48. Tom Cobalt
TOM COBALT
“It’s not bigger news than mine, dude.” I brush face paint across my jaw. We’re in the downstairs bathroom while I finish getting ready for dinner.
Since being on tour, I haven’t had the energy to attend a Wednesday dinner in costume—but I’m buzzing tonight. I can’t imagine sharing my news without the added dramatics.
Eliot’s blue eyes light up through the bathroom mirror. “Do tell, brother.”
“You don’t want to wait?”
“And hear your news with the peons? No.” He waves me onward, and Maeve catches his thumb. Eliot lets her practically cut off his circulation, not even flinching. For a baby, her grip strength is out of control.
I brush the final black line across my brow. Half my face is painted like a skeleton. I rotate to Eliot and announce, “Phoenix is my boyfriend.”
He has a thrilled grin. “Officially?”
“Yeah. We’re super official.”
Eliot grips my shoulders. “You have a boyfriend.”
“I have a boyfriend.” It’s a first for me, and it feels like I accomplished the hardest thing in the world. Finding someone worthy of this rare place in my heart.
Eliot grins. “Perfect. When I see him next, I’ll remind him that if he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
“I think he got the message the first five times, dude.”
“Now that he’s your boyfriend, it’ll hit deeper.”
The door creaks open. Noooo.
Jane peers inside, her humongous smile pulling the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. “You have a boyfriend?” My older sister must have heightened senses like the seven cats she owns.
“Jane Eleanor,” I whisper-hiss, wrenching her farther into the bathroom. When I shut the door behind my sister, her blue tulle skirt snags in the doorjamb.
“Merde.” She says, shit, and rips the fabric away to free herself, uncaring about the damage to her wardrobe. She’s even losing white feathers from her fully feathered top.
I groan. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. The news was for later.”
“Well, it met me early because I’m your wise, loving sister, and news just naturally travels to me first.” She steeples her fingers to her smile. “This boyfriend is Phoenix, I’m assuming.”
“No, it’s one of the other many male suitors at my door.”
“So Phoenix.”
“Most certainly Phoenix.” Eliot nods.
I scoff. “I have options. Okay. I’m not with Phoenix by default.”
“Of course not, brother. You could’ve been with anyone.”
“Thank you,” I emphasize deeply to Eliot.
“Oh Tom.” Jane puts a hand to her heart. Her dramatic response makes me glad she overheard. She even squeezes me in a warm hug.
“It’s big news, right?” I ask my sister when we separate. “Monumental. Like will definitely eclipse whatever Audrey’s got going on.”
Her humongous, humongous smile suddenly vanishes. What the fuck. “Possibly.”
“You’re lying, Jane Eleanor. A bald-faced, mean lie.”
“I’m leaving room for the possibility of being wrong.”
“You are my wise sister. You just said it! You’re never wrong.”
She plucks off a dangling feather. “I am sometimes wrong.”
“You know something about Audrey’s news,” Eliot realizes. “Spill.”
Jane reaches for her baby in a clear tactical diversion. “Maeve.”
“Ah,” Eliot holds Maeve away. “First, I want the intel.”
She squeezes her eyes at him. “You’re not using my daughter as collateral.”
“But she is such cute little collateral,” Eliot bounces her on his hip, and Maeve lets out a breathy giggle that makes all three of us smile.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Jane says. “I’m not spoiling Audrey’s announcement.”
Okay, maybe my news isn’t as big of a deal than whatever Audrey has planned. The realization smacks me hard like I just did a belly flop in the pool. Why am I so bummed? My little sister outshining me—not the world’s worst-case scenario.
I can be happy for her.
I can.
I must be wearing my emotions on my face because Jane and Eliot are now giving uh-oh looks to each other like I’m about to crack open the case of the self-inflicted blues.
“Look, I’m dressed for your terribly wonderful news,” Jane lifts her arms and feathers flap around, and I want to die.
“I’m not dating a bird.”
“Phoenix is a—”
“A man.” I groan into the sink. Literally I am slumped into the countertop. “He’s a fucking man.” This is karmic payback for all the bird jokes I’ve made.
“Tom,” Eliot begins to console.
