“May I sit now?”
Mack nodded formally. Noah sat down just as Malcolm leaned forward. “We will now commence with the interrogation.”
Noah’s eyes darted among the men. “Interrogation?”
“We must decide if you’re worthy,” Colton said.
“This is ridiculous,” he groaned.
“Rules are rules, ass face,” Mack said.
The Russian giggled. “Ass face.”
Noah spread his hands wide. “Fine, ask your questions.”
“Why are you here?” Malcolm asked.
“Because Mack’s been on my ass about it.”
Colton slapped the table. “No. Wrong answer. Try again.”
“Because I—” Noah stopped. He wasn’t ready to say this out loud. He’d said it to himself a hundred times, but saying it to the guys was a whole other level of honesty.
“Say it, Noah. Admitting it is the first step,” Gavin said.
Noah rolled his eyes, puffed out his cheeks, and spoke on the exhale. “I’m here because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with my best friend.”
The guys nodded solemnly.
Del took over the questioning. “What scares you most about being here?”
“That you’re going to hypnotize me and tell me to strip naked or something.”
“Not good enough,” Colton barked. “Try again.”
“I’m scared about fucking it up.”
“Fucking what up?” Del asked.
“My relationship with her.”
“And why does that scare you?”
Noah made a What the fuck? expression. “Why do you think? Because I don’t want to lose her.”
The guys exchanged a look that either meant acceptable or get a load of this bullshit.
Malcolm took over the cross-examination. “When was the last time you had a real relationship?”
Noah shifted uncomfortably. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You wanted our help. You have to work with us.”
Noah adopted a petulant pose, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. Five years ago, I guess.”
“You guess?” Malcolm lifted an eyebrow.
“She was a woman I knew from MIT. We dated for a year.”
Mack jumped in. “And no one since then?”
Noah lifted his shoulder in a defensive shrug. If he’d known he was going to be quizzed about his entire love life—or lack thereof—he would’ve reconsidered this entire thing. “What is the point of this?”
“The point is to break the fucking cycle,” Mack said. “Women aren’t rehab centers for emotionally stunted man-babies who think the key to a serious relationship is to just wait for the right woman to come along. You have to be ready to be uncomfortable, to stretch yourself, to be vulnerable.”
Noah snorted. “You should write greeting cards. That was good.”
Malcolm sighed. “You’re resorting to sarcasm because you’re uncomfortable with a man expressing himself so openly. We get it. One of the most insidious ways that toxic masculinity destroys men is that it strips us of the ability to express our emotions and to connect, not just with women, but with other men. Because real men don’t do that, right?”
Noah felt his head nod.
Malcolm continued. “How many times have you been told in your life to be a man?”
Unbidden, Noah’s memory banks unleashed a torrent of unwelcome flashbacks, almost all involving Marsh.
Don’t let your mother see you cry like that. You’re the man of the house now.
You need to grow up and be a man.
Men don’t act like this.
“Have you ever been told that real men don’t cry?” Malcolm asked quietly.
Noah nodded again. Discomfort inched across Noah’s skin like a bug crawling up his arm. He wanted to swat it away, to slap it and destroy it. The last thing he wanted was to talk about it.
“We all have,” Malcolm said. “But there’s a big fucking difference between what society teaches us what a real man does and what a good man does. And good men are willing to do the hard, emotional labor on themselves to be strong partners to the people we love.”
“But we can’t do that alone,” Del said. “We need our friends to help us.”
“And that is the point of all of this,” Mack finished.
Gavin patted his shoulder. “We’re here for you, man. Really here for you. All you have to do is talk. Tell us something personal.”
“You know this is weird, right? All of it.”
“Is it, though? Or are you just terrified of learning a new code for manhood?”
Was he? Was it really possible that the hipster radical he considered himself to be was actually just another emotionally stunted man-baby?
“Start with something easy,” Mack said. “It takes practice learning to really talk to other men, so start with something that won’t require a ton of work. Something you maybe have been embarrassed to tell us before. Something—”
“I like the Moana soundtrack,” Noah blurted.
Gavin blinked. “As in the Disney movie?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I knew you were going to make fun of me!”
“I’m not making fun. I’m just clarifying,” Gavin said.
“I like the fucking Moana soundtrack, okay? That song, the one about how far I’ll go. I love that shit. I blast it in my house. It makes me feel good.”
Malcolm spread his arms wide. “Sing it for us.”
Heat blazed a path up his neck. “I’m not fucking singing for you.”
“Fine,” Mack said, standing up. “Then I will.”
A nightmare broke out along with a sheen of sweat on Noah’s brow. Because Mack began to sing.
Then Del joined in.
Then Malcolm.
Soon every man in the room except for Noah was singing, arms wide.
When they were done, a sniffle drew their attention to the Russian. He had tears running down his face. “That was beautiful.”
“See?” Mack said. “Even the Russian gets it. He’s not afraid to express his emotions.”
The Russian held his arms wide. “I need hug.”
“I got it,” Mack said, walking over and squeezing the Russian’s massive girth.
“I kind of hate you right now,” Noah said.
“Because we’re right?” Del asked.
“Because I’m feeling really obligated to hug the Russian.”
“No, you hate us because this is hard work,” Mack said, sitting down again.
Noah ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”
The group spoke in annoyed unison. “Read the book.”
“Okay, but how the hell is this book supposed to help me? It’s about a guy who abandoned his daughter, which is not someone I want to
