“It’s a bit messy, but at the end of the day, it’s exactly what I want. Seafood chowder poutine: the fries are crispy, seasoned with Old Bay. The seafood you’ll find in the dish includes shrimp, lobster, and clams. We have a creamy Parmesan sauce with porchetta, and of course classic cheese curds, topped with green onions. It’s quite rich so it’s a smaller serving, in fact it’s something best shared. On the side and to cut the heaviness of your meal, you have a medley of vegetables that we’ve pickled in house: dill pickles, red onion, spicy carrots, and daikon pickles. And I’d suggest pairing this with a pinot blanc, which I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you.”

On schedule, Maggie sets a glass of white wine in front of Camilla.

“We’ll leave you to your meal,” I say.

As I walk away with Amy, her hand squeezing mine, Camilla says, “Paul, you heard her. This is meant to be shared. Why don’t you join me?”

I know they’re here, Wes and Corrine, Jeremy, Natalie, but their faces are blurred by my excitement. I wait until we get back to the kitchen, the muscles in my face burning from the strength of my smile. Even though it’s an open space and the cameras are still rolling as Camilla and now Paul eat my food, I turn to her, hold her face in my hands.

“Just so we’re clear, I love you, too.”

“You’re hijacking my apology.”

“You already apologized.”

“Yeah but...” She stops to kiss me, a quick peck of her lips to mine. Something so normal, so everyday. “I was going to ask you if you forgave me. If you’d want to give me another shot.”

“You have to know that I do.”

Her arms come around me, our hips pressed together. We’ve never really kissed like this before, in the open. At the Hideaway, it was dark, loud, and we were in a space that was totally, comfortably queer. Here, it’s public, without the safety net of an entire community at our backs. It feels brazen and brave, proud. It makes my love for her stronger, that she’ll share this with me.

“I know I told you to take that job, and if you ever decided you wanted to leave, to take another, to go wherever, I would go with you if I could. And if I couldn’t, I’d miss you and wait for you.”

“Amy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know but I’m just saying—”

I kiss her again, to shut her up. “I love you.”

Epilogue

Sophie

Six Months Later

A good morning starts with three things: sweat, coffee, and breakfast. I don’t eat the breakfast unless it’s after I’ve sweat and had coffee, but Amy doesn’t mind. She’s just gleeful that she’s brought me over “to the light,” she says. Normally, my sweating involves a trip to visit Natalie at the gym and coffee comes in the form of to-go cups that I pick up on my way home, but today it’s more like the sheet-grabbing kind of sweating. The only lift happening is the way my back bows off the bed, and despite having to make the coffee myself once I’ve caught my breath, it’s my new favorite.