He nodded. “They are very happy together.” He paused, cleared his throat. “I, uh…didn’t see many families in South Philly that looked like mine. After you came out, I felt like my world expanded. If that makes sense.”

“It makes total sense,” I said firmly. “We all want to be seen. But we also want to know there are others like us out there. Sitting in those support groups on those creaky chairs, it was the first time I ever saw my own story.”

Those nights taught me a lot about the connected threads of storytelling. I saw how my story was both wildly different and incredibly similar to others. It was such a powerful feeling of coming alive. And I noticed the spinning of those same threads whenever I was behind a camera.

I slowed to a stop, nearing the turn onto Tenth. “I’m glad I fell into your lap, by the way,” I said. He smothered a cough. “We could even hang out again, if you wanted.”

Dean’s response to that was to stare at me like I was the toughest question on a math test.

“You know…” I continued, “paint the town red. Go a little wild. Have two margaritas, or even stay out till midnight.”

I was rewarded with a half smile. Gone in an instant, like a shooting star. “That sounds like a job for Rowan, not me. You know I’m not the wild type.”

Our eyes connected and held. For a person who claimed not to be wild, the naked lust that flared briefly in his gaze felt untamed to me.

I cocked my head to the side. “What about dancing?”

He looked down at the ground, then back up at me. Shy. Adorable. That spark of passion had vanished, and I wanted to tempt it back.

“You do not want to see me dance, Tabitha.”

“I thought your physical prowess was well documented, Mr. Machine?”

His lips curved up again. “A boxing ring is different than a dance floor. You wouldn’t enjoy it.”

I had a strong hunch there were a lot of things I’d enjoy doing with Dean.

“Maybe some other time, then,” I said. “You know where I live.” I glanced around where we were standing. “Which is here, believe it or not—at least temporarily. How’d you know where to walk me home? Are you staying at your parents’ house tonight?”

He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t know. I moved out a few years ago. Bought that house over there.”

I followed where he was pointing. “You live next to my aunt? She never told me, and we’re constantly texting about The Real Housewives.”

“The real…what? Wait, are you staying in Linda’s house this month?”