“Scrawny?” I gasp, clutching my chest. “I wasneverscrawny, thank you very much.”
“Right,” Dad hums, his gaze flickering momentarily, a distant look in his eyes. Then he seems to shake himself. “Nah, you’re right, Kayden. You’re right. I’m fussing over nothing. I just want her to be happy, you know?”
I know what he means, and that’s why Dad is one of the most selfless people I know. “Sheishappy, Dad. Very.”
“It’s just that… we started out with nothing. Those first years were hard. And she stuck by me even when her parents said I was a no-good dreamer and that nothing would ever come of me. And your mom stood by me every step of the way.”
My eyes sting because I know Mom’s parents put them through hell those first years, trying their hardest to sabotage their relationship.
“Well, that’s just the kind of people you and Mom are. You stand by each other just like you’ve stood by me.” I’ve often thought about how my life would have been, especially my transition, if I’d had parents who didn’t support me, or perhaps would’ve downright disowned me. Many people still do that to their trans children. Shit, some even put their kids in one of those awful conversion therapy camps. A chill spreads all the way to my bones at the thought.
Dad looks at me, seconds away from tearing up too. “Of course, we stand by you, Kayden. Wemadeyou. You’re part of us, and you’re perfect.” His voice breaks on the last syllable, then he continues, a rare hardness to his voice, “I’ll never for the life of me understand the parents who don’t, who make their love for their child dependent on things that are beyond our control. That isn’t love.” His jaw clenches, and he reaches for me, brushing his thumb underneath my eye, and I realize I failed at holding back the tears. “They don’t deserve children, and you can quote me on that. They don’t deserve them.” He smiles wistfully, patting my cheek fondly. “Your mom and I thank our lucky stars for you, Kayden. Every damn day.”
I nod quietly. “Thanks, Dad. I thank my lucky stars for you guys, too.”
Dad laughs. “Whoa, that went sappy real fast, didn’t it?”
I laugh too, brushing at my eyes. “Yeah, get a grip, old man.”
Dad claps his hands together, his eyes still glassy. “So, quaint seaside bed & brekky or upscale spa and resort?”
“Dad, I think you already know the answer to that. Mom would kill you if you spent that much money on a weekend away. You’d never hear the end of it. Besides, she would feel so out of place with all those rich people.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. Now that’s settled, what are your weekend plans?”
“Not much. I think I’ll just do some more stuff around the apartment. I still need to put up my bookshelves.”
“You’re still coming over for lunch Sunday, right? Your mom wants to try out this new recipe for roasted chicken she found on some Mediterranean food vlog.”
I shrug, smiling. “Sure. Wouldn’t wanna miss out on that. I’ll bring the wine.”
“Great. I’ll tell her.”
“Tell her what?” I look up, and my gaze collides with Caleb’s. He smiles in that easy way of his as he walks toward us. He’s in a formal white button-up, charcoal dress pants, and even a matching gray tie slung loosely around his neck. His usually unruly hair is swept away from his forehead, but a few strands have come loose, teasing his prominent dark eyebrows. His eyes are locked onto mine, the granite gray sucking me in. I force myself to look away. Caleb always looks good, but today, like this, he looks like a million fucking dollars.
“You’re back,” Dad says. “How did it go?”
“Really well. Hi, Kayden. You’ve been busy.” I don’t hear any accusation in his voice, just a carefulness that mirrors how I feel when I look back up at him. Caleb swipes the rogue strands of hair out of his eyes, and that simple motion alone nearly has me tumbling from the stool. How is that so hot? Was it always that hot? Washealways this hot?
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Busy.”
A careful smile plays along Caleb’s lips before his eyes leave mine as he turns to Dad. “I promised I’d set up a quote for them, but they want five.” He smiles broadly as he comes closer, his familiar scent invading the room. He eyes me carefully again, before his gaze flickers back to Dad.
“Five? Fucking five? What the hell did you do, man?”
Caleb shrugs. “Nothing. Just flashed my pearly whites and told them how fucking good you are. And…” Caleb eyes me again, warmth pooling in his eyes.
“And?”
“It didn’t hurt that we now have a fucking professional-looking website. They were pretty impressed with our online portfolio.Someonedid a damn fine job.” His voice dips into a low hum, and I shift on the stool.
I look down at my hands. His praise feels good, too good, and I know I’m getting flustered.
“Oh, yeah?” Dad looks between Caleb and me, then wraps his arm around my shoulder and ruffles my hair. “Good job, kid. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I know I’m great at what I do, but hearing it from Dad means everything to me. It does coming from Caleb, too, but I don’t quite know how to feel about the effect his praise has on me. On my body. I feel hot all over, like I’m coming down with something or spent too much time in the sun.
“So, are we still on for tomorrow?” Caleb stares directly at me. I was hoping he’d forgotten, or that it was just something he offered to be nice, but I ought to know Caleb better than that. I feel Dad’s eyes on me, and suddenly it’s like there’s not enough air in the room. “If tomorrow’s no good, we can do it some other time,” Caleb adds, and there’s a rare uncertainty in his voice.