Chapter 16 #2
"I'm sorry," he said. "I've put you in an impossible position. Your job, your reputation, your friendships—"
"You didn't put me anywhere. I chose this." I met his eyes. "I'd choose it again."
His eyes softened.
"When?" I asked, changing the subject back to what mattered.
"Soon. Tristan's arranging it. Neutral territory—his apartment in Manhattan. He'll be there as a buffer." Tobias squeezed my hand. "I'm not going to pretend everything is fine. I'm telling them the truth. All of it."
I knew what that meant. The coming out. The years of pretending. The wedding he couldn't go through with.
"You're braver than you think," I said.
"I'm scared out of my mind."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
He smiled, but it faded quickly, replaced by uncertainty.
"Do you want me to come?" I asked.
The question lingered between us. I watched him consider it—the complications, the weight of bringing me into that conversation.
"No," he said finally. "This is family. I need to do it with Tristan. Just us and them, at least for the first conversation."
I understood. Didn't like it. But understood.
"What if they try to convince you to come back?"
He blinked. "Come back to what? The life I ran from? The marriage I couldn't go through with?"
"Their world. Their expectations. They might not accept what you're telling them. They might push."
"Then I'll push back." His voice was firm. "I'm not the same person who ran away from that wedding. I know who I am now. I know what I want. They can accept it or not, but I'm not letting them change that."
I pulled his hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
"I'll be here when you get back."
"I know." His voice softened. "That's why I can do this."
The rest of the day passed in a strange suspended state.
Tobias called Tristan and made arrangements. I listened from the other room, failing completely at not eavesdropping. His voice was calm and controlled—the armor he put on to hold himself together.
But when he hung up and came to find me, his hands were shaking.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Tristan's setting it up for tomorrow afternoon."
"Fast."
"No point in dragging it out." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm going to tell them everything. About being gay, about why I couldn't marry Elizabeth, about where I've been and what I've figured out."
"Are you going to tell them about me?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it. Selfish. This wasn't about me, but I needed to know where I stood in the story he was about to tell.
Tobias's expression softened. "I'm going to tell them I'm with someone. Someone who helped me. Someone who matters." He crossed the room and slid his arms around my waist. "I'm not going to hide you."
"You sure that's smart? Rich family, security guard boyfriend. That'll go over well."
"I don't care how it goes over." His hands pressed flat against my back. "They can think whatever they want about my choices. You're not something I'm ashamed of. You're something I'm proud of."
His words landed somewhere I hadn't let anyone reach in years.
"Tobias..."
"I mean it." He pulled back enough to meet my eyes. "You saved me. Not just from the wedding, but from myself, from the life I was sleepwalking through. I'm not going to pretend that doesn't matter."
I kissed him. Unable to find the words, I used my mouth instead, trying to pour everything I felt into the press of lips, the slide of tongue, the way I pulled him close as if I could keep him safe through sheer will.
When we broke apart, he was breathing hard.
"Let's go to bed," he said.
"It's four in the afternoon."
"I know." His hands slid under my shirt, palms hot against my skin. "I don't want to think about tomorrow right now. I just want you."
I let him lead me to the bedroom.
He pushed me back onto the mattress, straddled my hips, and pinned me down with his weight. He was getting bolder every time—less hesitant, more sure of what he wanted and how to take it.
"Tell me what you need," I said.
"Just you." He ground against me, and I groaned at the friction. "Just this."
We didn't rush. We peeled off each other's clothes slowly, mapping familiar territory with our hands and mouths. He was learning me—knew that the spot below my ear made me shiver, that I liked his teeth against my collarbone, that I'd do almost anything if he said please in that breathless voice.
When he sank down onto me, we both went still. Breathing. Adjusting.
"Okay?" I asked.
"More than okay." He started to move, slow rolls of his hips that built heat in waves. "I needed this."
"I know." I gripped his thighs, letting him set the pace. "Me too."
It was gentle. Tender in a way our first time hadn't been. Less desperation, more intention. By the time we both came, shaking and gasping, the afternoon light had shifted to gold through the blinds.
After, with his head on my chest and his fingers tracing patterns on my skin, the fear crept back in.
What if his parents convinced him to come back?
What if his old life looked better than this small apartment, this small town, this man with nothing to offer but a steady paycheck and a decade of baggage?
What if he walked into that meeting tomorrow and never returned?
I held him tighter than usual. Memorized the feel of him against me. The weight of his body, the rhythm of his breathing.
"I can hear you worrying from here," he murmured.
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just tell me."
I stared at the ceiling. The crack that ran from the corner to the light fixture. I'd been meaning to fix that.
"I'm scared of losing you."
The words came out rough. Exposed.
Tobias propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me. His hair was mussed, his lips swollen. He'd never looked better.
"You're not going to lose me," he said.
"You don't know that. You're about to walk back into your old world. Your family. Their money. Their expectations. That's a lot to compete with."
"It's not a competition." His hand found my face, cupping my jaw. "I'm not choosing between you and them. I'm choosing who I want to be. And that person wants to be with you."
"What if they give you an ultimatum?"
"Then they'll lose." His voice was fierce. Certain. "I spent twenty-six years doing what they wanted, being who they needed. That's over. I'm not going back to that life, no matter what they say."
"Even if it means losing your family?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"If they can't accept me for who I am, then I already lost them years ago.
I just didn't know it yet." His thumb traced my cheekbone.
"But I don't think that's going to happen.
Tristan wouldn't have set this up if he thought they'd reject me completely.
He knows them better than I do. And he says they're scared, not angry. "
"Scared of what?"
"Of losing me. Of what I might have done to myself out there alone. Of never getting the chance to make things right." His eyes held mine. "They love me. Even if they don't know how to show it. Even if they've been loving me wrong for years. That doesn't just disappear."
I pulled him down, pressed my forehead to his.
"Come back to me," I said. "Whatever happens tomorrow. Come back."
"I will." He kissed me softly. "I promise."
That night, I held him while he slept.
I watched the moonlight move across his face. Counted his breaths. Told myself this was real, this was mine, this couldn't be taken away by a conversation in a Manhattan apartment.
Tomorrow, he'd face his parents. Tell them the truth. Open himself up to rejection, acceptance, or something in between.
And I'd be here. Waiting. Hoping.
Scared as hell.
But I'd learned something in the past few weeks. Something Tobias had taught me without meaning to. Sometimes the scary thing is the right thing. Sometimes you have to let people matter, even when every instinct screams to protect yourself.
I thought about Ronan. The way he'd looked at me when I told him the truth. The way he'd said "I trust you" like it was simple. The weight that lifted when I realized I wasn't alone in this anymore.
I pressed a kiss to Tobias's hair and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.