Page 6 of Strawberry Kisses

“So we’re finally going to get to meet Connor then?” my mum asked, a beaming smile on her face.

“I… I…” I couldn’t figure out how the two connected. What mental maths had my mother done to connect those points?

“You have to bring Connor,” Mary said. “We’ve heard so much about him! I always wondered if he was your boyfriend, but Orla told me I shouldn’t ask.”

“Well, I was right,” Orla added. “I told you he’d tell us when he was ready. And he obviously is.”

“I… I… What?”

“It’s okay,” Imogen said softly. She’d always been the gentle voice of reason, and out of all my sisters, she was the quietest. “We’re so happy you felt like you could finally tell us. We’ve all thought Connor sounded amazing from the moment you first mentioned him.”

Da nodded and spoke for the first time. “Imogen’s right. He sounds like a good man”

“We all want to meet him,” Mum said. “He’s your boyfriend, and he’s important to you.”

“You have to bring him with you!” Mary added, and the sentiment was echoed around the little screen bubbles.

I stared at them, their words finally sinking into my brain.

Somehow, we’d gone from me telling them I was gay… to them thinking Connor was my boyfriend and demanding that I bring him to the party. How the hell had we gotten there?

“Er, I… I…” was all I could say, but somehow everyone seemed to take it as my agreement. My mum started muttering about changing the sleeping arrangements around while my sisters made a variety of happy noises before the conversation suddenly moved on again.

Shit. How on earth was I going to get out of this?

I was now expected to turn up, not just with a cake, but with a boyfriend. Heck, the cake was the least of my problems right now. I could do that in my sleep. Figuring out how to convince Connor to pretend to me my boyfriend for a whole weekend with my family was going to be a lot harder. I got the feeling that my family thought we’d been dating for a while—which could be anything from a couple of months to a couple of years. But, of course, I couldn’t ask that question without opening myself up as the target for a ton of questions, none of which I wanted to deal with right now.

I racked my brain trying to think of the first time I’d mentioned Connor to them. It was probably not too long after we’d first met at the restaurant, nearly three years ago. Connor had picked up a second job as a waiter around his dance teaching where he’d just been part-time, and we’d met on an evening service. He’d been sweet and funny, immediately blowing through all my shy barriers and utterly enchanting me.

There was a reason I’d never had a boyfriend in those three years, and it wasn’t just work related. Even though that was the reason I kept telling myself. But it wasn’t the truth.

The truth was I’d been hopelessly in love with Connor since about thirty minutes after I’d met him.

Okay, maybe that was a bit strong. But I’d definitely been stunned by him, and that had grown into the most enormous crush, like a many-headed mythological monster. To me, Connor was perfect. Sure, he was bossy and mouthy, and I knew he annoyed people—he’d ranted to me enough times about stupid exes and hook-ups over the years—but that was why I loved him. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he would never change who he was for anyone. Connor never let anything dull his sparkle, and to me, he shined brighter than any star in the sky.

But Connor was never going to want a guy like me.

Maybe that was why I’d never told Connor I was gay. I was just holding onto the stupid idea that maybe one day we’d be together. I’d been putting off him rejecting me for as long as possible, and although he’d accepted that I was gay and had been nothing but supportive, that didn’t mean he’d want to date me. I didn’t think I was his type. I’d met some of Connor’s ex-boyfriends, and they were all the complete opposite of me. I was quiet and soft and round—just a normal bloke, nothing special at all.

I wasn’t some chiselled hero who could sweep Connor off his feet. All I could do was give him hugs when he was sad, watch endless romcoms with him, bake him pastries to make him smile, and be prepared for the day when he met the man of his dreams. I was never going to be the hero of the story. I was just the sidekick, waiting to be forgotten. The Skype call finally wrapped up with a reminder that Mum and Da were expecting Connor and me on Friday afternoon and to let her know if I needed anything. I nodded and smiled because I was too stunned to say anything else.

Afterwards I sat there, staring into space, my thoughts swirling in a nebula of chaos.

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