Chapter 20
Will: You ask her yet?
Nolan: Not yet. I’m going to talk to her today.
Will: Dude, come on. This is important!
Nolan: Sex isn’t exactly at the top of my list of priorities.
Will: You say that now, but it will be once you feel me inside of you.
Nolan: Who said you would be the one to do that?
Will: You and I both know I’m not the bottom.
Nolan: You seemed pretty comfortable being the bottom the other day.
Will: Shut up. My dick is bigger, so I’m the top. That’s how it works.
Nolan: It’s my birthday.
Will: You’re really pulling the birthday card? I was thinking of doing what I did that day in the kitchen, but if you want to top so bad…
Nolan: …
Nolan: Okay. Maybe. Not the part where you stopped, though.
Will: No edging. Got it.
Will: If you don’t ask the kids to stay over at my parents, none of this will be happening.
Nolan: Addie and Emmett still haven’t made up. She’s been in her room for two days.
Will: Want me to go talk to him?
Nolan: Absolutely not.
Nolan: I’ll handle it. I’m going to talk to her today.
Will: Okay. But don’t forget to ask.
Nolan: Will.
Will: You’re forty-six now, grandpa. We gotta get started, time for good sex is dwindling.
Nolan: I hate you.
Will: Don’t forget!!
I make my way up to Addie’s bedroom, anxiety sitting in my stomach when I knock. “Yeah?” she calls out.
Opening the door, I find her still in bed, wearing the same thing as yesterday. And seeing my daughter like this, when she’s usually so bubbly, it breaks my heart. But I pull out the chair from her desk and sit. All I can do is hope this will pass.
“How are you doing?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Fine.”
“Addie, you’re clearly not—”
“I’m fine, Dad,” she bites back, and I pause, choosing a different path.
I look at her room, at all the pink and the fairy lights she made Will hang up last month. The corkboard covered in photos of her and Emmett doing various things over the years. The lack of anyone else is clear. He’s always been her person.
Without him, I don’t know who Addie is. I don’t think she does either. But that’s neither here nor there because whatever this is, there isn’t a single doubt in my mind that they’ll fix it. They always do.
“Have you tried calling him?”
“He hates me.”
“You keep saying that, but have you actually talked to him since—”
“He won’t want to talk to me.” She turns her head to look at me, her face scrunching up as tears start running down her face. “You don’t know what I did, Dad.”
“So tell me.” She shakes her head, no. “Addie, whatever you said, he’s been your best friend since you were kids, he’ll forgive you—”
“I know how long we’ve been friends,” she interrupts. “That’s why I know he won’t forgive me, Dad. He—I can’t—You don’t understand. There was no other way.”
I get up at the sound of her crying and cross the room to sit by the bed, feeling utterly helpless. “Addie. Tell me what happened.”
“He—” she sniffles, sitting up, not meeting my eyes. “He asked me to prom.”
I frown, no idea why that would be a bad thing. “Okay, you’ve been to every dance together, haven’t you? What’s wrong with that?”
She hides her face in her knees. “No, he asked me to prom. Like. A date.”
Oh.
Wow.
Okay.
“And what did you say?” I force myself to ask, even though by the looks of it, it wasn’t good.
“Obviously, I said no. He’s my best friend. We can’t date,” she bites out, full of anger toward herself or Emmett or even me for asking.
And I try to think of what to say. A way to make this okay. But I know from experience that once you put that out there, you can’t take it back.
Jess would know what Addie needed to hear right now. She always did.
I always sat back and let her handle these things, and now, when my daughter needs me, I don’t have the words to help her.
“Well,” I start anyway. “I know this may seem like a big deal right now, but when it comes down to it, Emmett would rather have you as a friend than not at all, don’t you think?”
Her only response is a shrug before she lies back down, pulling the blankets over her head. And I leave her with that. I know it’s the truth, and she does too, deep down. If only they would speak to each other.
Out in the hallway, I lean against the wall and pull out my phone, clicking on Jess’s contact. It rings twice before it stops, the person on the other end hitting decline.
I let out a sigh, pocketing my phone.
Not a great start to forty-six.
Joyce knows how to throw a party, that’s for sure.
A balloon on the mailbox, a happy birthday banner hung up in the dining room, party hats on every head, including Frank’s, who I know was forced into it.
It feels good.
Everyone I love is here, even if it is a small group of people, and I’m genuinely happy.
