Acceptance | ✓

Chapter 6

"It seems your uncle got rid of the poor boy to wed in peace, he made him sound like a little rebel," my mother said, chuckling as I handed her hand luggage.

"Well, uncle's just paranoid," I pointed out, leading them to the door. Roxanne sped in front of us, getting to the door at record time. We got to her clawing and whimpering at it.

"Hey, you're back." I heard Ethan's voice say all of a sudden as the door creaked open. I smiled weakly, before walking past him.

"It's cozy," Ethel said, looking around the small cabin. My mother wheeled her stuff to my study, she would rather not have her things clogged up in a hotel. There was a sound of something crashing, and then a loud screech from my mother.

"What happened?" Ethel asked getting up from the sitting room couch. She'd just started getting comfortable, and had been indulging in a conversation with Ethan before my mother had slammed in.

"T-there is a c-chicken in the hallway," my mother stammered, placing her hand on her chest dramatically. Ethan chuckled, making my mum to glare at him.

"You mean Hector," I sighed, leaving to get the poor guy from his hiding spot. When I came back with Hector in hand, I got second-hand information from Ethel that my mum had invaded my kitchen. I dropped Hector off with Ethel before heading to the kitchen.

I sighed peeking in to find her fixing dinner. She seemed to be pouring everything I had in the fridge into a dish.

"Don't you think that's a little bit too heavy?" I asked, looking worriedly at the ingredients she was mashing up in a transparent bowl.

"Maybe, but I'm more concerned with feeding my son a meal that can last him a year. I don't want to hear that you've died before I've gotten my grandbabies."

"Mother—"

"Andrew I'm serious," she said, stopping what she was doing to look up at me. I looked down at the floor, not used to looking at my mother straight in the eye when she was mad at me.

The clock ticked in the background, making me bite my bottom lip, as I was at loss at what to say. I don't want to say my mum's too hopeful, but I don't think I'm ready for kids anytime soon.

"Andrew," she started, making me glance towards her.

"I don't want to have to pressure you, but I have to," she said, washing her hands in the sink. My mother was one of the only people I tried to get along with, and it was great that I knew she took pride in me — in my work, but sometimes, she could be a little frustrating with her demands.

"You already have grandkids," I pointed out, walking into the kitchen fully now. I opened the pot to find pasta cooking. "I don't think I really want to eat this," I muttered feeling my throat clog up as I tried to calculate my calorie count for today. I was at one thousand six hundred and nine, and my maximum was one thousand seven hundred and fifty. It was a little below the recommended two thousand, but I was scared at the fact that I might return to my previous size if raised it any higher.

"You're going to eat this, and I want more grandkids. Your brother's children are already past their diaper stage. I have to relive those days if I want to die happy," she said, pointing a spoon at me. I backed away, raising my hands in surrender.

"All you have to do is find a good decent man and adopt kids with for me to spoil," she said, giving me a pleading look. I started to fidget with my fingers, turning my gaze to the fridge instead.

"Set up an advert for the paper—"

"Mother!"

"What? People do it!" She yelled in defense. I felt my cheeks heat up at her suggestion. I already looked pathetic enough. I didn't need to prove it.

"Okay, if you don't want to do that you can set up a profile on the internet—"

"Stop it, please," I begged. She shook her head, putting her hand on her hips to emphasize the fact that she was not quite done.

"I want grandbabies Andrew, and believe it or not twenty-six is the gay fifty. All respectable and interested men around your age range are being snatched off the rack every second. I'm just making sure this loner phase of your life doesn't last too long," she scolded, making me sigh in defeat.

"Even if I was willing," I started, taking a deep breath. "I'm not exactly dating material." I finished, biting my lip. It was a fact, but it still hurt to admit it.

My mother rolled her eyes, taking my hand in hers. "I've been looking for your self-confidence since you were born. I should really sue the hospital for giving me an incomplete package—"

"Mother—"

"What I'm trying to say is; you're a good man, with a successful career, and a good kind heart, what else are men looking for these days? Not that I'd know considering I'm so outdated." She smiled, pinching my cheeks.

"Trust me. They'll be all lined up to have you," she said encouragingly. I let out a deep breath, giving in.

"Okay, you set up an account and everything... Just handle it, okay?" I said stepping back. She clapped her hands in excitement before turning back to her bowl of mashed up ingredients.

"Can I ask what that is?" I asked, giving the greenish-brown mash a confused look.

"You know," she started looking back at what she'd been making, "I really don't know..."

I shook my head, deciding that was good enough reason not to eat it.

"So I'll sign you up for a familiar dating site, just look out for my emails okay?" my mother reminded me, making me nod. We both turned in shock as the kitchen door slammed with force.

"Who was that?" my mother asked, blinking at the door. I sighed, already realizing who it had been.

*

"Ethan..." I murmured, knocking on his door. I didn't get a response. I sighed. "Ethan, we have to talk things out." I tried and sighed in relief as the knob turned.

"Ethan," I started looking straight at him. He had an odd look on his face as if I'd betrayed him. He stepped aside so I could walk into the room he moved into a month ago.

"Why did you agree?" he asked as I walked in.

I sighed, wondering how to answer that. He looked at me oddly before shutting the door behind us. I let my eyes run through the room. It was neat and tidy and smelled just like Ethan; neat and fresh.

"She's my mother. I just needed to give her closure," I finally said, sitting on his neatly laid bed. He came to join me soon after, taking my hand in his as he sat next to me.

"So you're not really doing it?" Ethan asked, making me nod.

"Not really," I muttered, looking down at our hands. I don't really understand what we had, but I felt I'd betrayed it somehow. I heard him sigh as he tightened the grip of our hands.

"Is it odd that I feel relieved?" he asked. I shook my head, making him smile. "I'm sorry for acting like a baby about it," He muttered under his breath.

"It's fine, really," I said giving his lips a peck. He returned the light kiss, turning so he could increase the intensity.

I whimpered slightly, feeling his palm ride up my thigh.

"Ethan."

"I'm not going any further," he muttered, kissing me harder. I felt myself shake involuntarily as he ran a hand through my hair.

"Andrew I lov—"

"Don't," I begged, feeling myself tremble at what he was about to say. I felt him choke back like he wanted to cry, but I didn't feel guilty about it. I learned the hard way that the simple word was too delicate to throw around.

"Fine," he choked, pulling me back so he could stare into my eyes. "Is it okay to say I'm attracted to you, that I can't stop myself from getting railed up over you?" he asked, placing his forehead on mine.

I let out a shaky yes before he covered my mouth with his again. I relaxed into the kiss, ignoring the inner voice inside me telling me that I was going to make the same set of mistakes as before.