And what about the foundation we were going to start? I’m definitely going to go ahead with it. I’ll have plenty of time once I stop working for Vallen. And it’s a cause that I want to make a difference with. Maybe Jonathan would be interested in working with me on it. Even though we’re not going to be lovers, there’s no reason why… fuck, what are you even saying, Marco? If the guy is in your life at all, it’s going to be as your lover/partner, because that’s who he is. What did I just write? That’s who he is. Or that’s who he was destined to be, before he screwed it up. Damn him!
Maybe there’s some chance for us. There you go, Marco, with all your can-do optimistic bullshit. But I’m used to taking hopeless cases and turning them around. Jonathan thinks he’s a hopeless case, but he isn’t. He wasn’t. A hopeless case wouldn’t have created a whole new life for himself.
But one thing I know. The only way we’ll be together is if he pursues it. If I pursue him, I’ll never know if he would have had the courage to bring himself forth in the face of his self-doubt. He won’t know that about himself, either. And that’s the man I want… the one with the courage to give all of himself, even though he’s afraid. Warts and all.
Wow. I think my brain is addled. I’ll read this over tomorrow and decide whether or not to burn it.
Okay, enough thinking about Jonah/Jonathan. I’ve got to get some rest so I can go to fucking Vallen Industries tomorrow and pull Frederick’s ass out of whatever fire he’s gotten us into this time. Then give him my resignation letter.
But first, some Courvoisier.
Gratitude: that Bunny still loves me. Okay, Marco, come up with something less pathetic than that. Truly? That I got to experience falling in love with someone like Jonah. That I got to experience falling in love at all. I know it was real. And it’s made me see what’s important in life. Thank you, God, for that.
CAPE COD—January 2016
THE WIND blew one final gust at his back as Jonathan scooted in the cottage door after doing his best to get the sand off his running shoes and Cantata’s fur. Cantata had bounded in ahead of him and made a beeline for her water dish. Hydration is good. Jonathan thanked the voice for the reminder and took a few gulps out of his water bottle. He’d stopped thinking it odd that the voice that told him such things sounded like Marco.
It had been hard to get back into a routine after the cruise. Part of him had wanted to lie around and get trashed, neglect his well-being to pay himself back for what he’d done to Marco. But then Jonathan would see Marco’s face or hear his voice. Irrational though it was, and with no basis in reality, every time that happened Jonathan would get a strong and distinct feeling of being loved and cherished—warts and all. And he would talk to Marco then, in his mind, and thank him.
How’s the living out loud going? The Marco voice liked to nag him, he’d noticed. “Fine,” he said, then smiled at Cantata, who’d raised her head. “Just fine, right, girl?” Cantata wagged her tail and went back to her water.
Jonathan sat at the kitchen table with paper and pen. On the top of the page, he wrote LIVING LIFE OUT LOUD and underneath that the number 1. After a moment, he put down the pen and stared at the blank page. He was kind of hungry. And sweaty. Maybe he should take a shower and get something to eat first. Then he thought about Marco—eyes sparkling, Mr. Can-Do, ready to jump into the next adventure. Jonathan picked up the pen and started writing, not letting himself think about what came out of him. After a few minutes, he sat back and read his list.
LIVING LIFE OUT LOUD
1. Place in Boston
2. Rejoin chamber chorale
3. Organ lessons
4. Learn Rachmaninoff 3rd
5. Move rest of things out of Father’s house
6. Volunteer at LGBT youth shelter—start foundation?
7. Say yes to Anthony re going out at least once/week
8. Boston Marathon—start training
9. Call Marco
It had only been a week. Marco hadn’t tried to get in touch. Since they’d been spending all their time together on the cruise, they’d never gotten around to exchanging phone numbers or addresses, but Jonathan was in the phone book and easy enough to track down. Marco too, although soon he wouldn’t be reachable at work. Anthony, who seemed to have spies everywhere, had reported that Marco had given his notice and Father was hunting for a new CEO.
