Page 119 of If the World Was Ending

“I think he is too, for the record,” his dad replied. “Did you tell Mom?”

“No. I know in my heart she wouldn’t have judged me, but I also know she would have worried more.” Hunter sipped his coffee. “Because she would have realized what everyone within five feet of my career has told me. Being openly bisexual or gay will adversely affect this career.”

“She worried. And yeah, this would have worried her. But she would’ve supported you and loved you just the same. I know because when we were waiting on a baby, applying with adoption agencies, we had that conversation. She wanted to know I really wanted a baby, no matter what, and I would love it no matter what.” His dad looked at Hunter with softness. “She asked me everything. What if it’s a girl, what if it’s a boy, what if it has a disability, what if it hates hockey, what if it’s gay.”

“I’m bi.”

“She didn’t ask if I could accept a bi child, but judging by the way she told me, with her whole heart, we had to accept our baby no matter who they loved or who they were, I bet bi would’ve been fine.” His father chuckled until his breath hitched and he paused to make sure he didn’t cry. When he looked at Hunter again, his eyes were bereft, and Hunter’s heart squeezed painfully. “I lost so many years that I could have been with your mother. So fucking many.”

The room seemed to fill with a heavy shroud of grief again. Hunter nodded, not sure what to say. “Why did you cheat?”

“Because I was an absolute fucking idiot.” His muddy brown eyes were somber. “I was young and dumb, and your mom was more than ready to grow up, and I wasn’t. I don’t know. I have zero excuses, but I will tell you, I begged her to take me back, even after I found out Giselle was pregnant. But that was something she couldn’t forgive—probably because we hadn’t been able to conceive. And we had you, and she felt like I was betraying you even more than her. But we both still loved each other the entire time.”

“I figured that out when you were there for her with both cancer battles,” Hunter said. “And for the record, I didn’t think it was a bigger betrayal just because you adopted me. It was never a betrayal to me. You were always there when I needed you, and although I wish you hadn’t divorced, I don’t feel slighted because you had a kid of your own.”

“You’re my own kid, Hunter. Just as much as Francois. I don’t give a shit about DNA,” he said, and Hunter smiled. He felt it too. Greg Law was his dad, end of story.

Greg finished his coffee and slowly picked himself up off the stool at the island and walked over to put the mug in the sink. He leaned against the counter there and observed his son. “I’m not telling you this to rehash my mistakes. I’m telling you this because the thing is, your mom and I never stopped loving each other, but we did start caring about what it would look like. What people would think. She waited so long to give me another chance because her parents would have thought less of her if she took me back. Her co-workers would have gossiped about how pathetic it was to take back the cheating ex who knocked up someone else. I waited so long to try and truly get her back because I thought it would affect my job. No one wants a person running their town who has such a messy, embarrassing personal life.”

Greg looked up at the ceiling and pressed the heels of his hands into his tired eyes for a brief moment. “Those last few months we had together were the best of my life, and when the cancer came back, it made me realize my job and other people’s opinions were not worth what I lost. The time we denied ourselves that obviously we will never get back.”

There was a soft creaking down the hall. Colby was up and opening the bedroom door. Hunter left the island to fuss at the coffee machine, eager to make Colby a coffee exactly like he knows Colby loves. “Morning. You sleep okay?”

He glanced over his shoulder and caught Colby kind of stutter-step at the sight of Mr. Law standing in the kitchen. Mr. Law is how Colby insisted on addressing Hunter’s dad even though Hunter’s dad said he could call him Greg. He had thrown on more clothes too, wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of joggers. “Slept okay. Really wish I didn’t have to fly home tonight.”

“I’m shocked Ford let you come at all,” Hunter said as he watched the espresso drip into the mug he’d brought down from the cupboard earlier for this reason. “I’m grateful.”

“He didn’t. He was furious when I called him from the airport and explained I needed time off,” Colby replied, and Hunter wasn’t even shocked. Ford would always be Ford. But it felt nice that Colby prioritized Hunter and stood up to him this time. Colby must have noted Hunter’s dad’s lack of understanding, so he added, “Ford is my band’s manager. My manager. And we’re in the middle of recording our second album, so he’s… stressed.”

“And just generally an asshole on a good day,” Hunter muttered, and Colby just quirked his lips up in a bit of a smile.

“Well, thank you for making the trip,” Greg said with a genuine smile. “I’m going to go shower.”

As his dad left the room, Hunter finished making Colby the perfect coffee. He crossed the small room and handed the mug to Colby. Their fingers brushed slowly and with purpose as they exchanged the steamy homemade latte topped with cinnamon.

“Thanks, baby,” Colby whispered so quietly it was almost more like he mouthed the words. And then his gray-blue eyes fell to Hunter’s shirt and his dimple woke up for the day. “Nice shirt.”

“My favorite band,” Hunter said with a shrug. “I saw them recently in Spain, and they’re fire.”

“You were in Spain?” Colby blinked. “At our concert?”

“Yeah. We were filming a couple hours away from San Sebastián, and my day off aligned.” Hunter leaned back against the island and watched Colby take a sip. “And before you ask, you know why I didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah. I know.” Colby sounded so fucking sad. He took another, bigger sip of the latte and came away with a foam mustache. Hunter pushed himself off the counter and slowly, gently cupped the side of Colby’s face and used his thumb to wipe it away. Colby’s eyelids fluttered, inadvertently mimicking the butterflies in Hunter’s belly. “You’re not worried your dad will walk back in?”

“He knows.” Colby’s whole body tensed and his face went ashy. Hunter sucked the foam off his finger and cupped Colby’s face again, tingling everywhere at the feel of his unshaven face against his palm. “He’s okay. Like, didn’t even blink.”

“Oh.” Hunter knew the sadness drifting over Colby’s features was about his family dynamic, not Hunter’s. “I’m glad, Hunter. He’s great, and you deserve great.”

“So do you, so I’m really just lucky, and I’m also sorry you weren’t lucky with your dad,” Hunter said and reached up to brush Colby’s bed head off his forehead. The scar from the van incident was still visible, but only because Hunter knew where to look. To think that was years ago.

And now they were both millionaires doing what they’d dreamed of back then… and Hunter was motherless. Colby’s phone buzzed from the pocket of his joggers. Hunter’s dark eyes dropped to the screen as Colby pulled it out, rolled his eyes, and walked back to the island. “Speak of the asshole, and he shall appear.”

Colby answered the call. “Hey Fo?—”

“Get the fuck back here!” Ford wasn’t on speaker, but he was yelling so loudly Hunter could hear him like he was.

“Don’t scream at me,” Colby replied, his voice terse but level. “I’m on a flight tonight. I know we have studio time tomorrow afternoon.”