Текст книги "Playing with Trouble"

Автор книги: Chanel Cleeton

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Gray

“Was that your girlfriend?”

I turned and looked down at Jason, one of the kids who liked to hang out and play ball after school.

It was really not good when I was so obvious that an eighth grader could tell. I glanced over to where Blair stood with her friend, Caitlin, worry ramming into me.

How long before people started to figure out that there was something between us? How long before I fucked this up, too? Considering the words she’d just hurled at me, had I already screwed up with her?

My jaw clenched. “No.”

He winked at me. “She’s hot.”

“Watch it.”

He laughed. “I’m just saying, if I were you, I’d lock her down.”

I tried to keep my expression serious, but failed in the face of this scrawny, backward-cap-wearing kid giving me romantic advice.

I blinked. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Jesus.

“That’s my girlfriend.” He nodded proudly, pointing to a pretty blonde girl shooting hoops. I’d seen her around and she seemed like a nice kid.

Jason grinned. “Like I said, gotta lock ’em down.”

He was one of my favorites in the after-school program. He didn’t talk about his family, but the principal had mentioned that his dad took off when he was a kid and his mom worked two jobs supporting Jason and his younger brother. Whatever his family situation, the kid always had a smile on his face. And he was smart.

“Trust me,” I muttered. “Sometimes it’s not that easy.”

He just flashed me that same cocky grin. “You just gotta have game.”

“Maybe I can borrow some then,” I joked, unable to remain stern in the face of this kid’s exuberance.

“Nah. You got game. You just need to know how to use it.”

Well, this ranked up there with one of the most surreal moments of my life. I’d had a few friends back in Chicago before I blew up my life. I’d never been all that social, but there had been guys I’d studied with, guys I’d played basketball with on Sunday afternoons. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost all of that. It was pathetic to admit, but not only did I have a shit relationship with my family, I’d alienated myself from any friends.

I was alone, and I only had myself to blame for it. And then there was Blair. It wasn’t just that she was sexy, she genuinely felt like a friend. And she was right—

I had no clue what I was doing with her.

“You going to be around for this Thanksgiving thing?” Jason asked.

I nodded.

“Cool. I’ll see you there.” Jason extended his hand and gave me the handshake we’d developed.

I watched him walk away, a smile tugging at my mouth, and then my gaze drifted over to where Blair stood shooting hoops with some of the girls. Trying, at least. Basketball was definitely not her game. But none of that mattered. The smile on her face was everything. Her laugh floated through the gym and something tightened in the vicinity of my heart.

I couldn’t stay away from her. And she was right, I was being a dick by jerking her around. I was too selfish to walk away and too afraid to take a chance. She deserved someone better than me, but for whatever insane reason, I was the one she wanted. And I was so tired of keeping her at arm’s length. Maybe it was time to stop worrying about being the good guy, and time to start going after what—who—I wanted.

In the immortal words of an eighth grade boy, it was time to lock it down.

Chapter Seventeen

New allegations of misuse of campaign funds plague Senator Reynolds . . .

—Capital Confessions blog

Blair

I stared at the screen, regretting the decision to create an email alert to let me know anytime my last name was mentioned. Thanks to Capital Confessions, it was becoming an increasingly frequent occurrence. Especially, where my father was concerned.

I hadn’t heard from either one of my parents since my phone call with my mother, so I had no clue how much of the stuff was even true, but he was definitely in the blog’s crosshairs. Whatever my father had expected, it appeared that his reelection had bought him a heap of trouble.

My phone lit up with an incoming text message.

Want to ride to the Thanksgiving dinner together?

My heartbeat picked up as I read his name above the text. I hadn’t seen Gray since the basketball day, also known as the day I discovered that he had ink on his bicep and an even better body than I’d imagined under his suit.

How did you get my number? I texted back.

He’d put his number in my phone weeks ago, but I definitely hadn’t done the same.

Class roster.

My lips curved. Why was I not surprised?

Is that really appropriate?

My screen lit up again. I think appropriate went out the window a long time ago. You in?

And then my phone lit up again and my mouth went dry.

This is me getting off the fence.

Oh my god.

I wasn’t sure if we were talking about riding together or being inappropriate together, but either way at the words, This is me getting off the fence, my answer was the same.

Yes.

Times one million. Plus one.

Where are you? he texted me.

Library.

