Chapter 7
PASCAL
Iwas so not looking forward to this call.
With a deep sigh, I grabbed my phone to call my mom. She was amazing and loved me the way I was, but she was also a tad overprotective, perhaps because of my diabetes and my being gay. That meant telling her about my hypo a few days ago was not going to be fun.
She would fret and worry, ask me a million questions about my insulin dosage and eating schedule, and probably suggest I move closer to her so she could keep an eye on me.
Never mind that I was thirty-four and had managed my diabetes fine since I was a teenager.
One little episode, and she’d act like I was that scared kid in the hospital again, getting his first insulin shot.
But I also couldn’t wait to tell her about Stanton.
About how he’d taken care of me during my hypo, how gentle and caring he’d been.
How he made my heart flutter every time he smiled at me, and how his deep voice sent shivers down my spine when he called me “honey.” Maybe if I led with that, she’d be too distracted by the possibility of her baby boy finding love to worry too much about the hypo. A guy could hope, right?
“Hi, sweetie!” Mom’s voice was warm and familiar, instantly making me feel both better and worse. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Mom.” I settled more comfortably on my bed, surrounded by my usual nest of pillows. “How’s Dad’s new church group coming along?”
“Oh, they’re wonderful. Such sweet people. And you should see the quilts they’re making for the children’s hospital. Your father says it’s the most engaged group he’s had in years.”
I smiled, picturing my dad surrounded by little old ladies wielding needles and thread. “That’s great. And the garden?”
I was one hundred percent stalling, and it wouldn’t take long before my mom caught on.
“You know how much I love spring. All the vegetables are coming along nicely, and we’re about ready to plant the tomatoes, zucchini, and cucumbers.
And your father’s prize roses are about to bloom, so he’s anxiously awaiting that.
But enough about us. How’s work? Are those Safe Space meetings still going well? ”
“Yeah, they are. The group has grown so much that I needed a second volunteer.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you. Who’s helping you?”
Now, I faced a dilemma. Did I tell her about Stanton or the hypo first? I might as well get the bad news over with first. “Yeah, I’m very happy with how they’re going…though I did have a bit of a hypo during the last one.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom’s voice filled with concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine. It happens sometimes when I’m too busy or stressed. Even when I eat well, it’s not always predictable, you know that.”
“I know, sweetie, but I still worry. Ever since that time in high school when you passed out during your piano recital…” She paused, and I could picture her twisting her wedding ring like she always did when anxious. “At least tell me someone was there to help you? You weren’t alone?”
“No, Mom. Stanton was there. He noticed something was wrong before I did and helped me drink some juice. He even drove me home afterward and stayed until I fell asleep.”
“Stanton?” The worry in her voice transformed into something else entirely. “And who might this Stanton be? You haven’t mentioned him before.”
I took a deep breath. “He’s the new volunteer…and we’re dating.”
She flat-out squealed. “Tell me everything!”
The smile came automatically as soon as I thought of Stanton. “He’s amazing, Mom. He volunteers at the library, reading to kids, and he helps me with the Safe Space program. He’s kind and thoughtful and romantic.”
“What does he do for a living?” Mom asked. “Is he from Forestville?”
“He’s actually retired. He used to be a reporter in New York, but he needed a change of pace and moved out here.
” I wasn’t going to tell her about him winning the lottery.
That was nobody’s business but his. “He bought this amazing old farmhouse on Route 2, just outside of town, that he’s renovating.
You should see how passionate he gets when he talks about restoring the original hardwood floors or fixing up the wraparound porch.
And he’s so smart, Mom. We can talk about books for hours. ”
“He sounds wonderful, honey. But you said he’s retired? How old is he?”
“Forty-eight.” I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. Stanton’s age wasn’t an issue for me, but my mom had strong opinions on suitable age gaps.
“Oh.” She paused. “That’s quite an age difference.”
My stomach clenched. “It’s only fourteen years.”
“Only? Honey, you’re thirty-four. He’s almost fifty.”
“I know.” I sank deeper into my pillows.
“But it doesn’t feel that way when we’re together.
He’s so…present, you know? And he takes such good care of me.
Last week, when I had that hypo, he knew exactly what to do.
His sister-in-law is a type 1 diabetic, and he knows what it means.
Whenever we go out for dinner together or when he cooks for me, he’s made sure it’s food I can eat that won’t jack up my blood sugars too much. ”
“That’s wonderful. You deserve someone who understands and accepts that part of you. But…” She hesitated. “Have you thought about what this means long-term? At his age, he’s probably not looking to start a family, and that’s something you’ve always dreamed of.”
And just like that, my happy bubble burst. Mom had hit on the exact thing I’d been trying not to think about. “I haven’t discussed that with him.”
“You should. Before you get too invested. You’ve always wanted children.”
“I know.” My voice came out small.
“Sweetie, I don’t want to rain on your parade. He sounds wonderful. But you need to be realistic. At his age, he’s probably done with that phase of his life.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Maybe.”
“Oh, honey, don’t cry. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. With him.” But even as I said it, doubt crept in.
“For now. But what about in five years? Ten? When you want a family and he doesn’t?”
I wiped my eyes. “I should go, Mom. I need sleep if I have to get up early again for work tomorrow.”
“Pascal…”
“I’ll call you later in the week, okay? Love you.”
I hung up before she could say more, but the damage was done. All my carefully suppressed doubts came rushing back.
I’d always wanted a family. Even as a kid, I’d wanted to be a dad someday. The fact that I was gay hadn’t changed that dream. If anything, it had made me more determined. There were ways, after all. Adoption, surrogacy, fostering…
But Stanton was forty-eight. Would he want to start a family at his age? He’d probably already accepted he wouldn’t have kids. And even if by some miracle he did want them, he’d be in his sixties when they graduated from high school.
God, what was I doing? This thing between us was moving so fast, and I was already in so deep. Every time he smiled at me, my heart did backflips. When he kissed me, the world disappeared. And the sex…
No. I couldn’t think about that right now. I needed to be rational about this.
The truth was, I was falling hard for Stanton. Maybe I was already in love with him. But if we wanted different things…
It played through my head as I changed into my pajamas and got ready for bed. I’d never felt about anyone the way I felt about Stanton. He made me feel…everything. Joy, passion, happiness—all in levels that were new to me.
But was it enough? Was it worth giving up my dream of being a dad? What if I regretted it down the line? What if ten years from now, I woke up and realized it was too late, that I had missed my chance at having a family?
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I curled up in my bed. I needed to end this before I fell any deeper. Before it would hurt even more.
Tomorrow. I’d talk to him tomorrow after Safe Space. I didn’t want to face the teens right after, so I couldn’t do it before. Plus, we’d have time to talk and wouldn’t be under the time pressure of the teens arriving soon.
It was for the best, I told myself as I cried into my pillow. Better to end it now before I fell even deeper in love with him.
But if that was true, why did it hurt so much?