Chapter 51
51
JONATHAN
S unlight pours onto the bed and into my eyes. I turn my head away from the glare, seeking the comfort of Adam’s body. But I find only air. I reach out, fingers brushing empty sheets. He’s gone.
I take a moment, with my eyes closed, to breathe in the lingering scent of him.
I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to stay there. With us.
God, how badly I want that. I take a deep breath but it feels like there’s a boulder on my chest. I can’t afford to think about it now. I can’t think about how close I was to having my wildest dreams. I need to focus on today, on Dad. I need to get through the next few hours.
I throw on joggers and a t-shirt and head downstairs. There’s a chance Adam is still here. Maybe he just got hungry.
Zane is sitting at the table and he pauses with a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. “Jonathan?”
He sounds incredulous. I run a self-conscious hand through my hair and check that I am, in fact, fully dressed. “What?”
“Sweatpants? What happened to you at that estate?”
“Oh.” I feel the color rising to my cheeks. “I needed something to exercise in.”
“Exercise? What happened to you at that estate?”
“Hey!”
He smirks and I join him at the table.
Elam is standing at the stove. There isn’t anyone else. I try not to feel disappointed.
“Good morning!” He says cheerfully. “I’m making omelets. What do you want on yours? I have gouda, mushrooms, tomato and streaky bacon.”
I still don’t have an appetite, but I don’t want to be rude. The clock above the kitchen table shows it’s just gone eight. So it’s what? 2AM for me? No wonder I’m not hungry. “Just cheese would be great. Thank you.”
“Coming right up!”
Zane has returned to his toast and is half-heartedly scrolling on his phone.
“Have you seen Adam this morning?” I ask him.
He gives me an impish grin. “Nope, but you did.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
At least Zane seems to be feeling more himself.
“Oh, you’re looking for Adam?” Elam says, coming around to serve me my omelet. “Yeah he was up pretty early. Said he had to go get some things sorted.”
Zane gives me a nudge. “I’ve got his number if you need it.”
Usually that would be delivered in a suggestive way too, but Zane’s switched from playful to kind, as he so often does. I’m so glad that Dad found Zane. I can’t imagine going through this nightmare without him.
I dig into the omelet, finding myself more hungry than I thought. Or maybe it’s just Elam’s excellent cooking. Charles comes downstairs, carrying a laptop, with his phone tucked beneath his chin. He’s mid conversation with a client. By the sound of things, he’s reassuring them about something to do with their portfolio. “No you don’t want to sell. I promise. This is actually a good time to buy…”
Zane nudges me again and shows me a post on his feed. It’s a still of Adam showcasing one of the rare volumes from Lloyd’s collection that went on auction. “Looks like your event went well,” he says, scrolling down. There’s one of the clips of Alisha interviewing the boys. It has a ton of reactions, most of them hearts with a few caring and applause reacts too. There’s a still of Enrique with his face covered in chocolate, grinning from ear to ear. A lump forms in my throat.
“Cute kids,” Zane says.
“They’re wonderful.”
He lowers the phone and eyes me knowingly. “You want to talk about it?”
I shrug. “What’s there to say? I’m in love with them all. I want to adopt them.” I dash at my eyes, frustrated that I’m tearing up yet again. “Adam already has, by the way. And he didn’t tell them. And I was so furious. Am still furious, I think.”
Zane blinks at me. “He adopted the kids and didn’t tell them ? Why?”
It’s one thing for me to be angry with Adam. But I find I don’t want other people to be. I don’t want anyone to think badly of him. It’s strange, this protectiveness I feel.
“He had his reasons,” I tell Zane simply. “Besides…” I spear the last bite of omelet. “I think his heart was in the right place. He’s just clueless. Or, was, at the time. You should have seen him when I started there. He had no idea how to interact with them. I think he was scared of them. But over the past few months… he’s a good father.” I swallow hard. “A great father.”
Zane sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. “So, love’s just a chemical reaction, huh?”
I side-eye him. He’s not helping.
Charles settles at the table with his laptop and Elam swoops in with their breakfast. I don’t want to continue the conversation, so I ask Zane to share more of the posts about our auction.
That it did well is an understatement. Some of the items went for double what I expected and there were hundreds of people on the stream. I guess Geoff really did know what he was doing.
Zane scrolls past one of the talking head clips that Meredith recorded. I make him go back and I take the phone from him. In the background, a little out of focus, Adam and I are waltzing. My heart trips at the sight of it. The way Adam is holding me, how he’s looking at me with such devotion. I’m not the only one who’s noticed. There are a few comments on the post wondering who I am.
