At the restaurant, I found Mom and Molly already seated at a table near a wall fountain. They had their backs at the door, and I took it as advantage to surprise them.

I bent between them, hugging them tightly.

Mom gasped, her hands going to her heart. Molly squealed, jumping out of the chair and hugging me.

Despite our differences, I had grown to love my little sister. She was a preteen now, having left behind the bratty child I used to know.

“Justin! You’re late. I thought you forgot,” Mom said, standing up and hugging me.

“I ran into an old client just outside the restaurant. Sorry.”

I sat opposite them, placing my drink order as soon as the hostess appeared at our table.

“Oh, you never said what you plan on doing now that you stopped working for…what was his name?” Mom frowned, fingering the leg of her wine glass.

I wasn’t quite ready to delve into the news, so I went with part of the truth. “I want to rediscover myself and focus on a new show. My very own solo show planned and painted by me.”

“I know you have a name to yourself, but do you think an art gallery would accept working with you just like that?”

I smiled in thanks when my drink arrived. I needed it more than I thought.

“Can we catch up while we eat? Then we’ll worry about my future,” I suggested.

The waiter took our orders, and it didn’t escape me the way his eyes linger on me. Apparently, it didn’t escape Mom, either.

“So how was your trip?”

“I bet you made the wrong impression if you watched the news.”

“You have to be careful. If people find out about this fling, he risks his whole career.”

I gasped, not believing what she just said. “You think this is a fling?”

“You can’t possibly expect something to come out of this, Justin. I thought you were smart enough,” she scolded me.

The food arrived, but the shrimp reminded me of the paella I shared with Brian in our hotel room in Madrid in our first evening there.

“If that’s what you think, then you’re wrong.” I downed my drink, hoping someone was going to refill it pronto. “I wanted to tell you after we ate, but Brian bought a house for us. It’s close to…his current residence,” I explained, not ready for the whole restaurant to hear our conversation. I had a feeling Mom was going to forget about being a WASP and start shouting.

She started laughing, which made me insanely angry.

“That’s so romantic,” Molly commented, mellowing me a little.

“I think so, too.” I smiled at her. I turned to Mom. “I’m aware we won’t ever have a normal relationship, but I won’t trade what we have for anything in the world. I love him, Mom.”

“Love?” She scoffed. “Justin, if I had known you would get in over your head, I would have had a serious conversation with you on New Year day, when I found him in your apartment.”

“He loves me, too.”

“Did he say that?” She challenged.

“Yes.” I glared at her. “Brian plans on coming out. For me. He’s ready to show the world who he is.”

She paled. “I don’t think America’s ready for another assassinated president. And for what? For a fling he has with a painter?”

I slapped the napkin on the table standing up. “I’m done. Do you even hear yourself?”

“You’re making a scene,” she whispered.

“I’m making a scene?” I shouted. “You think people are going to kill Brian because he’s gay? I thought you understood and accepted me. I was wrong, if that’s the first thought that crosses your mind.”

“Justin, you know I accept you. I’ve been supportive all your life!”

“You should be happy for me. I finally found someone wonderful to spend my life with.”

“He’s wrong for you. You’re from different worlds,” she cried out.

I was aware we were turning heads, but I was beyond caring at how angry she made me.

“You can’t change my mind. I’m leaving by the end of the week. I’ll leave all the documents for the condo in the kitchen so you can sell it.”

“Don’t make any hasty decision that might affect your future.” She was standing up as well, her eyes wild. She probably grasped how serious I was.

“My decision to leave has never been more cemented than now. I was afraid to leave behind my hometown, my family, my friends…but you know what? Anywhere is better than here.” I stepped closer to her. “Brian plans on supporting me to become an independent artist. He suggested I should invite you guys to the new house so I won’t get bored. So please stop trying to act as if you know everything. Because you don’t.”

“Do you honestly believe this relationship can last more than a year?”

“Just a few more months and it’s one year since we first met,” I snapped.

“Things will change when he comes out. You won’t be able to carry that much weight around.”

“Then you don’t know me at all.” I turned to Molly, crouching at her chair and hugging her. “I’m sorry, Mollusk. I can’t stay for dinner.”

“Don’t go, Justin. If you go away, I’ll never see you again.”

I touched her elbow, not letting her words get to me. “I promise to steal you away for a weekend in Washington DC. You said you didn’t get to see much during the school trip.”

She brightened, nodding.

I hugged her tightly, kissing her head. Then I stood up and faced Mom. She was staring at me blankly.

“Goodbye, Mom.”

“Justin.” She reached out, but I escaped her, walking briskly outside. I rubbed at my wet eyes. Crying was the last thing I wanted.

I walked aimlessly, thinking over the conversation I had with my mom. I couldn’t believe the things she said. I had no idea she thought so little of my relationship with Brian. I might not have had enough faith in our future, but I knew we felt strongly for each other. Brian's gesture in buying the house and his words of love had cemented my belief in us.

