by M. S. Parker
I’d asked a question that I wanted to know an answer to because it connected with a conversation he’d agreed to have after we left the party. If he hadn’t made the connection, maybe I should’ve communicated it better, but it wasn’t always easy to maintain a cool head when he kept being deliberately pig-headed about things.
The worst part was, I was more sad than angry. I understood that the two of us needed time to share things with each other, but for me, it wasn’t a matter of not knowing him well enough to share everything. Not anymore.
Once we’d decided to try to make this work, I’d been all in. Anything he would’ve asked me, I would’ve answered honestly. We knew each other’s bodies so intimately that I couldn’t quite understand why we’d hide anything else.
If all he’d wanted was my body, he should have told me that, and I wouldn’t have let myself get so invested. I assumed that wanting a relationship had meant non-physical intimacy as well. I’d thought we’d been on the same page since Virginia Beach, even if we’d still had some miscommunications. If he didn’t want to answer a simple question, then I’d been mistaken.
Which only made me wonder what else I’d been mistaken about.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said finally. “I’m asking you to trust me to tell you what you need to know, and you’re insisting that if I trust you, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I asked. “You get to decide what I need to know, which means you also get to hide anything you don’t want me to know. How am I supposed to be close to someone who won’t let me in? How equal is a relationship when one person gets to make those decisions for both of us?”
“Are you saying that I need to bare my soul, tell you all of my deepest and darkest secrets? Are you forgetting that we’ve known each other for a month? And it wasn’t that long ago that you were expecting me to be understanding of why you hadn’t told me about Finley being your father.”
We weren’t getting anywhere, and I couldn’t lay the blame for that totally at his feet. I’d made mistakes in the past, and I understood why he was bringing them up, even if I wanted to remind him that we’d been at a different place when that’d happened. Maybe that was the problem. I thought we were in a different place now while he thought we were still in the same.
I leaned forward and knocked on the divider that, thankfully, kept Angus from hearing what we’d been talking about.
“What are you doing?”
I ignored Nate as the divider came down an inch. “Drop me off at my place.”
“No, we’re going home.”
I shot him a glare. “Angus, please take me home before you drop Nate off at his place, and I’ll remind Nate that taking me somewhere against my will is kidnapping.”
The divider went back up without a word, but I’d seen Angus nod at me.
“What the hell?” Nate asked as I sat back in my seat. “We had a weekend planned.”
“You’re right,” I said. “We did, but I don’t really feel like spending the weekend with you would be the best thing for me right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sighed. “Spending the weekend with you isn’t the healthiest thing for me because we’re clearly not on the same page. So, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going home and going to sleep. Tomorrow, I’m going to spend some time with my mom, and you should probably think about what it is you want from this relationship. It wouldn’t hurt to figure out some specifics of what that looks like too. On Sunday, I have brunch with my mom, so if you’ve had enough time to figure things out, you can call me sometime after one or two.”
“You can’t just unilaterally decide that.”
My voice was so cold I could barely recognize it. “Fine. Don’t think about what you want or how you want to get there. Do whatever you want. But I’m going to do what I just said I would do because I can ‘just unilaterally decide’ what I want to do with my own life. If you don’t want to be a part of that, it’s your choice.”
“Ashlee…”
I held up a hand. “I’m not in the mood for your alpha male bullshit. And, honestly, I don’t want an apology either, though I doubt that’s what you were going to do. If you insist on talking, I’ll have Angus pull over right now, and I’ll walk the rest of the way to my apartment. Got it?”
He nodded, and I dropped my hand, suddenly weary in a way that had little to do with sleep. I’d heard dozens of times that little worth having came easily, whether in profession or romance, but none of those little nuggets of made this any less difficult.
I was willing to put the work in, but I wasn’t going to do it alone. If he thought it was too much effort to communicate, to be vulnerable, then I had to wonder what he thought we were doing.
When Angus pulled over in front of my building, I got out without waiting for either man to open the door. The wind whipped my dress around my legs, and I hurried inside, grateful to have a legitimate excuse not to have heard anything Nate might’ve called after me. And just as grateful to not know if he hadn’t said a word.
I kicked off my shoes as soon as I stepped inside my apartment, then stripped off my clothes as I walked. It didn’t matter that I was leaving them on the floor. No one but me would be in here tonight. I’d pick them up in the morning.
Less than ten minutes later, I was sinking into bathwater hot enough to turn my skin pink. Not wanting the hassle of washing and drying my hair, I’d left it pinned up, needing the relaxation of a bath more than I needed to shampoo my hair. It felt like every muscle in my body was tense, and I knew I’d never get to sleep like that.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on relaxing each muscle individually. First, my jaw. Unclenching was harder than it should have been. Then my neck. Shoulders. Arms. Torso. Hands. Each time, I visualized the muscles bunching then releasing. When I finally reached my toes, I breathed out a long, steady breath and then took inventory. I wasn’t as physically tense as I had been before, but the knot in my chest hadn’t eased at all.
