“...brings you to New York, Joshua?”
He blinked and found Michael’s eyes fixed on him—cool gray, like sharp steel. “I, uh...” He didn’t want to tell him anything.
“Joshua’s a musician,” Ruth explained to the rest of the group. “He’s going to be working with Quinton Jones—the music producer.”
Joshua flicked a look at her but didn’t deny the exaggeration.
“How exciting,” Isabelle said, without interest. “Are you making an album or something?”
“Well, you never know.” He supposed he might play on a couple, at least. “It’s early days. I’m meeting Quinton for lunch next week.”
“At least you’ve given up on the teaching, at last.” Michael took a sip of his Haut Brion. “Always knew you could do better, Joshua.”
“There’s—” He knew he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he couldn’t let it go. “Teaching is incredibly rewarding. I think it’s one of the most honorable professions in the world. And I’m not giving up. I’m trying something different for a while, that’s all.”
Michael’s smirk, the sly look he shot one of his toadies, made Joshua want to throw a punch. Only the buzz of his phone saved him from disgracing himself. Gritting his teeth, he used the text as an excuse to turn away, even if the message was only from Lexa. Anything to escape Michael.
Opening it, he read: OMG Liz is engaged for realz!!!!!!
His stomach plunged to his toes. Even though he knew it was inevitable, the shock hit him like a wave. He stared at the words, watched them blur, felt his heart cramp.
“Joshua?” Ruth peered at him in concern. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes. I—” He could see three little dots where Lexa was typing again and stabbed at the button to switch off his phone before he could read more. The last thing he wanted was details. He felt sick, a horrible crushing grief taking hold of him. It was ridiculous; he knew they were together, he knew this could happen. And he was here starting a new life, for God’s sake. And yet he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t prepared. He couldn’t bear it.
The rest of the evening passed at a horrific snail’s pace, each moment stretching out forever. He went through the motions of eating, tried to seem normal, but inside he felt something shrivel away. It was hope dying, he supposed, some vestigial dream that a miracle might bring Finn back to him.
But it was over now, forever. Finn was marrying Liz Howard and he wasn’t the kind of man to make that commitment lightly. No, Finn must truly love her.
Joshua felt alternately sick and so furious he could crawl out of his skin. If it hadn’t been for his father, for Michael, and their homophobic ideas of honor—if it hadn’t been for his own misguided loyalty to them eight years ago—then he and Finn might still be together. They might be the ones getting married. That thought hurt so much he had to excuse himself to the bathroom.
By the time he and Ruth eventually left, with Michael saying something about meeting again at a party in a couple of weeks, Joshua could barely keep control of himself. As soon as they hit the sidewalk, he pleaded the need for solitude and headed out into the city alone. He knew Ruth was worried, but there wasn’t enough left in him to care. It took everything to just keep walking.
He needed space to think, to try and come to terms with this final loss after years of hopeless dreaming. What he craved was the comfort of the ocean, a long walk on the beach, but he was out of luck. So he headed for the closest thing to it in Manhattan and found himself near Pier 81, thick with tourists even in January, and just stood there looking out over the river. The lights from the cruise ships and Weehawken glittered in the water and maybe it looked beautiful—there were plenty of people with their phones out taking photos—but all he could see was the darkness beyond the lights.
His own phone sat dead in his pocket and he pulled it out, staring at the blank screen. He couldn’t bring himself to switch it back on, to reply to Lexa or to read her other messages. Or Sean’s, he imagined. God help him if Finn had gotten his number.
The thought of a message—worse, a call—from Finn made his stomach churn. Hey, Josh, just wanted to let you know...
He swallowed the knot in his throat. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take that call or read that message. He wouldn’t. With shaking hands he tried to pry off the back of his phone, but the damn thing was sealed shut and he couldn’t get to the battery. “Fuck it,” he growled. “God damn and fuck it.” With a surge of fury and a sharp yell, he hauled back and threw his phone, watching it catch the light as it arced out over the river and disappeared beneath its dark water.
