Bittersweet Truth (The Patricians Book 3)

by R. G. Angel

  “Sir, I will treat him with all the respect he deserves and do my utter best to protect his heart.”

  He smiled. Reaching over the table, he patted my arm. “Then that's all I can ask for my boy.”

  “I love him,” I admitted as if to justify everything that would happen, the heartbreak that would ensue - mine as much as his.

  “Love…” His father smiled almost wistfully. “Love is so powerful it has the ability to build and destroy.”

  I wanted to build everything with Grayson, but I knew that all I’d do was destroy us both.

  I was grateful when Grayson and his mother came back. I’d been on the verge of admitting the whole truth under Grayson’s father's inquisitive eyes.

  “They liked you,” Grayson assured me as we walked back to the apartment.

  “I liked them too. Your mom is so funny, I love her. You’re lucky to have them.”

  He threw me a side look. “Did you really have to let her know I was skilled in the sack?”

  “Of course I did! I’ve never come as hard as I did with you.”

  “That’s not only because of my skills, Antoine. That was because of the emotional aspect too. You and I, it runs deeper than sex - it makes it all better.”

  “It does,” I agreed.

  “When will I meet your family?” he asked, linking his arm with mine. “Are you hiding me because they will think I'm not good enough for their little prince?” he jested, leaning his head against mine.

  I scoffed. “Nobody will ever be good enough for my family.” And it was not a lie. They would never fully approve unless it was someone of their choosing. “Plus, you know they spend their time in the US. They rarely come here.” Which again was not a lie.

  Most of what I’ve been telling him were not lies, merely partial truths.

  It’s the same, St-Vincent, and you know it.

  “Maybe one day,” he replied with a shrug.

  “Maybe.” Let’s hope to heaven it’s later rather than sooner. I was not ready to tell him goodbye.

  I turned toward him, looking at his perfect face, his perfect smile. Would I ever be ready?

  Chapter Ten

  The next couple of months almost made me believe that things could be okay, that everything would work out.

  Taylor, despite the fact that she’d almost murdered me when I’d taken her to her secret Tinder date, was still seeing the history geek. Grayson was my hot spy, giving me updates on how things were going between them because even though Tay had mostly forgiven me for my forceful involvement in her love life, she refused to discuss her relationship with me. I guessed she’d hated that I’d been right, but as long as she was happy, I could deal. Besides, she wouldn’t be mad forever, would she?

  My spring break was spent with Grayson at his parent’s holiday cottage in Braithwaite up in the Lake District. It was so lovely and rustic. Playing domestic with Grayson - cooking together, sharing housework, spending every night in an intimacy that was getting more and more intense, changed me.

  I was completely addicted to him. He was becoming more and more important. I was even starting to consider telling the truth - at least to him first and my family later. I could do without their money. If I had Grayson, I didn't think it would matter so much.

  Four weeks after our spring break and I was still completely addicted to him. Nothing had waned.

  He was finishing his fourth piece for the Universal Exposition back at home and I was missing him terribly, so I booked us a weekend to Italy. I decided to tell him everything then. He’d have to forgive me. He knew how much I loved him...

  With the flights booked, I called Grayson. I had a stupid dinner at my grandmother's place tonight and I wanted to talk to him before facing my posh, haughty family and pseudo friends.

  I got his voicemail straight away. You’ve reached Grayson. You know what to do.

  I smiled. “Hi, Mr. Grayson. I assume you’re in one of your creative moments. I just…” I rolled my eyes. Be honest, Antoine. “I just wanted to hear your voice…which I guess I kind of did, so mission accomplished. Please call me when you've got a minute. I love you. Bye.”

  I dressed in my grandmother’s favorite dark blue, three-piece suit, put my phone onto vibrate, and went downstairs to the car waiting for me.

  When I made it to my grandmother’s house, guests were already there. I was Antoine St-Vincent though. It was my role to be fashionably late.

