Page 101 of Romance Languages

“My bad.”

“Eh.” She waved it off. “Who am I kidding? The only reason old people have them is because of all the funerals we attend.”

I was stunned into silence, both by Seamus’s presence and how good he looked in a suit. It was torture, highly awkward torture. He flicked his eyes my way. I gave him a terse nod that tried to convey all the gratitude I felt.

Seamus snaked an arm around my waist. I let myself enjoy the feeling, even though this was all fake. Seamus would leave the party, and we’d go back to existing in some kind of gray area.

“Now Grandma Judy, you and your husband have been together for fifty years.” Seamus leaned in. “Is the sex still good?”

Grandma leaned in, too, almost giddy. “It’s incredible.”

Vance Vance Revolution segued into another slow song, “The Way You Look Tonight.”

Seamus turned to me, blue eyes ablaze. “May I have this dance?”

“Uh huh,” I said stunned.

Seamus led us to the dance floor, where we got some looks. That was par for the course whenever two guys danced together, but I was Teflon at that moment, thinking only about how good this felt.

I was tongue-tied. I didn’t know what to say.Thank you for coming? Why are you here?Whatever had brought him here, I didn’t want him to leave.

Seamus didn’t say anything either. It was a game of chicken. Who would break the silence?

“Jules, I’m so sorry about the other day. I was an asshole.” He looked down, and I could sense how nervous he was. “When you said you loved me, I got scared and pushed you away. I’m terrified of relapsing and dragging you down with me. I don’t want to hurt the person I care about most. I’m kind of fucked up, and a part of me feels like I’ll never be good enough for you. But I want to try. I want to be the man you deserve. Jules, I love you.”

“As a friend?”

He shoved us out of the friend zone with a heat-filled, yet party-appropriate, kiss. He slipped in the slightest bit of tongue that had me dying for more.

“Does that answer your question?” he asked.

* * *

After another roundon the dance floor, we went down the buffet now that my appetite was back. If people wanted to gossip about how much I piled on my plate, let them talk.

We dug into our food, and I forgot about everyone around us.

“This is the best meal I’ve ever had,” Seamus declared. “This is like death row final meal food. Good job.”

“Thanks?”

Someone cleared their throat behind us. Mom stood over us.

“Seamus. Good to see you again.”

“Mrs. Bradford. Always a pleasure.” He wiped his mouth and gave her hand a light shake. “Sorry I’m late.”

“We’re glad you’re here.”

Mom had an inscrutable look on her face. I wasn’t used to this stare. There was no contempt, no hidden criticism. It felt like sadness.

“I’m going to get seconds.” Seamus seemed to sense the vibe. He kissed me on the lips, stroking my cheek with his thumb before absconding to the buffet.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

I pointed to the empty seat beside me.

Mom sat down, her eyes heavy. “I wasn’t a nice person growing up. I made fun of kids in school, especially the ones whose bodies didn’t fit the conventional mode.”

---