Page 77 of Heartstring

“Sorry, but no lies detected. Being in love, however, is different. When you’re in love, you have all the feelings you get when you love someone, but then there’s this extra level on top. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He stares at me.

Shit, wrong answer.

“I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

He laughs. “If you’re about to declare your undying love for me, I love you enough to let you down gently. If you’re unsure about being in love with my brother, I might have to overlook my feelings and see how punchable you are.”

I sigh. “I want to ask Porter to marry me.”

“Dude! That’s awesome news.” He gives me a side hug and clinks his bottle against mine. “Why do you look so miserable about it? You know he’ll say yes.”

“I know, it’s just…a long time ago, I gave my heart to someone. I thought it would be forever until it wasn’t.”

“Are you afraid it won’t be forever with Porter?”

“I don’t know. I’m afraid I’m not the man he deserves. That I can never love him as much as he loves me.”

Seymour takes my hand.

“I don’t believe that.”

I look at him.

“You heard me, Ty. So you once loved someone, and because you don’t love Porter in the same way, you think it’s not as strong? That’s bullshit. Of course you loved the other guy differently. He was a different guy. You had a different dynamic. But listen to me, you dumbass. I know you love my brother with all your heart.”

I’m lost for words at the insight of a guy who bumblebees from hookup to hookup like he’s looking for the next best flower.

“I’ve never seen my brother so happy as when he’s with you. You always put him first. You do all these random acts of kindness for him. I know the sex is good because neither of you can fucking keep it down.” I punch his gut. “Hey, you have a place. Don’t know why you can’t get it on there,” he says.

“Fair point.”

He laughs.

“So, you think I should do it?” I ask.

“I think you should do it.” He clinks his bottle against mine.

After I drop Seymour off, I head back home. Usually, I don’t notice the pictures on the wall. They’ve been there for so long that I tend to forget about them.

Maybe it’s because I talked to Seymour, or maybe it’s divine intervention from my dad, but today I stop in the hallway and look at them.

One photo in particular catches my attention. It’s my dad and me outside the courthouse on the day he adopted me. We’re both wearing a suit and tie. His arms are over my shoulders because I’m a couple of steps below him. I remember he joked about my growth spurt and how no one would ever believe I was his son.

Now, looking at us with our matching ties and smiles, it’s undeniable he was my dad. Yes, his blondish hair didn’t match my brown, and he had blue eyes, but in all the things that mattered, he was my dad. He was my family.

Porter and Seymour have been my family from the moment I met them. Porter may not be my first love, but he’s a better love. He’s a grown-up love. The kind that can be counted on when it matters. He’s also fucking gorgeous. His smile lights up the room, and it makes my stomach tight every time it’s directed at me.

I remember my dad’s words when he placed a small velvet box in my hand.

“I won’t beat around the bush, son. I never have. So, I’m going to say this once. One day the time will come for you to marry a lucky man. It’s unlikely I’ll be around, but in the same way you’ve given me the privilege to be your father, I hope you give me the privilege of offering you your wedding rings. The day you put this on someone’s finger, I hope you know I’ll have been there, watching you, and will always be.”

I never thought I’d be in this position, but now that the time has come, I can’t wait a second longer. I run to my bedroom and grab the box I’ve kept on my bedside table all these years.

Porter may not be my first love, but he’ll certainly be my last.