Page 83 of Backward Motion

Sam glanced at the clock above the stove and figured he had another couple of minutes before he had to take the chicken out of the oven. They were cooking dinner for his mom and dad, who were coming over for an unofficial housewarming celebration. It would be his parents’ first time in his new apartment and the first meal they’d share with Connor.

“You know,” Sam said absently, reaching for a tomato. “I don’t think my parents have ever had dinner with one of my boyfriends.”

Connor cocked his head and grinned. “Well, I’m honored.”

“I guess they weren’t exactly meet-the-parents types.”

“And I am?”

“To be fair, they’ve already met you.” Sam dropped the slices of tomato into the bowl with the rest of the salad. “Just not in that way, I guess.”

Connor stepped over to the sink and turned on the tap to rinse his hands under the water. “Then I’d better make a good impression.”

“Maybe one of these days, we can get both sets of parents together,” Sam mused.

“Considering how well it went the last time?”

Sam let out a wry laugh, remembering the disastrous end to the awards dinner. “You Finnegans love a bit of drama.”

Connor was staring down at the running water, absorbed in thought, and Sam reached out to touch his arm. Connor started and switched off the tap.

“Sorry.”

“Thinking about your dad?” Sam asked.

Connor nodded. “Just, you know, how quickly things can change. Who knows what’s lurking around the corner?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“I know you do.” Connor looped his arms around Sam’s waist and pulled him close.

Sam was now a regular fixture at the Finnegans’ Sunday-night dinners, and as Connor had stipulated, he never felt anything but welcome. Connor’s dad, after his hospitalization, seemed to have mellowed out somewhat, and Sam had begun to let his guard down around the man, no longer worrying if he sounded too enthusiastic or appeared too flamboyant. On family-dinner nights, Sam stayed over at Connor’s. He loved not having to dread Mondays anymore. It was damn near impossible to be struck down by the Sunday scaries when he got to fall asleep nestled against Connor’s chest.

One evening, when Sam and Connor had offered—as they always did—to wash up after dinner, Ian had shooed them off and rolled his chair into the kitchen to help Maureen with the dishes.

Connor stood there looking bewildered. “That’s a first.”

Later that evening, when they were cuddling in bed and marveling at Ian’s unexpected about-face, Connor had hidden his face in Sam’s shoulder and said in a wobbly voice, “You make everything more bearable.”

There was a knock at the front door, and Sam drew back. “That’ll be them. Can you take the chicken out of the oven?”

He slid from Connor’s embrace and headed down the hall to let his parents in. When he opened the door, Sam saw his mom and dad had dressed up, and his father was clutching a bottle of red wine his mother had no doubt picked out for the occasion.

“Thanks for coming,” Sam said as his mom stepped forward for a hug.

“It’s such a cute building,” she gushed. “I didn’t even know it was apartments.”

They moved inside, and Connor appeared, reaching out to shake Sam’s father’s hand. “Have any trouble finding the place?”

“In a sprawling town like Oakdale? I had to pull out the GPS.” His father chuckled and patted Connor on the shoulder before continuing through to the kitchen.

Sam’s mom gave Connor a peck on the cheek and stood back to take him in. “Connor, it’s so lovely to see you again.”

“Likewise, Lily.”

They made their way to the dining table, and Connor went to find a corkscrew to open the wine. Sam placed the salad on the table next to the chicken.

“Did the move go okay?” his mom asked, taking a seat beside his father.