everyone before asking if they were hungry. Hilary’s quiet authority. Byron’s corrections. Jason’s confidence. Caldwell’s drawings and precious innocence. Grandpa’s rare words that held so much meaning.

I had become attached without understanding the cost.

Then there was Hudson. Love no longer felt like an exaggeration or something that had unfolded too quickly. I loved him. The certainty should have been beautiful. But it only made the lie uglier.

I sat on the couch and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.

If I told him, I could lose him. If I didn’t tell him, I was choosing a version of him who lacked the truth.

Patty was right. I had taken away his freedom to decide. The thought became unbearable, so I stood again.

My phone rang. It was my mother. I considered ignoring it, then thought of Patty saying I disappeared before anyone could choose differently.

I answered. “Hi, Mom.”

“Finally,” she said. “Your father and I were wondering whether Hudson will be joining us for Thanksgiving.”

I blinked. “Thanksgiving is months away.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Yes, hello. Is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does he usually do for holidays?” she asked.

“Spends them with his family.”