“William Ellison is married.” Harry’s interruption was successful this time, and he got their attention with that bomb. Then he dropped another one. “To a woman.”
“What?” Rusty whirled on his friend. “That’s impossible.”
“No it isn’t. Her name is Ginny. The winery up there is actually her family’s. William married in. She runs things up there, and he handles sales and distribution.”
“What?” This time Rusty’s question was smaller, infused with doubt.
Adam watched the exchange with detached interest. He should probably be surprised. Nothing about William had suggested he was married, much less to a woman. But then, there had been something off about him, so why couldn’t it be this?
“This is what he does,” Harry said. “He keeps a boyfriend on the side down here. A younger one. I’m not really sure how he gets away with it, because he’s not very subtle about it. All I can think is he and his wife must have an arrangement.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Horror had replaced doubt in Rusty’s tone.
Harry shrugged. “He must get off on the chase as much as anything. One of my servers got entangled with him for a year or so a while back. It was a disaster. The kid ended up totally heartbroken.”
Adam laughed. Not at the heartbroken kid, but at…he wasn’t even sure. Himself, maybe. He’d been so angry at himself earlier. Now he was just amused. How had he lost sight of himself so much that he’d almost fallen into the trap of married-to-a-woman Hamptons Ken? It was so ridiculous that all he could do was laugh.
“Adam, I’m sorry,” Rusty said. “I had no idea.”
“It’s okay,” Adam said.
“Still.” Rusty looked shaken. “I called that one wrong, I guess.”
“If you want to make it up to me, get my mom and sister over here. I need to evict them from their house.” He laughed again—this new laughing thing was…kind of awesome, actually. “And I have a few things to tell them before I leave tomorrow.”
“How about farewell cocktails here tomorrow afternoon?” Harry asked. “They can take a look at the pool house. They’re welcome to move in there for a bit.”
Adam shot a look at Rusty. “I don’t think you and Wilhelmina will make good roommates.”
Rusty looked away. He seemed…embarrassed? Could that be right? That wasn’t something Adam had ever seen on Rusty.
“I’m, uh, moving into the big house.” He was definitely embarrassed. The way he sort of half smiled at Harry but then quickly looked away was a sure tell. “I kind of already have. You probably haven’t noticed because you go to bed so early.”
Adam’s jaw went slack as Harry—whose chair, now that Adam thought about it, was awfully close to Rusty’s—took Rusty’s hand. Wow.
But why was he so surprised? Rusty had alluded to a teenage romance with Harry, had told him they’d reconnected recently. “Well,” he said, struggling to find worlds. “Congratulations?”
Harry grinned and brought Rusty’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it.
“How long are you…staying?” Adam asked.
Rusty shrugged, even as Harry said, “As long as I can hold on to him.”
“Harry just retired,” Rusty said. “And I’m getting up there. So we’re just going to see where things go.”
“What about the shop?” Adam asked.
“Well, you’re going back, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t know that, and…” Well, crap, there was no point in arguing. He was going back. And he was going to need money. There was going to be a nice backlog of work.
“I’ll take you off salary,” Rusty said. “We can profit share. You get seventy-five percent while you’re there alone.” He glanced at Harry. “If I come back, we’ll go fifty-fifty, and when I retire, you can buy me out. How does that sound?”
Adam blinked. It sounded great, actually. He’d find a spot to move the RV, and he’d work at the shop—the shop that would be part his.
And maybe… No. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about that yet. He was going to try, and what would happen would happen. He had to be okay either way.
The only part about this sudden gift being dropped in his lap he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around was… “I thought your whole goal in life was to get me to leave Bishop’s Glen? And now you’re giving me a stake in the shop?”
“I’m not just sorry about William,” Rusty said quietly. He glanced at Harry, who nodded encouragingly at him. “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard in general. And when it came to Freddy specifically. I should have let you make your own mistakes. I was just trying…” He blew out a frustrated breath.
Looking at the pair of them, huddled so closely together, Adam thought he finally got it. “Rusty, is it possible that when you were talking all those years about me being trapped in Bishop’s Glen, you weren’t talking about me at all?”
“It’s possible.” Rusty’s eyes filled with tears. “I just didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
“I’m the one who made the mistake.” Harry’s tone was vehement, but his voice was shaky. “I’m the one who said I was coming back. I’m the one who kept you waiting there.”
“The point,” Rusty said, shaking his head to forestall more speech from Harry, “is that we’ve all learned something.” He rolled his eyes, and suddenly Lady Merlot was back. “Hopefully we’ve learned something.”
“And what have we learned?” Adam asked. When the question earned him a bigger eye roll, he added, “Humor me.”
“We’ve learned,” said Rusty, looking between Adam and Harry with affection in his eyes, “not to let anything or anyone persuade us not to go after what—and who—we want.”
Right. That was exactly right. He turned to Harry. “Hey, any chance I can get you to do some detective work for me?”
