Chapter 26
Gray
A month later, we’re backstage at the ballroom in the Acadia, and my thighs are shaking like a bride on her wedding night. I try to focus on Sammy as he works on my bow tie.
“You look very handsome,” he says.
Hey, look at that. I didn’t even have to prompt him.
“My thighs are quivering like a bride on her wedding night,” I say because I like quivering better.
Sam smiles and nods and keeps working on the bow tie. “It’s okay to be nervous. But you don’t need to be; everything’s going to be fine.”
“Right,” I say. “Fine.”
He gives the bow tie a pat, which means I’m done.
“Full disclosure,” I say. “I’m thinking about doing some fucked-up stuff for attention and validation right now. Like, burn this place down and then get fucked by a fireman. Like, some weird arson porn.”
Sam nods and says, “Hmm.”
The silence that follows goes on long enough that I blurt, “I’m not going to do that, though. Because I’ve done therapy and shit. Because I might be a fuckboy, but I’m a reformed fuckboy.”
Sam straightens my jacket across my shoulders.
“Unless you wanted to fuck me,” I hear myself saying. “Just, like, a get-the-jitters-out fuck, you know? A quickie?”
Sam lays his hands on my shoulders.
He waits. And it’s hard, but I finally drag my eyes to his.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I say. “This is what I was talking about. This is why I warned you I’d be a terrible boyfriend.”
Sam’s got long lashes, I notice for the first time. He doesn’t even blink. He runs the backs of his hands down my lapels, and he says, “You know the first thing I learned about you? That I noticed, I mean. Before we really knew each other.”
I shoot my eyebrows.
“You like to run your mouth,” he says. And then he kisses me, and as he pulls back, he adds, “It’s cute.”
It takes me a few seconds to say, “It’s not cute.”
Sam is almost smiling.
“It’s outrageous. It’s crass, and it’s vulgar, and it’s offensive. It’s annoying, for fuck’s sake, and it’s childish, and it’s—it’s a cry for attention!”
“I know, sweetheart. Let’s get through dinner, and I’ll give you some attention.”
That shouldn’t go straight to my cock.
But it does.
“I know it’s hard,” Sam says, and he takes my hands. “You care so much about this. Of course it’s going to be hard.”
I shake my head, and I want to play it off, but what I say is “I feel like a failure.”
“But you’re not. And your brain knows that, even though that little voice in your head says otherwise.”
“I guess.”
He squeezes my hands.
At that moment, the curtain twitches, and three women come backstage.
Aiyana Jordan is wearing a dark dress that manages to look appropriate for the occasion without being ostentatious—a fine line to walk for a minister, I guess.
I recognize one of the two women. Maggie Grober has short salt-and-pepper hair, and she’s dressed in black slacks and a white top with a pashmina around her shoulders.
I’ve seen her at various events around town, even though I don’t know her personally—she’s got money, and she sponsors some of the local art and fashion events.
The other woman is taller, with a mane of curly hair that’s still dark, and she’s dressed in an oversized herringbone coat and wide-legged trousers. She must be June Louise Nelson.
“Ready?” Aiyana says as she reaches us. “Gray, I think you know Maggie. And this is June Louise. And this is Sam.”
Everybody shakes hands. Maggie is smiling, and she’s giving off some grandma vibes. June Louise looks like she smokes long, unfiltered cigarettes and loves gin.
“Here we go,” Aiyana says, and she leads us toward the curtain.
Sam squeezes my hand once more as we head for the stage. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, so I start to let go of his hand, but to my surprise, he holds on, and when I look over my shoulder, he smiles at me.
The ballroom at the Acadia is crowded, and my first thought is relief that I’m not going to be paying for a hundred plated dinners that nobody showed up to eat. Every seat is filled, as a matter of fact, and that should have been impossible.
Sam spent a lot of time on the phone to make this happen.
While Aiyana proceeds to the podium, the four of us sit in chairs lined up on the stage.
Looking out, I see people I know—John-Henry and Emery are there, of course, with their friends Theo and Auggie.
Foley’s there with his wife, and the big Irish fuck looks like he’s grown out of his shirt, the collar is so tight.
Chief Peterson is there with his wife, too.
But it’s not just my friends, and not just people from the department.
Emery and John-Henry’s neighbors are there, and Sam’s gran, and one of Sam’s neighbors.
Even Robin showed up, sitting at a table with other people from WISP, although—probably with good reason—he doesn’t look at me.
