Who We Could Be - Chelsea M. Cameron Page 0,9

don’t have a dog,” she said in a deadpan voice.

“You have no sense of imagination,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed and I could see her fighting a smile. “You mean lying.”

“Lying is just being creative with reality. And if you believe it enough, it’s not a lie.” I reached toward the pie with one finger and I heard a sound behind me.

“You put your finger in that pie, and you will be in trouble, Cin.” Monty’s voice was soft, but she held her rolling pin like she knew how to use it.

I moved my finger infinitesimally closer.

“What are you gonna do, Ford?” I didn’t know why I loved teasing her this much, but it seriously gave me life. It was one of my favorite hobbies, next to kickboxing and reading really smutty fanfic.

Monty closed her eyes and inhaled slowly as I waited. Then her phone rang, startling us both.

“Freeze,” she said, pointing the rolling pin at me. I did, and she answered her phone.

“Hey, yeah, what’s up?” I knew who she was talking to just by the tone of her voice. I knew all of Monty’s voices. She was talking to TJ. Instantly I stepped away from the pie and leaned against the counter.

Monty talked briefly to TJ and then ended the call.

“Sorry, he was just calling to figure out when I can bring stuff over tomorrow and then we’re having dinner with his parents.” Another roll of nausea. I didn’t want pie now.

“How nice,” I said, because I had to say something.

“You don’t have to finish these. I can handle them.” She went back to working on the mini pies and I went back over to join her.

“No, I can help. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks, Cin,” she said, and I brushed another streak of flour on her cheek.

“You’re welcome, Ford.”

“CAN I HELP?” I ASKED, as Vanessa and Hollie flitted around the kitchen making dinner.

“No, no, we’ve got this,” Vanessa said, waving a hand that had a spatula in it. Hollie pushed a glass of wine into my hand.

“Sweetheart, can you hand me that colander?” Hollie dashed to help Vanessa with a giant pot of pasta.

“You two really need to get some kids soon because there’s no way I’m eating all that,” I said.

“We’re working on it,” Vanessa said, brushing some dark hair out of her face. “Adopting while trans and gay can be a little tricky, but we think we might be getting closer.” Hollie hugged Vanessa and kissed her on the cheek.

“Well, you’re the best moms I know. Don’t let my mom hear me say that.” They both held their arms out to me and folded me in for a squeeze.

“Now, this carbonara isn’t going to eat itself,” Hollie said, her eyes a little misty. My stomach growled as if in response and we all laughed.

I’d set the table in the dining room with their good china and we said a quick grace before I started attempting to twirl pasta with my fork and a giant spoon and giving up. I didn’t know how many times Vanessa had tried to teach me how to do this, but it just didn’t work out.

“So, how’s work going?” Hollie asked, eating as daintily as a queen. Or as daintily as I imagined a queen ate. I had no point of reference.

“Good. I’m somehow in charge of the Pride display, so if you have an ideas or suggestions, I’m all for it.”

The bookstore kept giving me too much power and I didn’t know how far I could push them before they realized that giving me any kind control was a bad idea. To be fair, the bookstore was owned by gay husbands, but they always did a subdued display.

This year was going to be their queerest Pride display. No half-assed, lukewarm rainbows this year. I’d been celebrating Pride as an ally since before I could remember. My aunts had taken me and my brothers to parades wearing “I love both my trans aunts!” t-shirts that my brother Mike had drawn the designs for. I still had them all in my closet. One of these days I’d make them into a quilt or something.

Vanessa and Hollie made suggestions and I ended up writing some of them down in my phone. I really wanted to do the window justice this year.

While I was working on my second piece of black forest cake, I got a call from Monty.

“Hey, I’m just at my aunts, what’s up?”

The only thing I heard in response was crying.

“Oh