40. Reveal the Party #3
Because every big thing I've ever done becomes an audit.
Because when I needed help, it came with commentary.
Because Ryan told everyone I was unstable and too much and somehow I ended up defending myself to my own family.
Because Clay has always been the person I call when the floor falls out.
Instead, I start with the simplest one. “It was complicated.”
Mom lets out a sharp laugh. “Marriage is generally something your parents should know about, Cameron.”
“I know.”
“And you thought avoiding us for a year was better?”
“No. I thought avoiding this conversation was easier.”
Griffin's thumb brushes the side of my finger once.
Mom sees that too.
Her attention turns toward him. “How did this happen?”
I feel my spine straighten. “Mom.”
“What? I am asking.”
“Ask me.”
Her eyes return to mine. “You are the one who brought him.”
“Yes. Because he's my husband. Not because he's here to explain me.”
Dad shifts.
“Okay.” His tone is gentler. “Then tell us.”
So I do.
Not everything.
They don't need everything.
I tell them I moved into Griffin's house because Clay knew they had a room open.
That I aged off their insurance.
That Griffin and I made a practical decision that became something completely different.
That the relationship followed the paperwork.
That I love him.
Dad looks at Griffin again.
This time differently.
Not suspicion exactly.
Recalculation.
Mom presses her fingers to her lips. “So you got married for health insurance.”
“Yes.”
“Cameron.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds insane.”
Clay makes a small choking sound. “It was actually legally and financially very sensible.”
Mom turns on him. “You knew?”
He doesn't dodge. “Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough.”
“And you didn't think we deserved to know?”
Clay looks at me before he answers. “My sister's marriage wasn't my news to share.”
Something warm moves through my chest.
Mom’s mouth tightens. “You two have always done this.”
“Done what?” I ask.
“Closed ranks.”
Clay's posture doesn't change. “Usually for a reason.”
“Clay.”
He lifts both hands. “I'm not here to fight with you.” His eyes flick toward me. “I'm here for her.”
No speech.
No defense of my choices.
Just a line in the sand.
Mom looks hurt.
I hate that it hurts me too.
Dad rubs one hand over his knee. “You said the relationship came after the marriage.”
“Yes.”
“And you're happy?”
“Yes.” That answer is easy.
Mom looks at Griffin again. “And you?”
Before Griffin can answer, I say, “We're not done.”
Everyone looks at me.
My pulse is suddenly loud enough that I can feel it in my fingertips.
This is the part I could leave out.
The easy escape.
Let them absorb the secret marriage today.
Tell them everything else later.
Again.
Another partial truth.
Another carefully curated version of my life designed to keep somebody else comfortable.
No.
“I don't just have a relationship with Griffin.”
Mom goes completely still.
Dad's brow furrows.
I keep going before either can interrupt.
“The roommates I told you about—Micah, Dex, and Ronan—are also my partners.”
Nothing.
Not even breathing, apparently.
“And before you ask, no, Griffin isn't being cheated on.”
Mom's mouth opens.
“He knows. He's part of it. All of us are.”
Dad finally speaks. “All five of you?”
“Yes.”
Mom looks at Griffin so fast it's almost insulting. “Griffin?”
There it is.
I squeeze his hand.
He says nothing.
Good man.
“Mom. Look at me.”
Her gaze comes back reluctantly.
“Griffin is my husband. He isn't my parole officer.”
“I didn't say that.”
“You're asking him whether my relationship is acceptable while I'm sitting right here.”
“I am trying to understand if your husband is actually okay with you sleeping with three other men.”
That is a sentence.
My stomach twists even though I expected it. “It isn't just sex.”
“I didn't say—”
“It is not me fucking three roommates while Griffin quietly tolerates it because he loves me too much to say no.”
Mom's face reddens.
Dad looks profoundly uncomfortable.
Clay studies the ceiling.
Sorry, big brother.
You chose attendance.
“Micah and Dex are in love with each other,” I continue. “Micah and Ronan have a relationship. Ronan and Dex have something too. We aren't just Griffin and me with three men orbiting us.”
I can feel Griffin looking at me now.
“We are a family.”
Dad exhales slowly. “This is a lot.”
“I know.”
“And you all live together?”
“Yes.”
“You're all—” He gestures vaguely. “Together?”
“Yes.”
Mom shakes her head. “I don't understand.”
“I don't need you to.”
Her eyes flash. “I'm your mother.”
“And I'm twenty-six.”
“Which doesn't mean I stop worrying about you.”
“I know.” The response comes softer than I intend.
Because I do know.
There were glucose checks at two in the morning.
Juice boxes in every purse.
My mother sitting through diabetes education with a notebook in her lap.
My father learning carbohydrate math even though numbers made him miserable.
They loved me.
They just had a habit of loving me like something might go wrong if they loosened their grip.