“That’s cute,” Zane says, looking over my shoulder.
Elam wants to see too and he coos over the kids and their outfits. When he reaches Meredith’s clip, he also pauses. He’s a professional ballet dancer so I expect he’s watching our steps. But no, he gives me a conspiratorial look and passes the phone to Charles.
Charles chuckles. “Caught red handed.”
“Caught red handed being adorable,” Elam says. “He looks like he wants to eat you up.”
I can feel my ears heat as visions of last night flash across my memory.
I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to stay.
I stand abruptly. “I should— I need to go meet with the surgeon.”
Hospitals are always unsettling, but a hospital during a pandemic is doubly so. The staff are all wearing gowns, masks and googles. New York is past its infection peak, so visitors are permitted, but in reduced numbers and for a limited number of hours. The corridors are empty and echoey and the antiseptic scent seems stronger, despite my own face mask. I see the surgeon in a plush office, where he shows me scans of Dad’s brain and tries to explain exactly what he’s going to do, including the risks.
It’s a dangerous procedure, but not acting is even riskier. Besides, after all we’ve done to be here, I’m hardly going to tell him not to do it.
Dad is scheduled for surgery at 10, which is the earliest that they were able to fit him in, and it will take about six hours. I don’t feel up to being around people, so I text Zane an update and go for a long walk.
The summer heat is oppressive and everything feels… wrong. There’s no traffic and very few pedestrians. I always wanted to visit New York, but never like this. It’s like the city is also on the brink of death.
I return to the hospital and the blessed air conditioning. The cafeteria is open, but with socially distanced seating, which suits me fine. I order a bottomless coffee and pull up the link to the auction stream.
It only takes a few minutes for me to tear up again, which is utterly ridiculous. It’s just… seeing the children makes me ache like my heart is breaking. I already miss them so much.
Geoff has the charm turned on, in his tux and bow tie. He makes jokes and calls out specific members of the virtual audience who he recognizes as they join. I can see why Adam might have liked him once, if this was what he saw. It’s difficult to take it seriously once you know the real Geoff.
The ticker with the grand total climbs at a staggering rate. This idea actually worked. Thanks to Lloyd and his amazing collection, the foundation will live on to do more good in the world.
When we reach the clip of Mal playing piano, I have to pause to gather myself. I message Adam on the number I got from Zane.
Hey, it’s Jonathan. Dad’s gone in for surgery. I’m watching the stream from the auction. It’s pretty great.
Have you seen the clip of Mal on the piano? He’s so good.
I love Alisha’s interview with Ben.
Who captured that clip of Enrique and the chocolate fountain? It’s adorable.
I wait for his response, but none comes.
I guess he must be busy. I stop the blow-by-blow account and go back to watching. I message Adam again half an hour later when we hit our fundraising goal, and again in an hour when we double it.
Still no response.
At the end of the stream, Geoff auctions off the wrestling paraphernalia and I lose interest and close it.
The hours crawl past. The waiting is agony. Any moment I could get a call to say Dad died on the table or there was nothing they could do. I feel tense and fragile. The only person I want to speak to is Adam. But he’s clearly busy. It stings, but it’s not like we agreed we’d see each other today.
It’s not like we agreed to see each other again at all. My contract with the foundation is up end of this month anyway. Not that it would be legally blinding, given that I’m not my father.
Maybe Adam decided to make a clean break.
My heart twists at that thought. He was so different last night. Was he… was he saying goodbye?
All at once it seems obvious. The way that he touched me, the way he wouldn’t stop kissing me. The way he left before I woke. He was ending things.
But then, why come all the way to New York to do it?
He could have just let me fly off and left things there. Instead, he arranged all this for Dad. He chartered a plane for me. He came to see me. It’s confusing, and painful, and I wish he’d just respond to my texts.
I return to the waiting room with an hour to spare, just in case the surgery finished early. When the six-hour mark passes and the surgeon doesn’t come see me and no nurses come to reassure me, I feel like I might throw up. I watch each minute pass, my stomach a nest of snakes.
At 16:43 precisely, the surgeon enters the room. In his PPE, there’s no reading his expression. What if something’s gone wrong? What if my Dad is lying dead and this is the last moment in which I don’t know, in which my world isn’t shattered?
“Mister Belle?” I stand and he approaches. There’s a buzzing in my ears. I can’t breathe. “The operation went well,” he informs me.