by R. G. Angel
“Caleb….” Esme sighed as if he was a child.
I shook my head. “You're going through all this trouble just for anal.”
Caleb froze, eyes wide. Archibald turned ever so slowly toward him, any good humor gone from his face.
Esmeralda's mouth hung open in shock and I realized my mistake.
“You told him?!” she asked, punching Caleb in the arm.
He winced, but I knew it was more for show. She was a tiny woman. I highly doubted she could cause any pain to Caleb.
“You want to do what with my sister?” Archie asked, baring his teeth.
Esme rolled her eyes. “Butt out, Archie. It’s my love life, not yours and don’t tell me it’s not something you enjoy.”
Nobody missed the look he threw T who was so obviously ignoring him.
I knew she’d given him her virginity that night two years ago, right before telling him she never wanted to see him again. But that was water under the bridge, right? That was something I needed to ask her later.
“I can't believe you did that!” Esmeralda gasped, glaring at Caleb.
“That’s not why we’re here. Let's concentrate on Antoine for now,” Caleb said, gesturing toward me.
I gave him a sheepish smile, but the glare he threw my way promised pain and suffering.
“Still -” Esmeralda mumbled.
Caleb kissed the top of her head. “You know I'm a selfish bastard babe and he does too. He didn't believe there was nothing in it for me.”
She sighed and looked up, the aggravation in her eyes replaced by love again. Seriously, was there anything Caleb could do that she wouldn’t forgive? I hoped for Esme's sake we’d never have to find out.
“So what’s the plan?” Caleb asked, looking at me.
All four of them turned toward me and I grimaced, taking a step back.
“Oh, you expect me to have a solution?” I asked, pointing at myself.
Caleb snorted. “He's your boyfriend!” He shrugged. “I simply arranged for both of you to be somewhere he can't really escape. The rest is up to you.”
“I have a few ideas,” I admitted.
“Let’s hear them.”
I took a deep breath. Admitting the plan was scary. Once I did it, there would be no turning back. “I know I'm ready.”
“Ready?” Archibald asked.
Taylor gasped, resting her hand on her mouth. “A, are you talking about -”
I nodded. “Coming out? Yes, absolutely.”
Caleb looked at me, impressed. “We’ll have your back.”
“Thank you.” I appreciated that more than I could say.
“You - you’re not doing that for him, are you?” Tay asked with worry.
“No, not completely. I finally see what this secret is costing me, and what am I gaining? Really? I might not get him back, but I’m done playing.”
“He will forgive you. Maybe just talk to him again. Everyone deserves a second chance,” Taylor tried.
Archibald snorted. “Oh, yeah? Why don’t you practice what you’re preaching?”
She glared at him. “I do if there is love, if there is hope. But there’s no love here,” she added, pointing at him and then herself.
“Oh, I see.” He took a sip of his drink. “We’re deluding ourselves.”
She sighed, shaking her head before looking at me again. “As long as you’re sure, I’m behind you.”
“We've all sacrificed something in the name of love,” Caleb announced, leaning against Esmeralda and kissing the crown of her head. “But let me tell you a secret. Given what you gain in the end? It’s not really a sacrifice.”
Archibald looked away. “He’s right. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up.”
Tay looked sad for a minute before taking a deep breath. “If you feel it's right.”
I nodded. “I think so, yes.”
“Okay then.”
I looked at Esme. “Thank you again for doing that.”
“I gave twenty million!” Caleb barked, earning a well-deserved elbow in the stomach.
“Anytime, Antoine. You’re my friend; never forget that,” Esme replied.
I sighed, looking at the time. “My parents will be waiting. I don’t want to be too late.” I looked at Caleb who had his arm around Esmeralda. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”
“My pleasure.”
“Yeah, I better go home too,” Taylor added.
When I opened the door and stepped out, I met Grayson's grey eyes. I couldn’t contain my gasp of surprise.
“Grayson?” I tried.
Someone pushed me forward and then the library door closed behind me. I couldn’t be mad at my friends for attempting to give us some privacy.
“I thought you were out,” I blurted.
He recoiled slightly as if I'd hit him and I realized how it must have sounded.
“No, it’s not -” I sighed, shaking my head. “I didn’t want to impose my presence on you.”
“This is your friend's house. I'd expected to see you.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s good to see you, Antoine.”
I wanted to say he looked good, and he did in a way, but he looked thinner, tired as if he was in pain. I suspected he was - because of me, because of what I'd done to us, to his heart.
“I've missed you,” I admitted, taking a step toward him. I had no shame with him. I'd give him all the power if it was what he needed. I didn’t want it.
“Antoine -” He sounded so weary.
“I never had a chance to explain.”
“You never really tried.”
I frowned. “You asked for distance. You broke up with me via a note.” I couldn’t deny recalling everything hurt me, but it also angered me. It had been a cowardly way out… So unlike him.
I hadn't reacted at the time because I hadn't felt justified in my anger, but I had felt it - this betrayal. He'd ended the love we had in a freaking note.
