"There is so much wrong with this situation." Belle tried to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I don't care that you're gay, Theo."
"No?" Theo's expression brightened.
"Of course not. I do care that you put us in an untenable situation."
"Would it help if you knew I thought I was straight—until I met Blaine last summer?"
Just before the first time he postponed their marriage. Mystery number one solved.
"Why not just call off the wedding?"
"I didn't think the whole gay thing would stick."
"I won't purport to be an expert on the subject, but I don't think it works that way, Theo."
"I've been with other women." Theo puffed out his chest in what Belle supposed was a manly fashion. "Lots and lots of other women. It was good, too. Until you."
"Careful," Belle warned, eyes narrowing. If Theo accused her of turning him gay, he would get a punch in the nose. Or a kick in the balls. Maybe both.
"Don't get me wrong. You're a very sexy woman. All of my friends think so," Theo assured her. "But it's like sleeping with my sister."
"Jesus, Theo. Really?" Just when Belle thought it couldn't get worse, Theo threw creepy pseudo-incest at her. "All you had to say was that you weren't attracted to me. You should have kept the rest to yourself. To the grave and beyond."
Theo nodded. "Look. I can't tell my father. He would die on the spot."
"That would solve your problem." Belle ignored Theo's dirty look. She was entitled to a few snarky comments.
"The solution is simple. We get married."
This was the least funny situation Belle had ever been a part of. However, if she thought for one second that Theo was joking, she might have conjured up a half-hearted laugh. Unfortunately, she could tell he was serious. Rather than explode with a five-minute verbal tirade, Belle kept it simple and straight to the point.
"No."
"But, Belle—"
"What does Blaine think about all of this? I assume you've told him your plans?"
"Blaine isn't thrilled with the idea. However, he's known he was gay practically from birth." Theo sank onto the sofa. "How can I come out of the closet when I just discovered I'm in it?"
Belle felt her first wave of sympathy. She couldn't imagine what it was like to discover something this life changing. It was hard to get past the way Theo handled it, but they had been friends most of their lives. The least she could do was stand back and look at it from his perspective.
Joining Theo, Belle took his hand, squeezing warmly. "I will support you every step of the way. I have your back. If you want me to go with you when you tell your parents, say the word. I'll be there."
Theo leaned close, his head resting on top of hers. Belle felt a closeness to him she had never felt before. Then he had to ruin the moment by opening his mouth.
"If you marry me, I promise to divorce you after a year. Two at the most."
"Sure," Belle scoffed. "It will be the perfect solution. You can assuage your father and fool around with Blaine on the side. I know." Her words dripped with sarcasm. "To round things off, why don't we have a baby? No way better to prove your manhood than fathering a child."
"Now that you mention it—"
"You're certifiable!" Belle pushed Theo away. "I see a straitjacket and padded cell in your very near future."
"Belle—"
"For the past year, you have lied, wheedled, and wimped out. Be a man, Theo. Admit to the world that you're gay."
"It's not the world I'm worried about."
Belle knew what it was like to live with a domineering father. Things were expected to be done a certain way. For Theo—as the only son—those expectations were through the roof. Belle refused to cave. However, in spite of her better judgment, she did bend. A little.
"I will give you two weeks reprieve, Theo."
"A month."
The man thought he was in a position to bargain? Unbelievable.
"Two weeks, Theo."
"Three?"
"I can end this right now if you want." Belle picked up her phone. "Say the word and I will call my father. Do you want him to be the one to break the news to your parents?"
"God, no." The skin under Theo's newly acquired tan turned a sickly shade of gray. With the end of his shirt, he wiped the sweat from his upper lip. "I'll figure out a way to tell him. If push comes to shove, at least I have the money I inherited from my grandmother."
Once again, it turned out that money was the root of… everything. At least in Theo's world. Rich. Pampered. Spoiled beyond reason, Belle was amazed he wasn't a complete waste of space. He was just so damn likable. She wanted them to stay friends. If Theo did as he promised, that wouldn't be a problem.
"You won't take off the ring?" Theo asked as she walked him to the door. Neither of them was interested in trying to finish dinner. "It would raise a lot of questions."
Belle glanced at the diamond. She had never cared for the design. Too traditional for her taste. But she had lived with it this long. Two more weeks wouldn't kill her.
"I know how this will sound." Theo hesitated.
"I don't think I can handle another bombshell, Theo. If we are twins separated at birth, keep it to yourself."
"Nothing like that," Theo smiled, shaking his head. "I would like you to meet Blaine."
"That's it?" Slowly, Belle released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Name the time and place."
"Thank you, Belle." Theo hugged her. This time, when he went in for a kiss, his lips touched her cheek. "You could have crucified me. Justifiably."
"I would have. If I were in love with you. And if I had really wanted to marry you."
"I guess I did you a favor."
"Don't press your luck." Shaking her head, Belle pushed him out the door. Serious as a heart attack, she pinned Theo with her gaze. "Remember. Two weeks."
"You have my word."
Belle leaned against the closed door. Glancing at the clock, she was amazed to see how early it was. The drama with Theo had played out in less than an hour. Not wanting to spend the evening rehashing the events over and over, she picked up her phone and dialed the one person Belle knew who could be counted on for a distraction.
"Hey," Tracy answered after the second ring. "That was fast. I thought it would take most of the evening to give Theo the heave-ho. Were there less begging and tears than expected?"
