Her eyes widened, and her death grip on the pillow eased. “But Gideon, you never say no to Star Trek.”
“As strange as it may seem,” he said, heading her off before she had a chance to delve too far into his reasons, “it’s not always all about moi.”
If he could focus on Lindsay, on cheering her up, he could forget the sick feeling in his middle, as if he’d eaten one too many Snickers bars and they were about to make a break for it. Which was pretty freaking peculiar, since he hadn’t eaten anything but the head of a marshmallow mutant all day.
Maybe that was the problem. They both needed to eat, and they both needed to forget.
“Know what? Screw the dreaded day-of-enforced-gratitude. I decree that we can choose our own celebration, and I pick smorgasbord.” He jumped up and struck his best Antonio-Banderas-as-a-flamenco-dancer pose. “Dinner shall be courtesy of Cinco de Mayo—have I mentioned that my huevos rancheros have caused grown men to swoon? Libations by St. Patrick’s Day: green beer for all. As for entertainment . . .” He plucked the Hocus Pocus DVD off the shelf under their TV. “Halloween all the way. We’ll pretend none of it ever happened. And in the morning, I’ll make waffles.”
“I have to work tomorrow.”
“Seriously? What heartless philistine requires you to work on Black Friday? Other than all the retailers in the continental US plus outlying possessions?”
“Oh, you know. TV production schedules never sleep.”
“Yes, darling, but you’re the administrative assistant, not a camera operator or key grip or best boy or whatever suggestive names roll by in the credits of every movie ever made.”
She shrugged. “Guess they need me.” The unspoken even if nobody else does hung between them.
No matter how much Gideon wanted to hide in his room and howl, his darling girl was the priority tonight. Time to don his stylish GBFF chapeau and pull out all the stops.
“Well. Whatever. Tonight is ours, and I say we party. Come along and be my sous-chef.”
He kept up his banter throughout dinner, managing not to sob into his green beer. Then he cuddled with Lindsay on the sofa while the Divine Miss M chewed the scenery with those ridiculous fake teeth the director of Hocus Pocus had foisted on her—although knowing the Divine One, they’d probably been her idea.
All in all, he presentationed the holy fucking shit out of the evening. Lindsay could never have suspected that his heart lay in pieces on the floor, as broken and pathetic as their poor Thanksgiving turkey.
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Gideon had a cheer hangover. His relentless rah-rah last night had done its job—if Lindsay hadn’t exactly gone to bed with a smile on her face, at least she hadn’t spent all evening sobbing.
This morning, though, he was totally embracing the concept of Black Friday. He showered, washing away the faint residual scent of turkey that clung to his hair and skin, but didn’t shave. He stayed barricaded in his bedroom with the blinds down until he heard Lindsay leave for work, in case she remembered her eviction promise in the harsh light of day. Coward much? Yep-yep-yeperee.
He wandered into the living room around nine and flopped onto the sofa, face-planting into the nest of Lindsay’s throw pillows. The key scraping in the front door lock sent him scrambling upright, a chenille pillow held against his chest as if kapok had a prayer of shielding his heart.
He expelled a long sigh when he realized it was Charlie, not Lindsay. But . . . wait. Something’s wrong with this picture.
“Charles. What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Nye Beach until Sunday.”
She stared at him, the horror breaking over her face making her a shoe-in for the next Grimm extra casting call. “Good grief, Gideon. What are you wearing?”
He glanced down at his faded black Let me explain it to you through well-formed XML T-shirt and oldest black jeans. “Um . . . casual Friday?”
“I don’t mean your clothes. Your glasses. Black frames? I didn’t know you owned any.”
“It’s a theme. I’m feeling very #000000 today.” He fell back onto the sofa. “I repeat. Why aren’t you canoodling on the coast with He-Man?”
“Lindsay called. She asked me to talk to you.”
Gideon tossed aside the pillow and sat bolt upright. “God, she’s kicking me out. She told you to kick me out, didn’t she?”
“No, idiot. She called because you’re hurting.”
