The Right Thing

My heart always fluttered when I saw his name pop up on the screen of my phone.

Patrick.

It brought a smile to my lips as soon as my heart had settled back at its usual pace. Even his code name was enough to catch me off-guard. It was also enough to make me miss him, if only a little.

He texted often and if he said he would call me at a certain time, he always did. He was consistent in that way, trustworthy to a fault. He didn’t seem to be the type to ever make promises that he couldn’t keep. He is the type of person that prides themselves on being reliable.

I’d fallen asleep to the sound of his voice more than once, and he’d done the same to me in the weeks since he’d kissed me on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. He was terribly busy, but he always seemed to make time to chat or to send a message my way and it didn’t go unnoticed.

And I could have sworn that when he laughed I could feel the heat of his lips on mine and smell the spicy scent of his skin wafting over me like it had that night.

One date.

One kiss.

One tiny secret between relative strangers.

All of that was enough for him to infiltrate my thoughts. It didn’t matter if I was awake or fast asleep; it seemed that he could always weasel his way into my mind. He’d gotten under my skin with his sly sarcasm and playful laughter. He could make me smile or laugh without much effort and he seemed to be able to sense when I needed it most, cracking jokes or telling silly stories just to cheer me up or distract me when I was feeling stressed.

I tried my best to do the same for him, but more often than not, Sidney was completely at ease, happy to be well on the way to doing what he loved again. He seemed to be feeling great most of the time and it was clear that he cherished that change in his life.

He didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. Not remotely. He felt like a friend, or perhaps more. I didn’t like to think about those details and instead focused on the conversations we shared. We’d gotten to know each other well, to the point that we were beginning to understand the things that made the other tick and just how to dig deeper and really draw information from one another.

I picked up my phone, turning away from my laptop. Work didn’t matter as much when he wanted to talk. It could wait.

“What are you doing next week?” he asked; a smile in his voice.

“Same old.”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“You’re coming up here.”

I started laughing. I knew better than to think he was kidding, I’d heard that tone before. It was the one he used the night we met, the night we kissed. The one he used to tell me he would call me the next day and call me he did. It was the tone he used when he talked about his concussion and almost losing the game. It was the tone he used when he told me to sleep well and have sweet dreams.

It didn’t stop me from laughing.

Nothing would have.

He was out of his mind.

“To Halifax?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t just pick up and leave.”

“Can’t you? I was training in L.A. yesterday and now I’m here. Why can’t you be?”

I could tell he was still smiling that lopsided grin of his.

“What makes you think that I would want to haul my ass all the way up to Canada to see the likes of you?”

“Because you miss me.”

“Whatever.” I blushed. How could he get that response from me from so far away? How could he have such a hold on me without even trying? It wasn’t fair, really.

He chuckled darkly. “No need to confirm. I know it’s true.”

“How?”

“Because it’s exactly how I feel.”

There was that tone once again—the playful smile in his voice traded out for the severity that he used when presenting his most honest feelings.

He missed me? I could hardly fathom why, but it was a nice feeling. It felt good to be missed. Especially since he was right, I missed him. I missed him more every single time we ended a phone call. The distance became more apparent with every time we talked and every time we said goodbye.

“Wyn?” he asked, my silence drawing out too long for his liking.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll see you Monday.”

Before I could say anything, his end of the line went dead. I shook my head trying to make sense of it.

Sure I’d like to see him, but I wasn’t some irrational teenager. I wasn’t going to drop a bunch of cash for a last minute trip to see a man that I’d seen twice in person, both on the same day. I certainly wasn’t going to run off to Canada for the chance to kiss him again, even if it was something that I craved. It was ridiculous to think that I would. I tried to convince myself that he’d been messing with me, trying to get a rise out of me just to see how I would react.

I shook away thoughts of my mother and her sacrifices for my father. I tried not to think about the 1,300 mile move that my grandparents had forbid her from making, regardless of her age. She had been 24 at the time, living on her own and supporting herself. Still they told her that they wouldn’t allow it. She went anyway.

