22. James
JAMES
Icame into the kitchen to get a beer before the circus started and found Theo putting the finishing touches on a citrus sculpture, a pyramid of stacked lemons and limes.
“I talked to my mom today,” he said, “and I was thinking, if it’s all right with you, maybe I could borrow your car and drive up there next week. She says it’s only a little more than an hour away.”
My hand jerked inside the refrigerator and knocked over several bottles of beer.
“Maybe I could even swing by and say hi to Dave on my way through,” Theo continued. “Brady thinks he’s lonely. Says he calls him, like, every other day.”
“Please tell me Emily doesn’t know we’re here in Vermont?” I said, turning to face Theo.
“Why, is it a secret or something?” One of the lemons rolled onto the granite counter, and he hurried to scoop it up.
“Yes, it’s a secret. We’re literally undercover right now. If I lose my job, we’re fucked. We need this money.”
Theo produced a bottle opener and handed it to me. “No, you need this money. I have my own money.”
I ignored the opener and used the lip of the counter, sending the cap pinging across the floor. “No.”
“No, what?” Theo reached down and picked up the bottle cap.
“No, you can’t borrow my car.”
“Why not?”
“Well, let’s see”—I started counting off the reasons—“you don’t have a driver’s license, you can’t drive a stick, and Emily is only after one thing, and it’s not to listen to you go on and on about Ryan Ashbury.”
“Why are you like this?” Theo asked.
“Like what? Like someone who cares about you?”
“No, like someone who thinks people can’t change, that there aren’t relationships worth fighting for.”
I set my beer down hard, and it erupted over the counter like a volcano. “Your mother is the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”
“That’s not true.”
“She didn’t even leave a note, Theo. She just left your dad and me to take care of everything.”
I hated the broken look on Theo’s face, the tears forming behind his blue eyes, which were so much like Travis’s, but he needed to know the truth.
The moment we found out Travis carried the gene, Emily was gone.
And because there was a fifty-percent chance Theo did, too, she left him behind.
She’d hated that they wouldn’t test a minor.
She’d wanted to know if it was safe to love her own son.
“People change.” Theo refused to cry, but he was close.
“No, they don’t. People don’t change. Did you know that when the book was published, she sued for half the profits, claiming Travis started it while they were still married? That’s right, she wanted half of your money.”
I swallowed a mouthful of foam, barely tasting the beer beneath it. I hated to burst Theo’s optimistic bubble, but better this small wound now than watching his mother con him out of everything Travis left behind.
“The only reason he wrote the book in the first place was so he could leave you with something, and she wanted half of it,” I continued.
“She wanted half of your money so she could piss it away on cigarettes and booze and whatever wife-beating loser she was fucking at the time. Do you know how much it cost us in lawyer fees to keep her at bay?”
“Yeah, but that was, like, two years ago.”
“You honestly think she’s changed in two years?
Because I guarantee you she hasn’t. And I know exactly the yarn she’ll spin if you let her.
Oh, poor Emily. She’s suffered so much. Her life has been so hard.
Can you just imagine how it was for her, finding out her husband was gonna die young, that her son might, too? ”
“Fine, I won’t go, then.”
“She expects everyone to see things from her perspective, but she’s incapable of doing the same in return,” I said, unable to stop myself.
“She’s always the victim. You could get stabbed in the eye right in front of her, and she’d be the victim for having to watch you go blind.
That’s just who she is, and it’s not gonna change.
I know she’s technically your mother, but you don’t owe that woman shit, not money, not kindness, not forgiveness, and certainly not your time. ”
Theo’s mouth opened, then closed, as a tear slid down his cheek. Shit, I didn’t mean to imply his time was limited.
“I’m sorry, Theo. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” He grabbed a dishrag from the sink and started wiping up the spilled beer.
“Let me do that.” I reached for the rag, but he jerked it away.
“I got it.” He picked up the bottle, wiped off the bottom, and handed it back to me. “Just drink your fucking beer.”
I was on my way up to shower and dress when I saw Will’s bedroom door ajar.
“How’d it go today?” I asked, poking my head inside.
Clearly, someone had dressed him. Normally, Will looked like the before scene of a makeover montage.
Now, he wore distressed jeans, a tight gray T-shirt, and tan Timberlands.
He looked good. Really good. And he smelled good, too, even from across the room, like soap and something distinctly masculine. Was he wearing cologne?
