Barred Desires (The Deepest Desires 1)

“Uh,” Sarah finally speaks. “Well, alright. This conversation is going easier than I thought it would.”

“What do you mean, it’s going easier than you thought it would?” I ask, before Branson can speak up and embarrass us further.

“Well, believe it or not, this isn’t a total surprise. Both your father and I suspected something was going on, but we didn’t know how to bring it up. If we brought it up, and were wrong, it would have been incredibly uncomfortable and awkward.” She clears her throat and continues. “Not that this is any less awkward.”

What?

Not a total surprise? How?

“What? It’s not a total surprise?” Oh, now he wants to speak up like a normal human being.

She half laughs. “No, dear. You aren’t as smooth as you think you are, and we weren’t born yesterday.”

“What made you suspicious?”

“You mean, besides catching you two outside in the middle of a snowstorm at night when you were previously sleeping? Or, there was the time when you first got here, and I went to go bring clean clothes up one morning, and you were not in your bed, Luca, and Branson’s door was locked. Or the Christmas party, like we already know about. But really, simply the way you two look at one another is the only indication either of us would ever need.”

We literally stare at her. Not even able to formulate responses.

So, she continues again. “Your eyes give it away, every single time. You both look at each other like one hung the moon, and the other, the stars. Like your whole world begins and ends with one another.” She starts to choke up a little before she proceeds. “You two look at each other the way I know your father looks at me. It wasn’t always like this between you two, I know that, so I’m pretty sure this”—she gestures between us both—“is fairly new, but I’ll be quiet so you can tell me, if you’re ready.”

She crosses her hands on top of the table and looks at us, like this is the most casual thing in the world, as if she asked us to tell her about our day.

“Uh…”

You’re so much help today, Branson.

When it becomes painfully clear that he isn’t going to be able to contribute to this conversation, I take the reins. “Alright, I thought we were more discreet than that, but okay. To answer your question, no, this hasn’t been going on long.”

Grabbing the water out of Branson’s hands, I take another long swallow before continuing. “Nothing happened until I moved to Pullman, but even then, it wasn’t until like a month ago. I know this is probably weird for you, and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but I’m not sorry for loving him.”