She never went back to Boston, a city that she loved.

If my mother was brave enough to do that at my age, why couldn’t I suck it up and spend a week or so in a new place with a man that interested me? It wasn’t like there was anything holding me in one place and Sidney knew it. I could do my work anywhere and a week-long vacation wouldn’t even be a blip on the radar of most of the people who knew me. Most of them wouldn’t even know that I was gone.

My phone buzzed again. I expected it to be a text from Sidney. Instead I was alerted to an email that made my jaw drop.
A flight confirmation greeted me when I opened my inbox. Round trip on a small aircraft from Boston to Halifax with a return scheduled 8 days later. It was a short flight, less than two hours and it was paid in full.

I dialed my phone quickly.

“You’re insane, Sidney.”

He laughed.

“I’m serious.”

“I’ll see you Monday.” He paused before he hung up. “Wyn?”

“Yes, Sid?” I responded with a sigh, feeling a bit exasperated.

“Bring those silver heels. I might want to take you on a night on the town while you’re here.”

He hung up again and like the fool I was becoming when it came to his plans and ideas, I went to find my favorite suitcase and the heels I’d worn on our first date.

The flight was something I’d never experienced, the small plane holding only 50 people at most. It wasn’t unpleasant, though elbow room was lacking. But I preferred less than two hours on a cramped flight to an eight hour trip with two stops just for extra leg room. Though the plane was small and the flight short, there was drink service and I was tempted to ask for a drink based in whiskey regardless of the early hour just to calm my nerves. Instead I sustained myself on water and a playlist on my iPod that always made work easier to accomplish.

I was nervous about the state of things, visiting Sidney after only a matter of weeks. It was more spur of the moment than anything I’d ever done before. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with him, but most people got to know each other on neutral territory.

There was nothing neutral about Sidney’s house in Halifax, minutes from the house where his parents and sister lived.

Apparently, Sidney Patrick Crosby didn’t give a shit about neutrality or what other people considered normal. Frankly, that fact made me want to be brave.

I focused on the project I had open on my laptop, determined to finish before the wheels were down over Nova Scotia.

One thing about the time since I’d met Sid; I was never short on inspiration.

He joked that he was my new muse, the inspiration behind all of my masterpieces, the source of my greatest work and the catalyst for my creative energy. I wasn’t sure if it was all that laughable. It felt like his little joke held too many grains of truth to truly be a source of comedy.

Sidney had called early in the morning before my flight. Usually in the mornings he would send a text my way before he headed out for a run or to the gym to start his day. But to hear his voice when I was just waking up was a new experience. It was odd, but not unwelcome. His voice was raspy as I blinked against the early morning sun. I didn’t want to get used to the way it made me feel.

“You haven’t chickened out, have you?”

“You know, I never actually agreed to this little plan of yours.”

He didn’t respond. He was trying to decide whether I was kidding or if I was actually choosing to blow him off. We hadn’t spoken since our conversation on Saturday afternoon and it wasn’t like I had ever told him that we would be seeing each other. I hadn’t told him that I wouldn’t be on the plane, but I hadn’t told him that I would be either.

I sighed. As much as I wanted to mess with him, tease him a little, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It just wasn’t my way. Besides, the sound of his voice was almost hypnotic in the early hour, compelling me to tell him anything he wanted to hear.

“Is there anything you want me to bring other than those shoes?”

I could practically hear the smile spread slowly across his face. It was enough to make my heart thunder in my chest, the flutter of nervous energy racing through my body at the speed of light.

“Just you.”

I smiled. “I can handle that. Will you be there to pick me up at the airport?”

“I’ll be there.”

“With bells on?”

“I’d rather not draw too much attention.”

We clicked off and I went to gather my things. I’d called a cab, preferring the steep cab fare to the cost of parking at Logan for over a week. The reality didn’t set in until I was on the plane.
He was there when I landed; quick to take my bags and carry them for me. He looked genuinely happy to see me as he led me out into the rain, weather that he clearly didn’t appreciate.

