Alte Faygala .”
“Emma.” Niall’s voice was soft as always, but there was force enough to cut through something far tougher than the bagel Theo had just taken from the basket Marilyn handed him.
Theo knew that word, faggot , though it had been explained to him that it was closer to “fairy.”
“Oy, so sensitive. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
One look from Kieran and Theo would be out the door with him. If his grandmother didn’t like it, she could learn to be civil.
“Kieran?” his grandmother asked.
He swallowed and ducked away, pulling his hand out of his grandmother’s grip. “It is kind of rude, Bubbe.”
“Nu?” She glanced around. “What do I know? I’m just an alte cocker . Now can your bubbe please see your ring?”
Kieran put his hand in hers, and Mrs. Schwartz studied the diamond through reading glasses held like a jeweler’s loupe.
“Nice work.” She nodded at Theo. “It will be nice to see one of my grandchildren married before I die.”
Theo turned to Kieran’s mom. “I have never had better lox, Marilyn.”
“Thank you, Theo. Addie’s Deli, in Borough Park. My mother made the challah yesterday.”
Theo hastily took a slice and bit into it. “It’s delicious, Mrs. Schwartz.”
“So when are you going to have the ceremony?”
Smiling at Kieran’s wide-eyed panic, Theo took a sip of wine and offered all the calm he could. “Nothing’s decided yet. We’ll take our time.”
“Not too long, huh?” She patted her heart. “And if you elope, don’t expect any presents.”
The rest of the meal passed in silence, with occasional fits and starts as Mrs. Schwartz questioned Marilyn on the disposition of cousins and other relatives. Theo was helping Marilyn and Kieran clear the table when Mrs. Schwartz—“Call me Emma”—dragged him into the living room and conducted as thorough an investigation of Theo’s financial records as an IRS audit.
“That boy doesn’t know what he wants. Though he could do anything he wanted. Maybe you can help him figure it out. He ever show you his pictures?”
“Pictures?”
“ Oy gevalt .” Emma squeezed a fist over her heart. “That fire. He lost everything, poor boychick . But he never showed you?”
Theo had seen doodles, incredibly detailed figures on scraps that disappeared as randomly as they appeared. Kieran’s excited discussion of a web comic had led to the trip to a comic convention for his birthday that made Theo miss the Cyclone reunion with Gideon, Dane, and Jax for the first time ever.
Why didn’t Kieran tell Theo he’d lost art in the fire?
“He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“He keeps too much locked in.” She tipped her head to study Theo. “And you do crazy things to make him open up. Hmph. Maybe it’s good. Bring me the remote.”
Theo paused at the abrupt shift, then rose, found the remote on an end table, and brought it to her.
“Good. Now go away. I want to watch hockey, and I swear too much.”
Niall was probably back in his office. Theo headed for the kitchen, freezing three steps from the door as he heard Marilyn say, “Don’t you fuck this up too. You drop out of MIT and do some piddling work you could do in your sleep when you could be inventing the next Facebook. Is this spite?”
Kieran’s answer was too soft to hear.
Indecision kept Theo’s feet rooted to the floor. The decent thing to do was walk away and pretend he hadn’t heard it. But he wanted to wrap himself around Kieran and protect him.
“Like when your father and I told you we knew you were gay so you didn’t have to tell us and you went and dated that poor girl in ninth grade for six months?”
That was it. Theo made his next step extra loud, arriving in the kitchen in time to see Kieran disappear out the back door.
Marilyn stood shaking her head, hands on her hips, as if she hadn’t just been stabbing at her son with word daggers. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
Theo went through the