“Nonsense.” No way could she have noticed. He’d hidden it perfectly. “I’m never the hurt-ee. I’m a hard-hearted bastard, as all those pretty boys in the bars discovered to their dismay.” He waved an imperious hand. “Feel free to return to love amongst the sand dunes.”
“Gideon—”
“I count this as a lucky escape. Once again, I embrace the advantages of having a disintegrated dysfunctional family.” He lay back on the sofa and retrieved the throw pillow, forcing it to live up to its label by tossing it in the air and catching it before it landed square on his nose. “No one to think about but myself. No hideous holidays to endure. No pinch-lipped disapproval of my choices, from clothing to companion. I’m back to my own brand of sparkly personal drama. What could be more entertaining than that?”
Charlie shook her head. “I don’t know why you think you can fool either of us. This time it was different. Alex meant something to you. He wasn’t like your usual bar pickups.”
He squinted at her through the funereal-black glasses. “It shows?” She nodded, and he flung one arm across his eyes. “God, I’m so pathetic.”
“No comment. However, you need to get out.” She grabbed his hand and tugged until he sat upright. “I’m taking you to brunch. We’ll go to Slappy Cakes, and you can make animal shapes with the pancake batter. That always makes you feel better.”
“Sorry, darling. Not even a sweet potato pancake giraffe with chocolate chip spots and a maple syrup saddle could peel me off the virtual pavement today. Leave me to wallow in my self-indulgent self-pity.”
She sat on the coffee table in front of him. “Gideon, stop it. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, and may I remind you that I know Lindsay Henning. You’ve got room for scads of love in there.”
“I think I boarded that room up a long time ago,” he grumbled.
“No. You’ve been . . . remodeling, I guess. Redecorating with this year’s colors. You’ve got the occupancy permit now though, so it’s time to let somebody move in.”
Gideon cocked an eyebrow. “Do I detect a theme in this extended metaphor?”
“Sue me. I’m a data scientist, not a poet.” She caged one of his hands between hers. “Although if you don’t stop pretending like you’re nothing but a shallow, selfish prick who only cares for his image, I’ll degauss your laptop hard drive.”
“But I am a shallow, selfish prick. And my image is of paramount importance. You know that.”
Charlie smiled and pushed back his tangled bangs. “Selfish, maybe. A prick, sometimes. But you’re not shallow. You’re very deep.”
He fluttered his eyelashes at her in an attempt to reignite his exaggerated flame disguise. “Oooh. Sounds dirty, darling. I’ll print it on my cards. The ones I give out in clubs.”
“Stop it. No more clubs for you. You need to talk to Alex.”
Staring at her in horror, he withdrew into the throw pillow nest. “Talk? Charles, the gay gene may enable one or two additional sensitivity circuits in the male brain, but it doesn’t completely deactivate our sense of self-preservation.”
“Whatever. Now come on.” She grabbed his hand, drawing him to the sofa edge. “I want to get back to the beach before dark. You can hang out at Daniel’s place until we get home Monday. If you must wallow, at least you won’t bring Lindsay down into the mire with you.”
He freed his hand, narrowing his eyes. “This sounds suspiciously like charity.”
“Fine. You can make your
self useful, then. Water the plants for us or something.”
“Charles, you have two cacti and an air fern. How much water do they need in one weekend?”
“Okay, point taken.” She sighed. “I’ll call Daniel and tell him I won’t be back.”
“What? Why, for pity’s sake? If I allow you to abandon He-Man, he’s likely to write such a scathing blog post about Wallace Web Design that I’ll have no choice but to flee the planet.”
“Gideon—”
“Seriously, you don’t have to worry about petit moi. As a matter of fact, I have someplace else to go.”
With a glare that could have frozen the Human Torch, she stood and loomed over him. “You’re not going out with Travis Beatty, are you?”
“Of course not. God, Charles, where do you come up with these outlandish ideas?” Although that one’s no more outlandish than my latest brilliant notion, assuming I have the balls to follow through.
“Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind staying.”
“Go. I mean it. I’ll be fine.”
When he’d finally chivvied her out the door, he sat on the sofa and took deep cleansing breaths until he nearly hyperventilated.
Stop procrastinating. Just do it.
He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts to a number he never thought he’d use again—although the possibility must have lurked in the cobwebby corners of his mind, or he’d have deleted it.
One more breath and then he made the call.
When a man’s voice answered, Gideon cleared his suddenly thick throat.
“Hello, Dad? It’s me.”
On Saturday afternoon, pale autumn sunlight gilded the Pettygrove house’s cheerful yellow paint and white gingerbread trim. But to Alex, the place was as menacing as a haunted mansion straight out of the crappy horror movies he and Landon used to watch as kids. That’s because you don’t want to face what’s inside. Or rather who.
He was clutching the brochure and service agreement from the Beeches in one sweaty hand. Lindsay hadn’t been to visit their parents since Thursday, so job number one today: break it to her that their dad would be moving by the end of next week, no matter what. That would be bad enough.
But Gideon was in there too.
Shame still curdled Alex’s belly over his meltdown. The way he’d acted, the things he’d said to Gideon . . . Jesus. He regretted them, no question, and would do anything to take them back, but he couldn’t regret his decision. His family needed him now, and they were all that mattered.
Stay strong. Focus on them, not yourself. He’d keep any conversation with Gideon to an apology, brief and to the point. He owed him that much.
Yeah. That was the plan, and he’d stick to it. No matter how much you want to fall to your knees and beg him to forgive you.
As Alex mounted the porch steps, Landon came out the front door, a leather duster over his fancy host’s suit.
“Jesus, Lan. What are you supposed to be? The love child of Agent Smith and Neo?”
Landon tugged on the lapels of his coat. “At least I make it look good. You, on the other hand, are a dead ringer for, well, Death. What the fuck, dude?”
“Not looking forward to the next half hour.”
“Awww.” Landon made a sad-puppy pout. “Did widdle Alex have a spat wif his widdle boyfriend?”
“Shut up.” Alex’s fist clenched around the papers, and they crinkled in his hand. “That’s over.”
Landon dropped the sickening expression and frowned. “No way.”
“He was never my boyfriend.” No matter what I wanted.
“Bullshit. I know you, Henning, and you—”
“Leave it, Lan. Please.”
“Ah, whatever. If that’s not it, why the mantle of doom?”
Alex held up the fistful of paperwork. “Gotta talk to Lin about moving Dad to long-term care.”
“That’ll go down as well as a ground-glass margarita.”
“Thanks for the comforting words.”
Landon grasped Alex’s shoulder. “Shit, I’m sorry. This has got to be tough for all of you. I’d stay for moral support, but . . .” He gestured to his outfit.
“I know. Duty calls.”
“Too true. But later? If you need me, you call, capisce?”
“Sure.”
“I mean it. Lin too. Both of you come down to the restaurant. Drinks and designated driver on me.”
“Thanks, man. I doubt we’ll take you up on it, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Hey, it’s got no expiration date. Whenever.” Landon gave Alex the one-armed, back-slapping bro hug. “See you.”
“Later.” Alex raised a hand in farewell as Landon stalked down the sidewalk, then he stepped inside and trudged up the stairs.
He held his breath as he knocked on the apartment door. What if Gideon answered? What should he say? Blurt out the apology and then pretend they’d never shared the best moments of Alex’s adult life? Good luck with that, asshole.
But Lindsay answered the door, her hair in a messy bun and her face bare of even the little makeup she usually wore. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Hey, babe. Can I come in?”
She shrugged, but held the door open. Alex practically tiptoed through the entryway and into the living room, expecting Gideon to be perched on the sofa or puttering in the kitchen.
Don’t think about Gideon in the kitchen. The last time you were in a kitchen with him, you fucked up royally.
