Role Playing(57)

She shook her head. “I am so sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean, it wasn’t at the time, but . . .”

“No. I get it. Unsupportive family is the absolute worst.” Again, she looked ready to go vigilante.

He smiled. “Anyway. I got my nursing degree, and I was working at some care facilities, focusing on elder care and hospice. And you won’t believe it, but I ran into Sheryl again.”

“Sheryl from high school?”

“The same,” he said. “She was just as sweet and just as kind, and we wound up having dinner. A couple of times.” He sighed. “I told her about having a bad breakup—not all the details, obviously, because Jordan was still in the closet and I wouldn’t do that to him.”

“I should hope not,” Maggie murmured. “I mean, the guy’s a dick, but that wouldn’t have made it better.”

“Anyway, I told her that I had a broken heart. And she wanted to make it better. So we got to know each other, hung out a lot. Next thing I knew, we were dating. I was still attracted to her, and I knew how rare that was. To my shock, I found myself falling in love with her. Again.” He frowned, still puzzled. “So . . . yeah, bi? I guess? Although . . .”

“You want a drink?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t have much, but . . . um . . .”

“Nah.” Actually, he kind of did want a drink, but it wouldn’t help. He was spewing out his life story like a broken sprinkler head. “The thing is, I wasn’t interested in anybody else. Sheryl and Jordan, that was it. People kept saying I should get out there and date, and I’d try, even try to hook up. But I just couldn’t get there.”

She looked sympathetic without being pitying, and he could’ve hugged her for it. “What happened with Sheryl?”

“That’s a whole long story, and one that will probably require more liquor than my pain meds will allow at this point,” he said, already feeling too vulnerable. He’d shared more with Maggie in the past hour than he had with anyone in the past few decades. “Long story short: We got back together. Almost got married. Then we broke up.”

“I figured.”

“In the interest of full disclosure,” he added, “she’s now married to my younger brother.”

Maggie’s mouth formed a perfect O of surprise. “No. Shit.”

“Swear to God.”

“It’s like a K-drama,” she marveled. “Or a telenovela.”

“Glad my life can provide some entertainment.”

Now she stared at him speculatively. “Both times, the relationship aspect sort of blindsided you?”

He thought about it. Since he’d told so few people, no one had really asked. “Now that you mention it, yes.”

“You were friends first?”

“Yes . . . ?”

“You know,” she said slowly, “it sounds like you’re demi, maybe.”

It was his turn to stare, puzzled. Ace, demi . . . there was a whole world out there he didn’t understand. “I . . . don’t know what that is?”

She reddened. “Again, I am no expert,” she cautioned. “But from what I understand, demisexual people don’t feel sexual attraction until they form, like, an emotional attachment. They’re never going to be love at first sight, and they’re not going to have one-night stands. Where allosexual people might be drawn to people sexually and then build a relationship after that spark, you’d be kind of the opposite.”

He stared at her.

She rolled her eyes. “No sexy fun times until you feel close to someone. And even then, not everybody you get close to. Just some people.”

He felt gobsmacked. “That’s a thing?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Huh. Demi,” he said, testing the word out.

He felt a strange lightness in his chest. He was going to go home and google the shit out of this stuff—asexual, allosexual, demisexual. The idea that there might be an explanation for something he’d always felt like a freak about was eye opening. The thought that he wasn’t alone in it was more comforting than he’d ever realized.

The timer on the oven dinged. “All right. Grub’s on,” she said, like she hadn’t just changed his life with one conversation. She got up, taking the casserole out and putting it on the stove top, putting the oven mitts away. “We’ll give it a few minutes, because it’s currently hotter than . . . ack!”

He’d gotten up and stumbled over to her and hugged her on instinct. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

She reared back, staring at him with her mouth slightly open. “For what?”

“For listening to me. For not judging me,” he said. “For teaching me about this stuff. You have no idea how much you help.”

She grumbled . . . and for a second, leaned against his chest. “S’okay.”

They stood there for a long moment, her head tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around her. Her arms tentatively sneaked up to embrace his chest, and he could’ve sworn she sighed. Her hair was soft, and she smelled nice. Like coconut, a bit, and some kind of spice. Between that and the delicious smells of the kitchen, he took a deep breath, snuggling against her.

It felt like home. Or at least, the way he’d always imagined home ought to feel like.