  “Ah, Antoine!” my grandmother beamed as I walked into the busy reception room. “I’m happy you made it. I have a surprise for you.”

  She gestured to the side and my smile slid right off as the air rushed out of my lungs.

  One of my worst nightmares was unfolding before my eyes.

  Grayson was standing there in a gray suit, a glass of champagne in his hand. The pain and betrayal in his eyes killed me.

  “Mr. Clay, meet the reason for your patronage - my grandson, Antoine St-Vincent.”

  Grayson walked rigidly toward my grandmother, his glass of champagne held so tightly in his hand, I expected it to shatter any second.

  “Antoine sponsored you because his fiancée, Taylor Oppenheimer, is a huge fan of your work.”

  Grayson's eyes were deadly gray, his back rigid.

  “Nice to meet you Mr. St-Vincent.”

  Was this what dying felt like? I was losing the man I loved right before my eyes and I couldn't do anything about it.

  Couldn’t or wouldn’t? I was not ready. It was too early. I had no plan.

  “Mr. Clay, the pleasure is all mine.” My voice was hoarse, the pain of what was unfolding all to real.

  He looked at me in a way I'd hoped he never would - with overwhelming disappointment.

  “Thank you for sponsoring me, Mr. St-Vincent. It was so kind of you. I will most likely remember this for the rest of my life.”

  Whilst his words sounded complimentary, I knew their meaning. He was never going to forgive me for this.

  He turned to my grandmother. “I’m sorry, but I need to go. As you know, I have an early train back and -”

  “Oh yes, of course.” She patted his arm. “There is a car out front. Just let the driver know where you want to go.”

  When he exited the reception room, I waited for my grandmother to leave and then rushed after him. Pushing him into my old grandfather’s office, I locked the door behind me.

  He took a couple of steps away from me, keeping his back to me.

  “Gray, talk to me please,” I begged. “I can explain.”

  He turned around, his face taunt, his eyes shining with tears. It killed me. This raw pain I'd created was radiating from my chest. In this moment I wanted to die. I wanted to bleed - anything to make it better, to make us better.

  I took a step toward him.

  He shook his head. “No, don’t. I can’t bear the idea of you close, of you touching me. No.”

  I nodded, staying in front of the door as a wave of nausea hit me. He was disgusted with me. There were fates worse than death and this one was one of them.

  “You did this?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he pointed at the door behind him. “You gave me the patronage?”

  I raised my hands in a pacifying gesture. “Grayson, listen. You deserve this spot. You made it to the final stage. I-”

  “Answer me!” he roared, the veins on his neck bulging under the force of his shout.

  “I did, but it’s only be-”

  “Unbelievable.” He shook his head. “I could have accepted a lot, Antoine - a lot.” He looked away, blinking and shaking his head as if he was having some internal debate. “I knew you were rich. I knew she was rich.” He let out a sad chuckle. “You both thought you were blending in. Lord you didn’t, but I was okay with it. I understood - you needed time. I thought if I showed you how much I loved you, how much you meant to me, you would -” He looked up at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I was so stupid. I was making plans for us in
my head. I could see it all - marriage maybe.” He shrugged. “Adopting a kid. A life with the man I loved.”

  “We can still -”

  He took a step toward me, his hands balled into fists. “Oh, can we? Tell me when? After you married your beard? Huh? Is that it? I’ll be the oncall artist and your secret lover?” He shook his head. “I will not be a secret, Antoine. I will never hide what I am and who I love.” He sighed. “I’m not here to out you and your secret is safe with me. This is your path, not mine.”

  After all the betrayals, after all of my lies, he was still protecting me and my feelings.

  “Thank you.”

  He snorted. “It’s not personal. I've never outed anyone and I will not start now. Everyone lives their journey the way they want to.”

  “Gray, please.” I took a few steps toward him. “Let's discuss this. Let's fix this.”