He’d come up with so many ideas of how to spend our time while I was there, things to keep us busy so the awkward nature of the sudden trip wouldn’t enter the equation too often. The rain was enough to keep us inside.

I didn’t mind.

We spent the better part of the first two days in the house watching movies and trying to keep his yellow lab from destroying things out of pure boredom. We began on separate couches, but as the days progressed and we changed from comedies to dramas, our positions changed. By Tuesday night, as the rain finally began to taper off, we were lying on the same couch, his arms wrapped around me from behind with my back tucked as closely to him as possible. Sam was sprawled on the carpet in front of us, gnawing on a toy.

It felt only natural as the conversations that flowed became more personal.

I’d fallen asleep on the couch on Monday in the middle of a movie and had awoken the next morning to the smell of the spread that Sidney was making for breakfast. I was wrapped in a blanket in the same position I’d been all night. I smiled, realizing that Sidney had tucked me in rather than waking me the night before.
Tuesday night was a different story as we both began to yawn, fighting to stay awake.

“We never talked about sleeping arrangements.”

“We never talked about any arrangements,” I chided in response.

I felt his breath on the back of my neck and bit down on my lower lip. I would have gladly stayed where we were, the warmth of his body pressed against mine, his nose in my hair, the rhythm of our breathing in perfect time.

“It’s your call,” he murmured. “There’s a guest room or my bedroom. I promise to be on my best behavior if you choose the latter.”

A part of me didn’t want him to be on his best behavior. Everything about his proximity tempted me. Earlier I’d thought he made me want to be brave, but I was beginning to wonder if he didn’t have the ability to make me reckless.

“As long as you’re on your best behavior,” I replied.

He chuckled and turned off the movie. Neither of us was going to get anything out of it from that point on. We needed sleep and my night on the couch the night before had given me a crick in my neck that I couldn’t quite shake.

We lay there on our backs, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, a dividing line somewhere near the middle of the bed, a bit to the side of center due to the fact that Sidney took up more space than I did. It was like a wall that we wouldn’t cross for fear of causing something to go wrong.

The tension was palpable as I drifted off to sleep only to awaken in the center of the bed, curled up on my side with my head tucked against the broad planes of Sid’s chest. His breathing was shallow as I opened my eyes. He’d woken up first and discovered the way our bodies had curled against each other in the night, his hands on the small of my back.

I looked up at him, craning my neck slightly. We didn’t speak as I stared for a moment before carefully pressing a kiss to his lips. It was my signal that it was okay, that I didn’t mind waking up in his arms. His posture relaxed noticeably, his shoulders going from stiff and uncomfortable to a neutral position that had to be much more comfortable. He’d been waiting, afraid to move, unsure if I would be okay about waking up with my skin pressed against his.

In reality, I was more than okay with it. I couldn’t have imagined a more comfortable position to wake up in. I didn’t really want to.

We spent the day outside as the sun beat down on us, making up for two days lost to the rain. Sidney fished off the dock behind his house. I sat next to him as Sam lounged nearby enjoying the sun as much as we were.

I told him stories of my childhood in Minnesota, of the house that my father’s parents owned on a lake less than an hour away from the Canadian border. Sidney’s house reminded me a lot of that place, with the view over the water and the sounds of nature more noticeable than in the middle of a city or even a town as small as the one I’d grown up in.

I told him about fishing with my grandfather, a terribly patient man who didn’t mind that when I got bored I splashed through the water or tried to teach myself to skip rocks and ultimately chased the fish away. He was a man that would joke that if we were fishing for survival, we would certainly starve to death. The stories drew a smile from Sidney as he glanced back and forth between me and the water.

By late afternoon, he reeled in his line for the last time and reached out a hand to pull me to my feet. My skin was warm from the sun but I could still feel the electric heat of his hand in my own even after he let go.