My feet carried me to the diner. I stood out like a sore thumb in my suit, but I had dressed nicely for Mom.

Debbie spotted me when I was trying to find an empty booth so late in the evening. She installed me at the counter.

“What happened to you?”

“Can I have some fries and a hamburger?”

She gave me a pointed look, before heading to the kitchen. I knew she would be back with more questions, but for now I had a few moments to myself.

“I saw you on the news. You’re the President’s photographer?” A young kid slid next to me at the bar.

I hung my head, remembering how Deb had warned me about the diner. “It’s just a job.” I shrugged.

“Must be fancy. So you actually know him?”

The kid wasn’t leaving. “Who?” I tried humoring him until Debbie returned with my food.

“The President. Duh.”

“Duh.” I mimicked, rolling my eyes. “Now scamper off. I’m busy.”

I wasn’t usually mean, but after the evening I had, I couldn’t tolerate any bullshit.

“Wanna talk about it?” Debbie asked softly, pushing the plate in front of me.

I picked a hot fry, dipping it in the garlic sauce. Thankfully, I stopped before shoving it in my mouth. I had a bad allergic reaction to garlic when we had dined at some fancy restaurant in Berlin. Also thankfully, there was an EMT around with an Epi Pen. I hadn’t seen Brian so scared before.

“Not a fan of garlic anymore?” Debbie asked. “Planning to hit the clubs and you don’t want to keep the tricks away?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m allergic to it, apparently. Long story,” I added, when she lifted a brow.

“Is there something you’re not allergic to?”

“Dick?” I shrugged.

We burst out laughing, and it lifted my mood tenfold.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said as Debbie replaced the garlic sauce with ketchup.

“Everything okay with You Know Who?”

“Perfect.” I smiled broadly, but my smile fell when she looked concerned at me. “What?”

“I expected a joke about You Know Who. Now you really have to tell me what’s wrong.” She leaned on her elbows against the counter top.

“Things with Brian are perfect. You already know I’m moving there. And you were supportive,” I exclaimed.

“Oh, so your mom doesn’t agree.” Her face fell. She touched my cheek, making me want to cry at the motherly gesture.

“She went as far as to say Brian would be assassinated if he comes out as gay. She also said we have a fling, and he can’t be invested in a relationship with an artist.” My voice shook as I spoke. “This just proves that deep down she hasn’t accepted me as gay, as a painter, as who I am. My mom doesn’t understand me at all, and I lost her for choosing Brian.”

“Oh, kiddo!” Debbie came round, and wrapped her arms around me. It was all it took for the floodgates to open.

I appreciated it that she didn’t say anything else, because there was nothing to say.

When I left the diner, it was close to ten at night. It used to be the time to hit Babylon, but I stuffed my hands in my pockets and shuffled home. Halfway there, I knew I didn’t want to be alone, so I stopped to think about where I should go. Daphne needed her sleep, or she was already on her graveyard shift at the hospital. Emmett was most likely at Babylon. That left Michael.

I found the front door of his building open. After taking the stairs two at a time, I stopped at his door, then knocked twice.

I was about to call and check if he was home, when the door opened. He looked sleepily at me.

“Shit. You were sleeping,” I muttered.

“Not anymore. What happened to you?” He stepped aside, inviting me inside.

I stopped at his wet bar and grabbed the bottle for vodka. He kept it there for when I visited, so I took liberties to drink from it, forgoing a glass.

“That bad?” He fell on the couch.

I sat next to him and told him all about my conversation with Mom. I was proud I had left all my tears on Debbie’s shirt. Michael didn’t need to witness my bawling.

“So this means you’re really leaving,” he concluded.

“This time next week, I’ll be in DC.” I took a pull from the bottle.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table where I had thrown it earlier. It was Brian. For the first time, I didn’t want to answer. I couldn’t talk to him at the moment without breaking down.

“Tell him I’m in the bathroom,” I instructed Michael.

“But that’s the President!”

I rolled my eyes. “Just fucking do it. If you don’t answer, he’ll send his goonies to check if I’ve been abducted or something.”

“I won’t mind if he sends Ben.” He picked the phone, answering it. “Hello, this is Michael speaking.”

I slapped my head. He was such a tool, but I guess talking to the President was intimidating when you weren’t intimate with him enough to forget about the title.

“Exactly, his best friend.” Michael grinned, beaming because Brian knew him. “No, actually…Justin’s in the bathroom.” He shot me a panicked look.

“What?” I mouthed.

Michael gestured between us and the phone. I groaned, prying the phone from Michael’s sweaty hand.

“I’ll call you in the morning, Brian. I had the worst evening ever.”

“So now you have a personal assistant answering your phone?” he teased.

“Goodnight.”

“Hey, what—”

I hung up, feeling like shit. Tomorrow – please. I sent Brian that text message, before switching off the phone.

We ended up working on a solid plot for the new issue of Rage. By the time I fell asleep on Michael’s couch, I was feeling a lot better than I had when I left the restaurant.