“What does that mean?” I pause, hand halfway to a glass. My father doesn’t typically weigh in on my personal life. Professionally? He has an opinion on everything, but when I bring someone home, he tends to smile politely and keep his thoughts to himself.
“It means you look happy. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much in a long time. Not just this morning, but for the last couple months at work, too. It’s like he’s brought back something in you that disappeared.”
I let my father’s words sink in. I wasn’tunhappybefore. At least I don’t think so. It’s been a long time since I had this much fun and felt this free in my life. Frank brings out all the best parts of me, and he even appreciates the things that were sticking points in my past relationships. “We’ve only been dating for a month.”
“Technicalities,” he says, waving me off.
Everything feels a little bit lighter now that I have Frank in my life. It’s been that way since I first met him, that first day when he got under my skin andrefused to leave.
“Now, your mother’s hoping the two of us are in here preparing mimosas for everyone.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s ten-thirty.”
“And that’s why we’re adding orange juice. Don’t give me that look. I’m following orders. She’s taken with that man of yours and wants to make a good impression.” Apparently, everyone but me was in on this. They met Frank five minutes ago and are ready to adopt him. Why wouldn’t they want to? Frank’s incredible, so full of joy and resilience.
I help my dad fill the champagne flutes with orange juice and prosecco—making sure to go light on the prosecco. It’s too early for Doris to get tipsy.
“Drinks are served,” my dad announces when we walk back in. I’m precariously balancing five glasses on a small tray. There’s a fifty-fifty chance I get this to the couch without there being some sort of disaster. My father hands out his tray full with ease, always a gracious and thoughtful host.
Frank gives me a bit of a look, but he takes one of the glasses. I want him to have the perfect day. I know holidays are hard for people. I like to think of our home as a place where people can get away from that. When I asked if he’d consider spending Christmas with my family, he leaped into my lap and said yes immediately. Of course, the mood sobered a bit when I mentioned needing to make sure it was okay with his family.
“These are perfect, dear,” my mother says. “Though, I think you might’ve been a little stingy with the prosecco.”
“So, what are we talking about out here?” I’m not taking the bait.
“Frank was telling me all about his schoolwork.” I cock my head and look at him.
“Really?” I know he’s self-conscious about being back inschool. He hasn’t even told his own parents. My chest constricts thinking about how quickly he warmed up to my family, how much he trusts them, and how welcoming they are to him. I knew they would be, but knowing it and seeing it are two different things.
“Did you know that he got a three-point-five GPA this term?” I snap my head to look at Frank, who’s gone beet red. “Made the Dean’s List, too.”
“My grades were posted a couple of days ago. It’s really one A and a B.”
“Frank, that’s incredible.” It’s all I can say at the moment. Anything else is too personal, too private for this setting. I wish he’d told me back home. That way, I could’ve rewarded all his hard work properly. Show him how proud I am of everything he’s done. Not of the scores, but the dedication it’s taken to get to them. The willingness to try again after what he deems a failure.
“I agree. Most people aren’t juggling everything you are. You must be very smart.”
“Thank you.” Frank scans the room nervously. “Um, can I use your restroom?”
“I’ll show you where it is,” I offer, wanting a minute alone with my boyfriend. Frank trails silently behind me as we head down the hall to what’s now a guest bathroom. It was mine when I was growing up. Thankfully, they’ve updated it a little since then. There’s a closer one, but I want a minute alone with him. “You okay?” I ask when we get to the door.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Guessing isn’t good enough. Talk to me.”
“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me smart before.”
It’s enough to tear my heart out. “Frank, look at me.” It takes him a moment to obey, taking a few deep breathsbefore he tilts his head up to me. His watery green eyes stare back at me with an intensity I can’t describe. “You have always been smart, whether someone told you or not. Whatever else they said, they were wrong. You don’t have to prove it to me or anyone else. The only thing that matters is that you know it.” A tear slides down his face, and I pull him into a tight hug. “Firecracker, why didn’t you tell me you got your grades? We could’ve celebrated.” I use his nickname to lighten the moment.
“I—” He sniffles a little. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. Anything I thought sounded like bragging.”
“Thisis absolutely the kind of thing you should brag about. But”—I pull back a little so I can see his face again—“I want you to feel comfortable bringing all of it to me. The good things that we can celebrate, but also the not-so-good things. It’s my job to help you problem-solve and feel better about those issues. I don’t care what grades you get, but I do care about helping you celebrate or commiserate at the end of the term.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?” I want to hear him repeat some of that back to me to make sure we’re on the same page. Trust takes time to build, and while it often feels like I’ve known Frank forever, I remind myself that we’ve only been dating a little while, and we’re building it slowly. He inhales sharply.
“Okay… Daddy.”
