by Vivica Dorn
But it wasn’t Lance on the other side. It was the young brunette receptionist who had checked them in yesterday. She stood next to a large cart topped with several large silver trays and a small envelope. Finn noticed the name on her nametag for the first time – Jessica.
“Good morning, Mr Adamson,” Jessica said brightly. “I have room service for you. May I bring it inside?”
Confused, Finn felt his brow furrow. His mind still felt slow from sleep.
“Sorry, I think there’s been a mistake. I didn’t order anything.”
Jessica shook her head.
“This order was placed and paid for by Mr Gallagher. May I bring it inside?”
“Um, yeah, sure,” Finn muttered, moving out of the way and holding the door open. Jessica pushed the cart inside and began to unload the trays onto a table in the room, taking the lid off of each one and releasing ever-more tantalizing scents into the room.
“Mr Gallagher wasn’t sure what you wanted, so he sent a selection. He hopes you enjoy it.”
Finn frowned, annoyed. Where the hell was Lance, anyway? Was this some kind of message or bribe? He briefly considered sending all of it back and not touching a single bite. That thought didn’t last long, though, as his stomach grumbled and his eyes fell upon the plates of golden eggs benedict, smoked sausages and bacon, buttermilk pancakes with real maple syrup, porridge with fruit compote, and the cup of rich, dark coffee.
“Thanks,” he said weakly.
“You’re very welcome,” Jessica said, straightening. She pulled the envelope from atop the cart and handed it to Finn.
“Mr Gallagher apologizes, but he won’t be able to accompany you back to school today. He has some business to attend to in Langdon. Inside the envelope you will find your train ticket. Mr Gallagher has already ordered and paid for a taxi to come collect you at 11:30am and bring you to the station. Your train departs at 12:20pm.”
Finn pouted for a moment before pulling himself together.
“So, what, he’s not even here? He’s gone?”
Jessica’s polite smile faltered a little.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you more than the fact that Mr Gallagher checked out very early this morning. He didn’t leave us with any more information than what I’ve given to you, now. He did ask me to apologize for any inconvenience on his behalf.”
Finn shook his head disbelievingly. This was just like last night – no, this was worse. He had actually checked out, had completely left Finn behind.
“Ok, thank you,” he said, trying not to let his bad mood slip into his voice and face too much. He didn’t want Jessica to think she had done something to upset him. She had been nothing but kind and professional.
“You’re welcome. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call the front desk. We will alert you when your taxi arrives.”
Finn watched as she exited the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Sighing, he collapsed into a chair at the table and started to eat. The food was truly delicious, but the bitter churning of his stomach and tightness in his chest left him feeling sour and unsatisfied, even after he had devoured every last bite.
Not long afterwards, once Finn had finished packing, the front desk called his room to let him know his taxi had arrived. Gloomily, he left his room, stricken by the feeling that by leaving Langdon alone he was opening up some kind of irreparable distance between Lance and himself, deep and impassable as a chasm. Absurdly, he felt like if he left now, he would never see Lance again, and that strange, unshakable possibility made his throat tighten painfully.
Don’t be dumb, he told himself listlessly.
He would see Lance again. And when he did, he’d give that guy a piece of his damn mind.
CHAPTER 24
Lance thanked and paid his taxi driver as they pulled up to his father’s office. Like his family home, his father had designed the building, and it bore his signature look of huge bold angles, steel beams, and generous use of glass. The sunlight gleamed sharply off of the shimmering the surfaces, creating a diamond-like prismatic effect that clattered outward in the cold morning air. It was a truly impressive building, and Lance had no problem admitting that. In fact, despite their differences, Lance did admire much of his father’s work.
He pushed open the great glass door and stepped into the huge, open lobby. Much like the building’s exterior, the inside shone with surfaces of glass and metal. Small potted trees added some colour to the otherwise monochromatic space, green limbs stretching happily under all the sunlight.
“Welcome to the Gallagher Architectural Firm,” a white-haired receptionist called coolly from behind a solid mass of metal that acted as the reception desk. Lance recognized her immediately, though he hadn’t seen her in a few years. Claudine had been with the company since its founding and was one of the few people his father had never had a bad word to say about. Claudine had spoken without looking up from her computer. When she did, Lance registered a subtle shift in her brows that indicated surprise, but she resumed her mask of emotionless professionalism a split second later.
“Mr Gallagher, hello.”
Lance approached the desk.
“Hello Claudine. As I’m sure you know, I don’t have an appointment, but I’m here to see my father.”
Claudine kept her face mostly immobile, but Lance did note another slight twitch in her brow. She ran an extraordinarily tight ship at the firm, and no doubt did not appreciate the upheaval to her boss’ schedule. Especially since it was his estranged son doing the upheaving.
“As I’m sure you know, your father is extremely busy.”
Lance nodded.
“I know. But I’m not leaving without speaking to him today.”
Claudine regarded him without speaking, as if trying to gauge how serious he was. Coming to a decision, she nodded sharply.
“Very well. Please be seated. I will let you know when Mr Gallagher is ready to see you.”