  He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. And I probably had, thinking I could fix this, but I had to try.

  Passing me, he went straight for the office door and opened it. “I need to go now.”

  “Grayson, please!” I cried, following him down the hall.

  “Antoine Francois, restes ici!” my grand-mère barked, stopping me in my tracks.

  I hesitated long enough for Grayson to turn around and look at me with disappointment in his eyes. A part of me died as he walked out of the main door, leaving me in my own hell.

  Grayson Clay was my most beautiful secret, my most precious dream.

  And I’d just lost him.

  I turned toward my grandmother. Despite her many shortcomings, I had never hated her, not until today.

  She stood straight, her lips pursed. Disapproval radiated from her, but for once I didn’t care.

  “Antoine, I'm ready to forgive you for this. You’re my favorite - the hope of this family. I’m ready to forget this indiscretion like it never happened.” She looked at me, her mouth slightly tilted down in disgust. “I’ll speak with Père Jacques. He is the bishop of Paris. He’ll know what to do to save your soul.”

  I frowned. She was forgiving me? “I’m not sure it’s my soul that needs saving.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You wanted this to happen. You knew.”

  “You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, Antoine. This was necessary. He needed to see that you are a St-Vincent and that you would always choose your legacy.”

  I opened my mouth to say that that was not true, but it was. It really was. I picked my name, my family every time even though I knew perfectly well they’d never pick the real me.

  “It’s for your own good. Give it time and you’ll understand it too.”

  “Oh, I understand.” I fucking understood alright. They were only ready to love and support me as long as I acted like the person they wanted me to be.

  That wasn’t love. No, there was no love here. I understood that just a little too late.

  I shook my head, no fight left in me.

  “I’m going home,” I announced with such finality in my tone that she didn't comment.

  I hailed a taxi and got my phone out, dialing Grayson’s number. I didn't even know where he was staying, but I knew where he would be heading - home to Oxford.

  Of course the phone went to voicemail. I kept on calling every few minutes with the same result.

  I called him for the twentieth time as I reached the apartment. “Gray, please let's talk about this. We can’t just end things like this. I’ll take the next train over. I’ll be there in the morning.”

  I took the stairs up two at a time and went straight to my bedroom. Grand-mère be damned. I’ll get my man back.

  I was packing my bags when he texted me.

  Don’t come here. I need time. You owe me that much.

  I sat on the bed in defeat. I’d lied to him, manipulated the situation to be in my favor. I’d known the game was rigged from the start, but I’d still forced him into it. He deserved his time.

  Okay, I’ll wait for you. Take all the time you need. I’m sorrier than you can think. I love you.

  I took a deep breath and looked at my watch. It was late, but I didn't care. I was drowning and needed my safety net.

  I pressed the dial.

  “Antoine?”

  “I lost him, T.” I started to sob. There was no point trying to be strong. I didn’t want to and she was my girl. “He left me. It hurts. Please, please make it stop.” I sat on the floor, my back against my bed and cried, cried for the relationship I’d destroyed, for the man who’d left me, for the miserable existence lying ahead, and for the coward I truly was.

  “What? Antoine, talk to me.” She was fully awake now, her voice edged with worry.

  I told her everything. I was surprised she could even understand me between the gasps I was making and my shameless sobs of despair.

  She was silent for a minute. “I prayed it would not come to this. I prayed for your heart to be safe.” She sighed. “I’m on my way, A. I'll be with you in a few hours.”

  I sniffled. “No, you don’t have to.” Please come and save me, I beg you.

  “I know I don’t, lovely. I know that. I want to. I need to be with you. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Please never stop loving me.”

  “Antoine! Never!” She sounded hurt. “How could I ever stop loving you? We're forever remember.”

  “Forever,” I repeated, but she was already gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Taylor stayed with me for ten days. I knew it was longer than she should have to, so I battled my deep pit of depression and pretended to be functioning again. She left, assuring me she would be back on Friday and every weekend for the foreseeable future. I knew it would be a lost cause to tell her no.