It’s not the whole town; we had a hundred seats to fill.
But in a way, it feels like the whole town.
Aiyana is saying something, and I barely catch the end of it when Sam nudges me.
“—let him say a few words. Thank you again for supporting such an important program.”
She moves back from the podium, and I take her place. It’s different, now, looking out at that crowd. Lots of faces. All their attention on me. And there’s still some part of me that thinks they’re waiting for me to fuck up.
But I guess I already have. And in a way, that’s what sets me free.
“I don’t know what to say,” I say. “I’m amazed to see so many people here.
Amazed and grateful and honestly overwhelmed.
” And I am overwhelmed; my throat is tight, and I have to stop for a second.
“Thank you for showing up tonight. Thank you for caring about WISP, about the work we’re doing.
” I have to stop again. And then I say, “This is where it gets a little tricky, and I’m glad you all paid upfront because it’s too late, and you can’t get your money back. ”
Easy laughs roll through the crowd.
“I wanted to take this opportunity to let you know that I’m stepping down from my position at WISP.
This organization means so much to me. Intimate-partner violence is a silent epidemic in our country, and it touches people in every walk of life.
Some of you may know that I grew up in a home where intimate-partner violence was accepted as the norm, and you may have heard me talk before about how that shaped me, how it affected my relationships as an adult, and why it’s so important that we provide resources and education and support so that nobody else has to go through that. ”
Unexpected applause makes me stop.
“For the last year, WISP has been a critical part of who I am, and I’ve devoted time and energy to getting it up and running as best I can.
But I also know my limitations. WISP needs leaders who can take it to the next level.
So, I’m pleased to tell you that the new directors of WISP are here with us tonight.
If you’ve lived in this town long enough, you know Maggie Grober, and you’ve probably given her some of your money.
” Another laugh ripples through the room.
“Maggie’s the one who made tonight possible. Well, Maggie and my boyfriend, Sam.”
Foley, the dumb fuck, cheers.
The laugh is deeper this time, longer, and when I glance over, Sam’s face is red, but he’s smiling.
“God damn it, Foley,” I say, and it’s like something has broken, some wall between me and them, or between all of us, and all of a sudden I’m about to cry.
Somehow, I manage to say, “I’m sure many of you also know June Louise Nelson, who is the behind-the-scenes genius of a lot of the important work that happens in this town.
I’m grateful to Dr. Jordan for introducing me to them, and I’m thrilled that they’re willing to take on the responsibility of helping WISP continue to grow and impact lives in our area.
Thank you again for your support tonight.
I know as we all work together, we can put an end to intimate-partner violence. ”
Clapping. Cheers. Somebody’s thumping a table—probably Foley again.
I don’t even remember moving, but now I’m sitting next to Sam, and he’s crushing my hand in his, but it’s happiness, and I’m still trying not to cry.
“You did great,” Sam whispers into my ear, and then he kisses my cheek.
And the cheers double.
It takes a while for everyone to settle down, and I’m so worked up that I can’t keep up with what’s being said as Maggie and June Louise introduce themselves.
I do hear them mention that I’ll be continuing to work with WISP in an advisory capacity—none of us knows what that means, but it’s kind of them to say that, and I’m grateful they’ve left a door open for me, even though they know it’ll hurt their chances with people like Ben Fields.
I’m still riding that crest of adrenaline when I catch the end of Aiyana’s remarks. “—time to eat. Bon appétit, and please don’t forget about the silent auction.”
We all shake hands and say polite things before we move down to our tables. Sammy put us with Emery and John-Henry, big surprise, along with their friends Theo and Auggie.
And Emery’s not even trying to keep his voice down as we reach the table. “—paid a hundred dollars a plate for lukewarm salmonella.”
“You had your wedding reception here,” I say as we take our seats. “What the fuck are you complaining about?”
Emery glares.
Auggie, this goddamn gorgeous twink, is looking at Theo like he’s asking his daddy for a treat. “Please, Theo, I won’t say anything or do anything or—or anything. But this stuff is gold.”
Theo doubles down on the daddy vibes by giving Auggie a look, and then he says, “That was a moving speech, Gray.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“We had our wedding reception here,” Emery says, “but we used outside caterers.”
“No,” John-Henry says, “we didn’t.”
Emery’s face is pure betrayal.
“He’s very excited to be here,” John-Henry says. “He changed outfits twice.”
“No, I surely fucking did not!”