Gone forever. Like Finn.
It didn’t bring him any relief.
* * *
The next week blew in cold and gray, the clouds so low the tops of the buildings disappeared into a heavy mist that sent New Yorkers scurrying about their business with heads down.
Joshua found it suited his mood perfectly.
Meeting with Quinton was the last thing he wanted to do, but he made himself go anyway. What he wanted to do was stay in bed or pick out sad tunes on the piano, wallowing in his melancholy. But he wouldn’t allow it. He’d had enough of that.
So by midday he found himself eating an early lunch at a trendy restaurant with Quinton, who sat preening at their window table as if on display for the world to admire. Perhaps he was, perhaps that was what music people did; everyone who came into All Bar None seemed to know him, or want to know him, and he introduced Joshua to them all.
“Networking,” he said with a smile and stretched out his long legs so that his ankle brushed against Joshua’s beneath the table. It wasn’t an accidental touch. “So, Joshua, what do you think? Big city, bright lights—is it for you?”
No. It wasn’t. It had never been, but right then all Joshua cared about was doing something different. Something far from New Milton. Far from Finn. “I think I’ll enjoy it.”
“There’s a lot here to enjoy, if you’ll let yourself.” Quinton ran his gaze over him, lingering for a purposeful beat on Joshua’s mouth before lifting it back to his eyes. “I get the feeling you don’t find enjoying yourself very easy.”
“Maybe not, but”—God help him—“I’m open to learning.”
Quinton’s eyes gleamed as he reached across the table and ran a fingertip over Joshua’s wrist. He felt a hot spark of anticipation, something unexplored for too long. “Are you now? Well in that case—”
Someone rapped on the window, making Joshua jump. Sean Callaghan stared at them through the glass, a mixture of confusion and relief on his face. He was with a group of people, all in suits, who looked like they were waiting for him with limited patience.
Joshua’s stomach lurched as he pulled his hand away from Quinton and watched Sean say something to his colleagues before heading into the bar. “Crap.”
“Uh-oh.” Quinton sipped his coffee. “Your ex? I do hope he’s going to make a scene.”
Joshua shook his head, wiped sweaty hands on his jeans, and stood up as Sean made his way over to their table. Be normal, he told himself. Don’t give anything away.
“Joshua!” Sean went to give him a hug, but checked himself at the last moment and bounced on his toes instead. “Man, it’s good to see you. I—How are you?”
“I’m good.” Please don’t mention Finn. Please don’t mention Finn. “It’s good to see you too, Sean.”
A pause. Sean frowned and shot a look at Quinton who was watching them both with avid interest. “I, um... Did you get my texts? I tried to call.”
“Oh.” Joshua flushed. “No, I lost my phone.” He hated how much that sounded like a lie—how it was a lie. “It, uh, fell in the river.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Right.”
Sean’s awkwardness made him ache; he’d obviously been hurt by the way Joshua left town without a word. They’d been friends, after all. Searchi
ng for something to say, he came up with “Are you here on business?”
“Couple days of meetings.” Sean’s gaze flickered toward Quinton again. “And you? Dee said you might not be back for a while.”
“No, I’m—I’m here visiting my aunt for a couple weeks. And trying my hand as a studio musician. Quinton is helping me—he’s a music producer.”
Sean lifted an eyebrow and gave Quinton an unconvincing smile. “That sounds—” He glanced past Joshua to the window, where one of the women waiting for him tapped her watch. “Shit. I’m running late for a client meeting. I gotta go.”
“Of course. Well it was nice—”
“Listen”—Sean pulled out his wallet—“take my card and call me when you get a new phone, okay? I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.” Joshua accepted the card because it was easier than trying to explain, here, why it would be a good idea if they just let their friendship fade. “Sean—”
A fierce hug cut him off. “Don’t be a stranger. I mean it, man. We all miss you.” He let go, but just when Joshua thought he’d escaped any mention of the wedding, Sean said, “Sorry, but you do know about Finn and Liz, right?”
