Chapter Twenty-One
“Oh, I love this scene!” Sam’s mom declared, burrowing her hand into the bowl of popcorn that sat between them on the couch.
He and Connor had been seeing a lot of each other lately, and Sam had spent little time at home.
But Sunday night was Connor’s weekly family dinner, so Sam stayed in to watch When Harry Met Sally with his parents.
It was really just him and his mom watching.
His dad sat in the armchair in the corner of the living room, scrolling through baseball stats on his phone.
“Don’t you think she has such a timeless face?” his mom murmured as Meg Ryan stared at Billy Crystal with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“How do you get past the annoying voice, though?” Sam countered, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth.
His mom batted his arm. “Stop it.”
Sam shrugged. “She’s just not my type.”
From the armchair, his father gave a snort.
“I can’t help but notice you’ve been more social of late. Which is wonderful,” she said quickly. “It’s good to know you’re reconnecting with old friends.”
Sam kept his eyes fixed on the screen. He was over at Connor’s most days after work, and the apartment had turned into their own private sanctuary.
Connor wanted to watch all Sam’s favorite movies, but they could barely make it through the opening credits before their innocent cuddling turned hot and heavy.
Sometimes they skipped the pretense altogether and spent the whole time fooling around on the couch or in the shower until the hot water ran out.
As much as he enjoyed the sex, Sam also loved the days when they just hung out.
Connor would put a record on, and Sam would take a book down from the shelf and quiz him on trivia facts while Connor made mac and cheese on the stove.
Sam wasn’t brazen enough to risk staying over—he knew it would only spur an uncomfortable conversation with his mother—but it was getting harder to pull himself away.
He’d burrow against Connor in bed and wish more than anything he could close his eyes and wake up beside him in the morning.
He hated lying to his mom, but he couldn’t tell her the truth without implicating Connor. Their mothers were friends, and it would put his mom in a tricky position where Maureen Finnegan was concerned.
“Yeah, Brian’s been great at inviting me to stuff around town.” Sam made a mental note to apologize to Brian later. “I’ve even joined his trivia team.”
“That’s nice.” His mother’s voice shifted to a tone so familiar he knew what came next. Another of her less-than-subtle attempts to check in. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how are you doing? Do you feel like things have settled down a bit? Started thinking about what comes next?”
Her questions stirred up a whirl of emotions.
He’d thought coming home would be a pit stop, a chance to pull himself together before heading back to real life.
Now the idea of leaving filled him with a quiet dread.
If Connor had been just an ill-fated hookup, he could chalk it up to lust getting the better of him.
But Sam had skin in the game. Being with Connor felt different, like he could relax and be himself.
It was the realest relationship he’d been in, and he didn’t know what to make of that.
“I’m good,” he replied. It was laughable how poorly those words encompassed the complicated nature of the situation. “I think the new meds are helping, and it’s nice to slow down. Take it easy for a change.”
His mom nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“I’m not sure what comes next. Whether I want to head back to Austin or start somewhere new.” He stopped, pushing up against a kernel of shame. “What Georgia said—”
His mother gave him a pat on the knee. “We don’t need to get into that.”
“No. I want to. I know you’re sacrificing a lot by having me here. It certainly wasn’t your plan—or mine for that matter. But I promise I’ll sort myself out. I don’t want to be living off you guys forever.”
His mom shook her head adamantly. “It’s not a sacrifice—believe me, Sam.
We just want you to get well. When we arrived at your apartment and saw you in that state...
” She trailed off, and Sam was struck once again by what he’d put his parents through.
“As long as we don’t go back there, I’m happy wherever you are and whatever you’re doing. ”
Sam reached over to take her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I just want you to know how much we love you. Georgia does too, even though she has a funny way of showing it.”
“Tell me about it,” Sam muttered.
“Are you two going to yap through the entire movie?” his father grumbled from his chair. “Some of us are watching here.”
“Oh, please, David,” his mother scoffed. “We’ve seen it a thousand times. You could quote it in your sleep.”
