Chapter Thirty-Seven
“TAD!” LEWIS yells. Tad doesn’t turn around, disappearing through a doorway. Lewis takes a couple steps in that direction before he whirls to face Ofelia and Walt.
“What the fuck, Ofelia?” he bites out, remembering to keep his voice low at the last minute. It’s his job to make sure nothing goes wrong at this wedding—he can’t be the thing going wrong.
“I don’t even know what’s happening!”
“You—” Lewis stops and breathes. Tries to breathe. His chest is getting tight, and this is not the time to have a panic attack.
“Tad’s gay? ” Walt asks.
Oh right. Walt’s still here.
“That’s really not something for me to share,” Lewis says, grasping for politeness.
Walt gives him an incredulous look. “Lia just said you’re married . And all that stuff about… um, the mechanical bull. Oh my god. Is that a euphemism?”
Yeeeeah, cat might be out of the bag re: Tad’s sexual orientation. “No, it was an actual mechanical bull,” Lewis says, passing straight through mortification into some kind of post-embarrassment state.
“Gay,” Walt says like it’s the most insane thing he’s ever heard. Lewis gets ready to stand up to a homophobe. Well, if he’s going to make a scene at Stacy’s wedding, at least she’ll approve.
“Wait, you didn’t know?” Ofelia asks. She sounds horrified. “Oh. Oh no. Oh my god. I didn’t—I had no idea. Oh my god. Why didn’t you tell me your brother was going to be here, Walt?”
Slowly, Walt shakes his head. It’s like he didn’t hear a word Ofelia said. Lewis opens his mouth to tell him where to stick his fragile masculinity if the idea of two men having sex is going to make him swoon in horror, but then Walt says, “Why wouldn’t he tell me he’s gay?”
There’s no horror or disgust in his voice. He sounds… hurt?
“I think that’s something you should talk to Tad about,” Lewis says.
“Did he think I wouldn’t accept him?”
Ofelia’s hands are over her mouth. “I didn’t mean….” But she trails off and instead asks Walt again, “Why didn’t you say he’d be here?”
“I didn’t know! ” Walt sounds frantic. “We don’t… talk much. He…. Tad, he’s….”
Whatever he’s going to say dies. Yeah. They don’t talk much. Because Tad never felt like he could tell his family he’s gay. Because he thinks their love is conditional on him being someone he’s not.
Now Tad is freaking out and he’s alone . Walt can deal with the shit he clearly needs to deal with. Ofelia can process that she just walked into a minefield. The two of them can figure out what that means for their relationship on their own.
Lewis needs to find his husband.
THE WEDDING planner points Lewis in the right direction, because she saw Tad rush outside. Lewis stumbles out into a bright, cold winter day. Where could he have gone? Parking lot? Main gate?
Lewis calls Tad and paces, shivering, as it rings and rings. Nothing. He takes off for the Haupt Conservatory. Tad talked about how much he loves it when they went camping, which—god, seems forever ago. It seems like a different life, a Tad-less life, and Lewis doesn’t want to return to that.
Despite the cold, he works up a sweat by the time he gets to the conservatory. A blast of warm, humid air hits him first, and then a riot of color, lush greens and bright, tropical flowers. Visitors mill around, but Lewis’s eyes are drawn straight to a lone figure on a bench.
Breathing heavily, Lewis approaches Tad and sits beside him. Their legs touch and Tad startles, his head whipping up to stare at Lewis with wide eyes. “It’s just me,” Lewis says, trying to sound soothing.
Tad’s shoulders heave. His eyes are wet and his eyelashes are dark with tears, sticking together in clumps. His nose is red, and tears have left tracks down his cheeks. Lewis reaches for him but Tad scoots away.
“Did he come too?” Tad asks hoarsely.
“Walt? No. I left him and Ofelia.”
A piece of Tad’s hair has come loose and is falling into his eyes. He brushes it back with a badly shaking hand, and Lewis’s stomach hurts with the desperate need to make this better.
“Hey—baby—” Lewis puts a hand on Tad’s shoulder, only for Tad to jerk away again. “Baby, it’s gonna be okay.”
“You don’t know that.” Tad’s voice hitches in a sob.
“I don’t think your brother—I mean, I got the impression that mostly Walt’s sad you never told him, but you being gay—that doesn’t bother him.” When Tad shuts his eyes tightly, Lewis adds, “Not that he has any right to be sad you never told him.”
Tad sniffles. Tears leak from his closed eyes. “I can’t do this.”
The ache in Lewis’s chest makes him reach for Tad’s hand again before he remembers Tad doesn’t want to be touched. “I’ll be with you. However you need me, I’m going to be with you. We’re in this together.”
Tad’s eyes are still closed, and he shakes his head hard. “No. I m-mean—I can’t—I’m bad, and I can’t—I can’t. I can’t be someone who just ends up d-disappointing you.”
“You’ve never disappointed me,” Lewis says fervently. His whole body hurts. He wants to make this better. “I can’t even imagine you disappointing me—”
“Of course I’ll disappoint you!” Several people look their way and Tad shrivels, hunching his shoulders and hugging his arms around himself. Tears slide down his face. “I’m n-not some perfect rom-com guy. I’m a complete shitshow, and—and all this shit, me not being out to my family, you having to pretend to just be my friend, you say it doesn’t matter to you—”
“It doesn’t!”
“It doesn’t now . ” The words sound like they’re being pried from Tad. He finally opens his eyes. They’re agonized. “But it will, and then I’m just going to be another disappointing guy! And you want to just stay married, but you barely know me! You don’t know how much I’m—I’m—just poison. I’m poison, and you should be with someone good, someone who’s not going to let you down, and—”
The hiccuping sobs fall away. Tad sounds empty. “I can’t, Lewis. I can’t.”
“Tad—”
“I’m too much of a mess.” He doesn’t bother to wipe his tears away. “You’ll hate me in the end.”
He could never hate Tad. The stuff with his family isn’t ideal, but it’s not insurmountable. They’ll figure it out together. That’s what couples do.
Before Lewis can say any of that, Tad’s on his feet. The sun behind his head, shining through the glass ceiling of the conservatory, makes a copper halo of his hair. “I can’t, Lewis,” he says again. Its finality jolts Lewis to his core.
His chest tightens. Instinctively, he looks to Tad for stability, because Tad’s been there for him since they met. When anxiety takes hold of Lewis, Tad’s there to lean on, to steady him, to help him breathe.
But the way Tad can’t look at him, the way he’s crying, it’s making it so much harder for Lewis to breathe. Tad backs away, and Lewis’s throat feels like it might close up. He can’t get a breath, and cold sweat suddenly coats his back. His stomach plummets, a dank, sick, leaden weight.
“I think—maybe we shouldn’t—” Tad stops and swallows several times. “I think maybe you should just sign the divorce paperwork and send it in. And I’ll—I’ll see you at the divorce hearing.”
“You’re breaking up with me,” Lewis says, the effort leaving him breathless.
“I have to,” Tad whispers.
Lewis knows what to do. He knows how to fix it. If he’d already done this, Tad wouldn’t even be saying these things, because he’d understand how Lewis feels and how he’s at the center of everything now. How he made Lewis believe in love again. How special he is, and how Lewis wants to be with him forever.
“I love you,” Lewis says.
Tad doesn’t say anything. That’s good, isn’t it? That has to be good.
“Don’t,” Tad says.
And he walks away.