Page 26 of Bi-Partisan

Thankfully, she moves on. “Have you heard from your parents?”

I wince at the reminder of the ball of guilt sitting in my stomach. “They called last night, but I didn’t answer.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know what to tell them,” I admit.

She frowns slightly. “You’re not worried about what they’re going to say, are you? Jamie, these are the people that wore ‘free parent hugs’ T-shirts to Raleigh Pride last year. Your mom gave me a les-bee-an cross stitch for Christmas that year I stayed with you because my parents were visiting my Mamani in LA, and I couldn’t get the time off to go with them. You know they’re going to be nothing but supportive, right?”

“No, I know they will be. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if my mom starts looking for some sort of bi pun cross stitch while I’m on the phone with her,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Oh! My money is on a bi-rannosaurus rex.” She grins.

“And I want to talk to them, but when I thought about how I’d come out to them, there wasn’t this added complication of a fake boyfriend,” I continue. “Like, I could tell them it’s fake. But then that’s basically admitting that Adrian was a hookup, and they’re supportive, but they’re not that supportive. Also, I feel like the fewer people that know that this relationship is fake, the better. Or do I lie to them and play it off like I was waiting for the right time to tell them?”

“I don’t think that I can answer that for you,” she says.

I can’t help groaning.

“You make a good point about keeping the number of people who know about this as small as possible. But I also understand not wanting to lie to them. However, you should probably talk to them sooner rather than later because we’re going live with your coming out post later this afternoon, and I know you’d rather tell them yourself.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll call them after lunch.”

“Also, speaking of fake boyfriends, how was seeing Adrian last night?” she asks, her voice laced with a strange mix of worry and teasing.

“I told you how it went,” I remind her.

“No, you told me how the conversation went,” she says slowly. “You didn’t tell me how you felt about seeing him. Actually, we haven’t really talked about him at all.”

“Mina, is now really the time to talk about my love life?” I ask incredulously.

“Well, he’s going to be here soon, and I wanna know how much of a buffer you need me to be,” she points out.

I shrug. “It was… I don’t know. It was different—he was different, at least from the other night.”

“How so?”

“At the bar and after, he was all smooth and confident. He took the lead with everything, which I’m not used to at all, but…” I trail off, feeling my cheeks heat as I remember my body’s reaction not being the one in control.

Mina smiles knowingly. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

My eyes dart to the door, which I know is closed, but I can’t help checking. “Yeah,” I say before quickly moving on. “Last night, though, he was—well, he seemed about as anxious as I was, honestly. I didn’t really know what to do with it, at first, but I think it actually put me more at ease. Seeing him yesterday kind of made me feel better, even if I was there to have one of the most awkward conversations of my life.”

She looks at me for a long, appraising moment. “Do you like him?”

A sharp knock on my office door saves me from answering her question.

“Come in,” I call out.

The door creaks open, revealing Daniel. “Hey boss, your, uh… Mr. Wilks is here. Do you want me to bring him back?”

“No, I’ll come out. Thanks.” I take a deep breath to steady myself before standing. I glance at Mina. “You coming?”

“Right behind you,” she says, standing and smoothing out her pants. “I’m just going to grab Ben out of the conference room.”

The office is no longer the chaotic mess that it was this morning when I came in. The phone is no longer ringing off the hook, and the main area is empty save for the intern in the corner making copies and my legislative director sitting at her desk pouring over the collection of law books that always cover the surface. Adrian is standing by Riley’s desk when I get to the front, his hands shoved into the pockets of the gray quilted jacket he’s wearing over teal scrubs. He must be coming from the clinic.

He smiles at whatever Riley says, and I’d be lying if I said seeing that smile—even directed at someone else—didn’t make some of the tension in my shoulders dissipate. Well, that is probably going to be a problem later, but it’s too late now.

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