Page 120 of Checking Out the Librarian

“You, ah—” Jonathan swallowed and tried again with his voice in its normal register. “You did?”

“I may look like the next breakout underwear model star, but I’m actually very high emotional intelligence, you know.” Jonathan definitely heard a clink like the mouth of a glass bottle had tapped Connor’s teeth. “Very high. The highest.”

He didn’t have a response, because actually, Connor was stating the truth. And he wasn’t going to be the type of asshole to argue with him. He could demonstrate some of that emotional intelligence himself.

“I called because your question made me wonder.” He took a breath. “Do your parents know?”

Connor didn’t answer right away, but Jonathan waited.

“I’ve never said it, and they’ve definitely never caught me leaving a guy’s hotel room, but I’ve also never dated a woman. Not even when I lived at home.”

Jonathan kept waiting, in case he continued.

He didn’t.

“That sounds like probably not.”

“I’m not in the closet. And they do visit.”

Jonathan knew what having a secret meant. It meant Connor was lying to his parents, even if he didn’t want to. Even if he didn’t lie to Jonathan, he was lying a lot.

Lying about who he went places with, lying about his weekends, lying about his softball team, lying by omission and illusion, lying left and right and center, because not telling the people he loved was a form of lying, too.

“What does that mean? You expect them to connect the dots between your single use madeleine baking molds, scented candles, and coffee table books? Can they do that?”

He could hear Connor breathing loudly and realized that hadn’t been the right path out of the yellowed wood of choices to support the man he was dating. He’d vowed to be better and gone right back to the well-trodden sarcastic route, but the thing was, he didn’t quite know what the other path, the one that was grassy and wanted wear and would make all the difference so Connor could come out, even looked like in this instance.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The words came out fast and blurred.

He hated self-help books, hated them with the feelings he generally reserved for decaf coffee and pilled knits, but they were so, so popular and he had to shelve so many of them that it was probably osmosis the way words like deflected and healing seeped through his fingers into his mind.

“I shouldn’t have joked about your parents and you coming out. It was…” He struggled for the perfect thing to say to get Connor to understand how sorry and stupid he felt. “It was juvenile of me to make a joke about something that big. You were being serious and I, well, my former therapist would say I covered my own insecurities by being a jerk. You were nice to me, and I couldn’t be nice back, because I’m…”

A mess.

Broken.

A loser.

He wasn’t that last one, but he didn’t know what he was. “So, it’s Monday.”

Connor was making noises that Jonathan didn’t think were sobs.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yeah, it’s Monday, so I’ve heard it’s free pass day for being a jerk.”

“You are laughing! Was my apology not perfect? I spent a lot of money to learn all of that about myself.” His words replayed in his head. “Oh, fuck, my apology didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be put out there for you. Not perfect. Just said to you and with some I statements.”

“It was, it really was. Your apology was more than…it was…”

He didn’t know what Connor’s noises meant. Sort of wheezing and gurgling, maybe laughter, definitely fast breathing. He wanted to hit the video button, wanted to see that messy blond hair and decipher Connor’s feelings from his eyes and his mouth, but that might sever this fragile connection, and also, Connor would see him, too, and right now that felt untenable.

“You convinced me that I should come out to them. When I’m home in a couple weeks.”

“Now you’re joking when I’m the one being serious.”

“No, I don’t think I am.” Connor’s voice was slower and quieter. “You’ve convinced me that I have to tell them. Soon.”