16. Chapter 16
Beau
Ceilidh (kay-lee)
Translation: A party
Usage: A social event, often with traditional music, dancing, and singing
“Bloody hell,” Torin says when he steps inside the house. “You must really like Christmas.”
Lights are twinkling from the garland draped over the mantel, greenery threaded with dried orange slices and cinnamon sticks that release a spicy scent into the air, my stocking hanging in the middle.
The tree glows in the corner of the room, wrapped in burlap and wood beads, and trimmed with oranges, pine cones, and varying shades of green, brass, and pewter ornaments.
Christmas candles and nicknacks abound. A Santa here, a Ho Ho Ho sign there.
I love it, but now I’m looking at it from someone else’s perspective.
“Is it too much?” I ask.
He closes his mouth and pivots to me. “No, it’s amazing,” he says, his green eyes on mine. “I love it.”
“Good,” I say, realizing how much I crave his approval. “I’m glad you like it. I love Christmas. Best time of the year.”
We shed our coats and head to the kitchen, Torin eyeing the Christmas village spread across the sideboard—rows of tiny houses and trees dusted with fake snow, yellow windows glowing softly from the lights inside.
He leans closer for a second, studying the miniature ice skaters circling a frozen pond, before finally pulling out a stool at the breakfast bar.
I start gathering smoothie ingredients and am only a little embarrassed about the gingerbread house in front of him, its roof dusted with powdered sugar and lined with gumdrops.
I painted it last night with my granny via video call while she worked on her own.
Torin is still staring around the kitchen like he’s stepped into a festive museum. “When did you have time to go buy all this and put it up?”
“Oh, I already had most of this stuff. You remember those boxes you helped me move in?” I ask as I pour scoops of protein powder into the blender. He nods, then realizes.
“Wait. Wait. Wait. You shipped Christmas decorations all the way from Texas?”
“Yes, and you helped me carry them from the car. Two boxes were books. The rest were decorations. I did have the tree delivered from a local farm because I prefer a real tree. You may have noticed it’s a Scotch pine.”
He shakes his head and mutters, “You really do love Christmas.”
I smile and add berries and chia seeds to the blender.
“So you’re going to spend your favorite holiday with Maeve’s massive family?” he asks, clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a slight hesitation beneath it that piques my curiosity.
“Yeah,” I say and hear in my own voice that I’m not as excited about it as I should be, so I try to kick it up a notch. “I love Maeve, and it beats being here by myself.”
“I suppose,” he says. We’re silent while I add water and run the blender, turning the ingredients into a thick purple swirl. I’m pouring the creamy mixture into two tall glasses when Torin asks, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Yeah, shoot,” I say as I slide a smoothie across the counter, only a little nervous about what he’ll ask. But I want him to trust me, and the best way I’ve found to earn trust is to be an open book.
“What happened with your ex-girlfriend?” he asks and takes a sip.
“I, uh—” I hadn’t been prepared for that. I thought he’d ask something along the lines of why do I like Christmas so much.
“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just that when we talked about our Christmas plans, you seemed like you weren’t telling us everything. I was wondering if it had to do with your ex.”
“Didn’t realize I was so transparent,” I say, lifting my smoothie to my lips. The cold sweetness hits my tongue, but it doesn’t quite settle the anxious feeling gathering in my stomach.
Torin shifts on the stool. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “I just… wondered.”
He looks faintly embarrassed now, as though he’s worried he’s overstepped.
I take another slow sip, giving myself a minute to think. Torin waits patiently, his hands wrapped around his glass.
“Lauren is great,” I say finally. “It has nothing to do with her.” I pause. “Well, almost nothing.”
Torin tilts his head, a mixture of interest and concern on his face. “We really don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I probably don’t have the right to ask about your personal life anyway… given our past.”
“No, it’s alright. You and I are friends, and I didn’t mean to be cryptic.” I sigh and try to figure out where to start. “It’s just hard to explain.”
“Take your time,” he says gently. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”
Torin and I have come a long way, but not many people know about the dynamic with my family, not even Maeve. Just The Pigeons, and to an extent, Lauren.
“Alright, here it is,” I say, taking a deep breath. “You remember I told you that I’ve known I was gay since I was pretty young and that Lauren was a family friend.”
