Page 119 of Hot Mess Express
“Well, Ididmeet a few friendly faces on my morning jogs,” I remind him. “The Marvin brothers at the market …”
“Lee and his stern-ass older brother Gene, yeah.”
“Then there were a couple of guys with the last name Love …Timothy, I think one of them was …?”
“They run Country Lovin’, whole bunch of Loves, too many of ‘em, but they make the best damned crepes in the state.”
I pop a chip into my mouth and face Anthony. “But despite all of these amazing people … there are still a couple of very, very important ones I have yet to meet properly … in the flesh.” I give him a look, bringing my face close. “Video chats don’t count.”
He makes a face when he realizes who I mean. “Alright, okay. Don’t you think I plan for you to meet ‘em? They already regard you as the big hero who saved me from becomin’ a dumpster fire this summer. Shoot, no need to go sealin’ the deal so quick by meetin’ them and making my own parents wish you were their son instead of me.”
It’s true. I’ve met them exactly two times via video call. They adore me. It was obvious. I’d become their adopted second son by the next video call already.
But I sure do plan toseal that dealwhen I finally meet them in person. Maybe as early as tomorrow, if tonight’s plan goes without a hitch.
And if Anthony lets me.
He’s awful skittish about letting me meet his parents…
I peck Anthony on the lips suddenly, startling him. His face goes funny. “Uh, too soon?” I ask, realizing we hadn’t exactly done any PDA in Spruce before.
To that, Anthony instantly dismisses his own sheepishness and returns my peck with a full-on kiss of his own. “Who the hell am I kiddin’?” he asks against my lips. “Everyone knows. And I want everyone to know. I …”Kiss. “… am …”Kiss. “… crazy ‘bout you, Bridger.”
The next kiss we share makes me forget I was just eating chips and dip.
And the kiss after that makes me forget we’re even at a party.
ABBA’sGimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)explodes from the Bluetooth speakers in the living room, and I’m so consumed by our kissing, I don’t even notice the whole house singing and dancing along to it with a drunken Juni leading them while hugging Pete against her side like a plushie toy.
After a few hours more, the crowd visibly starts to thin. Soon, only the core clique of Pete, Juni, Cody, Trey, Anthony, and myself remain in the house.
Oh, and also Trey and Cody’s parents.
Who have been seated at the little table by the back door with mugs of coffee, cozily chatting since the last guests left.
And suddenly, after months and months, Trey has reached his seemingly unachievable limit. “Guys, I’m sorry, Dad, Bethie, I’m so sorry, but I … I justcan’tanymore.”
Cody, Pete, and myself are sharing Army stories to a glued-together Anthony and Juni in the kitchen when the long overdue outburst happens. We fall silent at once, and then Cody is to his feet to save his husband. “Hey, uh, Trey, honey …”
“It’s gotta be said. It’s driving me crazy. Neither of you will be straightforward with me. And I’ve tried,” Trey goes on, lifting his hand when his husband comes up to his side to hush him. “I gave you two so many opportunities to tell me. To be forthcoming. To give your sons a heads-up at the very least. My husband keeps snickering and finding itfunny—”
“No, I haven’t!” Cody interjects.
“—but this isserious, and I’ve got to know. Now.”
By this point, Cody’s mom has a hand over her chest, her jaw dropped, likely thinking the worst. Trey’s father looks puzzled, his eyebrows stitched together, his grip on his mug tightening as he studies his son with mounting concern.
Then the question comes at long last: “Are you two getting married? Are you about to make your sons step-husbands?”
A long silence follows the question.
The longest silence I’ve ever experienced in real-time.
Anthony buries his face in my chest, not wanting to watch.
Pete and Juni are all but missing a bucket of popcorn, the way they’re glued to every second of this live theatre in front of them.
Cody’s face is crunched up into the most awkward grimace.