Was it an accusation? Was Sean wondering why he hadn’t offered any congratulations? His ears burned. “I, uh... Yes, Lexa told me.” He tried to smile. “I’m sorry, I should have said something. You must be excited.” It was the best he could manage.
“Excited?”
“For Finn, I mean.” He was making a hash of it. “Liz’s great, I’m sure they’ll be very—”
“No.” Sean grabbed his arm. “No, Josh, they broke up. Finn and Liz broke up.”
He stared, pressing his fingernails into the heel of his hand to keep from reacting. “Broke up?”
“Liz got engaged to Dr. Bentley, the hospital doctor she met after the accident.” He snorted a derisive laugh. “She really is all about carpe diem, I guess.”
But Joshua couldn’t laugh; he was devastated. All he could see was Finn begging him not to end it between them, heartbreak in his eyes. He couldn’t bear that it had happened again. “But how is he? Is Finn okay?”
“He’s...” Sean looked at him intently, expression softening in a way that made Joshua’s stomach flutter. “Dude, he’s relieved.”
And what on earth did that mean?
Behind him, the woman started tapping her impatience on the window. “Crap,” Sean muttered, “I really gotta go.” He squeezed Joshua’s arm. “Call me,” he said, with another look at Quinton. “Call me soon, okay?”
And then he disappeared into the crowd and Joshua sank back onto his chair with weak knees.
“Hmm,” Quinton said over the lip of his cup. “‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ cried Alice.”
* * *
Three days later, Joshua was at Create Studios recording his first session. The other musicians were wired and the pace swift. Intense was an understatement; there was no time for mistakes and no concentration to spare. For that, Joshua was grateful—he’d done little but brood about Finn since his conversation with Sean and it was a relief to focus so intensely on something else.
But his distraction never lasted long. Even here, during every break, the questions returned like gulls wheeling high and waiting to swoop. The thing was, he couldn’t figure out what it meant that Finn was “relieved” his relationship with Liz had ended. Because, if that was how he felt, then why hadn’t he ended it himself?
The previous night, feeling rebellious and unsettled, Joshua had Googled “Finn Callaghan girlfriends” and “Finn Callaghan boyfriends.” Googling Finn wasn’t something he’d ever let himself do before; last night he’d figured he had nothing left to lose and had spent an hour or two scanning images of Finn with various beautiful women. There were no boyfriends.
He hadn’t been sure what he was looking for at first. But then he’d remembered the picture on his bookshelf—how he and Finn were looking at each other in that picture—and he’d searched for the same connection in the photos of Finn and his girlfriends.
He hadn’t found it.
What that meant, Joshua didn’t know. That all Finn’s relationships had been facades? That Aunt Ruth had been right and he’d dived into the closet for the sake of his career? He didn’t know what to make of a man who’d use people like that and couldn’t quite believe it of Finn. Not that it mattered, of course. Finn had had every opportunity to return to Joshua and he never had. Clearly, he never would. And yet...
And yet, fool that he was, Joshua felt a flicker of hope because, despite everything, Finn was free. He was free again.
By the end of that morning’s session Joshua was hot and sweaty, but on the kind of high you couldn’t get from anything other than good music and hard work. As he stood up from the piano and stretched his back he saw Quinton watching him through the window with an appreciative smile. A tilt of his head invited Joshua to join him.
The air was cooler as he stepped into the control booth and nodded his goodbyes to the other musicians who were heading straight to another session. A couple of them looked like they hadn’t slept in a week.
“They probably haven’t,” Quinton agreed when Joshua said as much. “You work when you get a gig in this job, darling—anytime, anyplace, anywhere.”
Joshua thought of his quiet home in New Milton, of the ocean at the end of his street, of the kids he wasn’t teaching, the concerts he wasn’t arranging. “I’m not sure I’m an anytime, anyplace, anywhere kind of guy.”