Father. If Jonathan was going to live out loud, it was past time to have it out with him. He mostly hated him, but Father was the only remaining member of his nuclear family. Part of this new living was having the balls to be himself, no matter who was looking or judging. He picked up his list and amended it:
1. Place in Boston
2. Rejoin chamber chorale
3. Organ lessons
4. Learn Rachmaninoff 3rd
5. Move rest of things out of Father’s house
6. Volunteer at LGBT youth shelter—start foundation?
7. Say yes to Anthony re going out at least once/week
8. Boston Marathon—start training
9. Call Marco Talk to Father
10. Call Marco
Jonathan chewed on the end of the pen, staring at the last item. Why don’t you tell him yourself? Those were some wise words from Sophia, but Jonathan didn’t feel ready quite yet. He wanted to carry out some of his “living life out loud” plans first. A little voice whispered to him that not feeling ready was more of it—more of Jonathan thinking he wasn’t worthy of Marco’s love. But he pushed that thought aside. What? Call Marco today? When he hadn’t done anything yet?
His heart started beating faster as an idea popped into his brain. He might not be ready to talk to him, but Jonathan could show Marco he was thinking of him. All he needed was Marco’s home address—easy enough to track down—and the number of a local florist.
Chapter TWO
MARCO STARED at the vase of flowers on his coffee table. Brilliant blue-and-gold birds of paradise, a large bouquet of them, delivered earlier that day, according to the building manager. No card. Just the flowers, bringing memories of an island garden, soft breezes, and the feeling of Jonah’s—Jonathan’s lips on his. Marco had no doubt who they were from.
No one had ever sent Marco flowers before. That struck him. Gender roles, perhaps, but still. A bouquet just for him, delivered to his door, was a first.
Bunny streaked into the room and jumped on the coffee table, prepared to inspect what she no doubt considered her newest plaything.
“No!” Marco yelled and grabbed the vase. Bunny disappeared as fast as she’d come, managing to appear regal and offended at the same time.
“This is mine.” The firm statement, said to no one in particular, hung in the air. “Mine.”
Marco moved the flowers to a high shelf, safe from wandering kitties but where he could see them from the table on which he’d set up his work laptop. His eyes kept being drawn to them as he hammered out the last deal he’d ever make for Vallen Industries. Their vivid colors made a splash in his monochrome apartment. The blue reminded him of Jonah’s eyes, and the gold of his hair in the sunlight. It was like he had a little bit of Jonah with him, a reminder of that innocent time full of promise before he’d discovered that Jonah didn’t exist.
As he gazed at Jonathan’s gesture, which symbolized perfectly so many things they’d shared—the need for color in Marco’s apartment, the gardens and Jonathan’s love for flowers, and their first kiss—Marco felt gratitude fill him. His fingers stilled on the keyboard, his eyes grew moist, and a hard knot of anxiety he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying eased. Jonathan.
Ever since their last harrowing conversation, where Marco had basically told Jonathan to go away and never come back, he’d been bleakly going through life, knowing he’d screwed up the one chance for love he’d probably ever have. He couldn’t believe Jonathan would keep fighting for him after that. Marco had been such a cold bastard to him that day.
Then Sophia had called, outraged on Marco’s behalf
, and told him that Jonathan had begged her to tell Marco some things but she wasn’t going to, because Jonathan needed to tell Marco himself. What did he say? Marco had wanted to yell, on the edge of begging himself. But he’d restrained himself. Sophia was right, even though Marco hated not being in control, hated having to wait, hated believing that he might not be worth what Jonathan would have to muster to be with him.
Marco stared at the birds of paradise, a small smile playing on his face. Jonathan had made a move. Toward him. It was a frigging miracle. Or was it? He should have remembered that Jonathan’s last words had been that he loved him, and his last action had been to leave him the pendant. Marco should have trusted in Jonathan more. His words and actions (other than the whole fake name thing) had always been real and honest.