I could feel him watching me as we walked back into the house.

“What?” I asked.

His eyes flashed to mine, separating from their previous target quickly, wary of being caught with his eyes lingering elsewhere.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

“In public?”

He laughed. “There’s a nightclub some friends have told me about. Not too crazy, just a nice place to get out for a while and relax. We can grab some dinner and go have some fun.”

“I didn’t even know Halifax had a nightlife.”

He shook his head at my stab at his town. “Pretty sure it’s better than the scene in Cannon Falls.”

It was a better scene than Cannon Falls. I had to admit it was better than I’d expected. It wasn’t Boston, but I hadn’t assumed that it would be. The population was nothing compared to the city that I’d grown to call my home. But it didn’t matter with Sidney at my side the whole night; and he was never very far from me.

He’d grinned when he saw that I was wearing the shoes that he’d hoped I’d bring, clearly uncertain of if I would have tucked them in my suitcase. I’d paired them with a blue dress that I wouldn’t admit I’d purchased the night before my flight, panicked because I had nothing to wear that would touch the way he filled out a suit. I would never tell him that I’d purchased it hoping he would love it, hoping he would notice the way it hugged my curves and brought out the color of my eyes.

He seemed to, his eyes lingering when I walked out of the bathroom, finally ready for our evening out.

“You look beautiful.”

I cast my eyes down at the floor, trying not to blush at the attention, still not used to the power that his eyes held over me.
He was handsome; his usual garb traded in for the majority of a suit, though his jacket rarely left the car over the course of the night. His shirt was pulled tightly across his chest, his broad shoulders and muscular back filling in the spaces that sometimes seemed vacant when similar shirts were worn by other men.
But I’d already figured out that Sidney Crosby was not like other men.

I resisted the urge to touch him during dinner, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of his skin on mine, but the venue felt so public. The restaurant wasn’t a place to keep secrets, but neither was the club he took me to afterwards. The place wasn’t as full as it could have been; the middle of the week probably not the busiest of nights to go out in search of a good time. And though it was busy and people clearly knew who Sidney was, he was completely oblivious to them.

He broke the ice, the first one of us to reach out and touch the other, he beat me to the punch and he didn’t ever stop. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but his lack of grace on the dance floor was more than made up for by the proximity that it forced upon us. His hands drifted from my hips up my sides and back down, constantly holding me tightly to his body, one of my legs trapped between his as we swayed together.

It may have been the drinks that I’d imbibed over dinner or the fire burning behind his eyes, but I couldn’t get close enough, to be even an inch away was too far. I felt like I was slowly losing my mind as his hips ground against mine with too much fabric separating us.

He kissed me deeply, devouring me with his lips. I had to be the one to pull away, aware of the attention we’d drawn. The onlookers were too interested for my taste, and while they may not have noticed that we’d arrived together, they were certainly aware that we left that way.

It was all downhill from there, the two of us picking up speed until the ultimate crash at the bottom of the hill.

We were a mess of limbs and fumbling hands undoing buttons and zippers. Items of clothing tossed aside without care.
Neither of us were destined to last long before it all became too much. Neither of us minded, caught up in the heat and desire of it all. We’d been taken over by the build-up, the unspoken words that had been replaced by wandering hands and roving eyes.
His hands left trails of heat wherever they went as my fingernails made tracks of their own.

My eyes never left his, afraid to blink or look away for fear of losing him like a mirage.

It was a collision in the best of ways.

When I awoke on Thursday morning, Sidney was already awake, his side of the bed cool to the touch. I put on his shirt from the night before, pulling a pair of underwear out of my suitcase and putting them on, though the shirt was so long it didn’t stop until a couple of inches above my knees. What fit him like a glove, fit me like a burlap sack.

The shirt smelled like him while his pillows and sheets smelled of us, the intermingling of the essences of two people in the best and most intimate of ways.

