Chapter 15 #2
“What? I said sorry!” Holden lifts both hands in surrender. “I saw the video before I knew you, Griffin, but then after you got to town, I put two and two together. I didn’t bring it up to make fun of you or anything. In fact, I thought the ad was brilliant. Really subversive.”
“Totally. I was just showing it to Luis the other night. Rise Athletics has all these questionable family values policies,” Eliza explains to the rest of the table.
“And Griffin’s billboard was like a statement about how the company’s happy to profit off sexy images but won’t actually embrace sexuality, especially when it comes to the gay community.
You’re a hero on this Reddit board I follow. ”
I blink at her. “That, uh… wasn’t intentional. I almost wish it was. My intern switched the files at the last minute, I’m almost positive, and then left me to take the fall. I don’t blame you for finding the video funny, though,” I add quickly. “I might, too, if it hadn’t destroyed my career.”
“Oh, damn,” Ames says. “Destroyed your career?”
“Yeah. The video of the billboard went viral and got stitched a million times. And, ah… let’s just say the corporate marketing community doesn’t share the same ideals as your Reddit board.
Wasting millions, shining the wrong kind of spotlight on my client?
I’m the opposite of a hero. I got fired, and no one else wanted to hire me.
That’s why I came to Winsome after Jim left me his treehouse. ”
“Well, I think that’s awful,” Vivian says fiercely. “You know, I have a friend at the Koasek Highlands Tourism and Visitors’ Center. You just say the word, sweetheart. I’m sure she’d love to have you on their team.”
“Oh, wow, that’s so kind—” I begin.
“You could be a talking tree, like Beckett!” Ames says cheerfully.
Vivian tsks. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
Beckett rests one big hand on my knee under the table.
“Mom, that’s really sweet, but I don’t know that Griffin wants to live up here.
His life’s in New York.” He grins. “He likes listening to the sirens. He likes the bustle. I think that would be like asking one of us Axfords to move out of Winsome.”
Damn, I love that he was listening. That he remembers I said that.
Vivian frowns across the table at me. “But… are you sure, Griffin?”
I open my mouth, then close it again, and think, I’m almost sure I’m sure. Does that count?
“A friend from med school lives in New York,” Eliza offers before I can reply. “His wife’s in advertising, but I don’t know exactly what she does. I could ask if she knows of any openings.”
“That’d be great. I’ll take any leads I can get,” I say.
“And Griff has a job offer already.” Beckett gives me an encouraging look. “Or an offer to talk about one. Right?”
I nod, not nearly as enthusiastic as I should be. “It’s more of a public relations thing. Not my favorite. But it’s a good sign, so we’ll see.”
“Well, as long as you’re happy, sweetheart,” Vivian tells me. “And in the meantime, I’m so excited for your presentation tomorrow night. Speaking of which… Beckett, what will you be doing for Hello, Winsome?”
“I, uh…” Beckett winces. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I demand.
“I figured I’d wing it.” Beckett shrugs. “Eliza shot down all my brilliant ideas, so—”
“Your brilliant ideas were about widening truck parking on Whether Street and banning—direct quote here—‘that ugly-ass kind of fake shiplap that looks like plastic.’”
“Shoulda been done a long time ago,” Beckett grumbles, and I can’t help laughing out loud again. “Besides, we all know whatever I come up with wouldn’t be as amazing as Griffin’s presentation anyway.”
“Unless,” Ames says slyly, “you sang the photosynthesis song. That would get the crowd rocking.”
I press my lips together to hold back laughter as Beckett gives him an eye roll.
“No, wait, Ames might be onto something,” Vivian says, eyes wide. “I think it would be lovely if you played guitar, Beckett! I know it’s been a long time, but it’s probably like riding a bike, right? You could just… pick it back up!”
“Mom, no—” Beckett begins.
“Especially since you only ever knew a couple chords!” Wilder says with a teasing grin. “How hard could it be?”
