Chapter 15
London
Brady
I lean against the mirrored wall of the elevator and try to catch my breath.
Why does he always treat me like the frog in his high school biology class, poking and prodding until he figures out what he wants to know?
He wanted the real reason I needed this job.
Fine. I’m here to escape law school and the family firm.
That’s the reason I called him weeks ago to join me here.
But what I can’t tell him is that that at Trafalgar Square after he told me that the person I should start pleasing is myself and that I’d make an awesome kindergarten teacher, something changed.
I realized the only time I ever felt like I could do something on my own was when he was in my corner.
All the feelings I thought I had thrown into the ocean never to be seen again are suddenly floating back to shore and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The reality of it makes my chest tighten.
I step out of the elevator and wave air over my face with both hands. I dodge the lobby to avoid coming face to face with the poster again and find a secluded corner. I need to hear at least one friendly voice before I meet Aisha. My sister picks up on the second ring.
“Well, if it isn’t the darling of social media himself.”
“Hey, Claire.” My voice cracks on her name.
I hear her cover the phone, then muffled words to someone about an urgent call. This is why I love my sister. She could be in the middle of taking over a company the size of the small country, but she will always make time for whatever disaster her baby brother is in the middle of.
“Okay, what’s wrong? And don’t make me pry it out of you it.” Claire always gets right to it.
“I need to head to a meeting but wanted to see how Gemma is,” I deflect, needing a moment of normal.
“She made me create a countdown calendar for when she sees Uncle Brady again. Now stop stalling. What happened?”
“How do you do it?” The words tumble out. “How do you manage being a Gibson? Because it’s crushing me, Claire.”
“Oh, baby.” Her voice shifts to that soft mom-tone she’s perfected with Gemma. “What happened?”
I tell her everything, including the devasted look on Hayes’ face when he realized what I’d done. And how he attacked my family background. She listens without saying a word.
“What he said wasn’t great,” she finally says. “But you lied to him.”
“Misled,” I correct weakly.
“No, Brady. You lied. And not just about this social media nonsense. You lied about still having feelings for him.”
A gasp escapes, part of me still trying to keep up the charade. “Claire, I do not have feelings for him. Absolutely not.”
“Really? You’re going to keep lying to yourself and to me now too?” The corporate shark circles the waters.
I believed my answer to this question when I asked myself before we left. I thought I had put an end to all that. But after this week with him in London, even my incredible ability to live in denial is being tested.
“Brady, you’re my favorite little brother—”
“Your only little brother,” I add, grateful she’s not pushing me too hard, because I might collapse in a puddle of despair and confusion.
“—and I love you, but you need to stop this. Stop being what everyone else wants. Stop being so afraid of disappointing the people who love you that you don’t know who you are or what you want.
” I let the words sink in and remain silent.
“Maybe it’s time to stop being what you think everyone else wants you to be and just be who you are.
That’s the brother I love. The uncle Gemma adores. ”
“Thanks, Claire,” I croak. I tell her to kiss Gemma for me then head off to face the gauntlet.
But before I do, I take a few minutes in a quiet corner of the lobby to gather my thoughts and catch my breath.
I’m focusing on creating a longer exhale when hits me.
Claire and Hayes, share the same opinion about me.
Can they see me better than I see myself?
Of course, I’m aware I’m using this to avoid the real question regarding how I feel about Hayes.
I sense my power to live in denial returning.
I find Aisha at a corner table, her tablet propped like a barricade back at the Tower of London.
She’s wearing the same expression I’ve seen on principals, professors and my parents since I could remember.
It’s a mixture of disappointment and frustration.
There is pity there too sometimes, and that part kills me the most. It’s the face that makes me want to do whatever I can to get back in their good graces.
“Good evening, Aisha.” I extend my hand and paste on my best Gibson smile. “That necklace is stunning. Perfect for someone in travel.”
She barely glances at the ornate compass encrusted with amethyst and topaz jewels that hangs around her neck. “Where’s Hayes?”
My smile drops. “He won’t be joining us.”
“Well.” She taps one finger against the table. “That’s a problem. Did you see the poster? It says ‘couple.’ As in two people.” She holds up two fingers like I might need the visual aid.
“I understand…”
“I don’t think you do.” She swipes through her tablet, each gesture sharp with frustration. “Look at these.” Angry swipe. “And these.” Sad swipe. “And these.” The swipe of surrender. “The content you’ve sent is ninety percent solo shots. How exactly does that scream ‘couple goals’?”
She mutters something that sounds like “I knew this wouldn’t work,” and I rub my chest to loosen the stress.
“I know. I get that. I do. But I tried to compensate by including some of my own original content,” I offer weakly. “We went to drag queen story hour at Once Upon a Pride.” My voice rises up at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question.
“Stop.” Aisha raises her palm toward me.
“Brady, please. Our demographic is high-end queer couples, yes, but we’re part of a massive hospitality corporation.
For Us is owned by SuiteTime, which is owned by The Maximedia Group.
We can’t touch anything…” Her voice trickles out and then returns. “Too controversial.”
