Page 120 of The Bro Pact
Before my dad can even answer, I interrupt. “I’m not gay, though.”
My parents glance at each other out of the corner of their eyes, and I know what they’re thinking.
“I’ve questioned that statement many, many times recently.Trust me,” I admit honestly.“But the simple fact of it all is, I fell in love with my best friend, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a man because he’s mine.”
Warren turns to stare at me, his stormy eyes intense and full of promises.
I know that look all too well.
“Aww!” Val squeals, clasping her hands in front of her chin like she’s about to cry. “That is so sweet. I truly believe you two were made for each other.”
She reaches across the table, holding her palm out for me. I place my hand in hers, and she gives it a squeeze. “Don’t let anyone make you feel like you need a label. If you feel comfortable with one, great. But if you don’t want one, you don’t need one. I personally don’t. I mean, sometimes I like to kiss girls, but I don’t need to define that.”
Nelson chokes on his water, nearly spitting it across the table, and the rest of the dining room goes silent.
Valentina giggles, while Mr. Moretti just shakes his head and takes another bite of meatloaf, neither surprised nor fazed by any of this.
I’m choosing not to tell them I’m demi right now because it’s all so new, and it would invite too many questions that they may not understand the answers to.
“Yeah, Ky,” Warren whispers, continuing to stroke my leg under the table. “And it’s no one’s business if you don’t want it to be.Okay?”
“Okay,” I murmur, trying not to get choked up in front of our entire family.
Warren leans back in his chair, threading his fingers together and resting them on top of his head, distracting the table and successfully pulling the attention away from me.
God, I love him.
“I, however, have come to a very important conclusion,” he announces.
“Pops. Everyone. I’m bisexual, and I’m comfortable enough with labeling that,” Warren says nonchalantly. “So, yep. It’s outthere now.Ya boy loves everyone!” he shouts in a laugh, giving the room a casual shrug and leaving everyone speechless.
His self-acceptance is a beautiful thing, and his carefree confidence is so sexy.
Suppose it always has been.
“Well, it don’t matter to me if you date a boy or a girl,” Mr. Moretti finally says. “And that applies to both of ya.” He nods toward his daughter before continuing to eat his dinner, not letting a good meal go cold. “As long as they treat ya right,” he adds.
“Aw,Daddy!” Val coos. “You big softie. We love you.”
Mr. Moretti mumbles alove you toounder his breath, clearly uncomfortable with the show of affection in front of a table full of people.
“Okay, well, let’s all eat before things get cold,” my mom says, recognizing that I don’t want the conversation lingering on my sexuality or relationship any longer. “I’ve got a warm peach cobbler in the oven to celebrate.”
My head whips up, and she winks at me, mouthing anI love you.
Smiling softly, I mouth the words back to her before taking a bite of the melt-in-your-mouth meatloaf.
Throughout dinner, I keep stealing covert glances at my brother, waiting for him to say something. I can’t help it. I know he won’t be an asshole in front of our parents or Val, but I want some sort of reaction from him.
Anything at this point.
Watching him attempt to scoop his peas off his plate with a fork—scraping the metal against the ceramic over and over—irritates the hell out of me.
I can’t take it anymore.
“Are you going to say anything, Nelson?”
He glances up, bored eyes dismissing me and turning to our mom. “This meatloaf is excellent, Mom. Thanks for cooking for everyone.”
