“A few weeks after the Noah incident, Drew came out. It pains me to wonder if he would have held it inside, not sharing his true self, if they didn’t learn there’s more to life than the bubble of politics and the people in their own party. There are folks with real, pressing issues who care more about someone being murdered because of their skin color and marriage equality than tax laws. Mom and Dad love us so much, but it’s not easy to break formed opinions and generations of guided beliefs. In the last five to seven years, they’ve gotten more vocal. More involved and active at the local community level while still taking their power to Washington. Mom and I attended the Women’s March together a few years back, and she and Drew marshaled the city Pride Parade last year. People can change. It takes time. Patience and learning. I’ve always been proud to be their son. Tonight, though, I’m fucking honored to call them my parents.”

“Henry,” I whisper, enveloping his hand in mine and squeezing tight. “Thank you for sharing with me. It’s incredible to hear about the growth they’ve gone through. You were a big part of that change.”

“Sorry. I don’t know what made me want to word vomit all of that to you. No one else has ever heard the story before, besides Noah. You’re so easy to talk to. I want to share all this shit with you. The important stuff. The not important stuff.”

“Don’t apologize,” I say fiercely. “I like that you can open up and tell me these things. You’re such a good man. You spoke up when you saw something wrong happening, like you did for me at the office. You care about others, and it shows.”

His eyes meet mine, the caring and sensual brown of earlier shifting to dangerous and dark. “There’s a very short list of people I would burn the world down for, and you, Emma, are certainly one of them. I’d strike a match and welcome the flames.”

My heart skips a beat. Then another. Then another. Powerful, destructive words. Enough to nearly make me fall out of my chair with the sincerity and promise behind each one. It’s a far cry from an I love you and certainly not sweet and sugary. To me, it’s the most romantic declaration anyone’s ever said on my behalf.

“Please don’t become an arsonist,” I joke, feeling obligated to add a touch of humor to our conversation. I’m afraid to let him see how much the assertion is affecting me.

“I really brought the mood down, didn’t I?”