In the blink of an eye, a month had passed. In that time, Connor and I had gone on countless dates, all of them perfect in their own way, and I found myself falling for him more and more. We went out occasionally, but most of the time we stayed in, talking and laughing late into the night.

Neither of us had said the three little words that were known to make or break a relationship, although I had a feeling I would blurt them out soon. When we first started dating, the infatuation and the novelty of our bond was fiery and intense, but as we both let down our walls, it became clear that what Connor and I had was truly different from anything I had known in the past. I was more confident than ever that our relationship wasn't just a fling, and I knew for a fact that I wasn't just curious or unsure about my sexuality. This thing we shared was real, and at least for me, it was love.

It was Saturday morning, and I was lost in thought as I drove to Connor's apartment. Beach House played over the aftermarket speakers in my bimmer, the dreamy sounds enveloping me as I ruminated. I ran a hand through my hair as I pulled up to the small apartment building, parking in one of the last remaining available spaces, and flipped down my visor to get a look at my reflection in the tiny mirror. When I was satisfied that my hair looked presentable, I glanced down at my chunky, black turtleneck sweater before I took out my lint roller from the console to give the knit top a once over.

An unexpected knock on my window startled me, causing me to jump and accidentally throw my lint roller at the dash. I looked up sheepishly to see Connor laughing, gesturing for me to roll down my window. I took a deep breath and attempted to steady myself as I lowered the glass separating us.

"I saw you pull in from my window, and I was wondering how long it was going to take you to finally come up," Connor teased through a wide grin. He extended his arm through the open window, cupping my nape with one of his large hands as he pulled me in for a kiss.

I smiled as I pulled away, placing a hand on top of his, and muttered in a breathy voice, "Excuse me for wanting to look good for my boyfriend."

"You look incredible, as always," he said, looking me up and down as I got out of my car. "So listen, my mom is upstairs, but she's only going to stick around for a minute. She wanted to meet you. I hope that's alright, I completely forgot to text you about it."

"Of course it's fine," I reassured, slipping my arms under his jacket and around his waist. "I'm looking forward to meeting her. From everything you've told me, she sounds amazing." Connor smiled and kissed me once more before he took my hand and led me up the stairs to his apartment.

As we entered through the front door, the familiar smell of Connor's home overwhelmed my senses, and the creeping anxiety I began to feel on the walk up immediately faded away. We made our way to the bright and airy living room when a petite, blonde woman popped up seemingly out of nowhere and squealed, "Bo, sweetie, I'm so excited to meet you! I'm Mary."

Before I could think, I found myself wrapped tightly in the tiny woman's embrace. She took a step back and studied me closely as I did the same, noting the clear resemblance between mother and son. Mary was undoubtedly beautiful, and she didn't look a day over 35 even though I knew she was well into her 40s.

"It's nice to meet you, M-Mrs. Wells," I stuttered nervously.

"Just call me Mary, dear. Connor must not have told you about the divorce yet. He and I don't share a last name since his father and I split up years ago. I go by my maiden name these days, which is Allen. Mary Allen," she sing-songed in her high-pitched voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized, my cheeks reddening at my mistake. "I wasn't aware."

"I'll tell you about it later," Connor whispered, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"No worries, doll! Let's sit and chat for a minute before I have to scoot. What do you say?"

"Sure, that sounds nice," I laughed. Mary Allen was a character, but I knew instantly that I liked her. She was cheerful and sweet, but nothing about her was artificial or forced.

"Connor here has been telling me all about you, Bo. I am just so happy that he's finally found someone he can open up to!" Mary said, her hands gesturing wildly with every word.

"He's been great for me, too," I responded, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. Connor wrapped an arm around me at the sudden praise, eliciting another squeal from Mary.

"O-M-G! You two are the absolute cutest!"

After thirty minutes of small talk, Mary glanced down at her watch and regretfully excused herself. She hugged me no less than ten times as she made her way to the door before she slipped on her puffy coat and Ugg boots.

She took one final look at the two of us together and sighed, "Oh, my boys! You're precious! Alright, well, keep being good to each other, and we'll get together again soon."

Connor waved to his mother one last time as he shut the door. He took a deep breath and turned to face me before asking, "So...what did you think?"

"She's like the energizer bunny!" I giggled, cozying up to Connor's chest. "Given your calm, subdued demeanor, I wasn't expecting your mom to be so...full of life, I guess? But seriously, she's fantastic. You're lucky to have her."

"Yeah, I am," he said quietly. Connor paused for a moment before he finally spoke again, "Do you want to hear about my dad?"

Surprised at his words, I tilted my head and said, "Only if you want to tell me about him."

"I do," he insisted, his face relaxing once again. "I need a drink first, though. Would you like one?"

"I'd love one," I purred, tracing his pecs lightly with my finger. "Thank you, babe."

* * *

After a few rounds of homemade cocktails, Connor and I got distracted and made out for a while on his lush, oversized sofa. I broke away from the passionate kiss, desperate for air, and threw my head back on one of the soft cushions.

"Weren't you supposed to tell me about your dad?" I asked, attempting to get the conversation back on track.

"Damn, you're right," Connor groaned as his hands wandered, exploring my body under my sweater. "There's really not a whole lot to tell because my dad and I weren't close. His name was Greg--"

"Was?" I interrupted, curious at the choice of words.