I sent him the location of my study carrel, the small corner of the law library that had become my private haven.

My phone lit up again.

Be there in a few.

We were supposed to be at the middle school in two hours and I was still catching up on outlines for my con law final. The preferred method of studying for finals was to create mammoth outlines based on everything we’d learned in the course. The idea was that creating the outlines themselves would be an effective study aid, in addition to the time spent studying them.

At this point, I was seventy pages into what would likely be nearly a one-hundred-page outline, and I had no clue how I was even going to finish it, much less find time to study. Not to mention my three other exams. Luckily, legal research and writing had been a series of assignments that we’d turned in during the year. I couldn’t imagine adding another three-hour exam to my plate.

I pulled my hair back in a tie I found at the bottom of my bag, belatedly wishing I’d worn something other than my ratty Hannover Law T-shirt and jeans. And then the moment passed. I probably would have cared more a few months ago, but this was the height of law school mania, and there were only so many fucks I could give.

A few minutes later, Gray tapped on the door to my carrel. I let him in, not sure if I was more glad to see him or the two cups of coffee he held.

My heart moved a little closer on the falling-in-love meter as the smell of pumpkin spice hit me.

Gray peered around me, his eyes wide, and then he looked back and grinned at me. “Now this is a familiar sight.”

It wasn’t pretty. The desk in my carrel was covered in different colored highlighters, my con law book, the stupid supplement that I’d decided I needed another supplement just to understand, my laptop, and a mess of papers. I was normally a neat person, but I’d descended into exam chaos. Thank god I’d thrown away the box from the pizza I’d ordered earlier. This place was a step away from a sty.

I shot him a pleading look. “Kill me. Just kill me now. At this point, I want to be put out of my misery.”

He chuckled, his eyes going soft, his voice a husky purr. “Come here.”

He took my coffee out of my hands, setting both cups on the only available space on my desk.

Before I realized what he intended, he’d wrapped his arms around me, tucking me against his body. I stiffened for a moment, surprised by the contact, trying to remember if I’d forgotten to put on deodorant this morning.

Shit.

“Relax,” Gray whispered, his hand stroking my hair.

I felt disgusting after a day spent hibernating in the library like a hermit. Of course, he looked gorgeous in a green sweater and dark jeans, smelling faintly of cedar and spice.

He held me against him, his body propping me up in the face of the exhaustion seeping through my bones. He kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. I relaxed. He didn’t talk, didn’t do anything but let me lean on him.

His heart beat against my cheek, the steady thump lulling me into a deeper sense of calm. My lips brushed against his shirt, fighting the urge to press against the beat there.

I lost.

His chest jerked as I put my mouth to it, his cotton sweater between my lips and his heart. He shuddered. I waited for him to move away, wondering if I’d pushed things too far, too fast. His arm came around me, holding me tighter, crushing me against his body.

Minutes passed while we stood like that, and then we both seemed to pull back at the same time, and his hand threaded through my hair, massaging my scalp, and his head bent, his mouth meeting me halfway, his lips pressing against mine softly, his mouth coaxing me to open.

It was a completely different kiss from all the ones we’d shared before. It was soft, slow, lazy. It was sweet. He kissed me like he knew I didn’t have it in me for passion, that I needed his easy caress to soothe my frazzled parts.

It was the best kind of kiss—the one I needed—and my heart tumbled even further in love.

Gray

She looked like she could barely stand. I remembered those days, the feeling that you’d pushed your ability to exist on limited sleep and junk food to the brink. The feeling that your mind couldn’t possibly expand to accommodate one more piece of information.

I’d brought the coffee because I’d figured she needed it. The kiss had been a bonus. A big one.

I kissed her with all of the softness I had inside me—whatever little amount was left or had ever existed at all—giving her all the feelings that had come rushing through me the second she’d touched her mouth to my heart. Each time I saw her, she gifted me something new, some part of herself that I wanted to protect.

Each time I saw her she pulled me deeper.

I released her, grabbing the coffee off the desk and handing it back to her, my fingers linking with hers for a moment.

A smile played at her lips.

“Caffeine and kisses, huh? Is that the secret to getting through your first semester of law school finals?”

I grinned. Even rumpled and exhausted, she looked adorable. Her face was free of makeup, her hair in a messy bun, her clothes more casual than any I’d seen her wear, and she still looked stunning.

