The doorbell rang at precisely 6:29 p.m. Burt gave Carole the eye, and she darted around him to open the door before he could do it himself.

They were greeted by an attractive young man who could best be described as petite, looking GQ-dressed and schoolboy-self-conscious. He carried a small, fashionable bouquet of spring flowers and looked to be doing his best to control his nervous energy.

“Hello, I'm Blaine Anderson,” he said, extending his hand and smiling the smile of a matinee idol. “You must be Mrs. Hummel. These are for you.”

“These are just lovely, thank you! And please, it's Carole. It's so nice to meet you. Why don't you come on in and make yourself at home, Blaine.”

He was dressed in what looked to Burt like his Sunday best: tailored heather gray slacks, a white dress shirt with a dark blue and green striped tie, and a coordinating slim-fitting cardigan. His hair was short and gelled, and he looked like a class president — or a student arriving for his first job interview.

He looked like a prep school grad.

“Mr. Hummel, it's very nice to meet you, sir. I've heard so much about you from Kurt. I feel like I already know you.”

“Anderson,” Burt said simply, shaking his hand in acknowledgment.

“How are you, Blaine?” Carole asked quickly, trying to warm the room after Burt's chilly reception,

Blaine leaned in towards her slightly.

“Nervous,” he said quietly.

“You'll be just fine,” she whispered. “How about some iced tea?”

The sound of a herd of Doc Martens stomping down the stairs filled the room as Kurt ran to meet Blaine in the hall. Kurt swept into his arms, placing a soft kiss on his lips and holding him close.

“Blaine!” Kurt exclaimed.

“Hello, you.”

They kissed again.

Burt grimaced.

“Am I glad to see you,” Blaine whispered during their embrace.

“You'll be fine,” Kurt said, taking Blaine's hand and turning toward Burt. “Dad, this is Blaine. Blaine, Dad. There, done.”

“Not so fast. Anderson and I are going to have a little chat. Kurt, go help Carole in the kitchen.”

Kurt's expression signaled that he was clearly put out, and Blaine looked like a deer caught in headlights — fearful of the oncoming traffic and frozen with fright. Kurt gave his hand a squeeze, kissed him on the cheek and whispered. “Don't worry. The bark is worse than the bite. It's okay. He'll love you, but he'll want to scare you first.”

Blaine gave him his best don't leave me alone here look, his forehead creased and his eyes pleading, then watched Kurt walk off to the kitchen. He closed his eyes briefly, as if seeking balance, then met Burt's glance.

“Why don't you have a seat, Blaine?”

They sat across from each other, Burt in his easy chair, Blaine on the edge of the couch.

“I'm going to assume that Kurt didn't tell you about us before yesterday,” Blaine said, wringing his hands.

“You would assume right.”

“I'm sorry about that, Mr. Hummel. Everything went so well with my parents and I told him that he needed to tell you. This isn't the sort of thing that should be a surprise.”

“No, it shouldn't. He's met your folks?”

“Oh yes, a couple of times. They visited us in London, and they come out to New York from time-to-time. You know — meetings, theater tickets, checking up on the son.”

“Hmm.”

Westerville, Burt thought. Parents with money and kids with issues.

“So you don't know much about me.”

“Until yesterday, I didn't even know you existed.”

“And you probably think we're too young.”

“Correct again.”

“And that we haven't known each other long enough for a step like this.”

“I'd say you've pretty much got it covered.”

“And Mr. Hummel, all of that is true. We're young, and we haven't spent the years together that some couples do before they marry, and

I'm sure there are going to be challenges and problems and complications. But I love your son. He's like the piece of me that was missing and I didn't even realize it until I met him. I've never known anyone like Kurt and whatever problems we face, I know that we can face them together, and when you know something's right you don't want to waste any time getting the rest of your life started.”

“Nice speech.”

“It's from the heart, Mr. Hummel.”

This guy has too much polish, Burt thought. It's the smooth-talking ones, the ones with the manners. Those are the ones you can't trust.

“First, slow down. Tell me about yourself. You're graduating with Kurt? How do you plan on supporting yourself?”

“Technically, I'm finished. I met my requirements at the end of winter quarter, but I'll graduate with Kurt.”

“And then?”

“I'm taking some filler classes this semester, but mainly I'm going to concentrate on my job.”

“Doing what?”

“I just got a role on a soap opera. It's not my dream job, but it's steady work, a recurring character, and a good paycheck. I also teach music.”

Burt thought back to Kurt's years of weekly piano lessons, of evenings listening to Chopsticks and Für Elise. “Teaching kids scales?”