I rotate out of my pity party. “I’m fine,” I tell them. “Totally fine. Maybe I’ll just wait to tell everyone about my boyfriend.”
“No,” Jane shakes her head. “It’ll be nice to have something far less controversial in the mix.”
Eliot chokes on air. “Sister. Controversial? And you’re keeping these details from me. It’s unlawful.” He bends his head to whisper in the baby’s ear. “Maeve, tell your mommy I can keep a secret.”
Jane smiles. “She hasn’t spoken more than thirty basic words.”
“To you,” Eliot says. “We have whole in-depth conversations. Maeve has already told me her hopes and dreams and declared I am her favorite uncle. We’re working on her penmanship so she can write it down for you.”
“Book,” Maeve says into another giggle, clasping her hands together.
“See, she’s a genius,” Eliot notes.
“Controversial?” I frown, stuck on this point.
Jane is about to speak—but the bathroom door opens. Beckett sticks his head in and glances between the three of us like we’re conspiring. “What’s happening here?”
For some reason Eliot and Jane turn to me.
I raise my hands. “Not it.”
Beckett enters and gracefully hops onto the sink vanity, settling on the counter. He wears a pair of dark pants and a plain white T-shirt. I’m a little thunderstruck he’s even here. He’d warned everyone that he might not be able to make it since the big NYBC Spring Benefit Gala is this week.
“What’d I miss?” Beckett asks, his eyes on me.
“Dude, you missed nothing. You’ve been a star student attending Wednesday Night Dinners this month when you’re knee deep in rehearsals for Manon.”
“Don Quixote,” he corrects me.
I grimace. “No, I swore it was Manon.”
“I’m performing Manon this month. Rehearsals are for Don Quixote, which is in June.”
“Oh my God,” I groan. “Your life is so confusing.” I’m also blasted with sheer disappointment in myself. I almost never mix up Beckett’s schedule. The tour must be overloading my memory.
Thankfully, Beckett is smiling, clearly amused by me. “What’s going on, Tom?”
For some reason, I’m the center of attention, so I just come out with it, “Phoenix and I are official.”
Beckett blinks. “Officially what?”
Eliot bellows with laughter. “This is too good. Dear brother, you do know what dating is?”
Beckett makes a what the fuck face and motions to me. “They were already dating.”
“We were but we weren’t,” I interject, causing more confusion. “We didn’t have labels. Now we have labels.”
Jane presses her fingers to her lips, her eyes volleying back and forth between all of us.
Beckett looks like he might hurl. “Boyfriends?”
The door flies open again. Charlie has entered the chat, looking nonplussed that we’re all congregated in the hall bath.
Though it’s not small. Two sinks. Plenty of room.
It’s honestly one of my favorite bathrooms in the house with pinstriped olive-green walls and a Monet painting of a vase overflowing with gladioli, lilies, and daisies.
Even so, I did not prepare myself to blow my news in the fucking bathroom.
Charlie shuts the door. “Are we talking about Audrey?”
“Yes,” Eliot says immediately.
“No,” Jane side-eyes him, and Maeve reaches her teeny-tiny fingers toward Charlie. “Uh-ku.” Baby Maeve’s version of uncle.
Eliot shakes his head at our niece. “She’s obviously pointing at her least favorite.”
“You’re all her favorite,” Jane notes.
“I love you, sister, but there are rankings. Life is dull without them.”
Jane is handing off Maeve to Charlie. You’d think Maeve has spent her entire life being held by my eldest brother. She rests her head on his shoulder and quietly closes her eyes.
Eliot grinds his teeth, his jaw flexing.
“He’s boring her to sleep, dude,” I assure him under my breath. “Means nothing.”
Jane twirls a feather between her fingers. “How’s Ben doing?”
“Mostly good.” Beckett rubs his hands on his pants. “Probably bad if he gets wind that the five of us are having a meeting in the bathroom. He might think it’s about him.”
“It’s not a meeting,” I point out. “This wasn’t even planned. You three interloped on our private conversation.” I turn to Charlie. “And if you must know—”
“Didn’t ask.”
“I’m officially in a relationship with Phoenix.”
