Page 56 of You & I, Rewritten

“Graham…I overreacted earlier. Youknowthat I value your input and opinion.” I lean over, planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth. He smiles in return. “Talk to me.”

Turning toward me, I can see his hesitation.I’m such an asshole.

“Just hear me out, okay?” he says, staring at our entwined hands. “But before I say anything, please know thatyouare my primary concern in all of this.”

“I know that babe.”

“I just want you to think long and hard about whatnotgoing means.” His body tenses, anticipating my reaction. “And I don’t say that to imply what it would mean for your father, because Lord knows you don’t owe that man anything. But think about what it would mean foryouto not go.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. When the subject of my father comes up, I guess I get tunnel vision, and I hadn’t really thought about how I’ll feel down the line.

“You’ve carried the weight of your father on your heart for years,” Graham continues, his voice filled with sincerity. “Don’t you want an opportunity for closure? To turn the page on this chapter of your life?” He squeezes my hand. “This sounds serious, Will…how many times did they call? Ten?”Thirteen, actually.“What if you miss an opportunity to get any questions you have answered? Or to scream at the top of your lungs about how pissed off you are? I know it’s been years and so much hurt has been caused, so I get it…I don’t know how I’d be feeling right now if I was in this situation. But just think about the dreadedwhat ifmoment, okay?”

He puts his arms around me, pulling me into a hug I so desperately need. “And if you still don’t want to go, I hope you know that I support you in that decision. I just feel like I owe it to you, as someone who cares so deeply about you and your happiness, to offer another perspective.”

In my heart, I know he’s right. Of course he is. However, does it even matter? The thought of seeing my father…Ugh.And what if it is as serious as Graham says? Does that change anything? This whole situation is too much to think about and I hate how much it’s conflicting me.Damn it, I don’t want to do this.

Graham, with his strong arms still around me, whispers in my ear, “Regardless of what happens today, know that I love you.” Even in the midst ofeverythinggoing on, hearing that word come out of his beautiful mouth again stills my heart.

It’s in that moment, looking up at the man who I love so intensely, that I know I’m going to go see my father.I have to.

“Will you come with me?” I whisper.

He takes my face in his hands, wiping away the last remaining tears.

“Always.”

* * *

Graham pulls into midmorning traffic with ease.

We haven’t really spoken much, but he’s got his hand on my leg and is humming along as his music shuffles, so I thinkwe’reokay. I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to beg and plead with him to turn around and take me home, to express what a horrible idea this is. Another part of me wants him to hurry the hell up and drive faster.

And another part of me wants to vomit, so that’s where we’re at.

I steal a glance over in Graham’s direction, admiring his profile. He’s completely focused on the road, on getting us to the hospital. Of course, he’s amazing in a crisis; calm, supportive, kind.Sexy.Despite all of that, even though I know Graham would never and has never judged me for the situation with my father, my anxiety is spiking at the thought of the two of them meeting. Do I want him to know that part of my life? I’m not even prepared to seehimafter all these years, let alone introduce my boyfriend to him.

Hi, Deadbeat Father? This is Graham, the love of my life. Oh, and by the way, I’m super gay.I shake my head; I hadn’t put too much thought or energy into my father’s reaction to me being gay. He was out of the picture when I officially came out, but I’m sure on some level, he had to have known.

I reach over, running my fingers through the hair at the base of Graham’s neck and put my head on his shoulder, causing him to smile. “Thank you for driving…and for coming. Itreallymeans the world to me.”

He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips, his focus still on the road. Planting a kiss on the back of my hand, he says, “There is nowhere I’d rather be.”

He keeps my hand in his for the remainder of our drive, slowly tracing small hearts on my skin, the simple act doing wonders to subdue the fear and anxiety I’d been feeling.

* * *

We pull up to the loading zone at the main hospital entrance.

“Why don’t you go ahead while I park,” Graham says, giving me a reassuring smile.

I exit the car, my breathing accelerating as I close the door behind me. Walking through the motion-activated doors, my legs feel like lead, each step closer to the information desk feels like I’m dragging the weight of a freight train.

More like ten plus years of abandonment and daddy issues, get it together.

The hospital is buzzing with all the sounds you’d expect it to—pages for doctors, ringing phones, the subtle beeps of medical equipment. Behind the desk, several nurses are carrying out their business, each one diligently taking calls, addressing patients and family members and everything else that’s thrown at them.I don’t know how they do it.

When I finally make it to the charging station, noting that none of them appear to be judging me for my slow-motion entrance—thank God—I place both hands on the cool veneer of the desk.

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