“Mostly teaching adults Mozart. I've been doing it for years, Mr. Hummel. I think I had my first student when I was in high school. And she was a little kid who practiced scales, yes.”

High school. That's right, the prep school.

“I thought you went to prep school.”

“Dalton Academy, yes sir. At least for most of high school.”

“You left?”

“No sir. I enrolled my sophomore year, right after I got beaten up at my first high school.”

“You what?”

“Beaten, um, bullied — for being gay. That's when my parents enrolled me at Dalton.”

Burt paused. The words hit his gut like buckshot.

“I'm sorry.”

“I got a good education, and my parents felt I was safe there. I was safe there.

“Look, Mr. Hummel, I know this news probably came as a shock, but I want to assure you how sincere I am about marrying your son.

We're different in a lot of ways, but we're also so alike in ways that matter. We complement each other. And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with him.”

It may have sounded like a clichéd fiancé speech, but for some reason, Burt was beginning to buy it.

“Dinner's ready!”

Carole carried a platter of roast chicken and vegetables to the table, followed by Kurt with a salad. Blaine clambered to his feet, offering to take the platter off her hands and to help arrange the table. Once everything was settled, he walked over to Carole's place and pulled out her chair for her.

She beamed.

“So Blaine, tell me how you two met,” she said, smiling and serving.

“We actually met last fall,” Blaine started.

“At the advisory meetings for the London study abroad,” Kurt added.

“We didn't think much of it at the time,” Blaine said, looking intently at Kurt.

Kurt's face softened. “We had coffee once or twice with some of the others in the group.”

“It was on the plane to London,” Blaine said. “We were seated together, and really started talking, and realized that we grew up not far from each other, and then that our glee clubs had actually competed against each other at Sectionals, but we'd never met in Ohio.”

“We played tourist together for our first few days there,” Kurt piped in. “And then one night we were walking past Trafalgar Square...”

They looked at each other again, and Blaine reached over and took Kurt's hand.

“The next thing I knew, Kurt's hand was in mine,” he said, finishing Kurt's sentence.

They looked at each other like no one else existed.

Carole sighed.

Burt took a bite of chicken.

“Pass the potatoes, would ya?”

The dinner continued amid talk of Europe and school and soap operas, Blaine starting a sentence and Kurt finishing it. Burt largely stayed silent, nodding along from time to time.

“Kurt tells me you're going to be on Days of Our Time, Blaine. Back when I was working nights, I'd watch it every afternoon,” Carole said.

“Now it's all over the DVR,” Burt said without looking up.

“So, tell us about your character!” Carole said almost breathlessly.

Blaine looked down at the table self-consciously and gave a half-smile. “It's really kind of silly,” he said.

“Come on, Blaine. Either you tell them or I do,” Kurt said, taking his hand.

“It's Ridge Rockwell. See what I mean? Silly.”

“Doctor Ridge Rockwell,” Kurt added. “See Dad? I'm marrying a doctor.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. So did Burt.

“I love the soap opera names,” Carole said. “They always seem to say something about the character. So, Dr. Rockwell. Is he a good guy or a bad guy?”

“To be determined, but apparently he's a womanizer,” Blaine said. “He sleeps with two different nurses his first week on the job.”

“Oh!” Carole exclaimed.

“Oh?” Kurt said, this detail apparently having been omitted from prior discussions of Blaine's new role.

“It's all kind of ridiculous, and such an awkward way to get to know people, but it's a steady paycheck.”

“Well, I think it's wonderful, Blaine. Be sure to tell us when your first episode runs so we can record it.”

“You record all of them, Carole,” Burt said. “Can you pass the salad dressing?”

“So is this a full-time job, Blaine? Will it take up all your time?” Carole asked.

“It's hard to tell since he's a new character, but if he goes over well, well then I may get a chance to appear more often... But that's the goal, right? I consider myself pretty blessed to have a regular acting job right out of college.”

“He's just being modest,” Kurt said. “Blaine's very talented.”

“Whatever happens, I told Kurt that we need to make sure we try to visit Ohio as often as possible — and you can bet we'll visit on home game weekends in the fall,” Blaine said.

Suddenly, Burt's hearing was more acute.

“Hmm?”

“Blaine loves football,” Kurt said offhandedly. “I like intermission.”

“Half-time,” Blaine whispered, reaching below the table to give his knee a squeeze before redirecting his attention to Burt. “Yeah, I'm a Buckeyes fan.”

