Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Yes, Pop. I’ll invite him.”
“Damn straight you will,” Pop said.
“Franc,” Fitch’s mother chastised him. “Watch your mouth.”
“Just making sure he doesn’t disappoint you, Margie.”
His mom sighed. “Honey, we’re both looking forward to seeing you this weekend. Okay?” The way she emphasized both filled Fitch’s heart with warmth. They might never be able to understand his choice, but at least they were trying to accept it.
Now all he needed to do was convince Ansel to take the leap too.
They said their goodbyes and for the next hour Fitch wondered how he’d persuade his Angel to face his fears and join him for family dinner. When Ansel finally did call, before his performance, Fitch hadn’t come up with anything clever.
“Something troubling you?” Ansel asked, after he finished a long-winded retelling of his afternoon.
“Not troubling, per se...” Fitch trailed off.
“Don’t bullshit me. You know I’ll break out in hives and then Z will tear you a new one for ruining the show.”
“My parents called,” he said simply.
Ansel’s quickly indrawn breath was his only reaction.
“They invited us to dinner this Sunday.”
“Us?”
“Yes, both of us. As a couple.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for longer than was natural.
“Angel? You still alive or should I call an ambulance?”
Ansel cursed under his breath. “Sunday?”
And all of a sudden Fitch smiled. His chest felt like it expanded four sizes and his skin was too tight for his body. Ansel was so much braver than he’d given him credit for, and his pride in him was overwhelming.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
* * *
The familiar jingle of Enrico’s bell sounded as Fitch pushed through the door into the deli. It was Friday afternoon, and he’d decided to pick up lunch for the crew. Mostly, he just needed to get away from all those curious looks and all that judgmental testosterone. But before he could even make it to the counter, a familiar redhead sidled up to him. Her cloying perfume made him shudder even as he smiled.
“Annie. How are you?”
“Missed you the other night.” Annie Hurley was the oldest daughter of John Hurley—owner of Hurley Realty, a local development firm that sent Donovan Construction thirty percent of their work. And the woman Rob had been trying to set him up with. It seemed like ages ago now. So much had happened since then. He was a completely different person.
He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, had plans.”
“Those plans include pizza at Bella Vita’s with some big blonde tramp?” Her tone had gone from sweet as sugar to acid rain, but it was the words that caught Fitch short.
His date with Ansel. How did she know?
“Wha—”
“My sister saw you practically drooling over your date. Pathetic, she said.”
Fitch blinked at her. They were in the middle of Enrico’s and it was early afternoon. The place was packed and every single customer knew who he was, where he’d grown up. They knew everything about him...except this one thing. People he’d known all his life tried to look like they weren’t eavesdropping, even though they were. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
This was his neighborhood deli and Annie fucking Hurley was getting in his face because she was jealous? They’d never even kissed, for Christ’s sake.
“Skinny little thing, too, Gracie said. No chest to speak of. I can’t believe you’d walk away from all this,” she said with a gesture to her own ample bosom, “for some scrawny piece of ass. What’s she got that’s so special?”
He could feel every eye in the room focused on him. The burning itch started between his shoulders and climbed up his scalp until it felt like a million fire ants were making a meal out of his skin. Enrico raised a brow at him, but Fitch couldn’t even offer the man a nod because he was stuck.
Shit, he’d been stuck for weeks in this crippling confusion and dread. It made him feel like the biggest fool because he knew better than to worry about what other people thought. Their opinion would never give his life meaning.
The question hung in the air, sucking all the oxygen from the place until Fitch was lightheaded enough to throw caution to the wind.
He was so done with hiding. He wasn’t ashamed of his relationship. Ansel was amazing and Fitch was so fucking proud to know him.
And hell, if his parents could make an effort to accept their relationship he didn’t care about anyone else. So, fuck Annie Hurley, and fuck her gossiping sister, and fuck their father too, if necessary. Fuck everyone.
“A cock, for one,” Fitch finally answered.
He felt the gasp spread through the crowd like a pebble in a pond as everyone grew silent around them. But he ignored their audience and focused on Annie’s shocked face. Her mouth gaped open so she looked like a fish.