Kurt had been going to school in New York, studying musical theatre at the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, and spent a winter semester in London. He missed the family holidays, but stayed in touch. I heard from him every few days, and got all the details of his life in another country — the shows, the museums, the people.

Or so I thought.

It wasn't until he came home for spring break that we realized he had left out one important detail.

* * *

“It's okay Dad, you don't need to pick me up at the airport. I've got it covered,” Kurt said, touching base with Burt the night before flying home for spring break.

“Now, how are you going do that? Not a cab, I hope. I can get out there over lunch and you can bring me back to the shop and have the car the rest of the day to go catch up with your friends,” Burt protested. He had planned all along to pick Kurt up at the Dayton Airport. He enjoyed the long rides in the car with Kurt, had since he was a kid. It was during those drives that he often learned more about his son and what was happening in his life than in a year's worth of hurried or canceled family dinner nights.

“It's fine, Dad. A friend is picking me up. I'll see you as soon as you get home.”

Kurt had never turned down a ride before, and Burt felt a little let down, but didn't think much of it beyond a passing sting. He knew Kurt had friends in town he would want to catch up with. It would be no surprise that one of them would offer to pick him up.

When he finally got home, Burt could tell instantly that his son was home and already at work doing what he did best — altering his intake of calories and cholesterol.

From the hallway, he could hear Kurt and Carole working in the kitchen, clanging pots and giggling over their inside jokes. The aroma drifting in to the living room was unlike the usual Hummel-Hudson dinner fare. He couldn't put a finger on it, but Burt was certain it was the scent of some leafy green being roasted or steamed to within an inch of its life.

He had always been pleased that his son got along so well with his stepmother, but he had a genuine fear that they had become co-conspirators in Kurt's efforts to change Burt's perfectly satisfactory eating habits.

“Dad!”

It had been nearly six months since Kurt had seen his father on anything more than a computer monitor — longer than his usual absence — and son embraced father as though the separation had been years rather than months. Burt returned the affection with a patented bear hug.

They had always been close, despite differences as detailed as a DNA strand. The father in flannel, the son in McQueen. The older generation wistful for simpler times, the younger embracing the possibilities of a bright and unfolding future and a world that accepted him for everything he was, and could be.

“It's good to have you back, even if it's only 12 days,” Burt said, taking his time before releasing Kurt from his hold. “It's not quite the same without you around here to hound me about Omega-3s.”

“Good to see you, too, Dad.”

They caught up over dinner, strangely swapping their usual roles. Kurt, usually the chatty one, listening to his father and stepmother, nodding and smiling, occasionally looking like his mind was somewhere else entirely. Burt filled in the gaps with stories about the garage's upkeep during his frequent absences and his frustration working with “those yahoos in Washington”. Carole chimed in with local gossip and news about Kurt's former classmates.

He smiled. He nodded. He ate his Brussels sprouts.

Burt asked about school. Kurt responded with polite but noncommittal words.

“Oh, you know, I pretty much filled you in on the phone. It's going well. Rachel's ego has to be reeled in from time-to-time, but otherwise, it's good.”

From somewhere under the edge of the dining table, a cell phone buzzed.

Kurt reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing quickly at the screen.

“I'll take this upstairs,” he said, dashing off.

“You know how I feel about cell phones at dinner, Kurt!” Burt yelled fruitlessly after him.

“So, what do you think's going on?” Burt said, turning to Carole.

“He's a little distracted...”

“A little?!?” Burt's forehead creased in frustration. His lips curled into a grimace. His eyes narrowed. He didn't like what he was seeing, and it showed all over his face.

“It's his first day back. He's probably just trying to connect with his friends,” she said in her most soothing tone.

Burt harrumphed, and went back to his dinner. Nearly ten minutes later, Kurt drifted back down the stairs as if he was hardly aware he had left, and placed his phone in his pocket as he sat back down at the table.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“Ok, so what's up, kid?”

“What?”

“What's going on? What aren't you telling us?”

Kurt looked up and gave a little half smile, then raised his eyebrows slightly as he gulped down the last of his grilled fish. He pushed the rest of the food around his plate and then started to collect his place setting to take to the kitchen.

“Kurt, what's going on?”

“Can I be excused? I have to be somewhere in a bit.”

“Come on. You look all... all, lit up inside or something. Not that I'm complaining, but it's not your normal look, like ‘How did I end up here?' Got anything to tell us?”

“I'm supposed to be meeting up with a friend in a little while, Dad. Can we just?”

“Fine, fine, go.”

Kurt collected his plate and silverware and headed to the kitchen. Moments later, he was scaling the stairs to his room in record time.

Carole rose to start clearing the table. “Really Burt, what was that about?” she asked, her tone hushed.

“Didn't you see him? He's all wound up. He's not telling us something.”

A sly smile crept across Carole's face. She shrugged.

“Maybe he's in love.”