Chapter Seventeen
Freddy didn’t realize someone was knocking on the door to his motel room at first because he thought it was coming from inside his head.
Oh, his head. Why had he thought it was a good idea to chase last night’s phone call with Sophie with even more whiskey? Hadn’t he learned yet that you couldn’t drink away a broken heart?
He rolled over, ignoring whoever was outside. He was paid up through the end of the week, and the only person who knew where he was staying was Bronwen, who, God love her, would never darken the door of the extremely euphemistically named East Hampton Surf “Resort.” So whoever it was had the wrong room. Wrong guy.
Groaning, he rolled over. The only cure for him right now was more sleep.
But then of course his phone started buzzing.
It would be his sister, with her bullshit carpe diem homilies about pride and the meaning of life.
Fuck. He felt around for the phone on the nightstand, turned it off without looking at it, threw it on the floor, stuck his head underneath his pillow, and went back to sleep.
Two hours later, feeling slightly less close to death, he got up, showered, and headed out in search of breakfast.
And tripped over…a takeout container of fish and chips that had been left outside his door?
What the hell?
It was from that place up the coast, the one he’d been telling Adam about. He recognized the newspaper sticking out of the container—an old-school touch he’d appreciated when he ate there in person.
Suddenly shaky—and not from the hangover—he crouched and opened the container. There was a note inside, nestled on top of the now-cold cod.
Sorry I missed you. —Adam.
Heart jackhammering, he rose and took out his phone. There were two unread texts, and they weren’t from his sister.
Not to sound like a stalker or anything, but I’m outside your motel room door.
Then, a couple minutes later:
Okay, I’m heading home to Bishop’s Glen today. Take care, Freddy.
Freddy looked around frantically, but that was stupid. Adam had been here hours ago. He’d proba
bly thought Freddy was out or—
No. His gaze snagged on the window to his room—the window with the curtain half-open. Making his way over to it, he peered in. There was a clear view of the bed.
Adam would have been able to see him there. And, when he didn’t answer the door or respond to the text—no, when he saw Freddy pick up his phone and angrily fling it away from the bed—he would have thought he was ignoring him on purpose. That he didn’t want to see him.
No. No.
Sophie was right. His pride was holding him back. His pride was standing in the way of what he wanted—needed—to be happy.
His pride could go fuck itself.
Leaping over the fish and chips like a deranged hurdler, Freddy took off running.
“Oh, no, no, no. This won’t do at all. It’s entirely too small.”
Wilhelmina led the way out of the second bedroom in Harry’s pool house, the one that had been Adam’s but which currently housed only his packed suitcase.
“Entirely too small.” Betsy echoed Wilhelmina’s assessment.
“It’s also free.” Adam opened the door and ushered them outside to the pool deck. The quicker to say what he needed to say so he could leave. He honestly didn’t care one way or the other whether they took Harry up on his more-than-generous offer to let them stay in the pool house for a few weeks.
His mother glared at him as she marched out the door. Once outside, she turned and folded her arms. “And so was our last place, but you screwed things up with William.”
“Things didn’t work out between us,” Adam agreed cheerfully. “He’s kind of a repulsive human being, actually.”
“Adam. How can you say that?”
He shrugged. “Because it’s true?” It was amazing, actually, how easy it was to tell the truth once you started. Easy—and liberating.
“You’re being completely irrational. If you had just gotten your hair cut or, I don’t know, developed some taste in men—”
“You know what, Mother?” Another thing that was turning out to be easy? Interrupting his mother when she was talking nonsense.
She put her hands on her hips. “What?” She didn’t even bother trying to temper the disgust in her tone.
“I actually have excellent taste in men. I’ve only ever loved one of them, and he was a tremendous one. Just because I blew it with him doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with my taste. Only my judgment.”
Betsy gasped. Wilhelmina started marching toward the gate. “I can’t listen to this anymore.”
Adam followed. “I have one more thing to say.”
She stopped with her hand on the gate, clearly not seeing the need to bother with eye contact. Which was fine. He didn’t need that.
“I’m going to go back home now,” he said. “And I’m still going to love you and all that. You’re my mother. I’ll always love you. But all that doesn’t make what I’m going to say next any less true. I should have said this years ago.” He paused. Not because he was hesitating, but because he was relishing. Having it on the tip of his tongue, not quite out in the world but about to be, was the most delicious thing.
She did turn then, her eyebrows raised.
He, Adam Elliot of Kellynch Estates, let it rip. “Fuck. You.”
Holy fuck.
Holy, holy, holy fuck.
Freddy barely made it around the corner, out of sight of the gate before Wilhelmina and Betsy Elliot swept through it, floating away on a cloud of indignation.
He slumped against the fence. Then, when the wall behind him still didn’t feel solid enough to keep him on his feet, he sank to the ground
I actually have excellent taste in men. I’ve only ever loved one of them, and he was a tremendous one.