His father grunted, and they went back to watching Meg and Billy contemplate the viability of heterosexual friendship.
Connor’s mom rinsed the suds from a plate under the kitchen tap and placed it on the dish rack. Standing beside her at the sink, Connor picked up the plate and began drying it with a dishtowel. His dad was in the living room, watching football on TV.
“Things all right, Mom?” Connor asked, breaking the silence. He focused on the plate in his hands to avoid looking at her directly.
“Mm-hmm, just trucking along,” his mom said in her breezy voice, the one she used when she didn’t really want to get into it.
“That’s good.” Connor was hedging. He’d meant to talk to his parents about the business awards over dinner, but he’d lost his nerve.
He thought maybe he’d have more success if he asked his mom in private.
She had a knack for getting his father to agree to things he didn’t want to do—or at least drag him along against his will.
“How about you? All’s well?” his mother asked.
“Busy as usual.” Work and Sam—those two things filled up most of his time. And it wasn’t hard to guess which one occupied most of his thoughts.
“How’s Brian?”
“Brian and the kids are good. Matty’s going to be five in a couple months, so they’re gearing up for school.” Connor put the dry plate away in the cabinet and picked up another from the dish rack.
“Oh, it goes by so quickly,” his mom said wistfully.
“I still remember when you started kindergarten. You hated it at first—wouldn’t let go of my leg at the classroom door.
The next minute, you were telling me not to get out of the car.
” She gave a little laugh and scrubbed harder at the serving bowl she was washing.
Then she turned to him with a cautious smile. “So, anything new in town?”
She meant anyone. His mother had tacked the question on seamlessly, a subtle hint she’d been throwing his way for years.
He didn’t talk about who he was dating, and he never brought girls home.
But she knew he was careful around his father and didn’t like to volunteer information in case it was used against him.
She probably thought if she kept it casual and asked him out of earshot, he’d open up.
Connor almost laughed as he realized they were using the same tactic on each other.
“No one new, if that’s what you’re asking,” he parried expertly.
His mother was probably racking her brain for news of a nice young girl who’d moved to town, maybe the daughter of a friend who’d returned from college.
He scooped up a handful of wet silverware and dried each utensil, one by one, and slotted them back into the cutlery drawer.
When he looked up, he saw his mom staring at him with a sad expression on her face.
“I know how hard this has been for you, Connor. Taking on so much responsibility. Believe me, I’m beyond grateful. But I don’t want you to miss out on the rest of life. The fun stuff.”
Connor felt a pang in his chest. Well, what I want and what’s possible are two entirely different things. “Don’t worry, Mom. I get around.” He winced inwardly at his cavalier tone. “I’m just not looking for anything serious right now.” Liar.
His mom dunked a dirty saucepan into the sink of soapy water. “Right. Of course.”
“Speaking of fun stuff,” Connor said, his voice a smidge too bright, “I’m a finalist in this year’s Oakdale business awards.”
His mother glanced up, her eyes wide with surprise. “What’s that?”
“Sam put me forward on the sly.” Connor gave an awkward shrug. “It’s not a big deal, but they’re having this ceremony at city hall next Saturday if you and Dad want to come.”
“Not a big deal?” His mother raised her yellow-gloved hands and pulled him into a hug. “Connor, how wonderful!” she gushed. “Of course we’ll be there.”
Connor freed himself with an embarrassed laugh. There was a damp patch on his back where her soapy gloves had soaked through his T-shirt. “Okay, that’s great. I’ll put aside tickets for you.”
His mom stood, shaking her head with a smile. “Connor Finnegan,” she marveled.
Connor dropped his gaze and reached for the dripping serving bowl on the rack. “Just when you tell Dad, try not to make it this huge thing. And he doesn’t have to come—I know it’s not really his crowd.”
She dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her rubber glove. “He’ll be there. Don’t you worry about that.”
That was the problem, though. When it came to his dad, Connor couldn’t help but worry.