“And yes, it took me some time to get there, but then the coolest thing happened to me a few months ago. I met this guy named Asher. He’s the smartest, most incredible human I’ve ever known. He helped me see what had been there all along. My sexuality doesn’t change or define me. It’s part of me, and it’s a good thing. A powerful thing. This video is part of my coming-out journey. I don’t think you say it once and boom, it’s over. I think it’s a matter of living my truth, and I’m more than ready to do that. Thank you for watching. And thank you, Ash. I love you.”
That little two-minute spiel caused a social media frenzy, which Blake thought was probably instrumental in landing him a teaching job at Pepperdine…as well as an assistant coaching gig for their men’s lacrosse team.
Blake was the first to acknowledge he had a lot to be grateful for. He was an out-and-proud professor and coach at his alma mater, which according to him, was a dream he couldn’t have envisioned for himself a year ago.
He might have lost his job at Westgate, but he’d gained much more.
Ezra and his college buddies supported him completely. They even organized a charity Pride night for their club team and asked Carly to play goalie. She’d left Westgate her senior year and enrolled at George’s old high school, where she’d quickly become a star goalie and a heavily recruited college athlete. If I remembered correctly, Katie said her cousin hoped to play for Stanford next year.
Yes, we even saw Katie occasionally. She called to apologize after Blake’s YouTube video went live. Of course, I assured her that was unnecessary, but she insisted on meeting for a glass of wine and well…somewhere along the way, we’d formed an unlikely friendship. We didn’t see her often, but when we did, it was easy.
Like a puzzle that fell into place.
“Sometimes, I’m not sure I recognize my life,” he’d said after his first day on the job at Pepperdine. “This was all you, Ash.”
“No, it was always going to happen. I was simply there at the right time.”
And I believed that was true. How else could I explain meeting the love of my life on a hookup app? I still wasn’t sure what we were going to tell our kids someday. And I supposed that was what made me nervous about meeting his folks.
Blake and I had big plans to move in together, get married, have kids…the whole shebang. The moving-in part would most likely commence in six months once our leases were up. The marriage and family would follow when the time felt right. See? It was a new three-part script. We called this one The J and A Script.
But meeting his family and letting them in on any part of our plan seemed very significant. My mother already adored Blake. She’d gotten to know Blake over the past six months. He usually did the DIY projects I’d volunteered for, and she’d take both of us out for dinner to thank him. It was a couple of hours each time, max. This was going to be a whole week at the lake house I’d heard so much about. In December.
I hadn’t been able to get away from work when Blake had visited his family last summer. And yes, I’d been too anxious to shuffle my schedule around. But I’d promised to come with him during the holidays. I was still nervous, though. What did people do at lake houses in the winter anyway?
Blake squeezed my shoulder before slipping his hand in mine.
Shoot. I must have asked that out loud.
“We’ll go sledding, take the snowmobiles out, maybe do some ice skating,” Blake said, navigating the busy Farmer’s Market to a booth filled with hand-knitted scarves, hats, and mittens.
“I can’t do those things,” I stage whispered.
“Sure you can. How about this one?” He picked up a royal blue hat and shimmied it onto my head. A huge grin split his face as he cupped my cheeks. “You are so fucking cute.”
“Hmph. I’ll be mincemeat if I fall off a sled or a snowmobile, and ice is out of the question.”
“I’ll be there. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” He pressed a kiss on my lips. “Should I get the orange one for me?”
“Well…”
Blake snickered. “I don’t want to traumatize you. We’ll get these. Oh…and the scarf.”
“I have a scarf.”
“It’s for sex. You can bite it when we’re…ya know…”
“Are you suggesting that we engage in sexual activity…at your parents’ house?”
“Sure. We’ll just have to keep it down while we’re doin’ it,” he deadpanned in a low sexy timbre. “Thus, the scarf.”
My eyes bugged out of my head. “I’ll choke. Or you will. Swallowing wool can form pockets in your intestines and wreck your insides and—you’re kidding again.”