“Thank you,” Lance said before taking a seat in a modern-looking curved leather chair near the front glass wall. He settled into his seat, staring outside at the cars chugging along the sun-stained road, preparing to be there a while. He had no doubt that his father would make him wait.
And he wasn’t wrong. It was more than two hours after he arrived that Claudine motioned for him to enter his father’s office. Rising, he walked the length of the lobby to a door that he knew all too well. The door to his father’s office. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
His father sat at his sprawling metal desk, facing the door. He obviously knew Lance had entered the room, but he didn’t look up from his laptop until Lance placed a stack of papers on his desk.
“What’s this?” He asked without bothering to greet his son.
Lance sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“It’s a proposal.”
His father met his eyes then, looking completely disinterested.
“Oh?”
Lance nudged the stack of papers closer to his father and started speaking.
“I’m offering you the half-million I earned by selling my patent two years ago. I will retain the interest and dividends earned from all investments made with that money, but the principal 500,000 is yours, if you’ll take it.”
John Gallagher leaned back and stared at him, eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
Lance ran a hand through his hair. He was having trouble articulating the reasons even to himself. He thought back to what he had said to Ralph last night.
“Something has changed in my personal life,” he repeated. “My priorities are shifting, and I don’t feel the same way about what I did as I did back then. It’s an olive branch, if you will. Or perhaps just closure before I move on with this new part of my life.”
His father sighed.
“And what, may one ask, is the personal development that has prompted such a change of heart?” Sarcasm drench
ed his deep voice.
Lance took a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous; he hadn’t been scared of his father in years. In fact, he was almost excited to say what he was about to say. Not because he purposely wanted to upset his father, but because it was the truth. And it felt good to tell the truth about this. This was one thing Lance had no interest in hiding. It was an unusual sensation for him, and one he relished.
“Finn, whom you met yesterday, is more than just a classmate or a friend. I love him, and I intend to move forward with that relationship.”
His father sighed again, more harshly this time. He removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, something Lance remembered seeing him do a lot after Selene had died. It was an action that seemed to say that he didn’t understand where he’d gone wrong, that he didn’t understand the direction his own life had taken. It was a movement that Lance himself hoped never to emulate.
After a tense moment, John returned his glasses to his face and fixed Lance in his steely gaze. A gaze so like Lance’s own.
“I don’t want your money, Lance. Despite how poorly I think you behaved in that situation, that was money you nonetheless earned with your own skills and work. I hope you use it to build a life you can be proud of.” He paused. Then, his tone biting, continued, “because I certainly won’t be.”
Lance nodded slowly. He had steeled himself for such an answer, so the words didn’t sting like they could have. He rose, and retrieved the paper proposal from his father’s desk, tucking it under his arm.
“And Lance?”
Lance stopped.
“Yes?”
His father’s gaze hardened further.
“Don’t ever come to me or this company asking for anything. You are truly on your own now.”
Lance could have rolled his eyes and left without another word. He could have flung the papers in his father’s face. He could have stormed off and created a scene. But he didn’t. He had no interest in those kind of antics.
Instead he held out his hand, and after a moment, his father stood, took it, and shook it firmly. Lance had expected no more, and no less, from the situation, and he left the room with his shoulders squared and his chin held high.
As he exited the office building and let the winter sun pour over him, he felt lighter than he had in years. He knew now that he had done what he could, offered what he thought was fair, and that he was now truly free to leave his father behind and move on with his life in the way that he saw fit. In the way that he now so desperately wanted. Now that that was out of the way, he had only one thing on his mind, and it drove him forward with the unstoppable resolve of a bull.
He had to see Finn.
CHAPTER 25
Finn got back to campus just after 7pm, after another a long train ride back and a short bus trip from the station. He hadn’t enjoyed the luxuries of Executive Class nearly as much this time, he noted irritably, without Lance sitting across from him. He had glanced up several times throughout the journey, almost automatically, each time expecting to see Lance’s face. And each time he didn’t see it, it dug into him just a little bit more sharply.
He had eaten on the train so he didn’t need to scrounge up something for dinner, but he didn’t feel ready to return to his dorm just yet. He felt way too, well, lonely.
As he kicked through the slush on the sidewalks of the Kingston College campus, his backpack bumping against his back with each step, he wondered if anyone he knew was out for a drink at The White Hart. He hadn’t bothered taking advantage of the complimentary alcohol on the train this time, and a drink in the warm pub was sounding better and better by the second. He had to get out of this cold, dark weather. Was the Kingston College campus always this dreary? Everything looked muted and grey with the melting snow and mud under the unforgiving streetlights overhead. Or maybe it was just that the campus felt empty without a certain stone-jawed swimmer. With a sharp shake of his head, Finn steered himself towards the pub. He refused to let Lance make him miserable. No matter how he actually may have felt, he would put on a brave face and enjoy the rest of the evening. Or, at the very least, he could get so drunk that he just didn’t care anymore.
