Chapter Twenty-Eight
Winter
I stay at Thomas’s place solely for the security it offers.
According to Ashton, my apartment building is swarming with reporters who want to hear my side of the story, whatever that means.
Something tells me it’s bullshit. If I show up, they’ll yell out their questions and accusations and take a million pictures that I don’t consent to.
They’ll run with whatever story makes them the most money.
And, okay, I also stayed because Oreo fell asleep on me and I quickly followed suit.
The truth is, I don’t have the energy to go home or deal with the people who want the next big headline.
I don’t want to be the freakshow that they use to get a big paycheck, especially when they have more vital things to focus on.
My past doesn’t deserve to be front-page news, and I won’t let anybody make a spectacle of me because of it.
I texted Kourtney yesterday after no fewer than twenty missed calls from her, ranging from “Are you okay?” to “I’m tracking your location and busting down the door.” The latter is when I realized I needed to tell her not to get arrested for breaking and entering, not that I think Thomas would mind.
The explanation I left her with was vague, and I felt bad for not offering her more information.
But I…couldn’t. I could barely process the way my life was unfolding.
Trying to explain it to my sister was even harder.
The last conversation I had with her before falling asleep was an apology for our past becoming a viral moment that is nobody’s business.
Me: I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I’ll make it up to you
Kourt: How do you propose that?
Me: IDK. Groveling?
Kourt: If you stay with the rich guy, then you can afford me a better present than that
Me: *glare emoji*
Kourt: *angel emoji* *eggplant emoji*
Me: You’re gross
Kourt: You’re the one having sex with a married guy *wink emoji*
Kourt: Although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like him way more after seeing what he did for his wife
I didn’t have to tell her I agree. His friendship with Emaly is nothing like I’ve ever seen. He loves her the way she loves him—unconditionally, without fail. He was ready to live the rest of his life as a villain if it meant she could be happy with her person.
Kourt: If you’re actually doing this with Mr. Married, then I need to meet him. No arguments
Kourt: Also, now we know someone who can buy Luca a vending machine
Me: Kourtney!
Kourt: He looks strong enough to move it too…
Me: He’s not buying Luca a vending machine *glare emoji*
Kourt: We’ll see about that
I wake up to the last message because I’d fallen asleep before she responded. I can’t help but snort, because I have no doubt she’ll try getting the professional hockey player to buy her son a vending machine. She has no shame.
I hear animated voices coming from the kitchen when I leave the empty bedroom that Thomas guided me to last night.
We hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t even tried.
He gave me something to wear to bed, tucked me in, and kissed me good night.
I’d woken up to Oreo sleeping stretched out beside me and the owner of the house gone.
Some of the voices talk softly, while others…not so much. The one that sounds particularly angry has a thick accent that immediately puts me on full alert. It’s the same voice that approached me at the gala.
Mikhail Yokav.
“—is not the place for this,” a feminine voice replies. It’s Emaly, I realize. When did she get here? That must be why Thomas wasn’t in bed.
“And where is the place, daughter?” the angry man spits venomously. “Because your current residence is across the country with a woman I have never met in my life that you’re allegedly engaged to.”
I have no idea what to do. This isn’t my place or my business. Or is it? I’m definitely involved in ways I really shouldn’t be, but it’s too late to go back now.
“I am engaged to her,” Emaly corrects him smoothly. “There’s nothing alleged about it.”
Thomas is the next one to speak. “Perhaps if you had the kind of relationship that welcomed the truth, we could have avoided all this.”
There are whispered words spoken in a language I don’t understand between Mikhail and Emaly, but it’s safe to say whatever Russian is being thrown around probably isn’t light-hearted.
“Father,” Emaly says in English, voice firmer than it was before. “That’s uncalled for. And, frankly, Thomas isn’t wrong. I tried telling you years ago, but you never listened.”
There’s a scoff. “You never told me this. You only spoke of a better path for you. You complained about skating, not…not…”
“Men?” Thomas offers coyly.
There’s a choked laugh from someone that I can only imagine is Emaly.
Then she says, “Let me be as clear as possible so you understand me perfectly. I’m a lesbian.
I’m not bisexual or heterosexual or asexual or any other thing.
I’m in love with a woman. I’ve always preferred women.
But I finally found the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.
I’m as sure about Ronnie as I am about being a doctor. And we are going to get married.”
It’s silent for a long, tense moment. Suddenly, I feel like I should be somewhere else.
“You are already married,” he points out. “If memory serves, I told you not to, but you did it anyway. What do you propose to do about that?”
“And I told you not to mix business and pleasure by buying him out,” she counters. “You did that anyway. So maybe I am more like you than I want to admit.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
Simultaneously, Emaly and Thomas say, “Yes.”
There’s more Russian spoken and I have a feeling they’re curse words.
“Thomas is my best friend, whom I love dearly and platonically. I can’t speak for him, but I’m pretty sure he’s in love with a woman too.
Specifically, the one in the other room.
I owe him so much, Father. Without him, I wouldn’t have gotten this far in life.
He’s endured far more than he deserves, and I’ve allowed it to happen for too long.
But I’m putting a stop to it right now.”
“Emaly,” Mikhail warns.
I take a deep breath and peek over the edge of the wall to look into the open kitchen across the hallway.
