Page 132 of The Last Guy On Earth
My sister gives him a sideways glance. “You think you can butter me up so easily?”
“Pretty sure I can,” he says. “I’ve had a pregnant sister, too, and I know how this works. What would you do for a pancake right now?”
“Almost anything,” she says, following him toward the front door.
“See? Easy peasy,” he says.
My parents and I follow them out, with Raul bringing up the rear.
“Clay,” my mother says, pausing before we reach the cars. “I apologize. All these years, it just never occurred to me that you…”
“Are gay,” I say. “I guess I knew you guys wouldn’t be assholes about that. But I spent my whole childhood being the Powers child who never quite fit in. Wasn’t that eager to add another thing to the pile.”
She shakes her head as we arrive at Jethro’s car, where he and Raul are sorting the six of us into two groups. “I’m still sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” I say. “I have no regrets.”
For the first time in years, it’s really true.
FIFTY-NINE
Jethro
Since it’s a weekday,the restaurant isn’t too slammed. We get a table right away. I make sure to seat myself beside Clay. And as soon as the food is served, his hand lands on my knee under the table.
To a casual observer, our party of six wouldn’t look that interesting. But to me, this moment is a goddamn miracle. I can hardly believe I’m really here, dressed in Clay’s clothing, sipping coffee with his parents. Like a real couple would.
Part of me might always secretly believe that I don’t deserve him—that I’ve pulled off some kind of elaborate scam to call him mine. The miracle is that Clay feels the same way about me. His thumb strokes over my kneecap, and I know he’s happy I came along, even if it’s a little awkward.
I steal a glance at his handsome face, lit with enthusiasm as he and his sister bicker lightly over the definition of Eggs Benedict and whether bacon belongs in a Bloody Mary.
Clay’s mother turns to me. “And where are you from, Jethro? Where is your family?”
I chuckle. I mean, you’d just have to. “Grew up in Detroit, but my father and my nephew have been here in Colorado withme this season. I have temporary custody of my sister’s kid while she’s incarcerated.”
The poor woman’s face contorts into surprise and horror before she can stop herself. “That sounds traumatic. I’m sorry for your troubles.”
“It’s been a tough couple of years,” I agree. “But my sister seems to be pulling herself together.”
“And your nephew knows you’re there for him,” Clay says with a proud smile. “Great kid. Sharp, and with a willful personality like his uncle’s.”
I snort. “That’s very diplomatic. Thank you.”
“No, it’s important,” he says. “Grit makes the man. Ask any coach or employer.”
“It’s true,” his father says mildly, and I catch a flicker of disbelief on Clay’s face, like he’s not used to his father agreeing with him.
“Do you boys have plans for the summer?” his mother asks.
Boys. Like we’re a couple of college kids. I grin.
“We’re working on it,” Clay says. “Jethro has to go back to Michigan for a couple of months. But we’ll find some weekends to spend together. And I’m told he could be back in Colorado this fall.” He gives me a glance that’s full of hope.
“I have a lot to figure out,” I admit. “Thinking about going back to school. I didn’t get to finish my degree like Clay did.”
His father’s face lights up. “Where were you in college?”
“Madison.”