“Controversial? It’s drag queens reading to kids—”
“Exactly.” Her expression sours. “I shouldn’t have to explain why that’s a problem.”
And there it is. Another dart that makes my dream of teaching kindergarten burst. The way certain people look at me like I’m dangerous just for existing near children. The weight of it makes me sick to my stomach.
“Brady, I’m sorry.” Maybe she sees how her words landed. “But this isn’t working. Hayes wasn’t at our last meeting, he’s not here now…”
“Sorry I’m late.” A deep voice erupts behind me.
I nearly jump out of my skin as lips brush my cheek. His lips. Hayes slides into the chair next to me, still flushed from his workout. “Had to finish my run,” he continues smoothly. “Took a wrong turn near Hyde Park. Got a little lost. My fault entirely.”
Aisha’s eyes narrow. I’m frozen.
“I overheard some of your discussion.” Hayes leans back, perfectly at ease while I’m having an out-of-body experience.
“The content problem is on me. I was supposed to pack the tripod but forgot. I’m great with memorizing anatomy, terrible with practical things.
Early onset doctor’s brain, I guess.” He chuckles softly.
“But I’ve ordered one. It’ll be here before Barcelona.
” Hayes is not terrible with practical things.
The opposite in fact, but he’s here finding a way to take the pressure of me.
“Barcelona.” Aisha’s skepticism is on display.
“The flight is early tomorrow morning, right?” Hayes reaches across the table and finds my hand.
He squeezes it. I giggle nervously. Then he pulls my hand up to his mouth for a soft peck.
What the actual fuck is going on? “We’re both excited.
The drag queen story hour was incredible.
Though I understand if that’s not quite the brand message you’re after. ”
“The tripod won’t be necessary,” Aisha says with a frown.
She’s firing us. A valiant attempt by Hayes to save the day but even he can’t unfuck what I’ve done.
“I was about to explain to Brady but now I can finally tell you both. I’ve solved the problem on my end,” she says stiffly.
“Isabella from brand marketing will join you in Barcelona and Katrina in Berlin. To help with content.” Aisha puts her tablet in her bag.
“I’ll be in Capri, so you’ll have… help at each stop.
” I’m sure by help she means supervision.
“You’re not firing us?” The words escape before I can stop them.
“Too much has been invested in this to stop now.” She stands.
“I want you to follow the itinerary marketing created, and I expect to see actual couple content in the shared drive.” She goes to leave and then turns back.
“You two are still a couple, aren’t you?
” Her eyes narrow and she looks at me and then turns her fierce gaze to Hayes.
“Absolutely,” Hayes says, and kisses me on the cheek to help convince her, as if my eyes could ever hide how I feel about him. Especially right now when he has swooped in and saved my ass despite being pissed at me.
“You’re clearly in love,” her voice surprisingly softer, the intensity faded. “Won’t you please show it more on camera? Thank you.” She turns and walks out.
The second she’s gone, I turn to Hayes. “What are you doing? I thought you would be at Heathrow by now.”
He downs half his water in one gulp. “I never said I was leaving.”
“But…”
“I stood there listening to her go off on you about the content and drag queens being ‘controversial.’” He shakes his head. “Like loving kids and wanting to read them stories is somehow dangerous. This is a queer hotel.”
“Yeah, but it’s their hotel and…” How is this the same guy who was nervous about holding my hand in the dining hall when we first started dating?
“You want to teach kindergarten.” He says it easily, like it’s already a thing, when it is at best a whisper. “You want to teach five-year-olds about bugs and counting and being kind. And you’d be fucking great at it.”
“Yes – I mean not the bugs, because eww, but yes,” I say gently. What has gotten into him? “Aren’t you still mad?” The words squeak out since I’m not sure I want to know. “Why are you being so understanding?”
He takes another gulp of water from his glass to steady himself.
“This is a job, like working at the garage. Focus on what needs to get done and do it. What are my options at this point? Go back home. Put off school for another year? I’m not going to let some inflated sense of pride get in my way again. ”
All the anger from before seems to be channeled into something else, something with more optimism, and I can’t help but get caught up in.
“So, we’re going to Barcelona.” Hayes rises from the table and extends his hand to pull me up. “We’re going to take their money, make their content, and show your parents you don’t need law school. And I’m going to make my deposit.”
“But they want us to be a couple. And now we’ll have someone watching us.”
“So? It’s all fake anyway, right? You said that upstairs, so it shouldn’t be a problem.
” He steps closer to me and I notice the perspiration clinging to the chest hair that peeks over the edge of his tank top.
The scent of musk and fresh-cut grass enter my nostrils.
I push the air out through my nose, take a step back and turn my face away from him.
“Hayes…” I don’t know if this is a good idea.
“Barcelona, Brady. Chorizo. Sangria. Paella.” He’s already walking toward the elevator.
“We should pack. Early flight.” He stops and holds out his hand for me.
I walk toward him, and this time I can’t stop his scent from invading my body and reminding me of how it used to feel when we were together.
Is this fake or is this real? I can’t tell, but I grab his hand anyway.