Emaly walks over to Thomas and stops in front of him, reaching to cup his cheek. She smiles widely, lovingly, up at him. “Thomas, my love,” she begins, stroking her thumb over his jawline, “I want a divorce.”
More curses ring out in Russian, and Emaly looks in my direction as if she knew I was here this whole time.
She winks at me before dropping her hand and taking his to squeeze it once. “And you should take Winter on a proper date. Not one disguised as a business meeting.”
Thomas laughs. “I think I can do that. As long as she’ll let me.”
Emaly’s smile widens. “Oh, she will. Trust me on this.”
Mikhail continues speaking rapidly in Russian until Emaly turns back to the figure I can’t see because of the wall in the way.
“And, Daddy?” she adds innocently. “If you ever do anything to hurt me, Thomas, Ronnie, or Winter, I will find a way to destroy everything you have. Don’t think I don’t know how.
There’s a perk to being a wallflower. It means we see everything.
Even the things you don’t think we do. I’ve watched how you run your businesses, and there are people who I’m sure would love to know the things I do. ”
I’m not sure what the threat entails, but if I were her father, I wouldn’t want to find out.
“You are a disgrace,” he tells her coolly. “Your mother and I will never forgive you for this.”
Emaly shrugs. “What’s new?”
The tall man darts past her and Thomas and toward the other side of the kitchen, where a hallway leads to the foyer.
Before he goes, he says, “Everything I’ve done is to keep this family together.”
Emaly rolls her eyes. “You’ve done everything but actually try,” she counters. “If I’m done lying, maybe you should do the same.”
I hear the front door open and slam closed with a brute force that rattles the pictures on the wall. Apparently, he didn’t like that suggestion.
Thomas leans his lower back against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “That went about as well as expected.”
Emaly grins. “Better, I’d say.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Ronnie wants to know if you’d like to have dinner with us. We’re thinking sushi. You and Winter should come.”
Thomas thinks about it. “Rain check. I think I want some time alone with Winter. When are you going back to Cali?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she admits, typing out a reply. “Soon, probably. Ronnie has patients to check on, and there’s an important surgery for one of them scheduled in a few days. And I need to speak to my boss about…a lot.”
I’m not sure what kind of silent conversation is happening between them, but there’s understanding.
Thomas pulls Emaly in for a hug. “Thank you,” I hear him say. His voice is softer than usual, his words lighter as he squeezes her once before letting her go.
I’m not quite sure what he’s thanking her for, but she does. “I want you to be happy, Little Bear. It’s time.”
All he does is nod.
Then she turns to me and says, “Treat him well, Winter. The ones he chooses to love are truly the luckiest people in the world.”
With that, she walks out and leaves Thomas and me alone in the large home.
He pushes off the counter and walks over to me, stopping a few inches away. “Are you okay?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
One of his shoulders lifts as he tucks his hands into his front pockets.
“I’m free,” he answers easily. “Relatively speaking, of course. Ashton is bound to come here and start preaching about damage control now that Emaly has aired all of our dirty laundry to the public. But he’s giving me space.
Mostly because, for once, this isn’t because of something bad I did.
Even he knows that this can’t be twisted into something negative. ”
I find myself nodding, looking at a speck on his shirt because meeting his eyes seems too intense.
“I have a feeling you’re about to have a lot more followers once they realize you did this for your best friend.
Your jersey sales are about to skyrocket, and I’m sure you’ll get a lot more female fans wearing your number in the stands for your first game. ”
His chuckle draws my attention upward, only enough to see the tilt of his lips. “I don’t care about what they’re wearing.”
I’m expecting a dirty joke to follow, but that’s not what I get.
Instead, he says, “I want you in my jersey.”
I’m now gaping at him. “What?”
“But first, I think I want dinner.”
Dinner.
“Okay…”
“Together,” he amends.
I blink.
“I’m asking you on a date, sweetheart. Although I don’t think going out right now is a great idea. We’d hardly be left alone. So, let me rephrase. I’d like to cook for you. Tonight.”
He wants to…cook for me?
“I’ll even make leftovers for you to bring home,” he adds, a secretive smile dancing on his lips. “Because I know I can’t convince you to stay here, even if I sweeten the deal with Oreo.”
He’s accepting my independence, even if it means me going back to the apartment that’s half the size of his kitchen. “Although, I’m hoping one day to convince you to get out of that shithole. There’s no security and there are water stains on the ceiling. There could be mold.”
There probably is, but I don’t voice that suspicion because it wouldn’t help my case. My apartment isn’t much, but it’s mine. It’s cluttered and small, but I love it. One day, I’ll get something better. Maybe with him. Maybe on my own. I guess we’ll see what the future holds.
“I should have never told you about the food thing,” I grumble instead.
His smile spreads. “It’s my intention to ensure you never need to go out on dates for food again.
I actually enjoy cooking, and I don’t do it often enough.
So, I’d like to cook you dinner and spend time together.
Maybe we can go to Our Open Table and see Bev and Vinnie this week.
If we’re going to be followed by the press, we may as well get their organization some more attention. ”
He wants to go to Our Open Table.
Together.
I swallow. “What’s for dinner?”
He moves some hair out of my face. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Whatever I want.
I shake my head. “I’m not sure how we got here,” I admit. This feels like a fever dream.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Neither am I, but I’m sure as hell glad we are.”