Mine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JT

I ’ve been spending the afternoon looking up local culinary programs. Marshall must be in Asheville by now, and it’s taken everything inside me not to call and check on him. This trip has to be hard on him, and I’m so fucking angry with my parents for the way they’re treating him.

The more I think about it, the more frustrated I get. Why aren’t Dad and Marshall there together right now? Dad acts like I’m childish, like I’m not a proper adult for the choices I make, when really, he’s the one acting like a child.

I shove to my feet and push my phone into my pocket. I’ve avoided my parents, but I’m not doing that anymore. I’m going to force them to understand, if for no other reason than for Marshall. He’s willing to give up the only family he has ever known for me, and while I’m kind of doing the same, I can still have my parents in my life. They’ll take me back, just not him.

I tug open the door and—“Oh.” Mom is standing there with her hand raised, about to knock. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you. I can’t do this anymore, JT. You’re my son. I love you, and I won’t go another moment without you in my life.”

I sigh, step aside, and let her in. “What about Marshall? I won’t do this without him. I don’t understand how I found the one thing that’s ever made me feel truly happy, the one person who loves me and wants the best for me and makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have—a person you both love—and you can’t support it because what? He’s older than me? How we spend our time in the bedroom? No. I’m not… I can’t…”

“Did we ever make you feel uncomfortable in your own skin?”

“Yes…no…kind of.” I pace around the small living room. “I know neither of you mean it, and I know how much I’m loved, but you’re both so set in your ways, you tend not to accept that other people can be happy, fulfilled, and right if they make choices different from yours.”

She gasps. Her hand rises to her mouth, and it’s shaking. “We love you and want what’s best for you—”

“But you think you know what’s best for me more than I do. Can’t you see that? You don’t trust me to make the best decisions for me. How do you think it feels that you and Dad don’t think I know my own mind? That you think I can’t make smart, responsible decisions that are right for me? That my choices are wrong and unworthy because they’re not ones you would make?”

“I…” Mom starts. “We never wanted to make you feel like that.”

“Intent doesn’t matter. You did make me feel that way. And as much as you don’t understand it, Marshall completely accepts me for who I am. He makes me feel like that person is okay. He listens and supports my decisions.” I look down. “I love him so much, and I know it’s confusing and came out of the blue, but he’s it for me. And as much as I love you, as much as I miss you—” My voice breaks, but then my pain gives way to anger. “I can’t do this if you aren’t okay with him. He doesn’t deserve to lose you and Dad for loving me. He deserves better, and if you can’t see that, then it’s the two of you who don’t deserve him.”

She walks closer and…smiles? That’s definitely not what I’m expecting here. “You really are in love with him.”

“More than anything.”

She cocks her head, watching me. “You’re different…happier, I think. More confident. That’s not something I ever believed you were lacking before, but you were, weren’t you?”

I nod, surprised she can see all that just by looking at me. “In some ways, yes. Do you really think Marshall would ever do something to hurt me? Something I don’t want?”

Guilt seeps into her expression, her gaze darting down. “I know he wouldn’t. Not our Marsh, and deep down, your father knows it too. But you have to admit this was a lot to take in.”

“That doesn’t excuse your actions.”

“No. You’re right. It doesn’t.” Mom reaches over and grabs my hand. “I love you so much. I’m so proud of you, and I always have been, even when I’ve done a bad job at showing it.” She pulls me with her, and we walk over to the couch and sit down. “When I got pregnant and we decided to keep you, everyone told us it was a mistake, but John and I knew it wasn’t.”

“Just like Marshall and I know what’s between us isn’t one either.”

Mom smiles. “I swore to myself I was going to be the best mom in the world. I would always understand, never push my wants on you. That you would never doubt my love for you, and I would always be by your side… I’ve failed in that recently, but I’m not going to do it anymore. I love you. I trust you, and you couldn’t have picked a better man than Marsh.”

My heart leaps with joy; I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a tight hug.

It’s not until she says, “Shh. You’re okay,” her hand running up and down my back, that I realize I’m crying. “My baby is in love with a man we adore. It’s time we learn to celebrate that.”

Her words just make me cry harder. I let her hug me, return it, feel her shoulders shake when she begins to cry too. I don’t know how long we’re like that—mother and son, tears washing away the past and leaving in their wake a promise for the future—before we pull away.

“Dad?” I ask.

“He has a harder time seeing things from other people’s perspectives, but he loves you. And he loves Marsh. He’s been struggling a lot lately. He misses you both. Hell, he went to the cabin this weekend to drown his sorrow in bourbon. If that’s not a sign of how much he misses Marsh, I don’t know what is.”

I freeze. “Dad is at the Asheville cabin?”

“Yes. What other cabin would he be at?”

