Chapter Seven
Lachlan
You’re a fucking idiot. You could’ve at least thanked him for the best sex in eighteen years.
Hell, the best sex ever.
But no, you had to go all iceman on him and freeze him out.
I wasn’t impressed with myself as I acknowledged that observation.
As I retrieved my car from long-term parking at Pearson Airport, I continued to berate myself.
I winced as I paid the exorbitant fee. Taking a cab from my townhouse in Yorkville might’ve made more sense, but I liked being in control.
Liked not having to wait for someone else to take care of something. I was a go-getter.
Which was why, when a call came through the car speakers, I hit accept before I checked who it was.
“Briggs.”
“You really need to learn to be more polite when you answer the phone. What if I was a client?” Lydia’s voice purred through the line.
“I’m driving.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
It had, actually, on numerous occasions. Toronto traffic was notoriously horrific, and I preferred to have all my wits about me. “What do you want?”
“To hear how the wedding went.”
“No, Lydia, you don’t. What do you really want?”
She huffed. “The première for Norah’s new movie is Thursday night.”
“And your point?”
“You were her lawyer when she was up here.”
The Hollywood actor was on her way up in the world. This film was garnering a lot of buzz and had done well on the festival circuit. A good Canadian première would mean a lot.
“You’re not coming with me.” I signaled to take the 427 exit. I loathed the Gardiner Expressway, but it was the quickest way downtown.
When the construction isn’t too bad.
Get her off the phone.
“I have to go so I can listen to the traffic report.”
“But—”
I cut the line.
The phone rang again.
I sent it to voicemail.
What did I ever see in Lydia? She’s so different from the women in my life.
Women like Norah. The actor could’ve been high on herself—given her career success at such an early age—but she wasn’t. Women like Taryn and Stephanie. Two lovely people who cared for each other. Loved each other.
And now you’re thinking about Cooper. About the great sex. About how you could totally see yourself with him and not just because he fucked you so thoroughly.
Nope. I was thinking about the bachelorette party.
Okay, that was sort of sex.
I was thinking about our arguments. How he never descended to insults—no matter how much my rigid approach to life annoyed him.
I need to learn to relax more.
He could totally teach me how to relax more.
From Mission City? Not likely.
The phone rang again. I hit accept. “Can’t you take a hint? We’re not together anymore. You’re not someone I want to be around. You’re vindictive, cruel, and are only out for what you can get. You think other people’s feelings don’t matter. I’m hanging up now. Don’t ever—”
“Please don’t hang up.” An amused, husky woman’s voice rang through the speakers.
Oh fuck. “Oh God, Norah. I’m so—”
“No worries. I’m going to guess you were talking to Lydia. She’s been trying to wheedle tickets from my agent for several days now. I figured she wasn’t with you anymore, or you would’ve gotten them yourself. Then I checked and found you weren’t on the list. Are you not coming?”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Lachlan Briggs.” Disapproval dripped as she said my name.
“My sister just got married—”
“That’s lovely. Wish her well from me. That was when…?”
“Yesterday.”
“Right. Saturday. And the première is Thursday. So, unless you’re on the honeymoon with her—”
“No, she and her bride are on their way to Australia as we speak.”
“And you wish you were there?”
Dean’s mate Sam is pretty cute. He’s also married to that American author and, truthfully, although almost no one knows I’m gay, I really want a certain blond sweetheart back in Mission City…
“Lachlan?”
“Nope. I’m in Toronto. Where I’m meant to be.” Or so you tell yourself. Going to take some convincing, I think.
“Great! So you’re my date for Thursday night. I know you hate the cameras, so you can stay off to the side, but I need an escort, and since you caught that clause in the contract—”
“Any lawyer worth his salt would’ve caught it.”
“—then you have to be my escort. Pick me up at five. Night.” She cut the line.
Fuck my life.
Except, by escorting Norah, I’d be sticking it to Lydia. I wasn’t normally a vindictive person, but she was occupying way too much real estate in my head. Especially for someone I’d never really cared for. I just hadn’t wanted to be alone.
Perhaps the worst reason ever to be with someone.
At the moment, I was better off being alone rather than trying to find someone to replace Cooper. I could live on my memories for the next few months and then, when I was ready, start making preparations to come out. I worked in the entertainment industry, for fuck’s sake.
And Norah was a lovely young woman with a bright future. If she wanted me to escort her, then I would. She didn’t have feelings for me, just like I didn’t have feelings for her. Well, besides great admiration. She’d earned that.
Thursday night, I watched from the side as she posed provocatively for the cameras.
Her shimmering satin emerald-green dress matched her eyes, while her red hair flowed down her back.
She looked like a glamorous Hollywood starlet from the 1950s.
With a style and grace that outshone most others—and yet she never lorded that over people.
She was as down-to-earth as a young woman in her shoes could be.
She didn’t have riders on her contract making outlandish demands.
She donated part of her salary to LGBTQ charities.
Her brother, who’d been bullied in high school for being gay, had eventually killed himself.
Norah spoke to as many young people as she could reach. For the gay kids to hang in there. For the bullies to back the fuck down. The former, I believed, had some effect. The latter was, I suspected, a waste of time.
She glanced over her shoulder at me.
I moved to her side.
She gave the cameras and reporters a little wave, and then we headed into the theater.
Her performance was even better than I’d thought possible.
Oscar? No probably not. But in the future? I had absolutely no doubt.
Later, in the limo back to her hotel, my phone buzzed.
Hesitantly, I took it out. My heart wanted a missive from Cooper, but a grin spread across my face at the picture that flashed.
“Oh, you have to share. Unless it’s a dick pic. I don’t want to see a dick pic.” Norah leaned over.
I held the screen for her to see. Stephanie, Taryn, and two guys were in the shot.
One was Dean’s mate Sam—all blond-God gorgeous—and the other was the thriller-writer Levi Stanton.
He’d screwed up with his release last year, but his redemption tour of Sydney had been a success, and apparently he was working on a new book.
Oh, and he was clearly besotted with his husband.
“Oh, God, I can totally tell which one is your sister, even with the different coloring. She’s adorable. And her wife is so cute as well. And isn’t that Levi Stanton?”
“Yes.”
“He and the other guy are pretty handsome. Those smiles. Looks like they’re having fun.”
“I think they are. That’s Levi’s husband, Sam. And I doubt Taryn would be sending me photos if she wasn’t enjoying herself.” Then something dawned on me. “Why did you think I’d have gotten a dick pick?”
“Oh.” Norah fiddled with her clutch. “Possibly because you spent most of the ride to the show talking about some Cooper guy? Like…in an I really want him but we’re bad for each other way.”
Had I? I couldn’t remember. “That was wrong of me.”
“Why? Because you’re not out? I told you what happened to Lyle.”
Her beloved brother.
“Yes. I’m sorry for what you’ve had to go through.”
She sighed. “Coming out—being gay in public—that’s really hard.
Sometimes the closet is the most comfortable place to live.
Especially in jobs, or with families, where being gay is frowned upon.
And hell, maybe you’re not gay. Maybe Cooper is just your brother-in-law.
But if he means as much to you as I think he does, then maybe the closet isn’t such a great place to be. What’s the worst that can happen?”
I pondered her words long after I’d dropped her off.
I was half in love with Cooper. And we were all wrong for each other.
But if I got a dick pic from him, I would totally dig that.
I wasn’t ready to join a gay dating app yet…
but I was much closer to telling the senior partners I was gay, and if that meant leaving the firm and starting my own, so be it.
That night, as I lay in bed, I almost texted Cooper.
But I didn’t.