Mom looks between Griffin and me. “You finally have someone stable. Someone responsible. Someone with a career and health insurance and—”
A laugh escapes me.
Not because it's funny.
Because of course.
“There's the part I was waiting for.”
“What?”
“Griffin is the good decision.”
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
“Cami—”
“No. Ryan was the good decision too, remember?”
The room changes.
Mom's mouth closes.
Dad looks down.
Even Clay's posture tightens.
I hadn't planned to go there.
Apparently my mouth has other ideas. “You loved him.”
“We thought he was good to you.”
“You believed him when he told everyone I was crazy.”
Mom flinches. “We did not—”
“You believed enough of it.”
My voice wobbles.
I hate that.
I keep going anyway. “He cheated on me. More than once. I stayed too long, finally left him, and somehow I still ended up being the difficult one. Too emotional. Too needy. Too jealous. Too much.”
Griffin's fingers tighten around mine.
I don't look at him. “If you look at me now—happy, supported, safer than I have ever been—and your first instinct is still to find the person tolerating me?”
Mom's eyes shine. “That isn't fair.”
“Neither was believing him.”
Silence.
Dad rubs one hand over his face. “Sweetheart, I don't think either of us handled that well.”
Mom looks at him.
He doesn't take it back.
My throat closes.
Fuck.
I wasn't prepared for that either.
Dad looks at me. “But this still feels… unstable.”
There it is.
Not cruel.
Almost worse.
Honest.
“Five people is complicated.”
“Yes.”
“Relationships between everybody can get me—”
“Yes.”
“That's a lot of opportunities for someone to get hurt.”
“Also yes.”
Dad seems surprised I agree.
I lean back slightly. “We fight. Feelings get hurt. We have jealousy sometimes. We have schedules that require a group calendar and apparently now a legal planning committee.”
Clay snorts.
I glance at him. “Helpful.”
“Sorry.”
Mom presses her hands together. “And you really think this is permanent?”
“I don't know what is permanent.”
“That isn't reassuring.”
“Neither is divorce court, Mom.”
Clay covers his mouth.
Dad looks like he's fighting a smile.
Mom is not.
“I know what you're asking,” I say. “I can't promise we're all going to die holding hands at ninety-five. I couldn't promise that about one husband either.”
I glance at Griffin. “What I can tell you is this isn't an experiment.”
“It's not a phase. Griffin isn't waiting for me to get it out of my system. The other guys aren't temporary entertainment until I decide to be normal.”
Mom winces at the word.
Good.
Maybe she should.
“They are people I love.”
The sentence sits there.
Simple.
True.
Mom looks at me for a long time. “I don't know how to be okay with this.”
My chest aches. “I know.”
“I don't approve.”
“I know.”
“But I don't want to lose you.”
That almost does me in.
My eyes burn so quickly I have to look down.
I blink hard. “Then don't.”
Her face crumples slightly.
Dad reaches for her hand. “We love you.”
“I love you too.”
“That doesn't mean we're going to pretend this makes sense to us.”
“I didn't ask you to.”
Mom shakes her head. “I just hope all of you come to your senses.”
The hurt lands exactly where expected.
Still hurts.
I pull my hand free from Griffin long enough to wipe beneath my eye. “Maybe we will.”
Mom looks hopeful for half a second.
I continue.
“Maybe one day we'll all wake up and realize we want separate houses and golden retrievers and monogamous Costco memberships.”
Clay laughs.
I can't help smiling through the ache.
“But don't build your relationship with me around waiting for my life to become more comfortable for you.”
Her hope disappears.
Good.
I would rather disappoint her honestly.
Dad looks between us. “Why now?”
That question is easier.
And harder.
I inhale. “Because I was in the ICU three weeks ago.”
Mom's entire face drains of color. “What?”
Dad sits forward.
Clay goes still beside us.
Griffin breathes deeply.
I keep my eyes on my parents. “I had a UTI. My pump site failed while I was sleeping. I went into DKA.”
Mom is already standing. “What do you mean you were in the ICU?”
“Mom—”
“You were in the hospital, and nobody called us?”
Her gaze whips to Clay. “Did you know?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell us?”
“Cami asked me not to.”
“You could have died.”
“I know.”
The words stop her.
. Because apparently no one knows how to respond when the chronically ill person acknowledges the scary thing herself.
I swallow. “That is one of the reasons we're telling everybody now.”
Mom lowers herself back to the couch slowly.
Dad looks wrecked.
“If I hadn't been able to make decisions for myself, the hospital automatically went to Griffin.”
Neither says anything.
“The other three had to be documented as people allowed to get information. We realized we need legal paperwork. Powers of attorney. Emergency contacts. All of it.”
Dad's forehead creases. “That makes sense.”
“And if it had been Micah? Or Dex? Or Ronan? Their families could walk in and legally matter more than the people they live with and love.”