22. Jamie

Adrian is silent the entire drive to my childhood home for breakfast. He hasn't said anything, but I know his anxiety is through the roof. I can practically feel it radiating off him in waves. He practically woke up like that, and I hate that there isn't much I can do for him to make it better. I've tried, of course—pulled him into the shower with me to try to get him out of his head, made him a cup of chamomile tea, asked if talking would help. And while he appreciated all of it, it didn't seem to do that much to ease the hard set of his jaw or the little crease right between his eyebrows.

But honestly, I don't know that I'm doing much better. I don't remember being this nervous when I introduced my last significant other to my parents, but I also wasn't dating a guy. My parents were supportive when I came out to them, of course. I'd been more worried about how they felt about the article than anything else. But knowing your son is bisexual in theory and meeting his same gendered partner are two different things.

I pull into the driveway and park behind the white pick up truck my dad has driven for as long as I can remember. Cutting off the engine, I turn to Adrian and smile gently. "Ready, darlin'?"

He takes a deep breath, staring at the house, and nods once.

"Hey," I say, putting my hand on top of his clenched fist. I gently pry it open so we can lace our fingers together. "Look at me."

With a sigh, he turns his head.

"They're gonna adore you," I tell him.

"How do you know?"

"Because there's nothing about you not to like," I say, smiling gently.

He scoffs.

"Would I lie?"

He raises an eyebrow, as if to say, "You're a politician," or "you literally lied to your parents and the entire internet about us dating." And, okay, yes, he has a point, but I roll my eyes anyway.

"Fine, I'll rephrase: would I lie to you?"

He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. "No, I don't think you would."

"Correct," I say with a gentle smile. "They're going to love you, okay? And I won't leave your side, I promise. And if you get overwhelmed, I'll use showing you my childhood bedroom as an excuse for you to duck out."

He nods and offers a tentative smile. "Okay. Thank you."

"Of course."

"Are you okay?" he asks, squeezing my hand.

Just the fact that he asks already has some of the tension leaving my body. "I'm a little nervous, but I'm also excited."

With my free hand, I cup his chin and lean in to give him a chaste, but lingering kiss on the lips. When I pull away, his eyes dart to the front porch, and his cheeks go pink.

"My mom is standing on the porch, isn't she?" I say dryly.

"If your mom has blue hair and wears what looks like long kimonos, then yes," he says with a grimace.

"Blue hair?" I whip my head toward the house to find my mother standing on the porch.

She's wearing a floral kimono over a T-shirt and leggings, and sure enough, her usually gray hair is tinted blue. She waves, and I smile and unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Come on." I squeeze his hand one more time before climbing out of the car. "Hey Mom," I shout as I wait for Adrian.

"Hey, baby," she shouts back.

As he rounds the hood of the car, I hold my hand out to him, then lead him up to the porch.

"How was the drive down yesterday?" my mom asks as she gives me a one armed hug since I'm still holding Adrian's hand.

"Good. We hit some traffic coming out of the city, but what else is new?" I say with a laugh. Then I look at Adrian with a soft smile. "Mom, this is Adrian. Adrian, this is my mom, Shelia."

"It's nice to meet you," he says, sticking his free hand out to shake.

"Oh, none of that," she says, waving off his hand. She holds out her arms. "I'm sure Jamie's told you we're a hugging family."

I smile at him encouragingly, then let go of his hand so he can step into her hug. He bends slightly to tentatively wrap his arms around her shoulders as she hooks her chin over his shoulder and squeezes him tight.

"It's so good to finally meet you, sweetheart. Jamie's told us all about you," she says warmly. She pats his back once, then lets him go with a grin. "Well, come on in. We've got coffee and mimosas, and Dad's making eggs and bacon."

"Mimosas? Really, Mom, it's 9:30 a.m. on a Friday." I laugh and rest a hand on Adrian's lower back to guide him inside after my mom.

She scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "What? Your dad is still on summer break, I have the day off, and you're on vacation. Besides, it's not every day my only child brings home his boyfriend for a visit," she says before heading down the hall toward the kitchen and shouting after my dad. "Paul, the boys are here!"

I chuckle again and kick off my shoes onto the mat by the front door. I watch as Adrian follows suit, then hold out my hand for him.