Will shrugged, and a lock of his recently styled hair came loose and fell across his brow. “It was all right. I got to read a scene between takes, so that was something.”
“Really? That’s awesome. Did you wow them with your Vermont accent?”
“Hardly.”
“I’m sure you nailed it.” I stepped across a sea of dirty clothes and sat on the corner of his bed. “Anything specific you need from me tonight?”
“What do you mean?” Will tried shoving his hands into his pockets, but they were too tight. He gave up and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops instead.
“You know, like PDA and all that.” I wasn’t sure why I’d drifted off topic. I’d come to hear about the first day of shooting, not debate cuddling protocols. “Are we one of those couples who hold hands, or do we just do a lot of leaning?”
“Leaning?”
“Yeah, you know, leaning.” I knew I sounded ridiculous, but leaning was a real thing. I just wasn’t explaining it right. “Like this.”
He recoiled slightly as I moved toward him, like he expected me to clock him. “Hold still,” I said, gripping his shoulders.
Once I was confident he wasn’t going anywhere, I leaned against him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t lean back, and instead of forming a sturdy A-frame, we tumbled like a row of dominoes.
My arm shot out to catch him and pull him back, but not before he got out a snarky, “Oh yeah, this is really going to sell it.”
“It would if you’d lean back,” I said once we’d regained our footing. “It takes two to be in a relationship, you know.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just lean back.”
“Fine.”
He leaned against me, tentatively at first, and I leaned back.
“There, was that so hard?” I asked.
Will groaned.
“Then, if we want, we can throw in an arm, too, do a sorta half-hug thing.” I tossed my arm over his shoulder and pulled him into the crook of my armpit. It was freaky how well he slotted in there, like a nested pair of salt and pepper shakers.
“I guess leaning would be all right,” he said, settling against me, “if you feel comfortable with it.”
“Yeah, totally comfortable.” I tried to ignore the sudden tightness in my pants. “And if that’s not selling it, we can tell everyone we need to get more wine from the cellar and come back ten minutes later empty-handed.”
Will cast his eyes to the floor, but not before I saw the rosy blush flood his cheeks. Man, he was adorable.
When he looked back up at me, he said, “Fine, but you gotta walk like a bow-legged cowboy so there’s no mistakin’ who just got fucked.”
I wasn’t expecting those words to come from his sweet mouth, nor was my sphincter.
I swallowed hard. “Okay, and should I call you Daddy and sit on your lap, too?” I’d meant the words to be playful and teasing, but they came out stilted and breathless.
“You can if you want, man. I’ll take real good care of you.”
It wasn’t until he winked that I realized he was doing his Vermonter impersonation, and it was fucking phenomenal.
I stepped into the backyard, which looked like the setting of a Mayan sacrifice.
At least twenty citronella tiki torches burned around the stone patio.
Was this a dinner party or the Tribal Council on Survivor?
I spotted Will lying by the pool in the orange glow, a mojito in his hand.
On the other side of the patio, his mom was glued to her phone.
In her curve-hugging dress and huge black headphones, she looked like one of those spin-off Barbies—DJ Barbie.
Theo bounced between them, topping off their drinks the moment they took a sip. He must’ve borrowed one of Will’s shirts—almost a simple white button-down, except for the strips of fabric dangling down the front—because I didn’t recognize it.
“They’re not here yet,” he said, approaching me with a tall glass stuffed full of mint leaves.
“I can see that.” I took the cocktail and tried to strain the liquid through my teeth so that I wouldn’t choke. “Well, this will certainly counteract the Cool Ranch breath.”
Earlier, Theo had chewed me out for buying only “white trash” appetizers. Doritos were apparently out, because “rich people only eat tortilla chips and extremely mild salsa.”
“We’re not having Doritos, and don’t embarrass me.”
I winked at my nephew, who was too nervous to remember he was mad at me. “How about I embarrass Will instead, then?” I took my drink over to Will’s lounge chair and nudged his leg. “Scoot over.”
“Are you serious?”
“Practice makes perfect.”
Will glanced at the dozen empty chairs. “But there are so many other places you could sit.”
“Yeah, but only one place has my handsome boyfriend in it.”
Will rolled his eyes, a habit I was growing rather fond of.
We squeezed onto the same chair, but Will remained so rigid we looked more like two stalks of celery in a Bloody Mary than cozy lovers.
“You don’t fit,” he said, listing dramatically to the side.
