Hopelessly Devoted(5)

Paul took a step closer, his voice softening when he saw the fury on my face. “I just want you to have what I have. I want you to know your parents and have a relationship with them. Maybe they won’t come around straight away, but how will you know if you don’t try? I don’t like the thought of you not having any family at the wedding.”

My anger vanished at the pleading look on his face. He had my best interests at heart, and I needed to remind myself of that every now and then. “I already have what you have. I have your family. They love me, don’t they?”

Paul nodded. “Of course they do.”

“Then that’s all I need. I’ve tried to see my parents a few times over the years and it’s always ended the same way. They disowned me a long time ago, and as far as they’re concerned, I’m already dead.”

A couple of weeks later Paul said he was meeting his dad for a business lunch and wouldn’t be home till late in the afternoon. It was Saturday, and although Paul tried not to work on the weekends, sometimes it was unavoidable, so I didn’t think anything of it. I wondered if there was a show I could get a ticket to at late notice.

It wasn’t until he returned later that day that he said he’d lied to me and had actually been to see my parents—to deliver their wedding invitation. He grabbed me in a tight hold as soon as he came through the door and buried his face in my hair, whispering apologies.

“I’m sorry I’ve been arguing with you about this. I guess I just didn’t believe how bad it was. I thought you were exaggerating.”

I stiffened in his arms. I was mad as hell, but I forced myself to shut up and listen while he told me what happened.

Paul led me to the couch and entwined our fingers as he told me the story.

He drove with his dad to the little house I grew up in, in a borough far enough away to have to take a packed lunch.

“Your dad knew who I was as soon as he opened the front door. It seems your parents follow the gossip columns and had seen the engagement notice. He said he’d been expecting something, but I think he was a little shocked to see me and Dad standing on his porch.”

“What did my dad say?” I didn’t want to know, not really, but it was one of those things you know you shouldn’t ask but can’t stop yourself. It seems when it came to my parents, I was a glutton for punishment.

Paul’s hands tightened around mine. “I’m sorry, babe. When I handed him the invitation, he didn’t even look at it. He just ripped it up and threw it on the ground in front of me. There was a little gray-haired woman standing in the shadows behind him. It was as if she didn’t want to come any closer in case something happened and she got caught up in it. Meek would be a word for her, I think. At least that’s how she appeared to me. Her eyes shone a little, and I could tell she was keeping her distance. She didn’t say anything. Your dad went off on a tirade about the scourge of the city and the ‘gay agenda’—because we have one, right? Anyway, that’s when Dad stepped up and put him in his place. I haven’t seen him get that mad since I was bullied off the soccer team in high school for being gay.”

Paul’s description of Mom was spot on. She didn’t like any kind of confrontation and would never stand up for herself. Or her son. “I can’t imagine your dad getting angry. I’ve never even heard him raise his voice. He’s always been collected and in control.” I guess seeing his son being yelled at by a homophobic, religious bigot brought out the alpha male in Paul Senior.

“Dad usually is. He wasn’t at all happy that you were brought up in that house and talked about it non-stop on the way home. He’s proud you’ve turned out so normal.” I almost snorted. I’d been made to feel abnormal most of my life, so to hear someone like Paul Senior say I was normal was pretty funny, in a non-funny way. Paul continued, “You can’t get emotional in business, but you really don’t want to see him worked up. I could see your dad shrink and cower a little before he slammed the door in our faces.” Paul’s voice softened as he played with my fingers. “I’m sorry. Can you forgive me for not listening to you?”

I couldn’t stay angry with him; he was only doing what he thought was best for me. “Just as long as you promise not to go see them again. I’ve tried a few times to visit them over the years, to see if they’d missed me or...” I trailed off, not wanting to dwell any further. “Just promise to drop the subject, okay? My parents aren’t going to change.”

Paul smiled slightly. “Okay. I promise.”

“There is a way you can make it up to me.” I waggled my eyebrows. Paul’s eyes shone mischievously just before he yanked my jeans down and blew me on the couch.



IT WAS approaching the day of the wedding, and we had some last minute things to finalize. I wouldn’t let Paul waste money on a wedding planner—instead, we engaged the help of friends and family, and they were all put to work, with Sophia doing the bulk of the organizing. I still wasn’t sure a planner wasn’t hired behind my back.

We had talked about having the traditional giveaway, in the way that was customary for a father of the bride to do, but since I didn’t have a father in attendance, we nixed the idea, opting to walk down the aisle together, hand in hand.

“Neither of us is female, so it’s a moot point anyway,” commented Paul, sitting on the couch next to me as we looked over the final seating arrangements.