“Best method I could think of.” I gave her the rest, because I didn’t want to keep screwing with her head. She’d accused me of being afraid of going after what I wanted, and she hadn’t been wrong.

Not anymore.

The semester was almost over, and then she wouldn’t be my student anymore. Maybe I didn’t deserve her, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to have her.

“I want to see where this goes.”

Blair blinked. “Where what goes?”

“Us.”

“So getting off the fence means you want to date.”

“I want a chance with you. I wish we’d met differently, wish we could date like normal people, but obviously things are complicated. For the sake of your law school career and my job, I think we should keep things quiet for a while.”

“Okay.”

“Just until this year is over. When my teaching contract ends, us dating won’t be as big of a deal. But right now, I’m worried that it could be an issue if people find out.”

Not to mention my worries that my reputation would affect her.

“I understand.”

“And I think we should take things slowly,” I added.

She made a face. “Are you still worried you’re going to hurt me?”

I didn’t know how to explain it to her. I wanted to be good for her. Wanted to be the kind of guy who deserved to be with a girl like her. I didn’t know if I would ever get there, if I was even capable of that, but I knew I was a little bit better than I’d been the month before, and better than the month before that. All I could do was hope that time would get me where I needed to be. Or at least close enough.

I had difficulty swallowing over the lump in my throat.

“I don’t want the mistakes I’ve made to spill over onto you. I don’t want to fuck this up the way I’ve fucked up other things in my life. So yeah, I want to take things slow. You deserve a good guy. Let me try to be that guy for you. I can’t promise you that I’ll ever be the guy who deserves you, but I can promise that I’ll try. And that I’d sooner cut off my arm than hurt you.”

Blair

I didn’t know how to make him understand that I didn’t necessarily want him to be a good guy or even a better guy. I wanted him to be himself. So far the version he’d given me, despite the way he spun it, was pretty fucking great.

I leaned up on my toes, putting my mouth to his again, the taste of coffee and Gray filling me. He leaned in, wrapping one arm around my waist, holding me to his body like I belonged there.

I almost blurted out how I felt about him, almost gave him the words, but if I’d learned anything, it was that you couldn’t force Graydon Canter’s hand. He wasn’t a boy; he was a man, stubborn as hell and more than a little set in his ways. Luckily for me, I knew a thing about stubborn, and if I had to wait him out, I’d do it.

He was worth the wait.

We broke apart again and he sat down in the chair across from mine, motioning for me to sit in his lap. A spark of heat flickered through the exhaustion, but then he tugged on my hand and enfolded me on his lap, wrapping his arms around me, my back cuddled against his front. I’d had sexy with him and it was freaking amazing, but sweet was something else entirely. Sweet was a slow burn that reduced my resolve to ash.

Maybe it was because everything about him screamed sex, but the sweet was like a hidden surprise. You had to dig for it, but once you got it . . .

I doubted he did sweet with many people; given the way he’d described his life, it sounded like there hadn’t been much room for softness. I loved that he gave it to me.

“How’s studying going?” he murmured, his lips tickling my ear.

I shivered. “I want to stab myself in the eye with my highlighter, but otherwise fine.”

“Which class?”

“Con law.”

Fucking Commerce Clause.

“How long is it?”

I didn’t even have to ask what “it” was. That was the standard law school outline question.

“Seventy pages single-spaced, heading toward one hundred.”

That was one semester of con law synthesized.

“Did he tell you anything about the exam?”

“Three fact patterns. Three hours. No idea what he’s going to focus on.”

“Did he give you guys a review session?”

“Yeah. I went, and it was okay. He didn’t take any questions, but he hit the high points. I think I’m just nervous since this is my first exam.”

“Have you done a practice exam?”

I had. The only thing worse than taking a three-hour final was taking a three-hour practice exam and then taking a three-hour final.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I didn’t fail miserably, but it wasn’t great.”

“You’ll be fine.”

My brow furrowed. “What if I’m not?”

I couldn’t keep the doubt out of my voice, not with him.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Failing at this, too.”

He shifted me on his lap so that our gazes locked. “What else do you think you failed at?” he asked, his voice soft.

I shook my head, knowing how crazy I sounded. “It’s stupid. I know it wasn’t my fault that things didn’t work out with Thom. I know it, and I still can’t help feeling like there was something wrong with me. Being an asset to my father’s campaign was my job. And I sort of screwed it up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“You try having your romantic failings put on display for the world to see. My world, at least. It’s humiliating.”