I’m happy, but I’m also anxious, thinking about tonight. It’s been sitting in the back of my mind all day, what I’m about to do with Will.
Part of me has been holding back because it feels like once we go there, it’s real. Even though we’ve done nearly everywhere else. I’m not nervous to bottom, if that’s what Will wants me to do. I’m sure it will be at least fine. I liked what he did with his tongue, so if he does it with his cock—
Either way, I’m looking forward to the act itself. I just can’t get rid of this lingering worry that he’ll leave after. That if we go back to the way it was before, and he gets what he wants, the dates and the kindness he’s shown me lately will end.
That maybe this is all some big joke that ends with me getting my heart broken.
But I know that’s absurd and it’s cruel to put those worries on him. He’s not that person anymore, and I think he genuinely does like me.
I’m sure it’s nerves, and it will all be fine.
Addie is on the couch, her phone face down on the coffee table in front of her, nothing to do on it if she can’t text Emmett. She got ready for the first time in days and came without complaint, wearing a party hat Joyce gave her.
She’s here, and I love her for it, but the light in her eyes has dimmed considerably, and it sort of makes me want to go over and give Emmett a talking to, even though I know he’s probably hurting too.
His feelings for her have always been obvious to anyone on the outside, but we all figured she liked him back.
I sit down beside her while everyone is busy in the kitchen. “Hey,” I say, patting her knee. “You doing okay?”
She looks up, giving me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s your birthday, Dad. Don’t worry about me.”
“I always worry about you. It’s my job.”
“I know.” She leans over, resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m okay. Sad, but the distraction is good. I’m excited for cake.”
We sit like that for a few minutes, watching a bit of the news even though it’s muted on the TV.
At some point, I remember my conversation with Will earlier.
“Hey,” I speak up, nudging her with my elbow. “Would you and Ollie mind staying over tonight? I sort of have plans.”
She sits up to face me. “You have plans?”
“Yeah. Uh—” I look around, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t sound as bad as the only one I have. “Karen wanted to come over after the party…”
I wait for the usual commentary, the eyebrow raise, the comment on my outfit, but none of it comes.
“Okay.”
Joyce makes my favorite, spaghetti with her homemade meatballs that she somehow makes taste like what I would imagine heaven being like.
“Forty-six,” Frank says, lifting a beer that Joyce allows him to drink since it’s a special occasion. “Getting old, son.”
“Feels like it,” I joke, watching Will from across the table push around his spaghetti, not eating any of it. I was sort of dreading being around everyone. Worried he would say the wrong thing and out us, worried he’d wink in the middle of a conversation and turn my cheeks red.
But he’s been… fine.
Come to think of it, I’ve hardly spoken to him today.
The conversation moves around the table, Frank asking Will about his new job and Will giving one-word answers, while Addie chats with Joyce about school. Ollie has spaghetti sauce all over his face by the time he gets done eating.
I compliment Joyce’s spaghetti and ask her for the recipe like I always do, and she replies with a long list of steps I’ll never be able to remember. When I say something that gets a laugh from everyone, I look across at Will automatically, and to my surprise, he’s not laughing.
He’s watching me, the warmth I’ve begun to see in his eyes nowhere to be found. And as much as I tell myself he’s trying not to make our relationship obvious in front of his parents, it still makes my stomach turn.
After dinner, with a chocolate cake and a candle in the center, everybody sings happy birthday no matter how many times I’ve told them it’s not necessary.
I blow out the candle, making me officially forty-six, and Joyce starts cutting pieces, handing them out to everyone at the table.
We’re having a great time. Even Addie is smiling.
Until Will puts his fork down loud enough that everyone looks up.
“Must be nice,” he says, staring down at his slice of cake, the same way he said it all those years ago. My stomach drops before he says anything else.
“Having all this,” he continues, looking up to meet my eyes, gesturing around the room. “Birthday party. Cake. A pile of presents.” He cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds nothing but mean. “Shit. I didn’t even get a call last year.”
Everyone at the table is silent for a tense moment that passes when Ollie says something unrelated, and then everyone is talking again, and Will is eating his cake, helping my son with his. It’s back to things as usual for the whole family, like he didn’t even say that.
Except for me.
He’s not wrong. He was in prison on his birthday last year, and nobody called. I didn’t think to, at least. I guess Joyce and Frank didn’t either.
But I’ve known Will long enough to know what this is. He’s never given any of us a reason to believe he cared about his birthday. He wasn’t spending it with us long before he was arrested.