I put the phone down without responding. Jordan means well, but he doesn’t understand. This isn’t about needing a distraction. This is about the fact that Kai saw me at my absolute worst—completely undone, confessing my deepest shame—and didn’t turn away. He protected me. He chose kindness when he could have chosen anything else.
That’s not something you use as a distraction.
That’s something you’re terrified of losing.
I’ve been holed up in my childhood bedroom for too long, staring at my phone and spiraling and avoiding the world downstairs. The coffee I grabbed before anyone else was up has gone cold on the nightstand. I need to move and stop replaying last night in my head on an endless loop.
I finally force myself up and head downstairs.
In the kitchen, my parents are eating cake for breakfast.
I stop in the kitchen doorway, watching my mother laugh at my father’s expression. “Don’t judge,” she says when she seesme. “Your father insisted. It’s celebration cake. And it’s sooo good.”
I grab a clean mug and fill it with fresh coffee and sit down. The cake is left over from yesterday’s party, the frosting now set but still sweet. It’s ridiculous and perfect, exactly like my parents.
“You seemed to be gone for a while at the party last night. Where did you disappear to?” Mom asks.
“I was chatting with Kai, the guy running the oral history project.”
It’s not a lie. Just incomplete. I don’t mention the recording, the panic, the way Kai sat beside me looking all hot while I fell apart.
Dad chews his cake. “Oh, Kai Grant? Nice guy. I’ve seen him around town. He’s been doing good work with the library. Very dedicated to what he does.”
Mom eats another bite of cake and then raises her empty fork, pointing it at me.”You should go out with him.”
I laugh. “Whoa, there’s a big leap there.”
She looks at her cake like it has the solution to all of life’s problems. “I didn’t say you should marry the guy, but you could have some fun.”
“Mom!”
“What? Just because I’ve been married for forty years doesn’t mean I don’t know how the modern dating scene works. Keeping up with your brother’s life is a modern dating history lesson.”
I sigh. “That’s not how it works, Mom. Besides, he lives here. I live in Denver.”
My parents exchange a glance and I see the sadness in their eyes.
“We know, mijo,” Dad says. “We’re not trying to set you up. We just … we miss you. That’s all.”
“Your life is in Denver,” Mom adds, but her voice carries the weight of a question. “We understand that.”
I don’t have a good answer. My life in Denver is a lie. My job doesn’t exist. My apartment is gone. My money is gone. But I can’t tell them that. Not yet. Not while they’re looking at me like I’m someone who has it all figured out.
So I just eat cake and listen to them talk about the party, about people I grew up with, about the community I left behind. And I think about Kai, and about Jordan’s texts, and about the fact that I’m a disaster masquerading as a success story.
I push back from the table, suddenly restless. “I think I’m going to head into town for a bit. Maybe stop by the Bookshelf Café, browse their book section.”
Mom brightens. “Oh, that sounds nice. They just got a bunch of new memoirs in, according to Patricia. She was raving about them at the party last night.”
“Pick up a good one,” Dad adds, reaching for another slice of cake. “You always did love their fiction section.”
I grab my jacket and keys, grateful for the excuse to escape the weight of their concerned looks.
The Bookshelf Café smells like coffee and old paper. It’s such a comforting combination that no matter how hard I’ve tried, I haven’t been able to find it in any of the Denver independent coffee shops.
I browse the fiction section while holding a memoir about someone leaving their corporate job to find a meaningful life. It feels too on-the-nose, so I put it down and grab a few gay romance novels instead.
Before I can decide which one to commit to, David, one of the owners, appears beside me with a steaming mug. He’s mid-fifties, kind eyes, always wearing flannel shirts with a rainbow scarf around his neck. They never match, but somehow it works for his personality.