“I would if you’d lean this way.” I lifted my arm to give him more room.
“What’s with you and leaning?” Will held his drink out as he slid into place.
“That’s better.” I draped my leg over his and shimmied my arm down his back until it fit in the hollow just above his waist. “Now, isn’t this cozy?”
I said it teasingly, but “cozy” was the perfect descriptor. The sun was setting over the lake in the same shade of orange as the tiki-torch flames, my mojito was crisp and refreshing, and Will felt like a sun-warmed rock beside me.
“Don’t spill your drink on me,” he said.
Donna took off her headphones and offered us a curious smile that was at once both disapproving and amused, like when a small child drops their first F-bomb. “Theo, hon, I just got a text. Our guests are pulling up now. Why don’t you show them around?”
I gave Theo an exaggerated thumbs-up and squeezed Will’s waist. “Our little boy is growing up.”
Will groaned. “This is so fucked up. Theo’s only eighteen, and Ryan’s, like, twenty-five.”
“Come on, it’s not like he’s got a shot in hell.”
Will shifted, his elbow pressing into my gut. “I think you’re underestimating Miles’s influence, not to mention my mother’s.”
“Oh, whatever. If they were any good at matchmaking, you wouldn’t be stuck with me.”
Will exhaled and let his head fall back against my shoulder. “That’s actually a valid point.”
The delicious curve of his ear was right there, and I couldn’t resist running my tongue along it.
“Did you just lick me?” he asked.
“You’re not supposed to agree with me. Don’t you understand how self-deprecation works?”
“Yeah, but you can’t just—”
“Fine, I’ll lick the other one, too, for balance.” I slid behind him and traced my tongue up the back of his other ear, making him squirm like a worm evading the hook. “Did you know you taste like cookies?”
“I do not. Stop making shit up.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t tell Derek and Ryan about the time I fucked you so hard you came in my face and gave me pink eye?”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Shh, here they come.”
Theo led Ryan Ashbury and Derek Hall onto the patio, walking backward like a tour guide.
The two movie stars looked absurdly beautiful side by side, though nothing like brothers.
Ryan’s angelic features were the exact opposite of Derek’s rugged masculinity, but they moved across the yard with the same confident strides.
“Theo made mojitos and margaritas, but they’re dangerously good, so if you intend on staying sober tonight, you might want to stick to beer and wine,” Donna said, rising to greet her guests with a pretentious kiss on each cheek.
“Thanks for inviting us,” Derek said, theatrically scanning the patio before letting his gaze settle on us. “You must be the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about. I’m Derek.” He strode over, hand extended.
I extracted my arm from behind Will’s back and pretended not to notice when Derek squeezed my fingers like a boa constrictor. “James.”
“And what do you do, James? Are you a teacher like Will?”
“God, no. I’m not nearly so accomplished.” I returned my arm behind Will’s back. “I’m more of a freelancer, a little of this, a little of that. Whatever pays the bills and lets me get back to enjoying life.”
“Sounds very bohemian.”
“I never thought of it that way, but I guess it is.”
Derek pulled a chair over and sat facing us. “So, what did you think, Will? Is this Titanic the movie or Titanic the ship?”
Will tensed beside me. “It was just the first day, and it’s not like it was a crucial scene or anything.”
“Look at this guy, a regular Honest Abe. Couldn’t tell a lie to save his life.”
Did that mean the first day had gone poorly?
Suddenly, Will shot up, his elbow jabbing into my stomach. “I need to pee.”
I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him back down. “Not so fast. You gotta pay the toll first.”
“The toll?”
“I’ll accept a kiss, a compliment, or cash.” He went rigid. “Just kidding. But can you grab me a beer while you’re in there?”
“Me, too,” Derek said.
Will nodded and raced inside.
Derek leaned forward, breaking the awkward silence brought on by Will’s abrupt departure with a practiced ease. “So, what’s the story? You two an old item, or is this new?”
“It’s fairly new,” I admitted. “I’m only meeting his family now. I was starting to think he was embarrassed of me.”
“Will’s not like that,” Derek said, his words like a whip. “If anything, it was probably the other way around. He was probably embarrassed of his family.”
Fuck, I had one job to do—make it seem like Will had found happiness—and I’d already managed to paint myself as a paranoid asshole. “I don’t know, I can be pretty embarrassing,” I said, refusing to acknowledge the blow had landed. “I voted third party in the last election.”