Chapter 23
Grayson
“My phone won’t stop blowing up,” Camilla says in lieu of a greeting. “Everyone wants to know if I’m aware my ex is apparently off the market. And with a man , no less. As if I’d somehow missed the news.”
“Cam,” I say, my tone weary in a way that has nothing to do with the early morning hour.
“I’m not going to talk,” she snaps. “I’m not out to hurt you, Grayson. But a little heads-up would have been nice.”
“You’re right,” I reply, closing the bathroom door behind me so I don’t wake Ezra. “I should have texted the moment I saw the article. I just…wasn’t thinking about any of it.”
She lets out a gust of air. “People want to know if I ever suspected. That you and he… If you and he were together all this time. Do you know what that’s like? To be asked to my face if my husband was unfaithful?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“What would I even say? If I could say anything to anyone other than my own mother, what would I tell them? That of course you loved him all this time? You always loved him more than me.”
I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the wall. My heart thumps dully, the conversation one we’ve had so many times over the past couple years. It never seems to end. The apologies. The explanations. “Camilla… I love him as a friend.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t need you to.”
There’s a long beat of silence. “Is that how you loved me? As a friend?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“But not the same as him.”
No .
I don’t speak it aloud, but she knows it to be true. No one has ever been like Ezra.
“Be honest with me,” she says, voice cracking. “You’re sleeping with him?”
“No,” I say evenly. There’s a shuffle on the other side of the wall. Ezra moving. I don’t open my eyes. “We’ve never even kissed, Camilla.”
“I don’t understand it,” she says, frustration thick in her tone.
“I know.”
“Fuck, Grayson. Why couldn’t you have just been normal?”
My grunt is involuntary, and Camilla immediately starts to backtrack.
“I’m sorry. I am. That wasn’t fair of me. But goddamn it, I’m pissed off.”
“I know,” I repeat. “And I could say I’m sorry for all the years I couldn’t love you the way you needed.
I could apologize for not understanding myself for so much of my life.
For not knowing the way I felt wasn’t…how did you put it?
Normal? I could tell you again and again that our divorce had nothing wh atsoever to do with Ezra.
But you don’t seem to want to believe me.
So what else can I say? I just want to be happy, Cam. I just want to be allowed to be me .”
It’s quiet on the other end of the line. There’s the softest of thumps on the outside of the bathroom door, and I reach over, twisting the knob. Ezra steps inside as Camilla lets out a small, shaky breath.
“I’m not going to talk,” my ex says again. “Don’t make me look a fool, Fox.”
With that, Camilla clicks off the call.
Warm hands bracket my shoulders before circling around to my front. Ezra takes my phone, setting it aside before his chin hooks over my shoulder. “Normal is such a terrible word.”
I heave out a breath, and he grips me tighter.
“Okay?”
“No,” I answer. “And yes.”
Ezra hums. “There’s an antiques store in town. Should we visit?”
“Is that what we came here for?”
His laughter passes quietly near my ear. “No. But you know why we’re here. You’ll just keep pretending otherwise so it’s a surprise.”
I lift my head off the wall and open my eyes, but Ezra doesn’t yet let go, his voice soft but lined with an edge of steel.
“I’m glad you’re not normal. If you were, you’d probably be with Camilla or some other perfectly nice person in your midwestern two-story home with a white picket fence and another one-and-a-half kids.”
I croak out a laugh, and Ezra squeezes me harder, his hand resting over my heart.
“Normal doesn’t exist for guys like us, Gray.
And I can’t bear the thought of having missed out on all of this.
If I’d never found you?” He shakes his head quickly, as if he can’t even bring himself to contemplate it.
“Camilla can keep her normal. You’re extraordinary, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. ”
I blink back tears, my eyes stinging and my chest tight.
“Antiques?”
I nod at the offer, and Ezra lets me go.
The antiques shop looks like nearly every other I’ve been in. Cramped aisles. Knickknacks of all varieties interspersed with furniture and tools and old magazines. The sections are split by seller, small tags on the items indicating their price.
Ezra stops in front of a rack of faux-fur coats. He pulls one free, slipping it on with a flourish, looking absolutely ridiculous with his ballcap and sunglasses in place. “Ooh. The perfect disguise.”
