“Well, when were in our thirties, we toyed with the idea of adopting kids,” Aaron says. “Or using an egg donor, a surrogate, you know, the whole deal. But we ultimately decided it’s not for us. We’re far too busy for kids. I’m always working late, and Brent takes trips in other countries for entire months, sometimes. So, we just want to keep being good guncles. And continue to live out our best healthy and happy lives.”

Brent nods. “Which sounds cheesy,” he adds. “But not really if you factor in the fact that an entire generation of our community elders was affected by the AIDS crisis. Being gay and living long, happy lives is not something we’ll ever take for granted.”

Aaron solemnly nods in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s definitely understandable,” I say. “Okay, one last question. How do you define love?”

“Being disgusting together,” answers Brent. “Disgustingly cute, disgustingly happy, and disgustingly sad.”

Aaron shoots Brent an amused look before turning back to me. “A raison d’être. If it weren’t for Brent, my life would just be a lot of numbers, booze, and meaningless sex.”

Brent shoots me a knowing glance. “That’s how he says ‘I love you.’” He gives Aaron a peck on the lips. “I love you, too, babe.”

We all laugh, and from behind the cameras, Celeste makes a heart with her fingers.

After Aaron and Brent leave, Celeste and I are packing up for the day when I get a call from the Amatos. I put my phone on speaker so Celeste can hear the conversation, too. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Maria Amato. My husband and I were scheduled to interview with you guys today but couldn’t make it because something came up. Sorry, but can we reschedule our interview? Things have been so hectic with our girls out of school for winter break. Weekends work better.”

I exchange glances with Celeste, who nods. We reschedule the Amatos for two days later, the Saturday before the week of Christmas. After I hang up, I shoot Evelyn a quick email to inform her about the schedule change.

“Any fun plans for the holiday?” Celeste asks as I get ready to go home.

I turn around to face her. Her expression is neutral, like she’s making conversation for the sake of it. Maybe she is. Maybe she’s not. It’s hard for me to tell what Celeste is thinking these days.

“Not really. I’m going back down to Irvine to spend it with my parents,” I reply. “Whenever I’m in town for the holiday, we usually go to Christmas Eve Mass and have family dinner.”

Celeste’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, right, you’re Catholic. Do your parents know that you’re…”