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“Kinda like you don’t want anyone knowing you read books with naughty parts?” He gestured to the book he’d set on one of the work benches. “Some things feel…private. It’s not that I’m ashamed. I’m…” “Buttoned up tight. And all I’m saying is you could undo a collar button or two. Life might be more fun.” He wasn’t wrong, and I’d heard similar advice more than a few times. However, something about Finn made me actually want to try, made me want to see who I could be if I relaxed a few of my rules.
Life was full enough of hardship and unexpected heartbreak. It wasn’t too much to ask my fictional escapes to not be all doom and gloom.
“A few years ago, my e-reader recommended a Regency with two men as the central romance. I had no idea there was a whole genre of authors writing queer romance, including historicals.”
“I remember that feeling when I discovered the genre as well. It’s…powerful. Being seen like that. Validated.”
I do try to support the print offerings too. Gotta add to the insulation.” That got a laugh. “You do. You should visit us often, make sure you’re set for warmth before fall.” “Is that you wanting a sale or you wanting to see more of me?”
I wanted to see him live, wanted to see his face when we unleashed the ducklings, wanted to see who he could be if he dared to let himself hope for something beyond simply existing.
