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And Monroe, who had been a worried playtime supervisor, a reluctant piggyback giver, and a dour kid movie watcher, turned out to be the most amazing storyteller. Voices. Hand motions. Emotions. Pacing. All of it. He held the girls and me captive for the story of two gay rabbits in dapper bowties and their dozens of little adopted bunnies looking for a bigger home for their family.
“And then Papa Bunny said, ‘This is our forever home, and this is our forever family,’ and all the little bunnies cheered because they knew he was right,” Monroe read, voice thick, and my own throat tightened.
As he’d read the children’s book, I’d heard an echo of some long-ago and undoubtedly long-buried want of Monroe’s for a family and a home. And I wanted to give him that in the worst way. A forever home, a forever family, a forever life that we both needed and deserved. But for all that he said he loved me, I wasn’t sure whether Monroe believed in forever or that he’d let himself reach for those things. He’d built a thick shell around all those old hurts and yearning, and he’d only allow himself to stick his neck out so far, an old tortoise who knew better.
I couldn’t make him take the risk on us, nor could I fault his reluctance to make himself vulnerable. After all, I couldn’t even let myself say those three words aloud. He at least had been that brave. Earlier, I’d wondered why in the hell he didn’t want me enough to compromise, but the more he read to the girls, the more I saw the same fear I held in my own heart. We both wanted too much. Two scared rabbits, afraid to venture out of their safe spots.
As the book ended, he smiled softly at Iris, half-asleep on his knee, and put a finger to his lips.
“Shush.” He scooped her up like she was made of gold-leaf tissue paper, delicately setting her inside the tent with her two sleepy sisters.
“Good night, Knox. Good night, Monroe,” Poppy mumbled as he pulled up her covers, and my own protective shell cracked a little more in the face of such sweetness. A person’s heart wasn’t designed to hold this much all at once.
“Monroe—” I started, but he held up his finger again.
“Shush. They’re finally asleep. You need to rest too.” He arranged one of the fuzzy blue couch throw blankets over me, patting it into place with a gentleness I didn’t deserve. No way could I get a single word out right then.
Nothing to do but drift off until a low murmur of voices pulled me out of a hazy dream world.
“Oh my gosh, look at that.” Jessica’s voice filtered into my waking consciousness first. Good. She was back, so that had to be a good sign. I was about to rouse myself to greet her and my dad when she added, “Looks like the girls wore Monroe and Knox out.”
Oops. We were both asleep on the couch, holding hands under the blankets, and my head was half on his shoulder. Pretending to stay asleep was probably my best bet for the moment.
“They’re cuties.” Jessica’s sister, Angie, laughed a little too loudly, but next to me, Monroe snoozed on.
“You don’t think…” Jessica made a thoughtful noise.
“What?” Ah, my dad’s voice from farther back, probably last in the house through the kitchen door. “You’re supposed to be on bed rest. Why aren’t you already upstairs?”
“Because we had to stop and see how cute the girls are in their tent. And Monroe and Knox are cute too,” Jessica explained, undoubtedly gesturing in our direction. “They do seem a bit…cuddly though.”
“It’s Knox.” My dad groaned like he knew every bad habit I had. “He’s always been a sleep cuddler. Swear that kid is part barnacle. But you’ve got a point. I’ll say something to him later. Wouldn’t want him to make Monroe uncomfortable.”
“You never know. Monroe might like it.” Damn Angie and her braying laugh and her way-too-accurate assessment.
“Hush.” Dad sounded like he’d had about enough of her too. “If Monroe likes his skin, he better not ever let me catch him sniffing around Knox.”
“What?” Jessica sounded legit surprised at Dad’s harsh tone. “Monroe’s a great guy. He’s gay. Knox is gay. Would it be so terrible?”
“What the heck, Jessica?” Dad barked, then dropped his voice back to a low whisper. “We better get you up to bed. And Knox is a kid. A vulnerable kid who is still in college—”
“Graduate school.” Bless Jessica for correcting him. And if anyone was vulnerable, it was Monroe and the gorgeous heart he’d exposed, knowing full well I might break it. “Knox is legally an adult now. Drinks. Dates. And he’s going to be all the way across the country soon. You don’t think he might date older guys out east?”