He lets out a sharp exhale and forces his shoulders to relax. Then he slips his hand into mine. "I'm okay," he murmurs, answering the question I hadn't asked aloud.

I nod, then we follow my mom toward the kitchen. Bluegrass music plays faintly from the smart home speaker on the kitchen island, where my mom is arranging fruit on a platter. My dad stands at the stove, flipping bacon on a massive cast iron skillet.

"Hey Dad."

"Give me a second to finish flipping this bacon, and I'll come give you a hug. Mimosas are on the island," he says over his shoulder.

"Okay." I drop Adrian's hand and reach for the pitcher and glasses on the counter because I am technically on vacation, so why not? I pour myself a drink, then glance over my shoulder at Adrian. "You want one, darlin'?"

"Uh, sure," he says. "Thanks."

I pour him a glass and hand it to him just as my dad turns away from the stove.

He rounds the island and gives me a hug. "Hey, kiddo."

When we part, I turn and gesture at Adrian. "This is Adrian."

"Paul," my dad says as he sticks out his hand.

Adrian takes it and shakes. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too. Jamie hasn't been able to stop talking about you."

"Dad," I say in warning as I watch Adrian's cheeks go a little pink.

My dad holds his hands up defensively. "What? You haven't."

"Ignore him, please," I murmur. "So, Mom, is there a story to go with the blue hair?" I ask, trying to take the attention off Adrian.

She heaves a heavy sigh. "It wasn't supposed to be blue."

"What color was it supposed to be?" Adrian asks, stealing the question right out of my mouth.

"Purple—and before you ask, no, I don't know what happened, and neither does my hair dresser," she replies.

"Well, it looks cool," I say before taking a sip of my mimosa.

"That's what I told her," my dad says as he turns his attention back to the bacon.

"So, what are y'all getting up to over the next few days?" my mom asks.

"Well, I'm taking Adrian around the capitol building today, and tomorrow we're going to the flea market. We might do the natural science museum on Sunday," I rattle off. "Oh, at some point, we're getting barbecue because he's never had Carolina barbecue before, which is a travesty."

"What?" my parents say dramatically and in unison.

"I probably did when we were stationed here, I just don't remember it," Adrian says defensively.

"I'm just teasing you, darlin'," I say, sliding my arm around his waist as I press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Well, you're in for a treat," my dad says over his shoulder. "North Carolina has the best pulled pork in the country."

Adrian is tense for a moment, but then he relaxes and drapes his arm around my shoulder. "That's what Jamie says."

After that, we slip into easy conversation about the merits of Carolina barbecue versus the rest of the country and the list of sights I should try to take Adrian to while he's here. Thankfully, my parents don't bombard him with questions like his did with me—probably because I have, in fact, talked about him a fair bit. By the time we're done with breakfast and it's time for us to leave, his anxiety seems to have almost completely dissipated, which I can't help being completely giddy about. My parents also seem to adore him exactly like I predicted, which also has me on cloud nine.

"Don't forget to get the name of that crochet blog from your friend," my mom tells him as we're saying our goodbyes on our front porch.

Unsurprisingly, the conversation had at some point moved to crafts, during which he mentioned Sophie's obsession with crochet stuffed animals. My mother absolutely doesn't need another hobby, but that doesn't stop me from loving that they found something to at least tangentially bond over.

"I'll have Jamie text it to you," he promises as he hugs her goodbye.

"I'll see y'all next week," I tell my parents as I hug them, since I'll be staying behind even after Adrian leaves on Tuesday.

"Bye, kiddo. Love you," my dad says.

After one last round of goodbyes, we climb into the car.

"Your parents are nice," he says as we pull out of the driveway.

I hum in acknowledgement, then, the second I turn off their street, I pull over to the side and put the car in park.

"What—is everything okay?"

I pivot in my seat and nod once before reaching over the console, sliding my hand into his hair, and pulling him into a hard kiss. He gasps, but then sinks into it with a soft moan. Our tongues tangle for a few seconds before I pull away, chest heaving slightly.

"Sorry, I've just been wanting to kiss you for, like, the last hour and a half," I say, a little sheepishly.

His cheeks go pink, and he lets out a breathy laugh. "So I guess you think that went well, then?"

"So well. They loved you, darlin'," I say earnestly.

"Do you really think so?" he asks.

I smile and kiss him again, this time more sweetly. "I know so."