48. This Should Go Terribly
THIS SHOULD GO TERRIBLY
PARKER
We’ve been doing Lake Tahoe trips for more than ten years now.
The house sits up on a hill overlooking the lake, all cedar beams and massive windows. Everything smells vaguely like pine and expensive candles. The back wall of the living room is entirely glass, facing the water.
Emelie loves it, and every year she begs the owner to sell it to her. She and Jen picked the house because the kitchen opens into the living room, which apparently encourages “togetherness.”
Personally, I think togetherness is a disease.
The kitchen alone is bigger than my first apartment back when I was a rookie. Right now half of it’s covered in juice boxes, crayons, and somebody’s sticky iPad with Bluey paused mid-episode.
Some summers we hire chefs. When it’s Luca and Emelie’s turn to cook for the summer, Emelie is the first to hire help.
This year my lovely ex-wife decided the kids needed “normal family dinners,” which means she’s spent the last two hours cooking for fifteen million people while Vince destroys meat on the grill outside and the rest of us wander through the kitchen opening beers and getting in the way.
Luca’s been weird all fucking day, which was to be expected considering the fact that pictures of me hugging his brother like we’re lovers are still blasted across the internet.
Every so often he’ll stop moving in the middle of doing something and stare at the counter for a second like he lost track of where his mind was headed.
I’m leaning against the kitchen island drinking a beer when I glance outside and see poor Anders getting absolutely swarmed near the dock.
Manuela’s sitting on his shoulders with both hands in his hair.
One of Jen’s twins—one of two sets—is hanging off his back.
Laura’s trying to force him into filming some dance for her TikTok while Anders stands there looking deeply, spiritually exhausted.
Every few seconds he looks toward the house with this blank expression that very clearly says somebody fucking help me.
“You people are terrible,” I say.
Jen looks up from slicing limes. “What happened now?”
“You’ve had him out there babysitting for, like, two hours.”
“Anders? He’s fine. That’s his job.”
“Jenny, he’s one toddler tantrum away from walking into the lake.”
Emelie snorts into her drink. “He likes the kids.”
“He likes Manu because she’s his little clone. The others, I think, are still undecided.”
Outside, Anders catches me watching him. He points at the children attached to his body, then points directly at me, mouthing help. I laugh and take another sip of beer instead.
A second later Luca walks through the kitchen carrying a bowl of fruit and one of the kids immediately yells, “Uncle Luca!”
His whole face softens before he can stop it. “Hey,” he says automatically as the kid tears through the kitchen. “No running inside. The floor is wet.”
The kid ignores him completely, leaving dirty footprints across the hardwood. Luca watches the footprints for a second, visibly debating whether he has the energy to care.
“You doing good, hon?” Jen asks him.
“Not particularly.” He opens the fridge and grabs a beer.
“You need to loosen up,” Emelie says. “This is supposed to be relaxing. No ice as far as the eye can see, mon cher.”
And then he looks at me. “Looks like you’re enjoying retirement,” he says accusingly. In other words: we’re fucked. He absolutely knows.
“Two more seasons until you retire,” Emelie mutters to her husband.
“Yes, darling,” he turns to her. “You remind me twenty times a day.”
She fakes a pout as she wraps her arms around him. “Your children drive me crazy. I need my partner in crime.”
Luca grunts. “I thought your partner in crime was Jen.”
The sliding glass door opens. Anders slips inside, shaking off a straggler. “As I have a college degree now, I’ve made an executive decision to pass the torch. Laura is the new babysitter.”
Jen snorts. “Luca Junior over there is not qualified to watch all of those kids,” she mutters, looking outside at the teenager who’s just trying to do her best. And by best, I mean she’s already yelling at them. She’s enjoying her first twenty seconds of power a little too much.
“Someone needs to tell her that loudness does not equate authority,” Emelie snorts, sounding particularly French when she says it. “There is no way she is my daughter. It’s not possible.”
“Because you’re so quiet and demure,” I joke.
She points her beer at me. “Shut up. Nobody cares for your silent dread.”
When Anders laughs a little too hard, I watch as Luca deadpans to his younger brother.
“Mano,” he clears his throat. “Can we go outside to talk?”
It’s Emelie’s turn to laugh loudly. She elbows me in the side and lowers her voice. “Pick out your coffin.”
Fuck. My stomach drops.
It’s happening.
Anders looks at me a little nervously. “Just me?” he asks, turning back to Luca.
“Just you,” he says.
Anders’ gaze flickers toward me for half a second.