“Marshall went too—complete with bourbon and everything. Let me get this straight…Dad and Marshall both went to the cabin, the weekend they usually go…both with bourbon.” Mom nods. “Marshall is there mourning the loss of Dad.”

“Dad is there because he wants to feel closer to Marsh.”

We look at each other and burst into laughter. It’s the emotion of the day getting to us. Really, this isn’t funny at all, but in some ways it is. They are the perfect best friends—brothers—and knowing Dad went there too makes me realize that everything will be okay.

*

I smile when my phone rings. I’m lying in Marshall’s bed because I want to feel close to him, want to smell him on the sheets. After spending some time with Mom, I tried to stay at Reggie’s but couldn’t. This is where I always want to be.

“Hey,” I say softly. “I came home so I could smell you and feel like you’re close to me.”

“Good boy,” Marshall replies with a slight slur to his voice.

“Wait…are you drunk?”

“You’re never going to guess what happened.”

“Dad came?”

I only get silence in return. “You knew?”

“Not before you left. I was about to go to my parents’ house to tell them to get their shit together and stop acting like children, but Mom was at the door. She came by to tell me she’s okay with us, that she just wants me happy. She wants me— us —back in her life. After we talked, we realized you both went. It’s been killing me not to call you. How did it go?”

“Tough…then okay. It’s not perfect, but he’s trying because he loves us both and wants us in his life. I think it’ll work out. I think we’re going to be okay, even if it takes a little while to get through everything that’s happened.”

I humph. “What’s happened is that you make me happy and I love you. Why should that take him time?”

“Because as much as all of us would like to pretend or expect others to be perfect, no one is. Your dad is human like the rest of us.”

Why does he always have to be so mature and logical about everything? “That’s very smart for someone who is drunk and slurred his words.”

He chuckles, then sobers. “We’re going to be okay. More than that—we’re going to be happy.”

I smile, feel warmth rush through me that only he can bring me. “I know. I trust you. I love you…my Sir.”

Without seeing him, I know he’s smiling. “I love you too, my sweet boy.”

*

“JT, you have a new customer at table twelve,” the hostess tells me. It’s Sunday night, and Marshall is supposed to be home today. We spoke off and on throughout the weekend, but mostly, I tried to leave him alone so he and Dad could work on mending their friendship. He said it was going well, and I hope that’s the truth, hope it only grows from this weekend and things find a way back to how they were before. “It’s a guy, by himself,” she adds, making my lips automatically pull into a grin.

It’s Marshall. It has to be. I would put money on the fact that he got home and decided to come and see me here before I get off. It’s the exact kind of thing I would do.

“Thanks,” I tell her before making my way over. My gaze finds table twelve, but it’s not Marshall sitting there waiting for me.

It’s my dad.

Nerves let loose in my gut, like bugs trapped in a jar, trying to get free. Anger mixes in. I can’t pretend it doesn’t, though I know he spent the weekend with Marshall and things are getting better between them.

Behind both those emotions is excitement that he’s here, in the restaurant he never would have come to before because he never saw how important it is to me.

He’s here now, and I don’t know what that means.

“Hi, son,” Dad says, looking almost shy. It’s not an expression I’ve ever seen from him before. I’m not sure what to make of it.

“Dad.” I nod. “The specials are…” I describe the two meals on special for the day, my eyes holding his stare the whole time. I can do this. I want him to see I’m not a child, not the boy he still pretends I am. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Just water is fine.”

“I’ll get that and come back for your order.”

Just as I turn, he says, “Marsh told me the smoked salmon is incredible. He also mentioned some kind of pork with spicy honey. What do you recommend?”

My hands shake, heart taking off in my chest like it’s just started a fifty-yard dash. “I don’t think you’ll like the pork. You’ll love the salmon, but the special—the beef tenderloin with shallots—is even better than it sounds. We marinate it in a Merlot, which really brings out the spices. I think you’ll love it.” He smiles, and I frown. “What?”

“Nothing. You just…look good…sound good. I don’t know, you’re just smiling.”

“Food makes me smile,” I admit.

His brows pull together, wrinkles forming on his forehead. “Okay. I’ll have that.”

I nod, unsure I can find the words to speak at the moment. I’m not sure what is happening here. The second I put the order in, I send Marshall a text.

Me: Dad is here… Did you know?

He answers immediately.

Sir: I had no idea. If he’s there, it’s because it’s where he wants to be. I didn’t tell him anything that wasn’t mine to give.

I breathe out a sigh, but really, I already knew that. It’s not how Marshall works. He wouldn’t have told Dad I want to be a chef.

Me: Thank you. I love you. I’m freaking out, but also…hopeful.

Sir: It’ll be okay. No matter what. You got this.

And the thing is, I do.

I bring Dad his water, then go about my business, making sure I do my job. I talk to my customers when I drop off their food, make suggestions, and just enjoy being around people.