And now that Jonathan had reached out with his beautiful gesture, Marco needed to do something to reciprocate. As a manager, Marco had always believed in encouraging people’s good actions with rewards. Jesus, that sounded arrogant, but who cared? Marco wanted to reward Jonathan so much for sending him those goddamn flowers, it was all he could do not to hop in the car to drive to Cape Cod and take him into his arms.
But no. He’d return like for like, then sit back and see what Jonathan did next.
“Jonathan,” he whispered. “I need to get used to saying that name.”
JONATHAN RAN through the cottage picking up keys, wallet, and other essentials. If he didn’t get on the road soon, he’d be late meeting Anthony and the real estate agent, Alonzo, who Anthony swore by (probably because he wanted to get into his pants). Cantata ran after him, and he stopped to give her a hug.
“It’s okay, girl. I’ll be back later. You have your favorite snacks. Have fun, and don’t tear the house apart.”
The doorbell rang. “Cripes, what next?” Jonathan hurried to the door, pulled it open, and saw red. Literally. A delivery guy held an enormous poinsettia that filled the doorway, his arms barely reaching around the beautiful earthenware pot. A bow in rainbow colors was attached to it.
“Oh my word. Thank you!” The guy staggered a few feet, and Jonathan stooped to help him. “Wow, this is heavy. How about we set it down right here?”
“Okay. Enjoy.” Looking relieved to be rid of his burden, the delivery guy left.
Jonathan inspected the plant for a card, grinning so widely his face felt like splitting open. He didn’t find one, just as he expected, and that made it even better. Marco! His prince had sent poinsettias! Jonathan twirled around like a Disney heroine while Cantata barked and backed up to see if they were playing some new game.
He snatched up his phone and took a picture, then sent it to Anthony with the message, Guess who sent me these?
As he was getting into the car, his phone rang and he put it on Bluetooth.
“I’m so encouraged, Jonny! I knew you two lovers would work it out.”
“It’s not totally worked out yet, but I’m encouraged too.” In fact, Jonathan was so happy he’d bust out crying if he didn’t have to drive.
“Sending him those birds of paradise was genius.”
“Wait.” Jonathan pulled over and opened the glove compartment, where he’d stashed the pendant. He put it on. Hell, yeah! “Okay. Back with you.”
“What were you doing?”
“Don’t laugh.”
“Ha ha ha! Okay, now tell me.”
“I put my ocean wave pendant back on.”
“Awww. Y’all are so stinkin’ cute!”
Jonathan kept his attention on the road as he pulled onto the freeway. This wasn’t the time to be in a car crash, right when things were beginning to go his way. “Let me get off the phone so I can concentrate on driving, mmkay?”
“Yes, Jonny. You’re getting so pushy, if you weren’t my cousin, I’d say it’s hot.”
“Ewww, Tony.”
“Sorry. So the plan is you meet us at two, Alonzo takes us to see some places, then back to Uncle Frederick’s so you can pick up your stuff. Right? And then I follow you back to Cape Cod in the U-Haul.”
“Yes. Also, Father said he wants to talk to me. And I have a few things I want to say to him too.”
After a short silence, Anthony spoke in a lower voice. “Good, Jonny. I know that’s not going to be easy. Good for you.”
Jonathan huffed out a shaky laugh. “We’ll see. See you later, cuz.”
“Ciao, darling.”
Chapter THREE
ANTHONY STOOD with Jonathan in the vestibule of the family mansion, speaking in a whisper. “Jonny, I’m going to hit the road with the U-Haul while you go talk to Uncle Frederick. I’ll take Cantata for a walk when I get there.”
Jonathan nodded, although a part of him wanted to clutch Anthony and keep him there for moral support. “Okay.”
“Good luck, doll. I know you can do it. See you later.” He gave Jonathan a bracing smile as he left.
Jonathan turned toward the hallway, down which he could see a light under Father’s study door. Father tended to hole himself up in his study after coming home from work, to read, watch TV, or do more work.
Touching his pendant for courage, Jonathan knocked and then entered when Father called, “Come in.”
Father sat behind his desk, his computer open and a mass of files spread out. “You’re leaving, then?” He didn’t look up from his work.