Emelie takes a slow sip of her drink. “Oh, this should go terribly.”
“Emelie,” Luca warns.
“What?” she asks innocently. “I’m rooting for everybody.”
Luca pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Not helping.”
Anders lets out a breath. “Okay.” The word comes out quieter than normal. “Fine. We’ll talk.”
Luca nods once. Then the two of them disappear through the sliding doors.
The second the glass closes behind them, I set my beer down.
Em snaps. “Absolutely not.”
I don’t even have to look up. “Emelie, c’mon.”
“No.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong.”
She laughs. There’s no way in hell she believes me. “Parker,” she says, setting her drink down. “You’ve been friends with me for fifteen years. Don’t you dare insult me with your lying bullshit.”
She stares at me. I stare back.
“Go ahead,” Emelie says. “Tell me you’re not going after them.”
I open my mouth and close it again, proving her right.
“That’s what I thought.” Something about her expression shifts. The irritation remains, but something heavier settles underneath it. “What exactly was the plan here?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“The plan.” She gestures vaguely toward the lake. “Because apparently you had one.”
“Em—”
“No, seriously.” For the first time all afternoon, she looks angry. “What was the endgame, Park? You were just going to keep sneaking around forever?” Emelie presses.
“We weren’t sneaking around.”
She narrows her eyes. “Parker. Be real.”
“We weren’t sneaking around. We’re slowly starting to tell people.”
Her laugh is humorless. “My Anders looks like he’s waiting to be executed every time somebody notices you standing too close together.”
The words land harder than I expect. Because they’re true.
I immediately look away, which is a big mistake. The second I do, her voice softens. “Just…go.”
I blink. “What?”
“You were leaving anyway, so leave.”
“Emelie.”
“Go.” Her eyes narrow. “But if my son comes back into this house crying, I’m blaming you first and then you’re dead.”
Ten years we’ve been coming here, and somehow this is the summer everything finally cracks open. By the time I reach the side path leading toward the beach, I can already hear raised voices. My pulse kicks immediately.
They’re not yelling yet, but I can tell they’re dangerously close.
Close enough that every instinct in my body tells me to keep walking.
To go stop it because I can’t carry the guilt of watching the man I love be torn to shreds by another man I consider a brother.
But I don’t, because I know he can handle it.
I don’t have to step in every time for him. Not anymore.
Instead I stay hidden behind a cluster of pines overlooking the water. Below me, Luca and Anders stand at opposite ends of the dock. The distance between them isn’t very large, but it still feels enormous.
“You’ve been avoiding me all day,” Luca starts.
“I haven’t.”
“Bullshit.”
Anders laughs, sounding brittle. “Why are we doing this?”
“Because I need you to be honest with me.”
“I am being honest, Luc.”
“No, you’re not.”
For several seconds neither of them says anything. Then Luca asks the question. The hot, burning question that Anders and I have been waiting for all day. For two weeks. “Are you and Parker together?”
Everything inside me goes tight. The air in my chest, my hands at my sides…Anders goes completely still. Then he says yes, and everything erupts.
Luca closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. He doesn’t sound surprised, though. It’s more of him finally unscrewing the lid because he’s finally hearing it out loud for the first time. “How long?” Luca asks slowly.
Anders immediately folds his arms. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Luca scoffs. “Because it matters, Anders.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Luca lets out a frustrated breath. “Then stop making me drag answers out of you. You know I can’t read your fucking mind. Life would be a whole lot easier if I could.”
Anders huffs. “I already answered you.”
“No, you answered one question.”
“And now we’re doing this.”
“Yeah,” Luca snaps. “We’re doing this. It’s happening, mano, so either you’re going to talk or I’ll make you.”
The dock creaks as Anders starts pacing. His hands disappear into his hair. “You know what?” he says. “Forget it.”
Luca shakes his head. “That’s not how this works, Andy. Just fucking talk to me.”
“Nah. Forget it.”
“You can’t just tell me to forget something like this.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my brother!”
“Wow.” Anders laughs thinly. “There it is.”
Luca looks genuinely confused. “What?”
“You’re pulling the brother card…like it actually means something to you.”
“What does that even mean?”
Anders laughs again. The sound is empty enough to make my chest hurt. “It means everybody keeps acting like I need permission to do shit. To live my own fucking life!”
Luca scoffs. “Nobody said that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth…talking about me pulling the brother card. You can’t just say something like that to me and claim I don’t give a shit.”
“Then stop talking to me like I’m twelve.”