Oh no, no, no, noooo.

I gape at the message from DatesforRates and my stomach drops through the ground. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. 

Sure, I didn’t know the guy, but having someone else here, someone to share the attention and act successful and rub my gayness and great life in their faces with was the one thing I had to hold on to. 

It’s like I can feel the false confidence I’d conjured retreating way down deep and being replaced by my true self, a pathetic, clumsy loser. A loser who’s going to make my parents and the rest of my extended family glad they got rid of me when they had the chance. 

My gaze falls helplessly on the message, the words food poisoning jumping out over and over again, and even though my throat is tight with the need to cry, I type out a reply: hope you feel better soon!

Then I shove my phone in my pocket and let the anger take over. “Fuck!” I kick the gravelly dirt on the footpath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“That word’s a favorite of mine, as well.”

The voice startles me so badly I jump, swinging around and almost losing my footing. A blond man is standing at the top of the short stone staircase, casually leaning against the side of the building. Everything from his styled hair to his suit to his loafers screams money, but there’s something in his expression that screams trouble. 

“Sorry,” I choke out, heart hammering loud enough I can hear it beat in my ears. 

“Don’t be. It’s a delightful fucking word.” His pink lips hitch on one side. 

I manage to force a short laugh, still feeling wrong-footed. “Are you … are you here for the wedding?”

“No. I take it you are?”

I hesitate because am I? Now that my date’s canceled, I’m not in a hurry to commit to going. But I nod, because if he’s not a guest, what would he know?

“And by your thrilling performance, I take it you’re not happy about that fact. What’s the matter? Bride an ex of yours?”

I hurry to shake my head. “Cousin.”

“So …”

My heartbeat has slowed, and I finally look at the guy with interest. “You want my life story or something?”

“Or something.”

What the hell? “My date canceled. He just texted me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Pretty upset, if I’m honest.”

“Does he do that often?”

I shrug. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve never met him.”

The guy chuckles. “Then that was one fuck too many over the cancelation of a blind date.”

“Actually, it was the appropriate number of fucks considering I haven’t seen my family in a decade, and now I’m going to be walking in there, completely alone, being judged by every single one of them …” Shit, my throat is doing that thing again. I turn away from the guy slightly to try and hide the fact that I actually might cry. 

When I glance back up at him, the light he was radiating has dimmed. His arms are tight over his chest, pale blue eyes locked on me. 

“Why haven’t you seen them in a decade?”

I blow out a breath, shoving a hand through my product-heavy curls. “It doesn’t matter. Sorry that I unloaded on you, I think I’m gonna … it was a dumb idea to come here anyway.”

“Maybe. But you obviously came for a reason.”

Well, shit. I’m in this now. I shake my phone his way. “I was going to rub this guy in their faces. He has this whole online life set up to make him look super successful and important, and I thought if they could see I was dating a guy like that … I dunno. Like I said. Dumb.”

“Wanting validation isn’t dumb.”

“Yeah, well it is when your family has made it clear they want nothing to do with you.”

The guy pushes off the side of the building and trots down the few stairs between us. He’s light on his feet, with a tall, slim build and wide shoulders, and when he looks at me, he actually looks, and the closer he gets, the more unsteady I feel. Which isn’t a great thing when my body feels too big and awkward at the best of times. 

“Did they disown you because you’re attracted to men?” he asks, point blank. There’s no accusation or judgment in his voice, which is why I build up the courage to nod. 

A smile bursts across his face. “Well, joke’s on them, because I’m the queerest man-loving homo they’ll ever meet.” He holds out his hand. “Émile. I’m your date today.”