“Of course, it is. You can’t hold on to it, though. At some point you have to learn to let go. You can’t keep beating yourself up. And if law school isn’t what you want, either, then that’s okay, too. You don’t need to find all of the answers at twenty-three.”

Silence filled the air between us as his words settled in.

I shot him a meaningful look. “Do you ever think about taking your own advice?”

A smile tugged at his beautiful mouth. “I’m working on it.”

“Do you think that’s why we work so well together? Because we’re both figuring ourselves out?”

He was quiet again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just know I feel better when I’m with you.”

As far as compliments went, it wasn’t the most lavish, or the most romantic, yet it curled around my heart, filling me with warmth.

“Are you sure you’re up to going to the Thanksgiving celebration tonight?” he asked. “We have enough volunteers that we can probably handle it without you.”

“I’m definitely not missing out. I can come back and study after.”

His lips brushed against my hair. “Are you sleeping at all?”

“I only need a few hours. I’ll be okay. I have big plans to sleep for a week when finals are over.”

“We should go to dinner when you’re done with exams. Celebrate.”

That sounded amazing. Maybe we could swing it if we went somewhere out of the way, somewhere where we weren’t likely to run into anyone we knew.

“It’s a date.”

“I can’t wait for the semester to be over,” he mumbled, his lips grazing my lobe.

I bit back a moan. “Me either.”

We stayed like that for a while longer and then he shifted me in his lap and held his hand out. “Ready to head over to the school?”

I gave him my hand and we headed out to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Gray

We entered the gym, and once again, Blair’s handiwork came to life. The space was transformed with large folding tables adorned with linens and place settings. Pumpkins decorated the tables. Buffet stations were set up around the gym’s perimeter, filled with food that restaurants donated.

I’d come up with the idea to organize a pre-Thanksgiving dinner for the eighth grade group we mentored. There were only sixty kids that the school had recommended for the after-school program, but with law school finals the week after Thanksgiving, we’d struggled to get volunteers. Blair was in charge of the whole thing, and in typical fashion, was determined to give these kids the best holiday of their lives. We’d started talking about it a few weeks ago, and she’d lost me at making turkeys out of pinecones or something like that.

My chest got tight as I stared down into her eyes. “Nicely done.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“You have a talent for this.”

“What? Strong-arming restaurants into cooking for me?” she teased.

I shook my head. “Don’t minimize this. What you did here is huge. You clearly have a knack for organizing events. Managing projects. You’re like a little pearl-clad general.”

She gave me a wry smile. “I’m not sure those are the most useful skills for me to have.”

I didn’t understand why she always did that; why she acted like her accomplishments were nothing more than her doing what was expected rather than an achievement to be celebrated. She didn’t give herself nearly enough credit.

“You should look into the nonprofit management idea. Seriously. With your volunteer experience and a law degree, there’s a lot you could do. Not to mention, if you stay in D.C., there’s no shortage of organizations you could work for.”

She gave a little half-shrug. “I’ll think about it.” She gestured toward a group of volunteers standing off to the side. “I should check in. See how things are going with the setup. See you later?”

I nodded.

I watched her walk away, unable to keep my gaze off of her. There was something about Blair that filled me with awe and made me want to be better. It was complicated before when it had just been about sex. But now, now that I knew her, liked her, admired her, it was so much more.

I was falling in love with her.

Jason sauntered over, his smile knowing. “You locked it down.”

I fought off the grin.

Yeah, I fucking had.

Chapter Eighteen

Tonight is the Reynolds family’s infamous Christmas party. Deals will be made, scandals caused, and the corruption will flow as freely as the champagne. We’ll be on hand to share all of the juicy tidbits with you . . .

—Capital Confessions blog

Blair

My hand cramped as I typed the final sentence, my gaze darting to the time on my laptop. My pulse raced, my palms sweating, panic clawing at my throat. I hit the period key when all of a sudden—

“Time’s up. Shut down your exam software and make sure you receive a message saying that your test has uploaded. If you have any problems, one of the proctors can assist you.”

The urge to vomit hit me, a tremor sliding through my body. For better or worse, I was done. I submitted my test through the special exam software we were all required to use for our finals, the adrenaline crash hitting me, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

Three hours. Three hours of nearly nonstop typing. Four finals, for a total of twelve hours of exams. My first semester of law school now officially over.

