I couldn’t have been prouder. He might have downplayed it, but Nick made it. We had everything.

My boyfriend, a comic artist, had finally gotten in the door of a big company. They were willing to publish his work. Nick’s first book was set to go into production in three days. According to him, since he was new to the industry, his pay would be lower than standard, but his comic, “Runaways,” was backed by a recognized name. It was a name I couldn’t remember, no matter how many times he reminded me, but it was a big deal.

On the night of Nick’s contract signing for a 10-issue series, I took him out on the town. We went to the fanciest restaurant Washington had to offer at the time.

The big glass building was more expensive than our usual celebratory spot. A cup of water could burn holes in a person’s pocket. But The Broccoli Bar had only opened a few weeks prior, so I thought it was the perfect place to usher in our new chapter.

It wasn’t easy getting a table on short notice, but I knew a kid who worked in the kitchen. He used to work at Beef Babies with me and was happy to do the favor.

After all the effort it took us to get a couple of seats, Nick and I ate chicken strips like we were kids. They were the cheapest thing on the menu, but Nick and I had fun, regardless. Our food hardly mattered while he went on and on about all the plans for his second book. I didn’t understand the talk about color theory, line work, or B-plots, but I knew my boyfriend was happy. He was excited, and that was enough to feed me.

Later that night, after we had made it home, we got drunk and had sex in the living room. We even made a joke out of our night out.

I doubt Nick needed it, but we decided to make “Broccoli” our new safe word.

Of course, we were too stupid to use it right, so he kept saying it throughout the night regardless of whether I was rough. But I’m sure I was rough. He was too.

Nick and I hadn’t done anything that bold ever since my brother River had come to live with us. Living room sex. Kitchen sex. Car sex. There were too many places we hadn’t used in a long time.

Our celebration went on into the early morning, but we were smart enough to move the fun to our bedroom by then.

Morning sex was the rarest, since neither Nick nor I liked waking up before the crack of dawn. Typically, I would only make the effort if work called for it. Regardless, we were up and putting a dent in the wall when I heard a knock at our bedroom door.

I thought if we ignored it, River would leave us alone, but as Nick continued to moan, “Broccoli,” my brother kept knocking.

Annoyed, I had to leave Nick in the bed while I searched our dark bedroom floor for a pair of shorts. All the while, River continued to knock, knock, knock. When I finally swung open the door, he almost knocked again, right on my face rather than the wood.

“If the two of you can take a break for five minutes,” he said in a condescending tone.

“You weren’t supposed to be awake,” I said.

“I’ve been up since you got back,” he admitted.

I might have been embarrassed had he not gone on to ask, “Do you remember a girl named Cindy Hail?”

The name rang more than a few bells, though I hadn’t heard it in a while. How long had it been since I last thought of her orange hair, golden eyes, and perfect smile? She had a voice that could sing an army to sleep when she was happy or cut through stone when she was upset. There was one time she laid into me harsher than her father, and I swore I heard the Irish in her. Cindy was the most beautiful, most kind-hearted girl in school. I didn’t deserve her when she was mine. No one deserved a girl like that.

To think we had broken up on junior prom night, I was a prick.

“Cindy? Yeah, she was my girlfriend back in high school... or one of them,” I joked, but my brother wasn’t having it.

“Did the two of you ever have sex?” River asked bluntly, to which I quickly said, “What?!”

“Answer the question, dumb ass,” he demanded of me.

“What’s this about?”

He pulled a letter from his pajama pants pocket and handed it to me. It was already open.

“You’ve been going through our mail again?” I started, but River said, “That’s not important. Read the papers.”

“What’s going on?” Nick finally came to the door and stood at my side while I read the letter.

It was from Cindy about her son. I didn’t realize she had kids. As I got further down the paper, it dawned on me why River had made such a fuss.

“Nick, you should probably put some pants on,” I muttered while I read over and over again the words in my hands.

I had a son, a 4-year-old son.

Cindy had kept him from me. Maybe it was more accurate to say she hadn’t thought of me. Nick and I had run away, so even if she wanted to say something, could she have?

“How do you get a girl pregnant when you’re gay?” River asked.

In the same breath, he laughed at and scolded me like only he could.

Later that same morning, we were all dressed and eating in the kitchen. River ate at the bar while I stood with my back to the stove watching him. My mind wasn’t in the room. I had toast burning but couldn’t begin to save it. Nick was at the table looking over Cindy’s letter with a bowl of cereal.

“I’m not gay,” I argued.

“Whatever you are, Dad is going to—” River started, but I interrupted him before he could finish.

“You can’t tell Dad about this. We don’t know if it’s true or not,” I argued.

“Then she could be lying?” Nick asked suggestively.

Why did I put something like that in the air?

“Cindy would never lie. But she must be mistaken,” I thought out loud, despite knowing the truth.

We were happy. How’d I go and fuck that up? Why’d I have to go and fuck that up?