The Queen & the Homo Jock King (At First Sight 2)

“You can’t make me cry on Thanksgiving,” I told her, blinking away the burn. “It’s against the law. If you cry on Thanksgiving, Native Americans come to your house and take away your pie and then give you blankets filled with smallpox as ironic revenge.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it goes,” she said.

“You don’t know that,” I said. “You’ve never cried on Thanksgiving.”

“Maybe I have.”

“Have you ever had smallpox?”

“No.”

“Then you haven’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t tell Darren I made you cry. He’ll never let me come back to Thanksgiving. Or ever. He’s very protective of you.”

“Don’t say stuff like that!” I snapped. “You’re making it worse!” As if to prove my point, a big, fat Disney Princess tear fell down my cheek.

“Oh my god,” she moaned. “That was like the most perfect tear I’ve ever seen. I’m in so much trouble.”

“You don’t have to—”

“What’s going on?” Darren asked from the doorway. He was frowning and looking between the two of us. His phone was in his hand. “Are you crying?”

“Of course not,” I said, my voice watery. I sniffed. “That would just be ridiculous.”

He stalked over to me, glaring at his mother. He pushed between us and stood facing me, setting his phone on the counter. His brow was furrowed as he reached up and took my face in his hands. His thumbs brushed my cheeks as he studied me, as if he could figure out all that had occurred just from the look on my face.

“I’m okay,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re getting snot on my hands. You’re not okay.”

“Gross,” I said, not moving at all.

“Tell me about it,” he said. “The things I do for you. Why are you crying?”

“That would be my fault,” Sherry said, sounding guilty. Darren’s hands tensed slightly on my face. “We were talking about—”

“Family stuff,” I said. “You know. Holidays and family stuff. It just gets to me, every now and then.”

He sighed and before I knew what was happening, he wrapped me in a hug, chin hooked over my shoulder, my face pressing against his neck. His arms were tight around me, holding me close, and it might have been the nicest thing that had ever happened to me. I felt safe and warm and I didn’t want this to be fake anymore. Not after everything.

His breath was on my neck as I looked over his shoulder. His mom stood behind him, and when she caught my gaze, she grinned widely and gave me a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes at her, but didn’t let go.

I wanted this.

And maybe, just maybe, I could have this.

AND THEN it all came crumbling down.

We were in the living room, drinking wine and laughing at Charlie, who growled at the TV every few minutes or so.

I was sitting next to Darren on the couch, curled up at his side, his arm around my shoulder. I felt loose and happy.

“I’ll get the dessert set out,” Matty said after a while. “In case anyone wants some.”

“I’ll help,” I said. Feeling rather daring, I leaned over and kissed Darren on the cheek. He turned his face as I started to pull away and his lips grazed mine, and for a moment, we sat there, grinning stupidly at each other.

“Ugh,” Charlie said. “You two are going to be worse than Paul and Vince.”