Chapter 62 #2
He shrugs and turns back to the kitchen. Following the windows, I figure out where the terrace is, spot Gibson, and choose a seat from the outdoor furniture arrangement, which consists of two couches and two chairs. He’s on a couch. I take a chair. “Nice penthouse,” I say flatly.
“Thank you.”
A very Manhattan silence settles. Quieter up in this part of town, but not noiseless by any means.
“I really regret it,” he says after a minute.
I don’t speak.
“I knew I would, and while it was happening, I knew it was worse than I thought, and afterwards I haven’t gone a day without wishing I’d just said no. And then when I saw what happened to you—”
“Don’t.” I say softly. “I don’t want to rehash it.”
“Me neither, really. I just wanted you to know that it didn’t occur to me—not once until I was sitting across from him—that what you two had was anything more than a sex thing.”
“A sex thing?”
“Sure. All I had at that point in my life were sex things. He was married. I assumed he was cheating. I didn’t know it was—”
“Love?” I finish for him.
“Yeah.”
“And now that you do?”
“Now? Now that I have him?” He gestures in Christian’s general direction.
“Now that I can understand what losing someone I love would do to me? I’ll put it this way—I don’t know of very many ways to deal with problems money can’t fix.
It’s one of those things I’ve had to learn to live with because I can’t change it. ”
“So you’re sorry,” I say.
“Beyond that. If there were anything I could do—if there’s ever anything I can do, please know I’ll do it.”
I sigh. “Just keep an eye on the Lawthers,” I say. “Can’t have a bunch of rich Catholics with a questionable agenda running the city.”
“Speaking of this law you mentioned.”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me more.”
It’s as good a time as any to change the subject. Christian arrives, senses the calm, and sets down a tray of food.
I grab a pretzel, sit back, and talk politics until I’m so drunk I start talking about Graham.
* * *
“I think I can speak for both of us when I say I had no idea the two of you were so…” Christian hesitates. We’re still on the terrace, and the moon is full overhead, heavy with light, despite the city trying to outshine it.
In love? I want to finish for him, but don’t because I don’t say things like that to Christian.
He might be a former cuddle partner and close friend, but we both had secrets we kept, and even as drunk as I am, I’m not trying to cry tonight or be sappy about the situation with Graham.
It’s ending—it’s been over. “Yeah,” I say, letting the sentence remain unfinished.
“Past tense doesn’t feel accurate,” Gibson says, not letting it go.
The guy isn’t so bad. He’s guarded, but he’s got huge stars in his eyes when it comes to Chris. Jealous doesn’t even begin to describe it, but alcohol dulls my bitterness. I’m entirely self-focused at the moment.
“I just mean it surprises me that his family is that important to him,” Chris says.
“That’s the thing about generational wealth,” Gibson says. “I swear I’ve seen this a million times. Like the arranged marriages—look at Ollie and Elodie’s for example. It probably would have happened to Marianne, too, if I hadn’t impressed her parents.”
Christian doesn’t even wince at the woman’s name, but I do. “At least Ollie has a spine.”
“Olivier was a spoiled, only child, prone to acting out. Graham’s an eldest son with a different set of expectations and a very different kind of family. I wouldn’t call him spineless. He had a lot to lose and probably no clue how to navigate a scandal like that on his own.”
And just like that, I hate Gibson even less.
Because while he’s alluding to the blackmail situation, I can already tell he’s not going to get into it.
From his one meeting with Graham, Gibson also seems to have gotten a great read on my ex.
I’ve pictured what that lunch must have been like a million times—Gibson, the villain, threatening a bewildered senator with his closest kept secret. Graham, panicking and defensive.
But Christian’s immediate concern afterwards over tapas should have been a huge hint that Gibson left the meeting genuinely worried about Graham’s welfare, and the regrets he’s expressed tonight are sincere.
He’d cornered Graham, and he sensed his fear.
By now, I understand that wasn’t the way he prefers to use his influence.
“Since you’ve been seeing each other again, what do you think is gonna happen between you now?” Chris asks.
“I think I’m gonna move to Florida, and he’ll miss me for a while and then find a way to keep himself busy.”