“Oh, Burt loves Ohio State, don't you Burt?” Carole said, sensing an opportunity.

Burt looked at Blaine for a moment, then nodded.

“Maybe we could go to a game sometime,” Blaine said. “My parents have season tickets in the alumni booster section.”

“That new quarterback's got a decent arm,” Burt said.

“He's just a little slow on his feet. He's got to throw from the pocket,” Blaine said, diving into his dinner.

Kurt looked at Carole. She gave him a knowing wink.

“Have you two made any wedding plans yet? Have you set a date?” Carole had a way of circling the subject back to marriage, just as Burt had gotten to a topic he could dig his teeth into.

“Well, we had been thinking about a late summer wedding in New York,” Kurt said, looking at Blaine.

“We looked into it,” Blaine said. “It's just too expensive for us right now. We've checked and it doesn't matter if it's a hotel or a club or a restaurant, it's just too much. So we thought we'd go to the courthouse, and then maybe throw a party afterwards.”

The boys looked at each other for a few moments, clearly reliving uncomfortable conversations about money and guests and budgets and howarewegoingtoaffordthis, and ended it with soft eyes and gentle smiles, an entire conversation said without words.

“Blaine, it's getting late and we really need to...”

“What's going on?” Burt said, shaking himself out of his dazed state.

“We're going to the movies and if we don't leave soon, we're going to miss it. Blaine?”

Kurt got up from the table, cleared their plates and grabbed his keys. He gave Carole a kiss on the cheek and headed for the front door, Blaine on his heels.

“Hey, Kurt — don't you think you should take a coat? It's a bit chilly out there tonight,” Burt said. It had been an abnormally cool day, with darkening skies warning that showers may be around the corner, but Kurt was headed out in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans.

“Oh, Dad, I'm kind of warm. It's fine.”

“I don't know, Kurt. It is pretty cool out and the sky looks a little threatening,” Blaine said.

Kurt looked at Blaine and did an about-face for the hall closet, retrieving a black pea coat. Blaine held it out for him, helping to pull it over his shoulders and giving it a quick brush of his hands to smooth out a slight wrinkle. He then placed his palm on the small of

Kurt's back while he opened the front door with his other hand.

“Better?”

“Much,” Kurt said, smiling to Burt and Carole. “Thanks for dinner. Don't wait up!”

And with that, he was gone. Silent seconds passed, Burt scowling and Carole beaming. She couldn't hide her joy at the introduction of Blaine Anderson, fiancé.

“Oh, he's a keeper! Isn't it exciting to have a romance right under our... right in our midst? They're so sweet together. And have you ever seen Kurt this happy?”

“It'll never last. He's too agreeable. Kurt's much more spirited than this kid. He'll eat him for lunch.”

“Did you see how they looked at each other?”

“I saw how he groped Kurt's leg when they were sitting at the table.”

“He touched his knee. Really, Burt. You're objecting to that?”

Burt huffed.

“Oh sweetheart, did you see how they look at each other? They're so in love. And Blaine's so well-spoken and polite. Did you see how he pulled my chair out for me?”

Burt offered only a side-eye in response.

“Did you hear them when they talked about the wedding plans? Burt, that broke my heart. They deserve a real wedding. There has to be something we can do.”

“I don't even know what the rules are for this. I mean, if Kurt was a girl, we'd be expected to pick up the tab, right? But it's two guys, so I don't know how this works, but they seem to want to handle it themselves.”

“They shouldn't have to,” Carole said firmly. “Blaine's only just gotten his first job, and they're not even out of college yet. We should help.”

“What we should do is butt out.”

“What we should do,” Carole said, stepping up to Burt, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close, “is host a wedding.”

* * *

That evening, I realized my day was over. I knew Kurt was gone — Kurt had given over the keys to his heart to some boy I didn't even know. Some prep school kid with a Pepsodent smile and good manners and a habit of touching my son when he thought no one was looking.

He sat there that night and said “I'm going to marry Blaine.” But who was this guy? We didn't know a thing about him, not a thing.

Yet he walks in and smiles and we give him Kurt. Sure, he's a good-looking kid. I get the attraction. And he's charming and talks well. But it's the silver-tongued ones you have to watch out for.

Yet both Kurt and Carole had fallen hard for this guy. And once Kurt made up his mind about something, well, it wasn't likely to change.
Kurt was no longer my little boy. He was the fiancé of an actor in a soap opera, and there was nothing I could do about it.

The deed was done, and a few days later, the engagement still on, Carole and I would find ourselves on the road to Westerville to meet the Andersons.

* * *