My nerves hit me again when it’s time to bring Dad his food, but I ignore them, carrying his plate to him.

“It’s nice here,” he says.

“It is. The food is excellent. The staff is awesome. I’m really happy here.”

He gets a far-off look in his eyes, a little sad, though I don’t think it’s for the same reasons it would usually be. “What time do you get off?”

“Seven tonight. I got my shift changed so I can get home and see Marshall a little earlier.”

I brace myself for him to flinch or make a comment about Marshall, but he doesn’t. “If I stick around, do you think you can give me a few minutes before you go home?”

“Sure,” I say, emotion twisting me up.

“Thank you,” Dad says. “Now let me taste this.” He cuts into the tenderloin and takes a bite. “Wow…this really is good.”

“I knew you’d like it,” I find my voice to say. “Can I, um…get you anything else?”

“I’m okay for now.”

There’s only an hour left of my shift. I’m surprised when Dad does stay, only paying when it’s just about time for me to get off. I tell him I’ll meet him outside, then clock out and grab my things, all while fighting not to get my hopes up, to be prepared to stand my ground.

Dad is waiting out front with his hands in his pockets. He looks up as if sensing me, and I can see the same emotions warring inside me reflected in his gaze—fear, sadness, hope. “Can we walk?” he asks.

“Sure.”

We’re both quiet as we make our way down the sidewalk. I wait to see what he has to say. He’s the one who came here, so I’m going to give him the chance to tell me why.

“I was watching you in there. You’re really good with the customers. I heard the woman at the next table say how she always likes it when you work.”

“I like what I do,” I say simply.

Dad sighs. “I don’t know why this is so hard… I guess admitting you’re wrong is never easy, but I owe you an apology.”

“You owe Marshall one.”

“I owe you both one,” he amends. “But right now, I’m not talking about you and Marshall. I’m talking about you and me.”

We turn the corner to a quieter street, and I stop to look at him.

“I know I haven’t been the perfect father. I’ve spent the last month or so doing a lot of reflecting, and I think…I think I’ve made you feel very alone sometimes. I think I haven’t shown you very well that I’m proud of you. That I know you’re strong, confident, and smart.”

“That’s not how you acted before.” Maybe I owe him a better response than that, but the truth is, I’m hurt.

“I told myself I was doing right by you, giving you the best opportunities, trying to push you to want more, and in that, I made you feel like there’s something wrong with who you are and the choices you make. I won’t make excuses for myself. When I set my mind to something, I don’t back down. I’m aware of that. Sometimes that’s good, like when we found out we were pregnant with you, then college and things like that. Other times…it’s not ideal, like when it comes to my hopes for you. I decided you were going to be just like me, follow in my footsteps, want the same things, and then I couldn’t see past that. I put my wants and choices on you. Once I was on that path, it was hard to back down, but I was wrong, JT. And I made you feel like you don’t make me the proudest father in the world, and that’s my biggest regret. I don’t care what your job is, or if you go to school or not. I want you happy. I want you in my life. That’s the only thing that’s important.”

For a moment, I’m not sure I heard him right. My heart thuds in my ears, making everything sound far off and echoey.

“You’re a good man, JT. A good person. You’re strong and kind and know who you are. And I’ll never forgive myself for trying to stifle that,” he adds, making my eyes sting. It takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Not to tell him it’s okay. He’s my dad, and I love him, but…

“You hurt me.”

“I know. I’m so damn sorry. I know I can’t fix the past, but I want a chance to change our future.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “I’m sorry too. I know I hurt you… We hurt you. We didn’t mean to, and I miss you so much, but I can’t do this if you can’t accept Marshall. If you love me, you have to love all of me—the parts that are with him, that want to spend the rest of my life with him. I’m not asking you to understand. I’m asking you to accept me anyway… To accept us.”

He smiles at me, tears in his eyes. “I’m so damn proud of the man you are and the way you stand up for what you know is right and those you love…and he’s the same. Both of you are led by your hearts. It’s a good match.”

And for now, I can’t ask for anything more. “I love you, Dad.” I throw my arms around him, Dad returning my hug, squeezing me so tight, I can hardly breathe.

“I love you too, son.”

I don’t expect perfection from him, any more than anyone can expect it from me. Life is full of lessons, of learning and growing and changing, but I know we’ll come out of it at the other end better than where we are now.

We walk and talk for a good hour. I tell him about culinary school, and about me and Marshall some too, and he listens. We end at my car. Dad hugs me again, tells me he loves me, then watches me get into my car and drive away.

As soon as I come inside the house, Marshall’s head snaps up, eyes meeting mine. “Are you okay?” He’s already moving toward me.

“I’m happy.” I lose myself in his embrace, knowing he’s happy too.