"Yeah, was. He's been dead for years," Connor calmly responded, like it didn't hurt him at all to talk about his late father. "Greg started a furniture business right after I was born, so he was rarely home when I was growing up. As his business grew, he became extremely successful, opening new locations across the state; however, the rapid expansion took up even more of his time, and he slowly stopped coming home at all.

"My mom wasn't getting what she needed from the relationship, and she felt immense guilt over the fact that my dad was pretty much indifferent toward me. When I was in the third grade, my mom packed our things, and we left while he was on a business trip in another city. It took him a week to notice, and while he didn't seem upset initially, his assistant tracked us down and tried to convince us to come home. The bastard didn't even bother to make the time to come talk to my mother himself, he had to send someone else.

"Mom didn't give in, and so we started a new life together, just the two of us. Greg paid the absolute minimum in child support, which covered the rent for our apartment and my mother's car payment, but she worked multiple part-time jobs to cover the rest of our needs and still accommodate my schedule, since I was participating in numerous extracurriculars at school. She didn't have to go above and beyond like she did, but my mom wanted me to have everything I wanted.

"The only time my dad ever spoke to me after the divorce was when my mom convinced him to come to a therapy session shortly after Jonah died. She thought that if he came to a session, I might feel some sort of closure regarding our relationship. I appreciated the thought, and I understood her intention, but seeing him just made me angry. He seemed confused as to why he was invited, so I finally asked him why he bothered to come if he genuinely didn't give a shit about me. His exact words were, 'We may be estranged, but I don't want your mother holding me responsible if you decide to off yourself.'

"Not going to lie, I was stunned for a minute. After I processed what he said to me, all of the pent up rage and sadness from years of neglect pushed me over the edge. I stood up to leave because I didn't want to be in the room with him anymore, but before I walked out, I glared at him and said, 'Fuck you, Greg. In order for you to be held responsible for my suicide, I would have to give a shit about you first. My mother is the only parent I've ever needed, and I most certainly didn't ask her to invite you here today. I can only hope you die alone and miserable for the shit you've put that saint of a woman through. Keep doing what you're good at and stay the fuck away from both of us.'

"My mom felt terrible for the way everything played out, but to be honest, it did provide me closure in a way. I saw for myself what a piece of shit he was, and I was glad that my mom got out when she could. Everything went back to normal for a while after that until the summer after my freshman year. It turned out that Greg had been battling an aggressive form of lung cancer for quite a while, and he finally succumbed to the disease.

"We were shocked when we were told that he left his fortune to us, along with letters apologizing for his abhorrent behavior. I didn't really care for his empty words after his actions had spoken so loudly in his stead over the years, but I think it meant a lot to my mom. They were happy once, or so she tells me. Apparently he wasn't always a cold, unfeeling bastard.

"Anyway, that's why I took some time off from school. I sold the stores off and finished getting my dad's estate in order before traveling a bit to clear my head. It was nice, but I was so fucking lonely. I missed Jonah, and I thought over and over again how nice it would have been to share that experience with him. When I came back home, I started going to therapy more frequently, and my mom and I spent a lot of time together. As you now know, it's impossible to be sad for too long when my mother is around.

"I'm sure you probably wondered how I had an apartment in the middle of the city without having to work. I assure you, I wasn't raised with money, but it's been nice for my mother and I since it fell into our laps. I love that my mom is finally slowing down and enjoying life for once after years of non-stop hustling, you know?"

"Shit, Connor," I said quietly, in awe of my boyfriend's strength. "I can't believe you endured all of that." We sat in silence together as I thought about everything he had told me. It blew my mind that anyone could treat Connor and Mary, two of the kindest people I had ever met, so poorly. That fucking prick.

"Bo, are you crying?" Connor asked, wiping a single tear from my cheek.

"I'm just so fucking angry for you! Both of you!" I shouted as a few more tears escaped my glistening, amber eyes. "I will never treat you like that, Connor. Never."

"I know you won't, baby," he chuckled, leaning in to kiss me. Our lips met and as they rubbed together, I tasted the salty proof of my angry tears.

"Can we go to your room?" I asked, suddenly feeling desperate to take Connor's mind off of the memories he'd recounted for my sake.

"Absolutely," he breathed into my ear. He lifted me up like I weighed nothing and carried me bridal style into his bedroom. He laid me down on his neatly made bed before slowly crawling on top of me. His steel blue orbs stared into me, and I felt myself melt under his gaze.

"I love you," I whispered. Connor's lids widened, but he didn't move or pull away.

"Y-You love me? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Connor, I'm sure. I fucking love you, okay?"

"Oh my god, Bo. I love you, too," he said, tears welling in his eyes this time. I wiped his cheeks, kissing the damp trail that was left behind.

Connor sat up quickly and peeled off his shirt before gesturing for me to strip as well. When we were both naked, he positioned me in his lap so that we were facing each other, and I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist. It occurred to me then that my life had never been as perfect as it was in this moment, and I never wanted it to end.

I rubbed my thumb back and forth along Connor's jaw, appreciating his handsome features up close. Unable to resist any longer, I dove in, kissing him deeply as our tongues danced passionately together. I took both of our erect cocks in my palm and slowly began to move my hand up and down, moving my hips slightly, leaning into the pleasure. We exchanged breathy moans into each other's mouths as I increased the pace until I couldn't contain the building pressure. I came quickly but intensely, and Connor followed my lead shortly after. We were both panting as sweat rolled down our faces when he kissed me one more time, a blissed out smile spread across his face.

"I love you," he repeated through labored breaths. I relished the words and the powerful meaning behind them.

"I love you, Connor."