But the rooms were empty and dim, as if the wan sunlight couldn’t find its way inside. Alex hovered by the breakfast bar until Lindsay sat on the sofa and hugged a pillow to her chest.
“We . . . ah . . . need to talk about Dad.”
She pressed her lips together, but didn’t burst into tears. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. No tears, but no words either.
“Here.” He sat next to her and passed her the brochure. “Toshiko’s arranged for Dad to move in here.”
“Toshiko.” Lindsay’s tone was flat. “I should have known.”
“Take a look at the flyer and check out the details.” She made no move to take the papers from him, so he set the service agreement on the coffee table in front of her. “It’s a good place. Way better than that hell-hole of Aunt Ivy’s. Mom and I took a tour yesterday while you were at work.”
“Of course you did.” She opened the brochure, her gaze moving over the pages, so Alex had to believe she was reading, although she wasn’t hurrying, that was for damn sure. After she closed the brochure, she picked up the other paperwork and started on that.
Her face remained neutral as she studied each page. Alex fidgeted on the cushion, listening for the click of fancy loafer heels on the hardwood, or the whisper of a cell phone chime.
Nothing. Just a silent apartment and the occasional rustle of paper.
The fifth time he glanced down the hallway, Lindsay set the papers on the coffee table and pushed the whole pile away.
“He’s not here.”
Alex’s gaze snapped to her, straight-backed and stiff-lipped on the couch. “Oh. Do you . . .” No, damn it. It wasn’t his business to ask. He’d made his decision, and he still believed it was the right one for his family, even if it wasn’t the right one for him.
“He hasn’t been home since yesterday.”
“He’s missing?” Panic flared in Alex’s chest. “Have you called the police?”
“He’s not missing.” She shrugged. “He’s just not here. Maybe he got lucky.”
Her uninterested tone frosted Alex’s vision, his blood beating loud in his temples. He ground his teeth together, not trusting himself to speak.
“Does that bother you, Alex?” Her voice climbed up an octave. “What did you say to him? I wasn’t there, I didn’t hear it, but I saw the kitchen afterward, and I saw Gideon’s face when he walked out the door.”
Alex didn’t want to remember that expression. “Nothing you didn’t tell me before. Family first. No room for an
y other heart chains.”
“So you cut him loose.” She punched her pillow. “Good. The faster he gets clear of the crap our family flings at everyone we love, the better off he’ll be.”
“Who says I love him? I never said that,” he growled.
“Why not?” She flung the pillow aside and jumped off the sofa. “What is wrong with our family? We never say what we mean, not when it matters, not when anyone else might be discomposed.”
“Lin—”
“We have to wrap everything up in soothing words and good manners and—and niceness. I don’t want to be nice anymore, Alex. Not now. I want to be mean and nasty and profane. Fuck it. Fuck our lives. Fuck this fucking shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Alex blinked. He’d never heard Lindsay swear, not ever. He stood, his hands held up in surrender. “Babe—”
“Don’t you ‘babe’ me. I saw what you did to that turkey, what you did to Gideon. It’s not fair. Why do you get to be mean and not me? Why do you get to throw things and not me?” The tears he’d expected earlier welled in her eyes. “Why do you get to be with Daddy and not me? Fuck you, Alex, fuck you!”
He sucked in a breath, her words like a knife in his gut. “That make you feel better?”
Her lips trembled. “No.”
Ah shit. Taking two steps across the room, he enfolded her in his arms. She tried to fight him off for a few seconds, pounding on his chest, but he held on, and finally she collapsed against him.
“Shhh, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. It will never be okay. Not for any of us.”
“We’ll get through it.” He kissed the top of her head. “We have to.”
“How?”
“Each other, same as we’ve always done.”
“I don’t think we can, Alex. It took Toshiko to find a safe place for Daddy, and I hate that it wasn’t me, that I wasn’t enough to take care of him. But if we’d kept ourselves to ourselves, where would we be?”
“I guess you’d say we’d be fucked.”
She croaked a laugh. “Well, I would now. But maybe we should look outside to find support, you know?”
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