Was Freddy interpreting that correctly?
Closing his eyes to block out any distraction, he went back over the conversation—confrontation, really—he’d just overheard between Adam and his mother.
Was there any chance he’d been talking about that shithead William Ellison?
No. Freddy was pretty sure William Ellison wasn’t getting fish and chips delivered to his door.
What now? He’d run over here in a panic, afraid Adam would have already left town. But he hadn’t. He was here. Just over the fence. Probably with Rusty. What the hell was Freddy supposed to do now? The panic wasn’t subsiding. Adam was the one who was good with words.
Okay, he needed to get his shit together. He was here because he’d decided to set aside his pride. To see if letting go of it for a while would allow him to speak what was in his heart. Because God knew, there was pride and there was…life. And he didn’t know anymore how to live without Adam.
He didn’t want to be in New York City. He didn’t want to be in the Hamptons.
He wanted to be under the stars inside Adam’s RV.
He picked up his phone.
The first text came as Adam was loading his suitcase into his rental car for the trip home.
I need to talk to you.
Oh, God. Freddy. He’d assumed Freddy was done with him after he’d blown him off at the motel, but there was the text clearly labeled “Freddy Wentworth” upending him with six innocuous little words.
He was trying to get his clumsy fingers to bang out a reply, something along the lines of Anytime when more texts started coming. One after the other, a long stream of them, like Freddy was hitting send after every thought.
I don’t know if this feeling inside me is hope or despair. It’s all mixed up.
I hope this isn’t too late.
I’m just going to say this, as hard as it is: I want you back.
I told everyone I came to the Hamptons because I was thinking of opening a restaurant here, but it was a lie. I came here because you were here.
I can hardly type.
I’ve never loved anyone but you.
I’ve been so angry at you. So hurt. But I’ve always loved you.
I still love you.
Freddy dropped his phone after the last text. He couldn’t see anymore through the tears that had gathered in his eyes.
But then the sound of a wail from the other side of the fence electrified him—he’d forgotten one important logistical detail in that epic string of texts, something along the lines of By the way, I’m right outside.
He was having trouble making it to his feet—his legs felt made of cement—when his phone buzzed.
I love you, too. There’s never been anyone else for me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I threw away so many years.
The gate crashed open, and Adam ran—as well as he could—out of it, went loping down the sidewalk.
The sight of Adam receding into the distance galvanized Freddy. He was off running in a heartbeat, caught up with Adam in two.
“Hey,” he said as Adam slowed to a halt and turned to him with wide eyes.
Then his mouth went dry, and they stood there staring at each other, Adam panting from running, Freddy panting from…hope? Happiness? Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar, and it had taken up residence in the center of his chest, rapidly expanding as it crowded out his lungs.
Adam’s eyes went even wider, and they were getting shiny.
Shit. He had to say something here. So he said the first thing that popped into his mind. “Wherever you’re going, can I walk you?”
It was the right thing, because although a tear slipped out of the corner of one of Adam’s eyes, he smiled. “I was actually going to go home. I have a rental car, and it’s all packed.”
Home. Freddy nodded. That sounded right, too. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
He opened his arms, and Adam stepped into them.
Epilogue
Six months later
“Get up, sleepyhead. It’s a big day.”
Adam twisted away to silence the alarm clock and then came back and burrowed into Freddy’s chest. His favorite place in the world.
“I’m still not used to this,” Freddy murmured sleepily.
“Used to
what?” Adam pressed kisses against Freddy’s jaw to wake him up. They had a lot to do today. He had to be at the shop in an hour, and Freddy had a meeting with the contractor to sign off on the final touches on the little log cabin they were building adjacent to the woods at Kellynch. Then he would have to scramble to open the food truck in time for lunch.
Freddy grinned and pulled Adam on top of him. “To being happier than I deserve. To sleeping with you every night under these stars.” He nodded up at the ceiling.
“You deserve to be happy,” said Adam, and before he could say anything else, Freddy had stopped his mouth with a kiss. Freddy always knew when he was about to try to apologize again for all the years they’d spent apart. He let his tongue slide leisurely into Adam’s mouth, and they sighed against each other for a few moments.
Then Freddy pulled away and said what he always said when he was reading Adam’s mind: “Those years got us here.”
Yes, they had. And here was a lovely place to be.
Freddy had gotten into Adam’s car that day in the Hamptons and driven home with him. Stayed with him, minus a few trips to New York to ease himself out, legally and logistically, of Captain’s Manhattan and into Captain’s Grilled Cheese, which was currently parked at the Kellynch lakeshore, serving Sophie and Geordie’s boating customers before and after their cruises. There had been a lot of demand for the truck at other wineries and at local festivals, but they were taking things slow.
Adam had tried to insist that they buy a proper house, but Freddy wasn’t having it. In the end, they’d come up with an ingenious solution. And tonight was the night they would implement it. Adam grinned when he thought about it.
Undue Influence Page 17