Charlie nods a couple times and looks to Beckett.
“Boyfriends,” Beckett says.
Charlie inhales with a click of his tongue.
“What is that noise? What the hell does that mean?” I panic.
“It means we’re happy for you, Tom,” Beckett says. “We just didn’t think Phoenix was the type. That’s all.”
“Maybe you should get to know him better,” I sling back. “He’s had boyfriends before. More boyfriends than me.”
Charlie fixes the frilly collar to Maeve’s dress. “That’s not a high bar since you’ve had a grand total of zero.”
“And how many girlfriends have you had, Charlie Keating?” I shoot back. “A grand total of zero.”
“We’re not talking about me.”
Beckett changes the subject. “Has anyone else seen what Audrey is wearing tonight?”
“Is that her big news?” Eliot frowns. “A wardrobe change?”
Audrey normally comes to dinner in 18th- and 19th-century European-style dresses. Usually ones with a corset and lace. I can’t imagine she’d stray too far off her norm.
Charlie’s the one person that I can never pin down what he’ll be wearing for dinner.
It changes constantly. A wrinkled button-down and slacks, pajamas, tailored suits, leather pants straight off the runway from Paris Fashion Week, velvet vests, cashmere sweaters, no shirt, two shirts. He’s an endless mystery.
Tonight, he chose a brown three-quarter zip sweater. I’d call it neutral. Safe, even. There could be meaning to it, or Charlie just closed his eyes and grabbed a random item out of his closet.
Jane holds up her hands like she’s prepared to broker peace. “Audrey is allowed to wear whatever she pleases, just like all of you.”
“She’s seventeen,” Beckett counters.
Oh no. I’m wincing. “Is she in like booty shorts?” I know my sister is getting older, but she will always be my baby sis, and I do not want to see that.
Beckett waves a hand to the door. “Go and see for yourself.”
“Fine. I will. Older sibling meeting adjourned.” I clap my hands and leave the bathroom, only to find I’m the only one leaving. Fuck. The door closes behind me.
They’re going to talk about me. Guaranteed.
I’m half-a-second from pressing my ear against the door when Ben walks by with a glass pitcher of water.
He’s wearing a typical MVU Thrashers T-shirt over track pants.
Spring semester just ended and unlike his pre-med girlfriend, he decided not to take classes this summer and instead focus more on conditioning for the next hockey season.
MVU won the Frozen Four in early April, and the timing sat just right that I could see my brother become a national hockey champion.
Seeing his smile on the ice still lives joyfully inside my head.
“Hey,” Ben smiles as bright now. “Congrats on you and Phoenix.”
How does he know?
Ben frowns off my stupefied reaction. “Was…was that a secret?” he asks, looking gutted. Devastated. Like he just royally fucked up a big announcement. Little does he know I just word vomited in the bathroom and fucked it all up myself.
“No, no, not a secret. You’re good, dude. I’m just trying to figure out how you gained telepathy tonight.”
“Harriet texted me.” His grip tightens on the water pitcher. “She’s having dinner with Phoenix and Joana.”
“Excuse me, what?” I choke out. “She’s doing what with whom?”
He laughs. “It’s just dinner. You know—what we’re doing now.”
“Right…” Except Phoenix didn’t text me about it. I reach for my phone in my pocket. “I’m sure my phone is on silent, and I just missed his texts.” Not on silent. Zero texts. I’m about to go deep into my well of feelings when I realize that Phoenix told Harriet we’re dating.
Phoenix told Harriet.
He didn’t even keep it a secret for a day.
But how did he even phrase it to her? Something casual? Or did he use the word boyfriend? This is an important distinction for my personal notes.
I jog to catch up to Ben whose long legs are carrying him fast down the hall and toward the dining room. “What exactly did Phoenix say to Harry?” I question.
“That you’re boyfriends.”
Holy shit, he called me his boyfriend to Harriet fucking Fisher. I’m grinning so hard I might just levitate right here, right now. Pass me a feather duster, I can clean the chandelier.
Ben’s smiling off my smile—and that just makes me feel ten hundred times better.
All good things must come to an end.
That’s exactly what happens when I enter the dining room and see my little sister.