Damn, how in the hell are they mine? He had no idea. But somehow, someway, these two impressive men were his, and it was time to acknowledge that with the people he loved the most.
“Ma? Pa? This is Julien and Priest—or, sorry, Joel. My boyfriends.” There. He’d finally said it out loud, face to face. And the world hadn’t ended.
Priest was the first to step forward, of course. Always bold, always brave, but most of all, Robbie knew that Priest stepped forward to test the waters before Julien approached.
Always watching out for his men, that was Priest, and in that moment, Robbie loved him more than he thought possible.
“Hello, Mr. Bianchi. I’m Joel Priestley.”
As Priest extended his hand and Pa took it, Robbie held his breath as they shared a firm handshake. Priest’s grey eyes then found his, and Robbie instantly felt the message he was trying to convey: Everything’s going to be all right.
“The lawyer, yeah? We’ve heard a lot about you.”
Yeah, I’m never going to run my mouth around this bunch again, Robbie thought.
“That’s right,” Priest said. “That’s me.”
“Antonio Bianchi.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Priest said, and released Pa’s hand to turn to Julien. “This is my husband, Julien.”
Oh shit, Robbie thought. Priest just put it all out there, didn’t he?
Julien stood beside Priest, and as Robbie’s father looked between them, Robbie thought that this might be the moment. You know, the one where he decided that Robbie had lost his mind and told him to get out of his house?
But instead, his father said, “The chef?”
Julien held his hand out. “Oui. I am a chef.”
As Pa took Julien’s hand and gave it a hearty shake, he shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. You’re that French chef from the television.”
Julien chuckled. “That’s right. I was on the first season of Chef Master.”
“He won the first season,” Robbie’s mother chimed in as his father continued to look between both men, and Robbie wished like hell this was already over.
One thing about his father? If he didn’t want you to know what he was thinking, he was like a vault, kind of like Pr— Oh, hell no. Don’t even go there, Bianchi. You do not have daddy issues.
“And you two are married?” Pa asked Julien, as though testing the truth of Priest’s words.
“Oui. We are.”
Robbie winced at that, and as his father let go of Julien’s hand, he looked back at Robbie, who wondered what exactly he saw.
“Are you okay with that?” Pa said, and Robbie blinked a couple of times before managing, “Huh?”
“What have I told you about saying that, Robert?” his mother said, as Robbie continued to look at his father. “It’s excuse me or pardon.”
Robbie caught Priest’s lips quirk at the reprimand, and reminded himself to make Priest pay for that later. Right now, Robbie was trying to work out whether he’d just imagined what his father had said.
When it became clear he was having a few issues, his father repeated himself. “Are you okay with the fact that your boyfriends are married, Robert?”
Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought he said. “I am, yes.”
His father nodded, and then turned back to Priest and Julien. “Then I suppose you two have a busy weekend ahead of you, don’t you?” When they said nothing, Pa continued, “You have four women to win over before you get my stamp of approval. And trust me, they are the hardest crowd to convince you are worthy of this one. You make them happy, you make me happy. Capito?”
When Priest and Julien stared blankly, Robbie translated Priest’s favorite word for them: “Understand?”
Julien was the first to react, and his grin as he looked at his husband wasn’t lost on Robbie. Julien saw the similarities there too, and nodded. “Oui, we understand. Don’t we, Joel?”
“We do.”
“Good,” Robbie’s father said, and slung an arm around his son. “Now that that’s settled, where are your bags? I know you have to have a few. Your ma thought it best we put you in the guesthouse above the garage, since your room is a little small for, uh, all of you.”
Robbie was still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. But then he realized he had to tell his mother they weren’t staying there, and that suddenly seemed worse than if he’d been about to confess to a murder.
“We, uhh…” Robbie started, and then looked at his mother. “We booked a room down at the waterfront.”
“Robert. You are not serious,” his mother said, and Julien—thank God for charming Frenchmen—quite possibly saved Robbie’s life.
“Veuillez m’excuser, Sofia. It was my suggestion. We didn’t want to inconvenience you any more than we already had, since there are three of us.”
“Oh,” she said, and offered him a bashful smile. “Nonsense. It’s no problem. We want you—both of you—to stay here with us.”