by Wendy Qualls
Brandon’s eyes widened beside him, and Paul suddenly realized what he’d done. Damn, did I really admit that for the first time in front of my PARENTS? Brandon’s expression brightened so much, though, that Paul could barely keep from tugging him down into a giddy kiss right there with the phone between them.
There was silence from the other end of the phone. And more silence. “Mom? Dad?”
“I don’t know what to say,” Paul’s father finally admitted. “I just—I wish you could have been happy with a woman.”
It was no more than he’d expected, but it still felt like a lead weight dragging him back down to earth from whatever clouds he’d been inhabiting while avoiding the whole mess his life was turning into. “I wouldn’t have been,” Paul said.
“You never tried.”
“I spent ten years trying.”
“You never dated—”
“Mom?” Paul asked before his dad could start pontificating on his disappointment.
“What do you want me to say?” she asked quietly.
“Say you’re glad that I’m happy?”
There was another long pause, and then a sigh. “I still love you,” she said, almost too soft to hear. Then, louder: “Is he a Christian?”
* * * *
“That was depressing,” Paul announced for Brandon’s benefit after he’d said his awkward good-byes a minute later and hung up. “I mean, I knew they’d disapprove, but I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“They’re not the first I’ve gotten the sentiment from,” Brandon answered, and reached out to pull Paul closer to him in a wonderfully warm embrace. “And they won’t be the last. The other side makes up for it, though.”
Paul exhaled sharply into his shirt collar. “What, the sex?”
Brandon’s chest shook under him in a soft chuckle. “Well, sure, that too. But I want to show you something.” He pulled back from the hug and thumbed through something on his phone. “Here.”
“What am I looking at?”
“Just read them.”
Paul scrolled down the list—twenty or thirty e-mails, all from today. He skimmed a few at random.
…Dr. Dunham was the best professor I’ve ever had…
…It’s ridiculous that he be fired for such a trivial…
…and any college would be lucky to have him on the…
…I don’t know how much weight student opinions carry, but…
Paul blinked back up at Brandon, not quite able to absorb what was going on.
“Recommendations,” Brandon murmured. “Your mailbox is full of them—I’ve had my guys forwarding a sampling of them to me as they come in. Word gets around fast, but your students seem to be much more understanding than your department head was. I’m assuming someone started a campaign on your behalf. They all seem eager to provide you with as many references as possible, presumably because St. Ben’s is probably going to be less than helpful. One student testimonial about how awesome you are might not carry much weight, but an inbox full of them…”
“Oh my God.” Paul was startled to realize he was blinking back tears. “They would… They care?”
“They’ll miss you.” Brandon pulled him back in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Is it really that amazing that you’ve made a difference?”
“I—you just, you try your best and hope something soaks in, but—”
Brandon cut him off with a kiss. A long, achingly sweet kiss, one that was wonderful all for itself and didn’t feel like a temporary stop on a frantic pathway to somewhere else. Paul felt himself relax into it, simply absorbing the feel of Brandon being there. When it drew to a natural conclusion, Brandon broke it off and pressed their foreheads together.
“I love you too,” he murmured, cupping Paul’s face with his palms. “Just so you know. I love you too.”
Epilogue
“She’s gorgeous,” Brandon breathed.
Paul nodded in agreement, but Brandon didn’t look up. He seemed unable to take his eyes off the tiny baby in his arms. Danielle was sweaty and a bit pale, but beaming.
“Not me,” she told the approaching nurse, waving her away. “They’re the dads. I’m just the DNA.”
Paul grabbed his sister’s hand and squeezed hard. She returned it. Brandon merely looked awestruck as the nurse carefully repositioned their daughter against his chest and showed him how to support her tiny head.
Paul couldn’t remember ever having been so happy. Two years—that’s all it took. Christopher and the whole St. Ben’s debacle were a distant memory, he and Brandon were still disgustingly head-over-heels for each other, and now they had a baby. Chalk up one more advantage to having the most wonderful twin sister in the world. They hadn’t even had to ask; she had offered. And now their daughter was the closest thing to being genetically “his” and Brandon’s as she could be.