It would have been so nice to say yes and get the hell out of there. Father knew Jonathan had come by to get the remainder of his belongings that he hadn’t moved since he’d relocated to the Cape. He was aware that Jonathan was buying a place in town. And true to form, Father seemed to be avoiding any unnecessary interaction, even though he’d said he wanted to talk to him. Once Jonathan had quit Vallen, Father’s use for him had dropped to near nil.
Not that he’d ever had much use for Jonathan. Not while James was alive. Jonathan glanced at the wall, where pictures of James predominated—James in his various varsity sports uniforms, James graduating from Boston University, James and Father grinning and holding up some award plaque with the Vallen Industries staff gathered around them.
“Well?” Father prompted when Jonathan stood rooted to his spot.
“Um. Yes, I’m leaving in a minute. You said you wanted to talk?” Too tentative. “And I have some things to say.”
“Sit down, then.” Father nodded to the chair in front of his desk. When Jonathan sat, Father continued, “I wanted to talk to you about when you’re returning to Vallen.”
“Vallen Industries?”
Father made a disgusted noise. “What else would I be talking about? Now that things are running more smoothly, it’s time for you to take over the company again.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.” Why hadn’t he anticipated this? “I didn’t know you were still expecting me to return.”
“Of course I was. Pellegrini was always meant to be temporary.” Father’s face darkened and he muttered, “Thank God.”
Jonathan chose to ignore that last comment for the moment as an unfamiliar warmth arose. He couldn’t believe Father still wanted him in the company after all this time. It touched that small part of him that continued to hunger for Father’s approval. He knew he wasn’t coming back, but maybe he and Father could get along better. They were stuck with each other, after all. Mother had always wished that he and Father would get closer. With all this “living out loud” Jonathan was doing, maybe he could forge a new relationship with Father where Jonathan could be fully himself.
“I appreciate that you want me at Vallen, Father, I really do. I wish I could work with you there. But I’m not cut out for being a business executive. That’s why I left.”
“You got out of the way to give Pellegrini a chance to turn things around. He did, I’ll have to hand it to the bastard. No matter what he did otherwise.” Father threw a revolted glance in Jonathan’s direction and then proceeded to kill any desire Jonathan had to mend things between them. “I should’ve known he’d try to get his hands on the Vallen f
ortune one way or another.”
“What? You think Marco was after my money?” Jonathan laughed. “Father, he didn’t even know who I was. It had been a year, and I’ve changed so much he didn’t recognize me. I used a fake name the whole week. He thought I was a guy named Jonah Rutledge.”
“I don’t care about all that. I’ll deal with Pellegrini. He’ll find out soon enough what the consequences are for being an underhanded deviant.”
Jonathan stood up. “I’m not going to sit here and let you say that about Marco, because you’re saying it about me too.”
“Relax. You got taken in by a con man. He’ll be history soon enough. Let’s talk about when you can start working again.”
“Please, Father, listen to me. I’m never going to work for Vallen Industries again. And I have a few other things I need to say to you.”
Father frowned. “We’ll see about Vallen. Go ahead.”
Jonathan took a deep breath. “I know you never approved of the things I liked to do. Nothing I ever did was good enough for you. But that was okay because you had James. So I could keep doing my thing.” Father’s face remained stony. Jonathan felt a wave of nerves propelling him into motion, and he sat back down. “But when James died, I made a big mistake. I tried to be him.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t him, and you never could be.”
Jonathan ignored the arrow of hurt Father still could land with remarkable accuracy and labored on. “I’m well aware of that. I used four years of my life to try to be who you wanted me to be, until I realized it was hopeless. But I didn’t want to leave you alone. And especially after Mother died, I felt like I couldn’t leave.”
Father grunted and averted his eyes.
“So thank you for hiring Marco Pellegrini.”
At Marco’s name, Father threw Jonathan a furious glance. “Don’t mention that bastard’s name again.”
“I’m still glad you hired him, because his coming is what set me free.”
All the Way to Shore Page 14