I couldn’t regret the things I’d done to get me to this place because they’d led to me having a relationship with the wonderful man who’d helped bring me into existence. I couldn’t even regret my time with Nate, as frustrating as it’d been, because of how much he’d opened up my world. If this was all there was and all there’d ever be, I could be thankful for it. I didn’t want it to be over already, but I couldn’t let things continue on if we wanted different futures. We both deserved more than that, no matter how much I wanted to throttle him right now.
Maybe it was better this way. The physical attraction would’ve eventually brought us together and the inevitable fall-out could have been much worse. Now, at least I felt like I’d tried to have something more.
If I would’ve walked away after our first night together, I would’ve always wondered what could have been. But we hadn’t been together too long either. I wouldn’t feel like I’d wasted time trying to make things work.
I hated that I was trying to convince myself that everything was playing out in the best way possible, but the alternative was worse. Picturing the way life could be if we worked things out. Seeing a future where my crazy family and his different-but-still-crazy family came together for holidays. A world where I finally had the extended family I’d always wanted.
No, better to face the most likely outcome head on.
Unfortunately, that particular brand of logic did absolutely nothing to help me get to sleep.
Thirty-Five
Nate
I spent yesterday working out in an effort to clear my head so I could figure out how to handle this thing with Ashlee, but I didn’t wake up with any more clarity this morning than I’d had yesterday. I’d slept like shit both nights too, so I wasn’t in the best place right now.
I didn’t understand what she expected from me. I’d never claimed to be a nice guy – just the opposite in fact. She’d known what she was getting int
o.
She should have understood why I didn’t want to talk about what’d happened between Joshua and me, especially after Zed let it slip that my brother used to be a part of Unraveling. Well, not so much slip as announce. Which I assumed was also how he’d ‘shared’ that I’d slept with Calah.
Why couldn’t she have just accepted that it wasn’t anything she needed to know about? It was in the past, and I wasn’t planning on doing it again. It had nothing to do with her and me, but she didn’t seem to see it that way, and nothing I’d said had made a difference.
Not that I’d actually said anything. More like argued and barely kept from shouting. I knew better, and not just in hindsight either. I’d known it when the words were coming out of my mouth. Just like I’d known it before.
This was going to keep happening. It wasn’t a guess. I knew it because it’s who I was. I fucked up everything. From the outside, I looked like I had it all, and in business, I supposed I did. It was the one thing I knew how to do well, and I never fucked up.
I supposed this was where the choice came in. I could let her go, let what we had end the same way as every other relationship I’d ever had. Or I could try to figure out how to fix things.
I wanted the latter. At least, I knew that for certain.
Which meant I needed to get help from the only person I could count on. Sure, it made it awkward that Ashlee was Finley’s daughter, but it wasn’t like I planned to tell him details about what she and I had done to and with each other. I just needed someone who’d be honest with me but didn’t hate me. Sad to say, there weren’t many of those sorts of people in my life.
And if I’d fucked up too badly with Ashlee, there was one less.
“I’m assuming this visit isn’t because you’ve missed me,” Finley said as he stepped aside to let me in. “It’s still pretty early in the day, but you look like you could use a drink.”
“I’m half-tempted to ask for one,” I said as I headed for my usual chair. “But I should probably keep my head on straight. I make a fool of myself enough sober.”
“That doesn’t sound like you’re here for a friendly chat, or a business one either. Can I get you anything before I sit down?”
I shook my head. “I just need to pick your brain.”
He took the seat across from me. “I’m going to take a guess that you want to talk about Ashlee.” He smiled. “My daughter. Still feels strange to think it, let alone say it.”
“Is this going to be weird?” I asked. “Me talking to you about her?”
He shook his head. “Not unless you intend to get more descriptive about certain private aspects of your relationship than you have in the past.”
“I don’t.”
“Then I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”
I was relieved to hear it because I didn’t know who else I would’ve gone to about this. My relief must’ve shown because he chuckled.
“Sorry, kid. If you could’ve seen your face, you would’ve laughed too.”
He was probably right about that.
“Let me guess, you did something stupid. Again.”
I glared at him, but he wasn’t wrong. “I have absolutely no clue how to handle women. Women like Roma and the other ones I’ve been with over the years, those I understand. It was always simple with them. I knew what they wanted and what was expected of both of us. But with Ashlee, I don’t really know what to do. I don’t know what she wants.”
“You do realize you’re coming to a gay man to ask for advice about your girlfriend, right?” He crossed his arms. “I mean, I have a sister, but she’s more like the others than she is like Ashlee.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Not important. Tell me what’s got you so confused, though I suspect looking at it as ‘handling’ women is probably a good indication as to why you fucked up.”
He probably had a point there.
