Wrangled

“—before anyone asks us questions and we gotta decide what to say, whether to lie, or just come out with it? Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinkin’ about it, too.” He bites his lip, uncertain.

I study his face. A calmness washes over me, and I find myself taking his hand reassuringly. “It doesn’t say anything bad about you if you want to keep us—and yourself—private.” I give his hand a squeeze. “No matter what you decide, I’m with you. I’ll tell them we’re best buddies. I’ll tell them we’re roomies. I’ll corroborate any explanation you want. If you think about it, all of those things are actually true. We are best buddies. We are roommies. We are business partners … well, kinda.”

“Says the guy who won’t let me touch his precious sewing machine,” Chad teases.

I smile. At least he’s still keeping a sense of humor about it. “In the end, no matter what we call us, it doesn’t really change what we have. Not truly. It isn’t anyone’s business.”

He stares ahead pensively at the road. Then, after a while of silent deliberation, a proud smile spreads his rosy cheeks. “Yeah. You’re right about that.”

I sit back in my chair, satisfied, still holding his hand. I gaze out the window and watch the road as it whizzes by.

“Of course, we can’t kid ourselves. I’m sure everyone already knows,” I add blithely. “I mean, this town is basically brewing gay men lately, haven’t you heard?”

Chad snorts at that. Then I do. And then we’re both laughing hysterically in a matter of seconds at a joke I didn’t even think was all that funny to begin with.

We can’t stop cracking each other up.

I think on some level, we still can’t believe this is our life.

The streetlights of Spruce begin dancing over our heads, and soon Chad is pulling into a parking spot outside Biggie’s Bites and turning off the truck. We hop out, cross the gravel lot, and push our way into the restaurant.

And of course, on some unassuming weekday at the end of a long summer, everyone and their damned mother is here for dinner as well.

Literally. Billy and Tanner decided to come here for dinner, and they brought both Nadine and her husband Paul to eat, too. Billy’s mother has come out from the kitchen to say hi to Nadine and Paul and share a story—which is a hilarious one, judging from the tears of laughter in Tanner’s eyes. Billy spots me and gives me a smile and a little wave, which I happily return. Who knew that the pair of us would become friends, after all this time? Consider that shiny hatchet buried for good. The four of them were being waited on by a sweet-faced teenager who, after Billy’s little wave, notices us, and hurries to take us to our seats in a booth by the window. His name is Toby, and after he quickly takes our orders, he’s pulled to yet another table—Harrison’s—to refill a glass of water and check on the status of an extra order of chili fries. Harrison gives me a little puppy-dog wave when he spots me, then dives his nose back into his burger like it’s the deep end of a pool.

“I think he’s gay,” I mutter to Chad, studying Harrison across the loud and noisy room.

“Oh, he definitely is,” says Chad, nodding. “Toby’s a senior at Spruce High this fall, and Billy told me he’s had a hard time making friends. Some sort of thing to do with his anxiety, but—”

“I’m not talking about our waiter. I’m talking about Harrison.”

“Oh. Harrison?” Chad squints at him across the restaurant, then shakes his head. “Nah. Wouldn’t believe it for a second.”

I stare at Chad incredulously. “Really? Any more than anyone in here would believe you and I ‘just live together as roommates’? You’re kidding yourself if you think no one in here at least suspects we’re a thing—and a serious thing, at that, especially now that they know Jo’s officially moved on with her life. What does everyone think about that?” I ask suddenly, wondering it myself. “I mean, the news has to have spread quickly, that Jo finally moved off your ranch—nearly a decade after your divorce—right at the same time I swooped in, and you went and built me a fashion studio.”

“Yeah, it don’t get much gayer than that, huh?” Chad snorts and shakes his head. “You’d better bet I count on them suspectin’ something’s up. Hell, let them suspect all they want, ‘til they’re as blue in the face as the Marvin brothers’ blueberries.” Toby swings by, sets down two glasses of water in a hurry, then rushes off to the next table. Chad picks his glass right up and goes for a throat-gulping chug, then sets it down half-empty. “All I heard is, people are happy for Jo, they think ‘it’s about time she found her own happiness’ since it didn’t work out with me, and then half of them went to a map to try and find this little place called Brady.”