I wanted to sleep for a year. I wanted to get trashed, wanted to cry, wanted to cheer.

I listened while the woman at the front of the room gave us the rest of the exam instructions, and then we were released, seventy-five students spilling out into the hallway in a mass exodus tinged with excitement and despair, depending on how people thought they’d done.

Torts had been our final exam. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Probably the same way I’d felt about all my exams. Despite my hours and hours studying, and the fact that I looked like I’d just been to hell and back, twice, without a shower, it could go either way. Our exams were graded on a curve, so to some degree, my performance also largely depended on how I did relative to my classmates.

Caitlin called out my name and I waited for her to catch up with me.

“We have to go celebrate.”

I groaned. “I need to sleep. I only slept like four hours last night because I was up late cramming. And I have this stupid holiday party my parents are hosting tonight.”

I’d finally just given in to my mother’s calls and pleading. Some of my friends would be at the party, so at least it wouldn’t be totally horrible. And she’d promised that the Wyatts wouldn’t be there.

“Do you have to go the whole time?”

“Maybe not.” They’d be pissed, but honestly, I needed to let loose a bit. And my parents’ Christmas party was definitely not the place to let loose. “I’ll come. I can probably get away with showing up for an hour or two, and then I’ll meet up with you guys. I’ll text you when I’m out.”

She grinned. “Awesome. See you tonight.”

I walked through the lobby, heading toward the parking lot, feeling like I tasted freedom for the first time in forever. We only had a month off for winter break, but right now I needed the reprieve. Badly.

When I hit the double doors to exit the building, I spotted Gray standing at the entrance, talking to another one of the professors. He had an end-of-semester faculty party he had to attend tonight, but we’d made plans to go to dinner tomorrow.

His gaze met mine and he flashed me a quick smile. I ducked my chin to hide my reaction, unable to keep my lips from grinning.

A few minutes later, when I reached my car, my phone went off. I pulled it out of my purse and stared at the text, a smile spreading all over my face.

Congrats xxx.

*   *   *

I showed up at my parents’ half an hour after the party started. I only planned on staying an hour or so, and then I’d head out to meet up with Caitlin and some other people from our section.

I was feeling marginally more human after taking a five-hour nap and shower. I’d decided on a black cocktail dress that was probably a little casual for my parents, but wouldn’t look bizarre at a bar. I was stretching black-tie a bit, but whatever.

I spotted my father first, surrounded by his inner circle, a broad smile on his face and a glass of champagne in hand. He was in his element, holding court now that his seat was safe once more. However stressed my mother might be about the Capital Confessions mentions, he seemed completely unfazed.

“Blair.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a charming smile.

Between the two of them, my father was the easier one for me to handle. He was definitely a dick, but for the most part he didn’t care what I did. Big-picture stuff was important to him—who I married, where I went to school—but he wasn’t going to give me a hard time about my outfit or how much I’d had to drink, or whether my haircut made my face look round. My mother gave me a hard time about everything.

I smiled at his friends, some of the highest-ranking members of the Senate, men I’d known practically my whole life. I fielded questions about law school for a few minutes, wincing at my father’s suggestion that perhaps I’d transfer schools my second year. The way things were going, I highly doubted that was going to be an option, but I kept my mouth shut.

Finally, someone more important than me walked by, and my father left me for some glad-handing with a potential donor. One campaign down and he was already focused on the next. As much as I knew he was an asshole, it wasn’t lost on me that my father was really good at what he did. Serving people, not so much. But politicking? He had that down to an art and D.C. was his playground.

I didn’t know how Kate and I had ended up the way we did. When we were younger, my mother had definitely spent more time with me. Kate had been too much of a tomboy, had had little patience for debutante balls, etiquette classes, and ballet. She’d been the one my father had connected with the most, and as much as she’d hate to admit it, there was something similar about them.

They each had their own brand of ruthlessness.

I did a sweep of the room, spotting my mother chatting with some of her friends, diamonds sparkling, clearly in her element. I didn’t know if my parents loved each other, if they’d ever loved each other, but they had definitely found a way to make their marriage suit their individual needs. My mother had the money and position she craved; my father had the glossy photo op that helped keep him in power.

Even as I didn’t understand it, I recognized that it worked for them.