The pub, like always, was bustling and bright. Students mingled by the bar, laughed together at tables, or buzzed around the pool tables at the far end of the room. Finn scanned the crowd quickly, but didn’t see anyone he recognized – none of his fellow swim team members, and no classmates that he was friendly enough with seemed to be here.
Oh, scratch that. He did recognize someone. Andrea was waving energetically at him from behind the bar, her pale hair shining under the warm lights. Finn couldn’t help but notice several of the male patrons give him curious, jealous looks. Normally that would have given him a smug sense of satisfaction. But not tonight. He approached the bar, slid into a stool, and dumped his bag on the ground by his feet.
“Hey Finn!” Andrea enthused with a broad, lipsticked smile. “How was your trip back? I must have been on the train before yours, I got here a few hours ago.”
“It was fine,” Finn said flatly. Andrea looked at him for a moment before shifting her gaze behind him, her eyes searching the room.
“Where’s Lance?” She asked, slender brows furrowed. The question bothered Finn more than it should have.
“No idea,” he answered petulantly.
Andrea regarded him again, more seriously this time. Finn looked down at the bar, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He had the impression that she was a lot more observant and serious than her social butterfly persona let on. With a shiver, he realized she was more like Lance than he had thought.
Guess it’s in the blood. Andrea was a cousin on Lance’s father’s side, after all.
“Hmm, I’m surprised,” she said, relaxing and cocking her head. She grabbed a glass and started drying it out with a clean rag. “I assumed he would come back with you.”
Yeah, you and me both.
“I’ve never seen him so attached at the hip to someone before. It really was surprising.” Her voice was calm and conversational, but Finn felt that there was something behind the words – that she was pushing for something. Trying to ascertain some kind of information. Finn really didn’t know what she may have been looking for or how to satisfy her, so he asked his own question, instead.
“Hey Andrea, does Lance like to, like, mess with people? Like prank them? Or... Or tell them things that aren’t true?”
She stopped rubbing at the glass, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.
“Lance? Our Lance?”
Our Lance. Finn felt himself blushing.
“No,” she said with a snort. “Definitely not. He’s not interested in stuff like that. In fact, he’s generally not interested in people enough to bother, well, bothering them. Which is why I was so surprised to see he had brought someone to the funeral. And in terms of telling people things that aren’t true, that’s a no as well. I think I mentioned at the funeral that when Lance does speak, he is extremely honest. Almost to a fault.”
I’m in love with you.
Finn sighed. He had known the answer before Andrea had even responded.
So what does it all mean?
He pondered silently, staring down at the bar again.
“Well, Finn, can I get you a drink or anything?”
A drink, right.
Suddenly Finn’s earlier desire to drink away his sorrows, or at the very least his confusion, dissipated. It just felt like too much of a cliché to sit here and drink alone because he was feeling rejected.
“Um, just a Coke, please.”
Andrea nodded.
“You got it.”
She placed the fizzing drink down in front of him before whirling away to serve the other more thirsty patrons.
And so, over the next few hours, Finn nursed his Coke, and then another, then another, glowering down at the bar, not speaking to anyone. He sat at the bar of The White Hart until, just as he was thinking that he really ought to leave, a huge body
slipped into the stool next to his.
“So, this is where you ended up,” Lance said.
CHAPTER 26
Lance’s phone buzzed just as he stepped off of the train at the Kingston station. Getting clear of the crowd, he pulled it out from his pocket and opened a text message from Andrea.
What the hell did you do to this kid?
Lance frowned. What on earth was she babbling about?
Before he had a chance to ask for clarification, a photo downloaded in their text chat. It was a bit blurry, as if it had been taken quickly and without the subject’s knowledge or consent. But, despite the lack of clarity, the image was obviously one of Finn, slumped forward at the bar at The White Hart.
Cut him off. Lance typed back quickly, his fingers practically stabbing the screen, before jogging out to the street and hailing the first cab he saw.
I’m not an idiot, Andrea responded as he got into the car and gave the driver the address of The White Hart. All he’s had is Coke. That’s why I’m asking what you did to him!!!
Lance’s brows contracted. So Finn wasn’t wasted. Well, that was something, at least. He re-read Andrea’s question.
What had he done to Finn? At least, what had he done recently? He had told him he loved him, true, but then he had given Finn the space he so clearly had wanted. Finn was the one who had practically sprinted from the car and into the hotel after that conversation, after all. Lance ignored that dull ache that emanated from his chest every time that image came to mind – Finn retreating as far from him as possible in the snow-swept night.
He looked down at his phone again, at Finn’s bent body. He had no answer for his curious cousin. So all he typed back was,
I’ll be there soon.
And he did get there soon. The drive from the station to The White Hart took less than 15 minutes, and when Lance entered the pub, Finn was exactly where he expected to see him based on the photo Andrea had sent. Finn was sitting in a stool with his back to the door, slouching, his right elbow on the bar and his cheek pressed into his hand. Lance caught himself smiling slightly without meaning to. He couldn’t help it – seeing Finn made him happy. Even though he had just been with him yesterday, it felt like it had been years since they’d spoken, years since he’d locked those blue eyes with his.