I smiled as I took in the state of the room. My dress and shoes discarded in haste, left where they landed the night before. His slacks were somewhere else, cast feverishly aside in the tumult.
I pulled my hair up and followed the smell of the coffee that I wouldn’t drink.

Sidney and Sam were in the kitchen. He was watching a pan of eggs on the stove while Sam watched him, waiting for him to drop something within the reach of her muzzle. Her eyes flicked to me momentarily, but her interest was clearly in the possibility of food falling overboard and into her mouth. I didn’t matter at the moment, regardless of our quickly developing friendship.

I reached past Sidney to turn the kettle on, noticing that he’d already gotten a mug down for me, a tea bag ready and waiting.
He smiled as he glanced over at me, his hair mussed from sleep and the near constant attention of my hands the night before. My hand settled on the small of his back, bare and tan, his sweats swung low on his hips.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” I replied, lost in his golden-brown gaze.

He kissed me softly, but it was different than before. It lacked hesitation and questions. There was no need for permission, no need to think before taking action. It just existed and was welcomed without issue. It felt the way a kiss, a real kiss, was meant to feel.

There had been a shift between us, trust had entered our relationship and somehow everything was changed. It felt as though we’d gone from two people getting to know each other to being two people known by one another.

It didn’t give us a definition of what we were, no words had been spoken to the subject, but it was clear that it would only be a matter of time before they would be uttered by one or both of us.
We pulled away and went back to our respective projects as a breeze came through the open door off the deck.

Neither of us were talkers before breakfast. It was something that worked for us; quiet moments spent without the pressure of verbal communication. It was never uncomfortable or empty, just quiet.

He dished up the breakfast on two plates, dropping a few bits of egg on the floor for Sam. The eggs tasted wonderful. Sidney, by his own admission, wasn’t a great cook, but he could make one hell of a breakfast.

We sat next to each other at the island with Sam between us, gazing up in hopes of begging a treat off of one of us.
It all felt so normal, not crazy in the least.

I jumped as someone knocked on the door. It was unexpected so early in the morning. Sidney placed his hand on my back for a moment, the touch calming and rousing me at the same time.

The things he could do with those hands.

He rose from his seat and left me behind at the island as he headed to answer the door. Sam skittered across the hardwood floor, sliding to a stop near the front door with Sid just steps behind her. I watched from my seat, the open layout of the house offering me the perfect view of the front door.

I saw the color drain from Sidney’s face as his posture changed. He was taken over by a distinct expression of dread as his eyes shot back to me before he pulled the door open.

“Pat has been trying to call you all morning.”

I blanched. This wasn’t the plan.

“This could be a PR disaster for you, Sidney.”

I wasn’t supposed to meet Troy Crosby until Saturday at dinner, not over breakfast on Thursday.

“People saw you out last night and who knows how many people got pictures of—“

He stopped abruptly, his eyes locked on me. I felt weak under his gaze, smaller than I was. I felt like I was shrinking as he glared across the room, taking in the sight of an unknown woman wearing one of Sidney’s shirts. Knowing my luck it was probably a shirt Troy and Trina had given him for Christmas and there I was eating Sid’s eggs and defiling his shirt in all my braless glory while his father judged me in silence.

“You brought her home and let her stay for breakfast?” he hissed.

I felt my face turn red as my blood began to boil. Sidney had told me that they would know about me before dinner on Saturday, that they would be aware of my presence. But it seemed, based on Troy’s assumption that his son had picked me up at the club the night before and I was simply a one-night-stand overstaying her welcome, Sidney had yet to tell them anything about me. Sure, it was only Thursday, but I’d had hopes that he’d make them aware of my existence and give them enough time to digest it before we met.

He’d decided to keep our secret a secret longer than intended and that was headline caliber news to me.

“You lied to me?” I demanded.

Sidney’s gaze volleyed back to me, he had yet to speak since his father crossed the threshold into the house.

“I told you I’d tell them.”

“When? On the way to their house for dinner? Via text from their driveway on Saturday evening?”

“No.”

I picked up my plate and tea.