I went through the entire evening, not holding anything back. If I wanted an honest answer, I needed to be honest about everything that’d happened, even if it made me sound like an ass. When I finished, I looked at him expectantly, ready for whatever came next.
“You could’ve dealt with that better.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said with a sigh.
“You tell me something first. What is it you want from her? With her?”
“I want to do the right thing,” I said immediately. “I want this to work with Ashlee.”
“That’s good,” he said. A troubled expression settled on his face, and he looked reluctant to share.
“Spill it, Finley. I came to you because I knew you wouldn’t pull any punches.”
“I don’t know Ashlee very well,” he began. “But I know you. When it comes to business, you’ve got a competitive edge that nobody can match. You revel in things that are difficult. You’re the same way with sports and working out.”
I sensed a ‘but’ coming.
“When it comes to relationships, though, it’s different. When things get hard, you move on. You run. You don’t like it when things get too messy. In your previous relationships, it worked because you’d already decided that you both didn’t want anything complicated, but you and Ashlee decided you wanted more, and with more comes complexity.”
Everything he said was true, but it didn’t make it hurt any less to realize that my friend could see that part of me. Was I truly that transparent?
“You run by ending things, by cutting people off. You have to stop, or you’re going to lose her.”
Again, no surprises, but still not easy to hear.
“Here’s the thing…not running won’t be enough,” he continued. “If you truly want this relationship, you have to fight for it. Fight for her.”
I nodded. Now we were getting somewhere. This was what I needed to know. A list of how to fix things.
“You’re probably not going to like this,” he said, “but sometimes, fighting will look a lot like surrendering. Let down your walls. Stop protecting yourself. Trust her with the truth.”
After a minute, he excused himself, saying he needed to get something to drink, but I knew it was his way of leaving me alone to process everything he’d told me.
It wouldn’t have made a difference if he’d stayed, though. I still had absolutely no clue what to do.
Thirty-Six
Ashlee
Instead of going out for Sunday afternoon brunch, I went back home. It was funny how I had a place of my own but going back to the place where I’d grown up was always a different sort of going home.
When Mom texted me to ask if I’d mind coming out because she had a cold, I hadn’t told her yet about what was going on with Nate and me, but I’d been glad of her suggestion. I needed the comfort of familiar surroundings.
I’d meant every word I’d said to Nate, and it might’ve come across as if I’d been calm and cool, but inside, I’d been torn up. It hadn’t gotten better either. I knew what I wanted, but I had no experience with something like this. I knew how to go on dates. I didn’t know how to build something real.
Then again, it wasn’t as if Nate’s previous relationships had been anything like what I wanted either. I was willing to learn, to try. Was it too much of me to expect the same from Nate? Or was I just wrong to expect him to know what it meant to try at something real?
The one thing I did know for sure was that I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed Nate to work with me instead of against me. If he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – do that, I had to be prepared to let him go. No matter how much it’d hurt.
The moment I’d walked into the house, Mom had asked what was wrong, and that’s how I ended up sitting across from her, spilling out the whole mess before we’d even set the table. I wasn’t crying, but it was a near thing, and it didn’t fool my mom for a second.
She squeezed my hand as I finished and shook her head. “That was a tough call to make, sweetie, but I agree that it
needed to be made. If you let these sorts of things slide because you don’t want to lose him, you’ll regret it in the long run.”
I was tempted to ask if that was what had happened between her and Mona, but I didn’t want to bring up something painful, not when it wouldn’t make a difference. Mona was gone, and whatever was going on with Nate and me wouldn’t change based on where Mom had gotten her insight.
“It’s all right,” she said quietly. “You can ask.”
My head jerked up, and I wondered what, exactly, she’d seen on my face. “Mom?”
“The answer’s yes, I do know from experience. There were things that Mona and I should have talked about when we first got together, but I told myself it’d be better to wait.”
I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to hear all of this right now, but I didn’t know if I’d get another chance. I’d never wanted Mom to have to call up those painful memories, but she’d volunteered them, and I still wanted answers after all these years.
Before I could ask anything, however, someone knocked on the door. Mom started to stand, but I motioned for her to sit again.
“I’ve got it.”
The first thing I noticed when I opened the door was that there were three people crowded together on the little stoop, two who looked to be in their seventies and another who seemed to be somewhere around my mom’s age.
“May I help you?” I prepared a polite but firm dismissal that’d cover whatever reason they had to be here.
“You must be Ashlee.” The older woman beamed at me as she spoke, her accent thick. “I’m your Granny, and this is Gramps. And of course, your Aunt Janette.”
Somehow I managed not to gape at them like an idiot. “Mom! Um, could you come here a minute?”
“Don’t stand on ceremony, honey. It’s a mite wet out here.”
Something Southern, I thought, but not the deep south. I wasn’t entirely sure why that was what my brain was choosing to focus on, but until Mom got here to explain who these people were, I would go with it.