“I think she’s got your nose,” Brandon murmured, still mesmerized by the tiny wrinkled body in his arms.
“Your hair, though.”
“Yeah.”
They traded her around among the three of them while the labor and delivery nurse bustled in the background, entering something in the computer and taking occasional measurements from both Danielle and the baby.
“So do I finally get to learn her real name?” Danielle asked, cradling her niece gently. “Calling her ‘2.0’ works fine in utero, but I figure you guys came up with something better.”
Paul caught Brandon’s eye and nodded.
“Emily,” Brandon said quietly. “Emily Louise Mercer.”
Danielle looked up, surprise on her face. “You two are giving her Brandon’s last name?”
“It’s…” Paul and Brandon exchanged another glance, and then Brandon squeezed his hand and grinned. “Brandon proposed to me last night,” Paul admitted. “We’re getting married this fall, hopefully. And I’m taking his name too.”
Danielle’s ear-splitting squeal—hastily muffled—startled the nurse and possibly most of the rest of the maternity ward. “My God, you guys! Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
“We were going to, but Emily was kind of in a hurry,” Brandon said. “You were a bit busy, going into labor early and all.”
“But married!” She looked from Emily, up to Paul and Brandon, then back down again. “God, you two are ridiculous, you know that? I swear, ever since Paul was little he’s always wanted to settle down somewhere quiet and have kids. And now he has that wonderfully flexible teaching-from-home job and y’all have the charming little house and everything is creepily perfect. When do I get my happily ever after? Because it wasn’t in Paris, so I’m still waiting. Any time now would be good.” She wrinkled her nose at them, but the look of adoration she gave to Emily took any possible sting out of her words.
“You’re welcome to visit as much as you like,” Paul offered. “Teach Emily how to be all girly; heaven knows she won’t get that from us.”
“Oh, I definitely will.” Danielle heaved a sigh, but handed Emily back to Paul. “Dad will come around, you know. Eventually. Mom won’t let him be responsible for losing her even a minute of potential time with her first granddaughter.”
“My family is probably in the waiting room right now,” Brandon said. “I texted Anita on our way here and I expect she probably spread the word.”
“Have them meet us upstairs in the recovery ward, then.” Paul ducked his head to nuzzle at Emily’s wild tuft of dark hair. “We can introduce them to Emily and let them all know at once that Brandon’s going to make an honest man out of me.”
When they got moved to the recovery room forty-five minutes later—Danielle in a hospital-mandated wheelchair with Emily sleeping peacefully on her lap and grinning at Paul every time he looked her way—they were met by Brandon’s family. His entire family.
“We left the kids with Anita’s m
om,” Eric said, offering Paul and Brandon a brotherly hug, “but Jordan and Marshall made arrangements to come down months ago.”
“Caught the first plane I could, little bro,” Marshall said. He was a taller, thinner version of Brandon, with lighter hair but the same eyes. “Didn’t want to miss meeting my new niece.”
“And I was going to visit Mom and Dad this weekend anyway,” Jordan interjected. “Didn’t take much to convince them to meet me here instead, once we got Anita’s text.”
“This is convenient,” Brandon murmured privately to Paul, then pointedly cleared his throat. Everyone quieted down immediately. “It works out well that you’re all here,” he said more loudly. “Because while we’re on the subject of expanding the family, Paul and I have another announcement to make….”
Worth Waiting For
If you enjoyed Worth Waiting For, don’t miss Wendy Qualls’s
Worth Searching For
A Lyrical Shine e-book on sale February 2018!
Meet the Author
Wendy Qualls was a small-town librarian until she finished reading everything her library had to offer. At that point she put her expensive and totally unrelated college degree to use by writing smutty romance novels and wasting time on the internet. She lives in Northern Alabama with her husband, two girls, two dogs, and a seasonally fluctuating swarm of unwanted ladybugs. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and is represented by Moe Ferrara of BookEnds Literary Agency.
Follow her on Twitter @WendyQualls and follow her on the web at WendyQualls.com.