“Sam and I are going to enjoy our eggs on the deck,” I said with a scowl. I avoided looking directly at Troy, keeping my eyes on Sidney instead. “I hope yours get cold, you jackass.”

He didn’t respond.

“C’mon Sammy!” I called as I stepped out onto the deck.

She followed obediently, though I’m sure she would have followed a stranger if they had food to offer. I toed the door partly closed behind us as I sat at the table on the deck, staring out at the lake.

I wasn’t hungry anymore.

For a moment, it was so quiet it felt like the entirety of Nova Scotia would become a vacuum; a black hole turned in on itself. Then, with little less than a thunderous crack, it began. Yelling like I hadn’t heard since Bastian and his boyfriend had broken up in our senior year of college when said boyfriend made out with a guy in his physics class; fitting given the fact that the fight led to them testing gravity itself with our dishes.

Inside the house, big voices battled to be heard first and wanting to speak last, to have the final say.

It was hard to follow, Sidney shouting about being an adult, about spending what little vacation he was allowing himself in the way he chose with whomever he chose. I heard him shout something about his father and agent taking a step back, letting his personal life be his and no one else’s.

Troy didn’t seem to want to let go of the public relations fiasco he was so sure was about to occur or was possibly already occurring. I heard him shout about distractions no fewer than half a dozen times.

Sidney loved what he did. His passion for the sport was undeniable. But their exchange, the back and forth of venom between them, made me think of something Sidney had said on the day we met. He wanted to know what it was like not to answer to anyone.

I couldn’t imagine fielding calls from an agent and visits from my father because I’d been seen in public, in a nightclub in Halifax with the person I was, for all intents and purposes, in a relationship with. It all felt so demeaning, like Sidney didn’t matter as a person, like all that mattered was Sidney the hockey phenomenon and the salary he pulled down.

I was certain that his father was a good man, perhaps wrapped up in the dreams that he didn’t fulfill, living vicariously through his son. But the yelling from inside the house made it seem as though nothing mattered more than Sid’s career and what impact his personal life could have on it.

I tossed a bite of egg to Sam. The fighting was making her uncomfortable and she’d taken to pacing near the door. She seemed to have lost her appetite as well.

“Shut up!” Sidney bellowed.

I gripped the arms of the chair to steady myself. Never in a million years did I think I would hear those words directed at his father, a man he respected without question or condition.

“Excuse me?” Troy seethed, his voice low, threatening.

“You heard me,” Sidney replied, lowering his voice. “Shut up. I’ve heard enough.”

“Clearly you haven’t! How could you risk your career?”

“How is she a risk to my career?”

“You don’t need any distractions.”

Seven times; I’d heard the word seven times.

“We’re a heartbeat away from a work stoppage, Dad. The talks aren’t going well and I’m well aware of the impact that could have on the season. The media is going to be all over me when the season starts, whenever that happens and probably even before, especially if things don’t go well. I’ve got three interviews and a photo shoot scheduled for the week after next. Those are distractions. Those are things that could throw me off my game if I’m not careful.

“Bronwyn is not a distraction. She’s a constant, she’s a comfort. She makes me want to be better. She makes me want to focus and give everything I’ve got.”

“Why?” Troy demanded, his volume rising again.

I’d managed to rise from my chair and open the door without realizing, like Sidney’s voice was drawing me in, his words calling to me. I was standing on the threshold with Sam hiding behind my legs, wanting to hear his reply.

Why did I make him want to be better? How was I a comfort to him? Why hadn’t he said any of those things to me?

“I love her.”

There was silence. Complete silence. I’m fairly certain that as he uttered those words, I held my breath.

“You what?” Troy asked; his voice quiet but still commanding.

“You what?” I asked from the doorway.

He turned towards me and crossed the space between us with a few short strides, leaving his father behind him. Troy’s eyes were on me, looking dumbfounded, like it was the last thing in the world he’d expected his son to say, and frankly, I had a feeling the look on my face was astoundingly similar to the look on his.