Eliza, who stood to get more wine, ruffles Beckett’s hair on her way back. “Can you wear it Bieber style? For me?”
“Absolutely not.” Beckett shoves the strands back, clearly aggrieved. “And thank you all so much for your eagerness to see me humiliate myself in front of all our neighbors. Not gonna happen.”
I laugh out loud. Beckett turns to me, his face softens, and for a second it’s like it’s just the two of us in this room full of people.
“Well, I know Ed Hawkins will think you’re the bees’ knees, even if you get up there and recite the alphabet, Beck,” Grant says.
“He came into the Abigail today and was thanking me up and down for the payment plan. Said he prefers having everything in writing.” He looks at his son with obvious pride. “Nice work.”
Beckett looks across the table, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face, and nods.
Up and down the table, the other Axfords exchange grins, like this is momentous. And it is, if it means Beckett and his dad have cleared the air and come to some sort of peace. I’m happy for him.
But when I watch this simple exchange—father proud of son, son accepting that pride—and I feel this giant fissure that’s been growing inside me crack open a little more.
Too much to hide, apparently, because Beckett turns to me in concern.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, just as he did earlier.
I nod. But when Vivian starts clearing plates and talking about coffee and dessert, it’s as if all the feelings I’ve been holding back, all the realizations I haven’t wanted to face, all the not-okay I’ve been trying to hide, are about to come crashing down on me.
Like how I had these amazing moms, a bunch of wonderful aunts, but it still fucking hurts that my biological father was able to walk away from me so easily and didn’t want to know me as an adult.
Like how Jim took all the fun parts of me—the kid-Griffin parts—and built this treehouse as a kind of shrine to them but didn’t want to see who I’d actually become.
Like how I worked and worked for years to achieve success, but I still didn’t measure up.
Like how I’ve achieved more connection and acceptance in two freaking weeks in Winsome than I did after decades in New York, and I haven’t done a damn thing to deserve any of that.
I feel like a little kid throwing a pity party.
Surely at thirty years old, I should know the world isn’t fair, right?
But I guess deep down, I thought it was, and now it feels like all the foundations I’ve built my life on have shifted, and all the shoulds in the world can’t hold back this avalanche of feelings.
I can’t stay in this lovely house with these lovely people another minute.
I push to my feet and summon a huge smile. “Vivian, thank you so much for dinner, but I just remembered I have a… a thing tonight. I’m sorry to duck out so suddenly—”
“Oh. Gosh. Well, will you take some pie with you?”
“I can’t,” I say. It comes out high-pitched and wrong. “I can’t. Thank you, though. Thank you for… just, everything.”
The goodbyes blur together. Ames telling me to stop by Watchfire. Eliza wishing me luck tomorrow. Vivian hugging me tight. Grant patting my shoulder and telling me, “Beckett says you’re a good man. Glad you found your way to Winsome.”
I head for the door, dimly aware that my cracks are showing, that I don’t seem remotely normal, but I can’t keep up the facade any longer.
Beckett follows me to the front door, because of course he does. He’s bossy and wonderful, and my breakdown is not something he should have to witness.
“Griffin, can we talk about—”
“Sorry, Beckett! I’m sorry. I’ve got… you know. Email. For the work thing?”
It seemed like he could see right through me, and the tender concern on his face is more than I can handle. Thankfully, he lets me go. “Right. No, I get it. Thanks for coming.”
I drive back to the treehouse in the dark. My head’s spinning, my eyes are wet, and if a moose wandered into my path tonight, I’d be toast. But Vermont is kind to me, this once, and I get home safely.
Inside, I sit on Jim’s ridiculous velvet couch and stare at my laptop. The email about the job interview is still there. All I have to do is type “yes” and hit Send.
All I have to do is choose the life I planned and not the one I never saw coming.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, and I suck in a deep breath.
The path ahead was so clear to me only a few days ago, so why the fuck does it seem so impossible now?