Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Why? Sometimes married people call their in-laws Mom or Dad.”
“Yeah, but that’s different. Since I was fourteen, I’ve literally been raised by him as if he was my actual father. I’m in his will as his son and…” My chest felt tight, and my breathing sped up. I was losing it. Why in the hell was I suddenly losing it? Timothy was my dad, just like my biological father had been. “Why do you call Mom Helena, then?”
“That’s not the only reason for me…and I won’t allow being with me to take away your dad. It would break his heart and yours to suddenly start calling him by his name.”
Isaac was right. It would.
“I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “That this is so difficult. If I hadn’t kissed you—”
“No. Fuck no. I don’t wish this never happened. I want you, Isaac. There’s just a lot to get used to and figure out, but that doesn’t change how much I want you.”
He nodded, but he had that look on his face that said he felt guilty, that he didn’t quite feel worthy—the one he never let his guard down enough to show anyone but me.
“I love you,” I told him.
“I love you too.”
But we still needed to talk. I hadn’t even mentioned the family get-together.
We finished eating, keeping on light topics. Afterward, Isaac washed the dishes since I’d cooked. He was still in his button-up shirt and slacks from work when he walked over, took my hands, and dropped his forehead to mine. “What else aren’t you telling me? You’re supposed to be the one who talks.”
“I forgot we have a whole lot of family coming next month.”
Isaac pulled back and frowned, clearly having forgotten as well.
“What are we going to do? I know it just started, but it’s not going to do us any good to pretend our situation isn’t what it is. Do we tell Mom and Dad now? Hope all goes well and that things don’t get fucked up before everyone is in town? Do we wait and tell them afterward? Give us some time to get used to it ourselves? How do we approach things with other people? Everyone I know here considers us brothers. Do we move and start over somewhere else? What if you realize you’re not in love with me and we did all this, hurt everyone, and—”
“Shh.” Isaac pressed two fingers to my lips. “Who knew you were such a worrier?”
“This is serious, Isaac.”
He sighed. “I know. And I’ve had a whole lot more time to get used to feeling this way about you than you have about me.” He tugged me over to the couch. We sat down beside each other. “Helena will never stop loving you.”
That easily, he’d read my fears. It was a fact my brain kept telling me. I knew my mom. Knew how she loved, but my heart was full of fear and insecurities. Nothing in the world was stronger than the heart and what it made you feel, not even logic. But the truth was, I didn’t want to let her down either. I didn’t want her to look at me with disappointment. “I know.”
“Do you want to continue doing this?” His hand was on my arm, his finger absently brushing against my skin. I wasn’t sure he even realized he was doing it.
“Yes, God yes.”
Isaac smirked. “Glad to see your taste in men has improved.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I think we should wait,” Isaac continued. “This is a lot, and it happened quickly…well, once everything was out in the open. I don’t think we should rush on letting everyone in. We need to get our legs underneath us as a couple, sort things out between us before we invite others in. This is a big change, and it affects more than just the two of us.”
I nodded, agreeing with him. He was right. It wasn’t as if anyone would wonder about us spending time together, so to the outside world, things would continue as they’d always been. “Okay, but can we go back to that whole inviting others in? Because now that I have you, I sure as shit don’t plan on ever sharing you,” I teased.
“You would keep an experience as life altering as being with me from other men? How selfish of you,” Isaac played along. “I’ve never seen this side of you before. I just can’t stop feeling guilty for all the men of Atlanta who’ve never known what it’s like to have me.”
“Eh, you’ll do,” I replied.
“Asshole.” Isaac leaned in, flicked his tongue across my lips, then slipped it inside. It was a quick kiss, but sometimes those were the best kind—the quick ones before goodbye or after hello, that spoke of comfort and familiarity. “I don’t want anyone else but you. Of course we’re exclusive. I’m gonna go shower.” He pressed another kiss to my lips and stood.