“I should have ignored your wishes?” I cocked my head to the side, taking another step closer. “You went to extreme lengths to avoid me. Breaking up through a simple note.” I’d not been able to contain the anger and pain I felt.
He looked down in shame. “I had no choice.”
“I’m pretty sure you did.”
“No, because I knew if I saw you, I wouldn't have been able to say goodbye, no matter how betrayed I felt.”
I took a sharp breath. I hadn't considered that aspect of things.
“You look tired,” he added, detailing my face with concern, frowning at the deep purple skin under my eyes.
“I’ve not been sleeping much of late.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I had a lot on my mind.”
His face softened a bit more and I noticed it was not voluntary. I was his weakness too.
I detailed him more closely.
“You've lost weight.” Which was a pity. His body had been perfect - not that he looked completely emaciated now, but he was too thin for my liking.
“I haven’t been eating a lot lately. I've had a lot on my mind.”
My lips tipped up at his answer copying mine.
I opened my mouth, but the words stayed stuck in my throat. What could I say? The corridor of the Astor’s house was not the right place to fix things. I needed to show him how much he mattered to me.
He sighed with a nod as if he too was having some internal debate. "I’ll see you around, Antoine,” he added before stepping past me and continuing down the corridor.
I turned around to watch him. Despite my previous intentions, I couldn’t contain myself.
“I love you,” I announced just before he reached his bedroom door.
His pace faltered, but he didn’t turn around. After a moment he walked into his room.
I waited a couple more seconds before going down the stairs. I was not going to let my friends know the conversation was over. Let them stew in the library.
“You’re an asshole,” Taylor huffed as soon as she joined me
by the car ten minutes later.
“I know, but you pushed me out and closed the door.”
She shrugged. “You needed that discussion.”
I twisted my mouth to the side. She wasn’t wrong. Those few minutes of conversation had given me hope that I could get the man I loved back.
Chapter Thirteen
I changed clothes about ten times before giving up and sitting on my bed in my black CK briefs. Taylor walked into my room, looking stunning in her black pencil dress.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked as she took in the mess and the state of my nakedness. "We need to be there in thirty minutes."
I fell back on the bed with a huff. “What is one supposed to wear for his coming out?”
I didn’t need to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes.
“Antoine, are you buying time? You know you don’t have to do it. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever if it’s not what you want.”
I felt the bed dip as she joined me, but I kept my eyes directed to the cream-colored ceiling.
“I know.”
“Do you? There is no obligation. This is not the right step to get Grayson back - at least, not if it’s not what you truly want. Not coming out doesn’t make you a coward. I hope you know that. None of us think that.”
But I do. I sighed and turned my head to the side, finally concentrating on her.
She was looking down at her hands, which were perched on her lap. “You should do what’s right for you.” Was she really still talking about me here?
I sighed, forcing myself up. “Yes, and it’s the right thing. I mean if I’m poor and homeless, I can still move in with you.”
“Poor?” She laughed a little. “Don’t you have a trust fund with nine digits?”
“Fine, poorer.”
“Come on. Just get dressed in whatever makes you comfortable and we can see then. There’s no rush, you know. You can still change your mind.”
“True.” I settled for the emerald shirt that matched my eyes and a pair of black pants and oxford shoes. It was the same thing I'd worn when meeting Grayson's parents. My heart ached as I did a full rotation in front of the mirror.
“You like it?” I asked.
“Always,” she replied as she stood up too, and I knew she meant it. “You’re a beautiful man, Antoine St-Vincent.”
I grinned. “It’s my saving grace.”
She shook her head, reaching for my hand. “Don’t sell yourself short, please. You’re so much more than the way you look.”
I squeezed her hand. She always knew what to say to me.
We were a bit late to the opening of the show, but I didn't think anyone noticed.
It was much busier than I'd thought it would be, but that didn't really matter. It was not like I was planning on coming out here, anyway. No, I was keeping that surprise for the smaller group attending the after party at my parents’ mansion.
Surprise! I chuckled to myself, and Taylor threw me a concerned looked. I shook my head dismissively.
Looking around the hall, I eagerly searched for Grayson’s work. When I found his art, a big crowd was already grouped in front of it. I was not surprised. My man was talented. Shamelessly, I used my elbows to get to the front.
The paintings were stunning, but the last one made me stop in my tracks. It was an abstract painting called Purgatory.
Emerald eyes, uncomfortably similar to mine, stared back at me. One hand was holding a heart, squeezing it like a lemon on top of withering flowers.
“That’s nice…” I whispered. In case I hadn't known how much I'd hurt him, I had the visuals right here. “How much?” I asked the saleswoman standing nearby. I could hang it in my bedroom and see my mistake on a daily basis.
“Sorry, sir, this collection is sold.”
I frowned, looking down at her. “Do you mean that painting?”
“No, sir, the Grayson Clay collection is sold.”
“It’s been open for fifteen minutes.”
“It was sold five minutes in.”
I looked around with a glare, ready to murder whichever bastard had bought his work.
“You did that?”
His voice made me freeze.
I turned around slowly. He was absolutely stunning, dressed in a blue dress shirt, which was opened at the collar, showing some of his toned skin. Lord did I want to kiss him.
