Page 85 of The Photograph

“I am processing it.”

“How?”

“What do you mean, how?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

He smiles at me. “Is that a problem?”

I shrug. “If you’re okay then … I guess …”

Laughing, he stands, stretching, his shirt riding up to reveal the line of hair on his stomach. Goosebumps travel up my forearms. He pads over and comes around the island, standing right next to me and smiling down at the foam all over the stainless steel.

“You’re doing a great job here.”

I shrug. “Just keeping busy,” I mutter, scrubbing over the sink again. He leans his head on my shoulder, and I still, dropping the brush into the sink and turning to wrap my arms around him.

“You get those wet gloves on my new shirt and there’ll be hell to pay,” he says.

I laugh and rest my chin on his shoulder, turning my head to kiss his curls.

“I love how open you are, Des. I’m not so good at that, yeah?” he says into my ear.

I nod, swallowing and moving back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure what there is to say. He’s an asshole, but he’s also my father. I guess I can’t envision cutting them out of my life entirely.”

“Are you going to go to your parents’ on Friday?”

Pulling back, he rubs a hand over his forehead. “What do you think? I was thinking I’d only go if you came, too. Would you do that? They might not accept it.”

I remove the gloves and place them on the counter, maneuvering around him to retrieve the creamer from the fridge, before picking up the coffee pot and waving it at him. He nods, so I grab an extra cup from the cupboard and fill it up. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Okay, okay, I know. It’s not an easy question, is it? I’m thinking!” I say, and he grins. “I guess you’re right. At some point, you’ll want to build bridges with your family. So the issue is when rather than if, and is it better for you, or even your dad, to give that longer to happen? Is he likely to become more entrenched or less?”

Alex purses his lips. “Probably more. He mentioned delving into online research, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been digging into all sorts of stuff. It’s typical of him, really. Being a financial analyst, he tends to be quite rigid. He’s never been flexible about anything.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m sure he thinks he can reason me out of being gay. The very idea that he views it as some sort of decision rather than the way I am …” His voice trails off as he gazes into his coffee, expression sour. “I just wish he’d accept me for who I am.”

“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but that could take a long time.”

“Yeah, I see that. Maybe it’d be smarter to start with my sisters.” He gives a sharp nod. “This Friday is a hard pass then; it’ll be a crapshoot.” He reaches out and pats my arm. “Thanks, Des.”

“What for?”

He laughs. “Making me talk about it rather than stewing. With things like this, I tend to draw back into my shell. I feel better having talked to you.”

Even now, everything he says makes me want to swoon.

32

ALEX

I’ve edited the same sentence in the report I’m working on sixteen times in the past half hour, and I crack my neck to the side, my ass numb from where it’s been welded to the chair since 8 a.m. My stomach grumbles.Food.Des, alas, is swamped with meetings today, but I head out into the flow of worker bees anyway, the sandwich Des made for me when he was making his tucked under my arm. When did someone last make a proper packed lunch for me?Like a couple.Warmth picks up in my chest and radiates out.

Once I’m out on the sidewalk, I press the number on my phone and send up a silent prayer that Becs is at her desk and not in a meeting. Because she’s closest to me in age, we’ve always helped one another out and kept each other’s secrets. She’s the one who best understands the underhand rebellion in our household.

“Alex,” she says.

“Hi, sis, how are you doing?”

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