Torin nods.
“I knew my family wouldn’t accept it. They’re very invested in this…
picture-perfect image they like to maintain.
” I glance at the counter. “Having a gay son didn’t fit into that image.
It would disrupt their social status if they became the topic of such perceived scandal, so I was determined to stay in the closet.
No better way to do that than by having a girlfriend. ”
Torin sighs. “Tale as old as time.”
“Exactly,” I say, my shoulders relaxing with his understanding.
“So when it came to picking one, Lauren was the obvious choice. We grew up together, attended the same private schools, took family vacations together. Then we went to the same university. She was in the sorority closest to my fraternity, and we both studied business. We were always together, and we got along, and our parents wanted us to date…”
“So you did,” Torin fills in.
I nod. “And because I’ve had to answer this for basically every guy who knows I have an ex-girlfriend: yes, we had sex.” The words come out bluntly, but I’ve learned over the years it’s easier to just address it head-on rather than wait for the inevitable awkward curiosity.
“So you’re not a gold star gay, then?” Torin asks with a grin.
“Nope.” I chuckle. “I do not have my gold star.”
“How… was it?” Torin asks.
“Different,” I say, falling back on the answer I’ve given enough times that it comes out almost automatically. “I prefer guys, obviously, but I was able to do it, and Lauren said I did it well. It was actually the main sticking point for her when I told her I was gay.”
“Oh?” he asks, brows rising.
The look on his face makes heat creep up the back of my neck. Between the “no small parts” conversation we had at the pub and me revealing that even women think I’m good in bed, he must think I’m a cocky asshole.
I avoid expanding on the topic by getting to the point of the story.
“Lauren and I are still friends,” I say.
“She’s great, actually, but as expected, my family struggled when I first came out, and—” I hesitate, staring down at the condensation sliding slowly down the side of my glass while I decide how much I’m willing to share.
I don’t want Torin feeling sorry for me, but I’ve already opened the door.
“And?” Torin asks, not impatiently, his eyes encouraging.
“And,” I say with a sigh, “I get the feeling they’re waiting for me to decide I’m not gay, especially Lauren’s family. It’s like they think I’ll go back into the closet someday and marry her.”
The words taste bitter the moment they leave my mouth.
I stare down at the counter, tracing the grain of the wood with my finger.
I can’t look at Torin as I come to my sad conclusion.
“The real reason I don’t want to go see my family at Christmas is because I don’t want to feel out of place on my favorite holiday.
I’d rather spend it alone than be with my married parents and married siblings, plus my former obligatory girlfriend and her parents, who think I’m crazy for wanting to date men instead of marrying their daughter. ”
A tight pressure has built behind my eyes. I rock side to side with my arms crossed and my head tilted back, staring up at the ceiling lights.
I hear Torin set his cup down, then he says, “I’m sorry, Beau,” and it takes everything in me not to break.
A dozen responses crowd my throat—things I can’t say yet.
How I want to find love. How exhausting it is to keep putting myself out there only to feel like I’m doing it wrong.
How often I fall hard and never feel it reciprocated.
I wonder if I’ll ever find a partner. A companion.
Someone who wants me for more than sex. Who sees the nerd with ADHD and thinks I’m perfect for him.
Since breaking up with Lauren and coming out, every attempt at romance has ended the same way: hope, followed by disappointment.
And all of it would be easier if my family had my back. Instead, it feels like they’re waiting for me to change. The contentment I felt last night is quickly ebbing away, like the tide before a tsunami.
I take another ragged breath and keep my eyes up, willing the sting behind them to fade. Earning Torin’s trust is one thing, but having a breakdown in front of him seems a step too far.
Torin doesn’t rush to fill the silence as I drag a hand across my eyes and blink the moisture away.
Once I’m finally able to look at him again, my eyes lock with his. “Thank you,” I say, voice shaking. “Apparently I needed to let some of that out.” I chuckle and let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my chest for months.
I hope I can tell him more one day, but this conversation was a start.
“Anytime,” he says. “I mean, what are friends for?”
I nod and offer him a small smile. Friends. Yes. Good.
We finish our smoothies, and I take our dishes to the sink and rinse them out, partly because they need washing and partly because I need something to do with my hands. Anything to shift the mood away from where it just went.