“You think you’ll be able to do the same thing?”
“Sure,” I say boldly. “Why not?”
“Because you’re fucking him like nothing ever happened.”
I glare at him. “Did I mention how good the sex is?”
Gibson snorts.
I think I’ve probably mentioned it a lot. I’ve been uncharacteristically talkative tonight.
“You’re still in love with him,” Chris says, like the wet blanket he is.
“Yeah, well, sucks for me.”
“Sounds like he still loves you, too.”
“Do you have a point?” I ask.
Chris’s mouth hovers over the rim of his drink. “It just sounds like you want to be together. Both of you.”
I shrug. “I don’t know what he wants. I don’t think he does either.”
“So you’re not ruling out the possibility of working it out?”
“I’m not optimistic,” I say. “And as for what we’re doing right now, it’s more like…closure.”
“Closure? It sounds more like pouring salt in a wound.”
Okay, maybe it is a little more like that, but the sex… “Forgive me for wanting to live in the moment.”
“Is that what you call it?”
It’s what it is. I’m not deluding myself about that, at least.
“Because it’s not what it sounds like,” Chris adds.
“Well, I’m not you, and he’s not a U.S. senator.
” I gesture at Gibson. “I didn’t get into this with any expectations, not even at the beginning.
What happened, happened. It sucked, and it can’t be undone.
I’m not trying to wait around for three years for a maybe.
I can’t do that. And I don’t think he knows he’s capable of living without his safety net. ”
“Do you think he is?”
“Of course he is,” I say, exasperated.
“Maybe he just needs someone to believe in him,” Gibson says.
Christian slides his hand into his husband’s and gets a firm squeeze in return.
I look at them, a little stunned when the words manage to puncture my thick, drunken haze and sting my heart.
Because it’s not like I don’t believe in Graham.
I believed in him too much, and he broke that trust. “It’s up to him,” I say, “I can’t say no to him, so… ”
“You need to be able to say no to him.” Chris says. “As much as I believe in second chances, you deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”
“I don’t know about deserving it,” I say, “but yeah. That’s definitely new criteria for anyone I decide to take a chance on in the future.”
“Good. Out of all the problems I had with you seeing him in the first place—beyond his shitty politics—it was the idea of you being his guy on the side.”
“It was never—”
Christian holds up a hand. “Yeah, I get that now, but good partners prioritize each other. They become each other’s family. I mean, maybe that’s not what you want, but it’s what I would want for you. Because it’s great to have.”
Gibson’s smirk is more charming than it is smug.
“You two make it look good,” I concede. “I should leave you to it.”
“I wasn’t trying to run you off.”
I stand, mildly shaken by the turn the conversation has taken. “It’s late. I appreciate the drinks and dinner.” I gesture widely at the terrace. “If I don’t catch you again before I leave, stop by the next time you’re in Florida.”
They rise to join me. Chris gives me a hug, and Gibson shakes my hand. “I assume this is your notice?”
I laugh. “Right. Yeah. I guess it is. But don’t take me off the schedule yet, I’ve still got a couple weeks.”
“Of course,” he says. “And don’t be surprised if your final paycheck is a little higher than usual. I’ve made some salary adjustments.”
I begin to call bullshit or object, but don’t. He owes me. “Great,” I say instead.
“I’ll walk you out.” Chris puts an arm over my shoulders and leads me inside, just the two of us. In the foyer, he turns to me. “I wish you weren’t leaving.”
I nod, knowing that I’ll be homesick for New York in the not so distant future. “I’ll miss the pizza.”
“I can always have one delivered if you give me a few hours’ notice.”
That makes me laugh.
He hugs me again, holding me longer this time and sighing. “I hate it, but you’re being smart. Not at the moment, obviously, but by getting away from here.”
I nod, my chin digging into his shoulder. “Thanks,” I say.
“This isn’t goodbye.”
“If you say so.”
He pinches my arm before letting me go. “Asshole. I’d say don’t be a stranger, but…”
I laugh, and after a few more stupid exchanges, he sees me onto the elevator. Killian deposits me at my apartment, and the moment I step inside, Graham calls like he was waiting for the dot representing me on his app to settle.