“Yes, no one would possibly see you and think Hollywood .”
Ezra snorts, not taking off the coat. There’s a display of vintage watches he examines as I step into the next aisle. A small, handheld telescope catches my eye. It looks like brass, collapsed and nestled in a cushioned box.
Ezra speaks before I have a chance to pick it up. “You’re getting that.”
“I doubt I’d be able to see the stars with this,” I point out, even as I take it out of the box. The metal is cool to the touch, matching the air in the room. “This was probably used at sea.”
“You could bird-watch, then.”
“Am I seventy now?”
He cackles, picking up the empty box and looking at the bottom. “It’s forty bucks. You’re getting it.”
“It is neat,” I admit, expanding the telescope. At its full length, it’s maybe six inches long.
Ezra lets out a soft, thoughtful sound. “Would you ever want to move? ”
The question takes me by surprise, but before I can answer him, my phone rings. I pull it from my pocket, seeing Shawn’s name.
“One guess,” I say to Ezra.
He groans.
The ringing stops, only to start up again. Ezra plucks the phone from my fingers and answers the call, putting it on speakerphone. Considering the only other person in the shop when we entered was an elderly employee, it seems like a safe bet.
Ezra greets our agent with his usual cheer. “Why hello, my good man.”
There’s a beat of silence on Shawn’s end. “Why am I not surprised you’re picking up Grayson’s phone but not your own?”
Ezra looks nonplussed. “Mine’s off. What can we do for you?”
Shawn huffs. “You can start by telling me where the hell you are. I’m getting inundated with requests for a statement about Grayson being at your home, people are starting to form opinions, as we knew they would, and the two of you are trending across almost every social media platform.
There are reporters camped outside your house, for fuck’s sake, but you’re not here. Where are you?”
Ezra simply hums. “On vacation.”
Shawn sputters into the phone. “On vacation ? Do not tell me you’re getting oiled up by some cabana boy while I’m standing inside your empty fucking house.”
“No cabana boy.” Ezra makes an almost contemplative noise. “Although I am holding a very nice telescope right now. Do you like bird-watching, Shawn? ”
I stifle my laughter as our agent sounds as if he might actually explode. I swear I hear ticking. Most likely his molars grinding together. “Ezra, can you take this seriously for one goddamn minute?”
Ezra sighs, handing me back the telescope. “I don’t see what the problem is. Like you said, we knew this wouldn’t stay silent. Grayson and I are just spending a couple days out of dodge.”
“And leaving me to pick up the shrapnel. Hold on, what’s this…”
Ezra’s eyebrows bounce up, barely visible above his sunglasses, but his expression is one I know all too well. Amusement.
I shake my head, silently telling him to behave, but then Shawn is back on the line, letting out a string of curses.
“Who the fuck is Naveen Arya? And why is he telling major news sources that you and he used to be a thing?”
My pulse drops before sprinting ahead, the mention of Ezra’s longtime—and secret—hookup going public a possibility I hadn’t even considered. My friend, however, doesn’t look remotely surprised. He only smiles.
“Ah, good for Naveen. I wondered if he’d do it.”
Shawn sounds as if he’s gritting his teeth. “You’re going to need to start explaining right fucking now. Is this some scorned lover you never warned me about?”
Ezra’s tone is patient. “Naveen’s a friend. Someone I’ve trusted for a long time. I told him if he wanted to cash in on his story, I’d be fine with it. I encouraged it, even. I’m glad he did. He’ll be able to buy that summer cottage he wanted.”
“Ez,” I say, at a loss. “Why?”
My friend’s expression softens, the change visible regardless of the fact that I can’t see his eyes. “Because if people know I was with him, they’ll be less likely to assume we’ve been fucking around all these years.”
I shake my head, my chest in a vise. “It puts the spotlight on you. They’ll dig into your past, try to find other men you’ve been with.”
He shrugs. “Good. I was ready to come out. I have been for a long time. But I won’t have them rake you over the coals. You don’t deserve it, and you didn’t ask for it.”
“But I accepted it.”
“For me. Which is why I’m doing what I can to mitigate the damage.”
