Page 64 of Courageous Hearts

My mom tilts her head, looking at me curiously. “Jameson, dear, I love and support you no matter what,” she says, and I know that. I always have. My parents made sure to tell Grant and me that sexuality had no bearing on their love for their children. “But when you say them, how many people are we talking about?”

A laugh bubbles from my throat, and I rub my eyes before dropping my hands. “One. One person,” I clarify. “They’re nonbinary.”

“Oh,” my mom says in understanding before a smile once again fills her face. “Well, that’s lovely. When do I get to meet them?”

“Now, hold on,” I say, holding up my palms. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks. I think it’s too soon for that.”

Isn’t it?

My mom makes a psht sound, waving her hand dismissively. “You never tell me about the people you’re dating. But you’re telling me now, which means something.”

Huh, she’s not necessarily wrong.

“So, when do I get to meet them?” she repeats.

I duck my face to try and hide my smile, but I don’t think it’s very effective. It’s too big. I can feel the thing stretching my cheeks wide.

“Maybe soon,” I concede.

“Oh, honey,” my mom says, reaching across the table and clasping my arm. “Look at you.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupts our conversation, and Grant calls out, “Sorry we’re late.”

My mom gives me another squeeze before grabbing her bundles of thyme and pushing away from the table. She brings them over to the counter as Grant walks into the kitchen with Sophia. I hop up to give Sophia a hug, but her red-rimmed eyes give me pause.

“Everything okay?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.

She leans into me, hugging me tight for a couple seconds before stepping back and placing her hands on the outsides of my arms. “Just fine,” she says, even though I’m almost positive that’s not true. Sophia looks me over for a moment, brows drawn inward slightly.

“What is it?” I ask, knowing she’s reading my aura.

“You’re just…” A grin stretches her lips. “Oh,” she practically sighs. “Green, James. So much green.”

“What’s that mean?” I ask in mild alarm. Sophia has never mentioned me being green before.

Her eyes hold mine, and then, voice soft like she’s imparting a secret, she says, “A wide-open heart.”

I open and close my mouth like a fish, a little gobsmacked by her assessment, but then Grant swoops in, tugging me into a back-slapping hug as Sophia steps aside. Grant, I notice once we part, also looks a little harried.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He gives me a pinched smile. “I’ll tell you later.”

I nod, not liking the sound of that.

A timer goes off. “Someone grab the lasagna out of the oven,” Mom says. “And pop in the garlic bread.”

Grant steps away to do just that as our mom, atop a stool, hangs her bundles of thyme to dry. By the time she’s threaded the last loop of twine over a nail high above the sink, Grant has the food out of the oven and the smell of garlic and tomatoes is infusing the kitchen.

“Smells good,” Sophia notes, taking a seat at the table.

Grant pulls off his oven mitts, striding over and squeezing Sophia’s shoulders. “It’s lasagna. Your favorite,” he says, leaning down to kiss her curly brown hair. She gives him a wan smile in response.

Grant meets my eye for all of one second—a million unspoken words traversing the space between us—and then he scoots into a seat next to his wife.

Ah, shit.

Throat tight, I pull out my own chair. Our mom joins us a moment later, and with a quick look, I can tell she’s picked up on the tension Grant and Sophia brought into the house. But she doesn’t yet say a word. The four of us enjoy a delicious lunch of lasagna and garlic bread, and after we’re done, Mom disappears from the kitchen. A minute later, as I’m loading the dishwasher, Judy Garland’s low contralto floats into the room, followed by my mom. She hums along, swaying slightly as she brings me dishes from the table.

---