“Did what?”
“Buy them all.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m rather upset they’re sold. I wanted this one, you know. To be reminded of my shame every day.”
He growled. “See, this is what your intervention has caused. I've been questioning everything good that has happened to me since finding out. I -” He shook his head. “You took something so precious from me and you don’t even realize it.”
I leaned in closer to him. I could say it was to give us some privacy, but that was not the case. I inhaled his cologne, closing my eyes and enjoying, for a fleeting moment, the happiness and an irrational sense of safety he gave me.
His features softened.
“Do I regret how it had happened? How I hurt you?” I nodded. “Immensely. But do I regret giving you this opportunity? No, I don’t. You have to believe me when I say, you deserve this spot.” I smiled a little. “I do love you to the point of insanity, that much is true.”
He detailed my face, still scarily silent. His own face was quite inscrutable except for a little wonder. I was not sure my words had reached him. I could only hope.
“I love you too much to willingly cause you any pain. I wouldn’t have done this if I didn't think you belonged here. I would have died if the critics had trashed you and your work, so if you can only believe one thing I say, then believe this. You. Belong. Here. Grayson Clay - just as much as anyone.”
“Antoine…” he whispered and I marveled at the longing in his voice. Would he forgive me? “I can’t be a secret, Antoine.” He looked pained. “I understand. I swear I do, but I wouldn't survive being a secret,” he added before turning around to leave.
I grabbed his wrist. No, not yet. I didn’t want this moment to be over. Despite the hundreds of people surrounding us, the music and the chaos of conversations, in this instant, it was only him and me.
I ran my thumb across the inside of his wrist. “You won’t be my secret any longer.”
His eyes widened in panic and he turned his hand, grabbing my wrist too. “Antoine no, don’t do it - not for me. It doesn't change anything.”
I had to admit knowing that hurt quite a bit, but even if I couldn’t have him back, I needed to do this. This shame of secrecy was a poisonous snake surrounding my soul. I needed to be free of this pain.
“It’s not for you; it’s for me.”
He opened his mouth to add something, but a woman in a silver dress interrupted us to discuss a commission with Grayson. Reluctantly, I let go of him. I needed to get ready for the bomb that would be detonating in the next few hours.
By the time I made it to the afterparty, I was on the verge of having a full blown panic attack. It felt like all the eyes were on me, like they knew what I was about to do. But I knew that they didn’t. I know that I looked cool and composed despite the turmoil raging inside of me. After all, I was the best faker there was. Only a couple of people actually threw me concerned looks and that was Grayson and Taylor. Breathing deeply, I went to my bedroom and retrieved the painting Grayson had done of me. It was a central piece of The Antoine's Show tonight.
I looked at it with a smile, running my forefinger over my happy face. It had been perfect and it was so accurate too. I had never been as happy as I'd been with him.
“Please, don’t do it. Whatever you’re planning to do, don’t do it.”
I froze and turned around, meeting my mother’s begging eyes. Eyes just like mine.
“How do you know I'm about to do anything?”
“Because I know you. I can see it as plain as day on your face.”
“I have to
.” I shook my head, pointing at the heavy door she was resting against. “That man is the love of my life. I won’t hide who I am anymore.”
She took a step toward me, extending her hand for me to take. “Just love him in secret. You can’t come out, son. If you do, you’ll lose everything.”
I looked at her hand, but didn't reach for it. “I already have, maman. I lost my everything when he walked away from me. With my name, I'm someone, but without him, I’m nothing.” I shook my head. “Can’t you just love me for who I am?”
“But I do. You’re my son.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “No, you don’t. If you know me so well, you should be able to see how miserable I am without him. You would rather see me sink into depression than support me for who I am. Et ca, maman, ce n’est pas de l’amour.”
She recoiled at my hard words. I'd meant what I'd said though. In all my soul, I meant it - this was not love.
I gestured to the left. "Move. I’m okay with you not supporting my choices." Not really, no. “And I'm fine with walking out of this house tonight as an abomination. I’m done hiding.”
I placed the white cloth back over the painting and then lifted the whole thing off the ground. Silently, I left the room without a look back despite the ache that had settled in the center of my chest.
Nobody should have to choose between their love and their family. I had not chosen to be gay any more than I’d chosen to be white or French. I'd just been born this way.
As soon as I made it to the main room, I rested the painting against the wall, grabbed a glass of champagne, and tapped my signet ring against it.
“If I may have your attention please?” I asked loudly. I was pleased with how clear and even my voice sounded despite the turmoil of emotion constricting my lungs and heart.
I waited for all the faces to turn toward me. My friends made their way to the front in a show of silent support. I appreciated that more than I could say.
“Thank you for coming today and making this year's Universal Saint Exposition the success it was.”
My father relaxed and smiled. Ah, brace yourself old man. It’s going to hit you like a ton of bricks.
“We should also take a minute to thank the brilliant artists who have played an invaluable part in tonight's success. I raise my glass to you,” I added, tilting my glass toward a questioning Grayson.