I swallow harshly. “For me.”
His lips hitch up at the corner.
Shawn’s voice is dry when he cuts back in. “If you two are done, I need to know what else you’ve orchestrated without telling me.”
Ezra groans. “ Jesus Christ. One day. Give us one fucking day to enjoy some peace and quiet. We’ll be home tomorrow, and we can discuss it then. I’ll even let you set me up for a talk show appearance if it’ll make you happy.”
“Ezra.”
“One day, Shawn. This is important.”
Our agent relents with a sigh. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Joy.” Ezra ends the call, plunking my phone down on the counter beside the telescope box before pulling off his sunglasses to rub his eyes. He looks tired. Worn down.
“Hey,” I say lightly, wanting to pull him away from the storm that awaits us. “Remember the first time I showed up at your place, your old place, when Naveen was over?”
He snorts. “Oh, God. He freaked.”
“He tried to tell me he was your plumber. As if he’d have needed to be in his briefs to look under your sink.”
Ezra’s smile splits wide. “He didn’t know you knew about him. About me . Then he about fell on his ass once he recognized you. He was starstruck.”
“You were far more famous than me, even then,” I point out.
Ezra waves a hand dismissively. “You were famous enough. Naveen has never seen me that way. It’s hard to view a friend you once saw eat a worm on a dare as a celebrity, even if they are one.”
My smile is soft. “How is he?”
“Good. Dating again.”
I nod. It’s been years since I last saw Naveen. Same as Ezra. “Are you really going to do an interview?”
Ezra nods slowly. “Yeah. One of us will have to be the first. And you know how I love a good crowd.”
My friend’s smirk doesn’t fool me one bit. Sure, Ezra has always been comfortable in crowds. He’s never had a problem being the center of attention and knows exactly how to play up his fame.
But he’s not doing this for himself. He’s doing it for me. Because he’d rather it be him than me taking that first bullet.
“What time’s the show tonight?” I ask, collapsing the telescope and putting it back in the box.
Ezra feigns confusion. “The show? I have no clue what you could possibly be talking about. But, theoretically, we should get there by seven-thirty.”
I huff a laugh, and Ezra grins, replacing his sunglasses on his nose.
“Ready to go? You’re getting that telescope.”
“I am,” I agree, eyeing the fur still draped around his shoulders. “Are you buying that coat? ”
“Absolutely yes.”
Ezra heads toward the front of the store with a swagger in his step. I follow. Of course I do.
The employee at the register looks from Ezra to me as we approach. If he caught any of our conversation on the phone, he doesn’t mention it. Then again, I doubt he’d have heard a word if he was in this spot the entire time.
“What’ve you got?” he asks, squinting at the tag Ezra plucks off his coat. He writes the numbers on a pad of paper as I set the telescope on the counter. “Together or separate?”
Ezra pulls out his wallet. “Together, please.”
“You know, you look like an actor my niece likes,” the man says, squinting at Ezra.
My friend beams. “Is that so? Should we take a picture so you can show her?”
The man chuckles, slipping the telescope into a plastic bag. “Suppose so. She’d probably get a hoot out of that.”
Oh Lord.
Ezra pulls off his sunglasses as the man finds his phone beneath the counter. I don’t even object as I’m tugged into the shot. Ezra snaps a selfie of the three of us before handing the phone back, and then he proceeds to chat the stranger up as if they’re long-lost friends.
Everywhere we go.
“Have a good day now,” the man says a good ten minutes later.
The door jingles as we pass through, and Ezra gives me a grin. “His niece is going to be in for a shock.”
Understatement.
“Hey, Ez?”
“Yeah? ”
He stops beside the driver’s side door of his vehicle, his sunglasses sitting atop his ballcap now and his new fur coat far too warm for the temperatures. There’s a smile on his face, his brown eyes crinkled against the sun, and I feel a swell of immense gratitude looking at him.
Where would I be without Ezra Gold in my life? If I’d taken another path. If we’d never met.
Would I be nearly as happy as I am now, not knowing half of my heart was elsewhere, waiting for me to come home?
“No matter what,” I finally say, “I love you, too. That will never change.”
The look in his eye is one I know all too well. Fierce, aching devotion.