“Really?” Quinton raked a look over him. “I’ve got budget meetings all afternoon, or I’d show you exactly how to be an anytime, anyplace, anywhere kind of guy.”
Joshua blushed, but didn’t acknowledge or shut down the double entendre. They both knew what Quinton was offering, but Joshua hadn’t decided whether he was interested. He really wasn’t into casual hookups, but perhaps he should give it a go in this new life of his? It might convince him that he’d stopped pining for Finn. So he smiled instead of answering and Quinton smiled back with a speculative gleam in his eyes.
“I do, however, have time for lunch,” he said.
So they ended up back at All Bar None, at Quinton’s favorite table, and sat rather too close while Quinton spent an hour overtly flirting and Joshua tried to decide whether he liked it or not.
“Tonight,” Quinton said, setting down his napkin, “they have an open mic here—you and I should set the place on fire.”
Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, come on, darling, it’ll be a laugh. We’ll do Cohen again, and afterwards... My place?” He grinned and pulled out his cigarettes. “Christ, I’m gagging for a fag—as they say in London.”
“Ah—”
“A ciggy.” He tapped his cigarettes in explanation, then glanced out the window and sighed. “Bloody hell, look at that, it’s pissing down.”
The rain fell in sheets, bouncing up from the street outside. People hurried along under umbrellas, heads down, car lights reflecting in the wet pavement, irritable horns blaring.
It would be a wet walk back to the studio.
“Come on,” Quinton said, getting up and throwing a handful of bills on the table. “Let’s go. I’ll find us a cab.”
“In this weather?”
He flashed Joshua as smile as they wove their way through the crowded restaurant. “Trust me, I have a knack.”
Joshua could believe it; Quinton was nothing if not commanding. Imperious, even. It was attractive in its way, dazzling. Joshua could imagine letting himself be dazzled, embracing the distraction.
“Wait here,” Quinton said as he pulled on his overcoat. “No point in us both getting drenched.”
So Joshua waited in the crowded foyer, peering out the steamy windows as Quinton headed off to hail a cab. Inside, it was hot and humid as people shook off their wet co
ats and umbrellas. He wiped a clear spot on the glass and watched Quinton standing at the curb. The door opened again and Joshua made room as a guy backed inside, trying to get out of the rain and collapse his umbrella at the same time.
“Sorry.” The man turned. “I—”
Everything stopped. Joshua heard nothing but the blood pounding in his ears.
After a stunned pause, Finn Callaghan smiled. “Josh...”
It was a bright, nervous smile that sent Joshua’s heart swooping. His mouth worked and he heard himself say, “Hello, Finn.”
“I, uh...” Finn looked rattled but he was still smiling, warm and unguarded. “Wow. Uh, Sean said he’d seen you in here, but I didn’t think...” He trailed off, briefly met Joshua’s gaze, then looked down to shake the rain from his sleeves. “I’m—I just ducked in to get out of the weather.”
He didn’t know what to make of Finn’s awkwardness. “It’s pretty nasty out.” He guessed the weather was a safe topic. “They say it’s going to turn to snow tonight.”
“You’ll like that, then.” Finn’s smile softened. “You like snow.”
“I do.”
Despite the noisy restaurant, a weighted silence fell between them, comprised of all those things unsaid and unsayable. Finn’s jaw worked like he was chewing on a tough thought, but nothing left his lips save a tense breath.
“I—”
“Are—?”
They spoke at the same time and Finn blushed, gesturing for Joshua to continue.
“I was only going to ask what brings you to New York. I thought you’d be filming.”
“I’ve got a free weekend, so... Sean said you’re working as a studio musician?” He scrubbed a hand through his damp hair. “Sounds cool. You enjoying it?”
Joshua gave an equivocal shrug. “I’ve only played one session, but it was fun. Not sure it’s really for me, but I figured I needed to do something with my life.”
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