Chapter 18: Baby step

Elliot

I spend the morning trying to calm my nerves, repeating Luca’s words in my mind like a mantra: “Baby steps.” I want to believe that’s all I need, but it’s hard to shake the weight of years spent keeping everything about myself locked away.

By the time I reach my sister Emma’s apartment, my heart is pounding, and my hands are clammy. I clench and unclench my fists, trying to steady myself. Emma’s always been the one I’m closest to. Growing up, she was my confidante, the one person I felt understood me without needing an explanation. If there’s anyone I can start with, it’s her.

I ring the doorbell, taking a steadying breath. After a moment, the door swings open, and there she is—my older sister, with the same warm smile and the glint of curiosity that’s always made me feel like I could share anything with her.

“Elliot!” she says, pulling me into a hug. “It’s so good to see you. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

I laugh, though it comes out a little shaky. “Never. Just…busy, you know?”

She gives me a knowing look, and I wonder if she can already tell that something’s on my mind. Emma’s always been good at reading me, sometimes better than I’d like.

“Well, come on in,” she says, motioning for me to follow her inside. The scent of coffee and fresh pastries fills the air, and I can’t help but feel a little comforted by the familiarity of it all.

We settle onto her couch, and she hands me a mug of coffee. “So,” she says, studying me over the rim of her own cup, “what’s going on with you? I can tell there’s something you’re not saying.”

I glance down, my fingers tracing the edge of the mug as I try to find the words. “I wanted to talk to you about…someone.”

Her eyebrows lift, and she smiles, her interest piqued. “Ooh, is this a new love interest I’m finally hearing about? And here I thought you were going to be a lone wolf forever.”

I chuckle, but the humor doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s not…exactly new. But it’s complicated.”

Emma’s expression softens, her teasing fading as she realizes that I’m serious. She sets her mug down, leaning forward with a look of gentle encouragement. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Taking a deep breath, I decide to just rip off the bandage. “I’m in love, Emma. And…it’s with a man.”

The words hang in the air between us, and for a split second, I’m filled with an overwhelming urge to take them back. But then, something shifts in her expression—a mix of surprise, then understanding, and finally, acceptance.

“Oh, Elliot,” she says softly, reaching out to take my hand. “Thank you for telling me. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

The relief that floods through me is almost overwhelming. I feel a weight lift from my chest, like I can finally breathe for the first time in years. “You’re…you’re okay with it?”

She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, her smile warm and genuine. “Of course I am. You’re my brother, Elliot. That’s all that matters to me. I just want you to be happy, to be with someone who makes you feel loved.”

I swallow, emotions catching in my throat. “He does, Emma. He really does.”

She beams, her excitement bubbling over. “Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

I hesitate, glancing down as I try to find the right words to describe Luca. “He’s…he’s kind. Patient. He understands me in a way that no one else ever has. Being with him…it just feels right.”

Emma listens intently, her expression softening with every word. “He sounds wonderful, Elliot. I’d love to meet him sometime, if you’re ready for that.”

The thought of introducing Luca to someone in my family feels like a monumental step, but hearing her say it with such ease makes it feel almost possible. I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe soon. I think… I think I’d like that.”

For the next hour, we talk about everything and nothing—our childhood memories, the things that make us laugh, and, eventually, Luca. I tell her about the little things he does, like how he knows just when to hold my hand or offer a quiet word of encouragement. I even tell her about last night, about how he gave me the courage to finally start opening up.

By the time I leave her apartment, I feel lighter than I have in years. The fear is still there, but for the first time, there’s something else—a sense of possibility, a hope that maybe, just maybe, I can have the life I want without losing the people I love.

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Later That Evening: Family Dinner

As evening falls, I find myself standing outside my parents’ house, steeling myself for the inevitable questions. Family dinners have always been a regular occurrence—Mom’s way of making sure we all stay connected, no matter how busy life gets. But tonight, the air feels heavier, charged with the secret I’m carrying.

Emma arrives shortly after me, giving me a reassuring nod. Her presence is a silent reminder that I’m not entirely alone in this, that someone in this room knows and accepts me for who I am.

Inside, everything looks the same as it always has. The scent of my mother’s cooking fills the air, and my dad is already seated at the head of the table, reading the newspaper. It feels almost surreal, like nothing has changed, even though everything inside me feels different.

As we sit down to dinner, the familiar questions start. My mom, as usual, asks about work, my plans, and my future. My dad occasionally nods, chiming in with his own opinions on the “right” path for me. And somewhere in the middle of it all, my mind drifts, thinking about Luca and the quiet strength he gave me this morning.

Then, just as I think I might get through the evening without any mention of relationships, my mother looks at me, her expression gentle but expectant.

“So, Elliot,” she begins, her voice filled with that particular blend of curiosity and expectation that only mothers have. “Are you seeing anyone? We never seem to hear about your love life.”

I feel my stomach twist, my heart hammering in my chest. I glance over at Emma, who gives me an encouraging smile, as if to say, It’s okay. You can do this.

For a moment, I consider telling them. The words are there, hovering on the tip of my tongue, just waiting to be released. But as I look into my mother’s hopeful eyes and my father’s watchful gaze, the weight of their expectations feels crushing.

Instead, I force a smile, the words slipping away before I can catch them. “Not…not right now. Just focusing on work for now.”

It’s a half-truth, and I feel a pang of guilt as I say it. But the relief that follows is equally powerful, the fear of rejection momentarily quelled.

Emma reaches under the table and gives my hand a quick squeeze. It’s a silent reminder that I have time, that I don’t have to do this all at once. And for now, that’s enough.