And then I saw him, and all thoughts of my parents fled.

My mother had told me the Wyatts couldn’t come to the party, that they were vacationing in St. Barts. That hadn’t been as good as them not being invited entirely, but I’d figured it was enough to avoid an awkward run-in between us.

Apparently, I’d been mistaken.

Thom stood in front of me, wearing a tuxedo like he’d been born to it. Hell, considering the similarities between our upbringings, he basically had. Something about the sight of him took me back—to my coming out ball, prom, the morning of our wedding.

He looked good. He’d always been handsome—tall, tanned, blond hair. He was All-American perfection—smart, funny, kind. It was difficult to reconcile the Thom I’d known growing up with someone who’d cheated on me.

I gripped the stem of my champagne glass, my body fighting the urge to flee, my chest tight.

He’d finally stopped calling a few weeks ago. I hadn’t listened to any of his voice mails, hadn’t been ready to face him.

He began walking toward me, apparently taking my frozen stance as permission to approach. Maybe it was. I didn’t even know anymore. I hadn’t been prepared for this, but now that it was here, I wasn’t sure what I felt. I wasn’t angry anymore. Wasn’t even really sad. He felt like a stranger with whom I’d once shared a few intimacies.

Maybe more than anything, I was just confused.

And then he was right in front of me, and I couldn’t avoid the moment anymore.

“Hi.”

I couldn’t make myself smile, could feel the weight of dozens of pairs of eyes on us.

So awkward.

“Hi,” I echoed, my head spinning, feeling as though I was having an out-of-body experience.

He swallowed. “You look nice tonight.”

Apparently, we’d been reduced to social pleasantries. “Thanks. You, too.”

This was too bizarre for words.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

Shit.

I could do polite and superficial. Anything more seemed like a bad idea. I didn’t know what was left to say.

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

It was the look in his eyes that did it. Somewhere along the way I’d convinced myself that he was an asshole for what he did to me, but seeing him up close again, staring into the eyes of the boy I’d grown up with, it was hard to believe. I was hurt, but something inside me made the decision for me.

I nodded. “Okay.”

I walked out to the patio, the same one I’d stood on with Gray, Thom trailing behind me, ignoring the whispers that surrounded us. It felt like the longest walk of my life. When the fresh air hit me, finally, I could breathe again, no longer skewered by the intent gaze of a hundred prying eyes.

Thom closed the door behind him and stared at me. Silence stretched, filling the chasm that separated us. I waited for him to speak, figured that since he’d initiated this reunion it was up to him to set the tone.

And then he did.

“I’m sorry.”

My breath hitched.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he continued. “Ever. I didn’t think it would affect us. That I could pretend like it wasn’t a part of me. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Wouldn’t affect us?” I choked the words out. “You had sex with someone else on our wedding day. In a church.”

His eyes got tight. “I know.”

“Just tell me why. Because that’s the thing I don’t get. If you knew you were gay, why did you get involved with me? Why did you propose to me? Why did you make me think you loved me? That we’d have a future together? You were my friend. Always. How could you hurt me like that?”

“I loved you, Blair. I always loved you.”

“As a friend.”

Guilt flashed in his eyes, and he nodded.

“Did you cheat on me when we were dating?” I asked, my tone hollow.

I figured I knew the answer to that one, but if he was going to give me some of it, then I needed all of it.

He stiffened. “Yes.”

“A lot?”

He shook his head. “A few times. I hated myself afterward every time. And each time I’d convince myself that I was going to end things with you, that I was going to come out to you, my parents, but I just couldn’t.”

My hands trembled. “Our wedding—seeing you and Brad—do you love him?”

“I do.”

I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse, but on some level, the part of me that couldn’t completely erase our past was glad he’d found someone that made him happy.

I pressed my lips together. “When did you realize you were gay? Did you always know?”

He rubbed his brow, his shoulders hunched. “Did some part of me always know? Probably, yeah. I didn’t really recognize it then, maybe because I knew my parents would never accept it. I tried to do what they wanted me to. Tried to be the person everyone thought I should be. I asked you out because you were one of my best friends. I loved spending time with you. Loved you. And I thought that we could work together. That if I was with you, that other side of me would just go away. I didn’t want to be gay. Didn’t want to be different. My father gives a fortune to conservative political candidates each year. I knew how he’d feel.”