  I’d yet to speak to my grandmother again or to my parents, who I presumed had been in on the plan. I’d never disliked them, not truly - not until that night.

  Now I wanted them to burn with the world, but why fight? I’d lost everything anyway.

  Grayson had told me he needed time, but I’d known from the moment I’d read those words that he was done with me.

  My fears were confirmed when Taylor texted me after getting back to her empty Oxford apartment. A letter from Grayson had been left on the table, telling her that whilst he was not upset with her, he didn’t feel comfortable having her between us. As she was my best friend, he’d said, she had to be there for me. He’d told her that she was still his friend though and was welcome to visit him anytime.

  The final nail in my coffin came only a few days later. I received an unexpected delivery, but I didn't need to open the oversized box to know what it was.

  I opened it anyway and faced the painting he’d made of me. The sadistic reminder of how happy I’d been, of what we’d shared that day in his studio stared back at me.

  There was a white piece of paper taped to the edge.

  Antoine, Euphoria was just as ephemeral as it was supposed to be. This is yours to do with as you please. We’re over. Grayson.

  I sat down on the floor, the piece of paper crumbled in my hand, and let the pain take over me once more. I cried for my broken heart, my weeping soul. For my cowardice, my shallowness, and all my flaws that had made me lose who I believed was the love of my life. The worst of it all though was that I couldn’t even blame anyone but myself.

  I wanted to chase him, but I was not Archibald Forbes who was still chasing poor Taylor despite breaking her heart. She was rightfully refusing to forgive him and he was hurting them both by not giving up.

  I loved Grayson more than I could say, so whilst I suffered and wallowed in my own misery, I still wanted to give him a chance to heal, a chance to get over me.

  I was the one who deserved the misery, not him. If my absence made it easier on him, then so be it.

  The next couple of months passed in a sort of daze. My mind and heart barely felt alive, just like I wanted them to be. The Antoine I had once been was no mor
e. If I didn't feel anything, I didn't hurt. I stuck to my boring routine - school, homework, drink, and sleep. Taylor appeared at my doorstep every weekend and I kept telling her she didn’t need to come. She was in a fresh relationship with her dorky suiter, James. I was pleased that my Tinder experience had worked out for her. At least something good had come out of all of this.

  Neither my parents nor grandmother had ever tried to contact me during my period of silence. They were probably congratulating themselves, believing that all they had to do was wait until I came back to my senses and returned to the lying fraud I had always been.

  But I wouldn’t ever go back to that. Grayson had given me far more than a fat wallet ever had. Even as I sat in the most numbing and boring business class in the world, my heart painfully numb and my head achingly empty, I didn’t want to trade any of this for my family’s riches.

  After class, I walked back to my apartment and opened my letterbox. A thick, white and gold envelope sat there, the Saint Academy Logo on its top. I had no doubt that it was the program of this year's exposition, the one Grayson was taking part in.

  I knew he was mad at me for intervening, but I hoped he didn't doubt that he deserved to be in the group of participants. He had amazing talent and I prayed that my involvement hadn’t cheapened his sense of accomplishment.

  Of course it had, you idiot. Why do you think he was so angry?

  Walking inside, I threw the envelope onto the coffee table and then discarded my bag on the floor. Shuffling into the kitchen, I poured a healthy dose of Armagnac. I took a sip of the dark amber liquid, enjoying the soft burn as it went down and hoping it would numb the small revival of pain the envelope had brought back.

  Sighing, I glared at the envelope. One glass wouldn’t do. I finished it in a couple of gulps before pouring myself a second glass. I sat on the sofa in a huff, still looking at the envelope, but not reaching for it.

  I knew the Expo wasn’t taking place in Paris this year. It had every other year, but it was supposed to be an international event and grand-mère had finally been forced to indulge the board in moving it abroad. My money was on Prague this year.