“What!?!”

“I said, maybe he's in love. Did you see his face? He kept smiling to himself, all through dinner. And he kept checking the clock.”

“He would have said something.”

“Maybe he's not ready.”

“Not ready? This is my son we're talking about. What doesn't he talk about?”

“Burt, think about it. Kurt's usually nothing but talk. But tonight, he was drifting off and smiling and watching the clock and I'm telling you, he's in love. And I'll bet you that's who he's off to meet.”

“But who? It's not that Sam kid, is it? Has Finn said anything?”

“Well, I don't know. Finn hasn't mentioned anyone. Maybe it's someone new.”

Kurt came stumbling down the stairs at breakneck speed, nearly running Burt down in the process.

“Kurt, hold up!”

Burt was not about to let his son out that door before he got to the bottom of this.

“Slow down, just for a minute. I want to talk to you.”

Carole cleared the table, giving father and son a moment to talk.

“Dad, I really have to...”

“Just a minute. Come sit down.”

Kurt followed him, reluctantly, into the living room. He grudgingly planted himself on the couch. Burt pulled up a chair so Kurt had nowhere to look but into the concerned and somewhat judgmental face of his father.

“Something's going on and I'd like to know what. You're acting kinda strange tonight. So come on, spill. What's up?”

Kurt looked down at his hands and played with something on his right hand — a ring. Then he smiled to himself.

“We were going to tell you tomorrow.”

“What's that?” Burt asked, pointing at the ring.

Kurt met his father's eyes, his face beaming. “It's a placeholder.”

Burt's face crinkled in confusion.

“A what?”

“It's temporary, until the permanent one.”

Burt's eyes narrowed in silent concentration, until Kurt's voice pulled all the clues together, leading Burt to a moment of stunning recognition that his life was about to change.

“Dad, I met someone.”

The statement was met with stony silence, and a less-than-perfect poker face.

“We met in London, during winter break. But he's from here. He's an American. He was part of the study abroad program. He goes to NYU, and he's from here, from Ohio.

“At first, we just hung out together. We had so much in common. Then we started seeing each other and we fell in love and...”

“Kurt?”

“You'll like him, Dad. He's smart and he's caring and he's so talented and handsome and...”

“Kurt?”

“I'm engaged!”

Burt's face was frozen in shock. The two simple words left him stunned into silence.

“We're getting married!”

Carole, who had clearly been eavesdropping, rushed into the room and swept Kurt up into her arms.

“Congratulations! Tell us all about him!”

Burt's face remained expressionless, as it had from the moment Kurt had said “I met someone.”

“What's his name, sweetheart?” Carole asked.

“His name is Blaine.”

With that, Burt found his voice again.

“Blaine?!? What kind of name is that? What does he do?”

“He's a theater and music major at NYU. He'll graduate in June. He's originally from Westerville. He went to Dalton Academy. Can you imagine? He was a Warbler.

Remember them? We competed against each other at sectionals my junior year and we never met until we both went to Europe.”

“You're crazy.”

“Dad?”

“You're too young to get married. I won't allow it.”

“Burt, he's an adult,” Carole said, using her most soothing tone.

“Like hell! How long have you known this boy? Four months? And why haven't I heard about him until now?”

“He's not a boy. And I'm nearly 21. That's almost as old as you were when you married Mom.”

“Well, that was different. That was then. Sorry, kiddo. This ain't gonna happen, not yet.”

“I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. I know this seems sudden, but sometimes, you just know. I was hoping you'd be happy for me.”

“I'm glad you're happy. I'm glad you've found someone you like...”

“Love. Love, Dad. I love him.”

“If you love him, then it wouldn't kill ya to wait a while.”

“I'm getting married, Dad. I love him. He's my future. And when you see the future that you're meant to have, you want it to start as soon as possible.”

Carole looked over at Burt, and gave him a look that made it clear that Kurt had won over at least one person in the room. Burt wasn't so easily convinced.

“You're not even out of college, Kurt. How ‘bout you date him for a while and think about it?”

Kurt said nothing, but set his jaw in a look that Burt learned years before meant his son had made up his mind and wouldn't be easily swayed.

“I've got to go. Blaine's waiting for me.”

Kurt made a quick move to the hall closet for a coat and grabbed his keys off of the end table.

“Burt, you'd better come to your senses and apologize before he runs out of your life and marries that kid with or without your blessing,” Carole warned.

Burt looked at Carole and stood up, huffed out an exaggerated sigh and went after his son.

“Kurt? Wait.”

Kurt stood at the closet door, refusing to meet his father's eye.

“I want to meet this kid.”

“He's not a kid.”

“I want to meet him.”

“Blaine.”

Burt took a breath, and softened his voice. “Yes, Blaine. I'd like to meet Blaine. Tomorrow, dinner.”

Kurt nodded, and opened the front door.

“Don't wait up.”

* * *