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My heart leaps with joy; I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a tight hug.

It’s not until she says, “Shh. You’re okay,” her hand running up and down my back, that I realize I’m crying. “My baby is in love with a man we adore. It’s time we learn to celebrate that.”

Her words just make me cry harder. I let her hug me, return it, feel her shoulders shake when she begins to cry too. I don’t know how long we’re like that—mother and son, tears washingaway the past and leaving in their wake a promise for the future—before we pull away.

“Dad?” I ask.

“He has a harder time seeing things from other people’s perspectives, but he loves you. And he loves Marsh. He’s been struggling a lot lately. He misses you both. Hell, he went to the cabin this weekend to drown his sorrow in bourbon. If that’s not a sign of how much he misses Marsh, I don’t know what is.”

I freeze. “Dad is at the Asheville cabin?”

“Yes. What other cabin would he be at?”

“Marshall went too—complete with bourbon and everything. Let me get this straight…Dad and Marshall both went to the cabin, the weekend they usually go…both with bourbon.” Mom nods. “Marshall is there mourning the loss of Dad.”

“Dad is there because he wants to feel closer to Marsh.”

We look at each other and burst into laughter. It’s the emotion of the day getting to us. Really, this isn’t funny at all, but in some ways it is. They are the perfect best friends—brothers—and knowing Dad went there too makes me realize that everything will be okay.

*

I smile whenmy phone rings. I’m lying in Marshall’s bed because I want to feel close to him, want to smell him on the sheets. After spending some time with Mom, I tried to stay at Reggie’s but couldn’t. This is where I always want to be.

“Hey,” I say softly. “I came home so I could smell you and feel like you’re close to me.”

“Good boy,” Marshall replies with a slight slur to his voice.

“Wait…are you drunk?”

“You’re never going to guess what happened.”

“Dad came?”

I only get silence in return. “You knew?”

“Not before you left. I was about to go to my parents’ house to tell them to get their shit together and stop acting like children, but Mom was at the door. She came by to tell me she’s okay with us, that she just wants me happy. She wants me—us—back in her life. After we talked, we realized you both went. It’s been killing me not to call you. How did it go?”

“Tough…then okay. It’s not perfect, but he’s trying because he loves us both and wants us in his life. I think it’ll work out. I think we’re going to be okay, even if it takes a little while to get through everything that’s happened.”

I humph. “What’s happened is that you make me happy and I love you. Why should that take him time?”

“Because as much as all of us would like to pretend or expect others to be perfect, no one is. Your dad is human like the rest of us.”

Why does he always have to be so mature and logical about everything? “That’s very smart for someone who is drunk and slurred his words.”

He chuckles, then sobers. “We’re going to be okay. More than that—we’re going to be happy.”

I smile, feel warmth rush through me that only he can bring me. “I know. I trust you. I love you…my Sir.”

Without seeing him, I know he’s smiling. “I love you too, my sweet boy.”

*

“JT, you havea new customer at table twelve,” the hostess tells me. It’s Sunday night, and Marshall is supposed to be home today. We spoke off and on throughout the weekend, but mostly, I tried to leave him alone so he and Dad could work on mending their friendship. He said it was going well, and I hope that’s thetruth, hope it only grows from this weekend and things find a way back to how they were before. “It’s a guy, by himself,” she adds, making my lips automatically pull into a grin.

It’s Marshall. It has to be. I would put money on the fact that he got home and decided to come and see me here before I get off. It’s the exact kind of thing I would do.

“Thanks,” I tell her before making my way over. My gaze finds table twelve, but it’s not Marshall sitting there waiting for me.

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