“I love you, Bronwyn Abigail Doyle. I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you.”

How long could he have waited? We’d only known each other for about a month. I wanted to think, at least part of me did, that his confession was borne of the fight with his father, a way to get the last word, to shut his father up.

But then there was the tone. That damn change in his voice that meant his words were genuine, a promise or a guarantee. He’d used that tone, not just with me, but with his father.
He was in love with me.

My stomach turned and I felt light-headed for a moment like I could topple over with the touch of a feather. I thought about the way his scent warmed me from within and the way his hands could set fires upon my flesh. I thought about the way my muse never seemed to be far away when a text came through the ether and jump-started my heart. I thought about the way he made me feel brave and adventurous. I thought about the fact that after two nights in the same bed, only one spent on activities aside from sleep, I didn’t want to think about going to bed alone once I returned to Boston.

I didn’t want to think about returning to Boston because he wouldn’t be there.

I didn’t want to think about being anywhere he wasn’t.

I was in love with him.

“I love you too, Patrick.”

He laughed and pulled me into a hug, his lips grazing my forehead. I wrapped my arms around his bare torso and held fast to him.
It should have felt awkward with his father looking on, it should have felt wrong. But it didn’t. It felt like the only thing to be said because it was the most truthful thing I could have said in return.
Troy didn’t seem to know how to react. We hadn’t even been introduced officially and less than ten minutes earlier he’d been convinced that I was just some floozy his son had picked up and slept with to fill one of his summer nights. I couldn’t blame him for avoiding my gaze as he cleared his throat, still standing near the front door.

“You still need to speak with Pat.”

Sidney turned towards him, draping an arm over my shoulders and shaking his head.

“This is my vacation. That hasn’t changed. I’ll talk to Pat next week.”

“Sidney,” his father replied, trying to compel his son to think differently.

“No. There is nothing to say and nothing to explain. This is new and it’s private. Frankly, it’s mine to enjoy for as long as I can before anyone else feels the need to get involved. If Pat is desperate for something to tell the masses, he can tell them that his client doesn’t comment on his personal life.”

Troy rubbed a hand across the creases in his forehead. He was frustrated and clearly uncomfortable. I couldn’t hold that against him, his concern for Sid was clear, even if he didn’t handle it in the best way. He looked like he was trying to find something to say. He hadn’t expected a screaming match with his son so early in the morning in the same way he hadn’t expected to find me in Sid’s kitchen. He just didn’t seem to handle surprises well.

It was something that I could understand.

We stood silently for a moment and I hated the way it felt.

I willed my voice not to shake. “Maybe we should start fresh,” I suggested. “Just not today.”

Sidney pressed his temple to mine, a show of solidarity.

“You can clear your head, we can both cool off, and maybe you can let Mom and Taylor know need to set a fifth plate on Saturday.”

It was a reiteration of what they’d been fighting over, Sidney’s way of telling his father, who was used to getting the upper hand when it came to their tiffs, that he wasn’t going to back down. Sidney had said what he needed to say. It amounted to his intention to keep me around. While it wasn’t the greatest of introductions, I still wanted to stick around, to give his family a chance to react to me genuinely when it didn’t come as a complete shock to their systems.

I wanted them to see us together, just being us. Maybe what we had only felt special to us, but after the night before, I couldn’t deny that there was something between us that deserved a chance to flourish. I would have hated for his family, or even for mine, to find a reason not to approve.

Troy didn’t answer as he headed out the door. It was like he was in shock, unsure of what to say, if there was anything that could be said. But that was okay. That could change given time and a chance to introduce myself while wearing my own shirt and preferably a pair of pants.

“I love you,” Sidney murmured again once we were alone.

He meant it and it felt good to say it in return without anyone there to witness it. The second exchange was meant only for the two of us. It seemed only fair to tell someone you loved them whenever it felt right, but the privacy was a nice addition knowing that the secret couldn’t last forever.