"The evening ended early, but the story is epic. Want to come over?"
"Should I stop at the liquor store?"
Belle grinned. This was why she and Tracy were best friends. The woman knew exactly the right question to ask.
"I'm fully stocked."
"Start pouring. I'll see you in ten."
CHAPTER SIX
ASHE DIDN'T KNOW a lot about reunions. About a year ago he had received an invitation to the get-together marking the ten-year anniversary of his high school graduation. Work kept him away—though he doubted he would have gone. Too much muss and fuss. Ego aside, chances were it would have become more about him and his celebrity than reminiscing with the rest of the attendees.
However, Ashe didn't need to be an expert on the subject to know his reunion with his family was less than warm and fuzzy—Georgia being one of the few exceptions. Not that he had expected tears and sentimentality, but these were his blood relatives. What he expected was… more. Instead, the reactions ranged from cool, to uninterested, to thinly masked hostility.
By the end of the afternoon, Ashe was reminded why walking away ten years ago had been more of a relief than a hardship.
It began as Ashe descended the staircase just after his phone call to Belle. Not certain how he felt—about the woman or their exchange—he was brought up short by the sight of his mother. Somehow, Bonita Mathison hadn't changed a bit. Slender, her dark hair was fashioned into a ruthless French twist. Her earrings were simple diamond studs, her shoes sported tasteful heels—ne
ver higher than two inches. She wore an elegant shift in a neutral color. Sometimes she donned a matching jacket—depending on the season. She stood as she often had during his childhood, by the small accent table in the foyer fluffing a perfectly arranged vase of flowers.
A feeling of déjà vu rushed over Ashe. When his mother looked up at him, sending her familiar benign smile, he could have been seventeen, rushing with no time to spare, late to meet friends. It was ten years since the last time they were in the same room, yet there was no surprise in Bonita's expression. Not delight or anger or—anything. Ashe couldn't think of a time when she raised her voice or showed excessive emotion—no matter the occasion. Nothing dented that New England blueblood cool. Not even the return of her eldest son.
"Ashe. How nice to see you, dear."
Bonita held out her hand. Ashe took it in his. Slender and bordering on icy, if she were anybody else, he would have been concerned. For his mother, this was normal. He brushed his lips over her proffered cheek.
"How have you been, Mother?"
"Fine. I had a club meeting this morning. A charity luncheon this afternoon." Lightly, she patted his hand before continuing her inspection of the flowers. "Cook is fixing prime rib for dinner. I hope that's fine. You still eat meat?"
It was the first time Bonita acknowledged Ashe's absence. Until that moment, he wondered if she realized he had been gone.
"Still an enthusiastic carnivore."
"Lovely. Then I will see you later. Seven o'clock. Don't be late."
Calmly, she glided from the room.
"Cool as a meat locker," Georgia said, entering from the opposite direction. "Some things never change. Need a jacket?"
Ashe winked at his sister, telling her that though surprised, he was unaffected by their mother's less-than-emotional greeting. "I used to wonder if we were really related."
"Genetically, there is no doubt."
"Really?" Surprised, Ashe shook his head. He didn't see it.
"The eyes. The slope of your nose. The color of your hair. Mom left her stamp. But the rest of you is all Dad. Physically." When Georgia took his hand, Ashe was struck by the difference between her warmth and their mother's coolness. Between that and his sister's smile, he felt some of the chill begin to dissipate from the room.
Unable to help himself, Ashe asked teasingly, "Mom was informed when I left, wasn't she?"
"I told her. She may have blinked, but she was late for her flower club so it was hard to tell." Stopping on the last step, Georgia met his gaze straight on. "Don't take this the wrong way. Dad just called. He had to fly to New York. From the sound of it, he won't make it back until the day of his party."
Ashe frowned at the news. "I came home to see Dad—with his blessing. How can I not take his absence personally?"
"I don't think Dad is deliberately avoiding you."
"If you say so." Ashe wasn't convinced.
"Come with me." Georgia pulled him toward the garden. "I know two members of the family who are dying to welcome you home."
"Vivian and Bradley?" Knowing they lived at home, Ashe had expected to see his siblings. Georgia's reaction to his question—a loud snort of laughter—quickly clued him in.
"Sorry." Georgia wiped a bit of spittle from her chin. "Vivian is too self-involved to care about much outside her narrow interests. And Bradley? He is Dad's right-hand man. You, my friend, are the competition."
It was Ashe's turn to laugh, thinking Georgia must be joking. But she simply shrugged.
"If I were the least bit interested in Dad's company—which I'm not—when does Brad think I would find the time?"
"In our brother's world, nothing trumps the family business. He assumes you would drop your little music career in a heartbeat if Dad asked you to. And it's Bradley. The last time somebody called him Brad, I swore steam came out of his ears."
To Ashe, that felt like a challenge. From the twitch of Georgia's lips, it didn't take much to realize that was the point.
As they walked along the rose-lined path, Ashe wondered why he hadn't connected with his brother? There was only a year separating them. But for some reason, Bradley came out of their mother's womb with a huge chip on his shoulder. Ashe was older. A better student. A better athlete. He had a ton of friends—male and female. At least, that was how Bradley saw it. Ashe had no idea how his brother felt until one day he lashed out with a bitter rant. It seemed the girl Bradley liked only had eyes for Ashe.
It was news to Ashe—all of it. Bradley's bitter resentment came as a shock. Ashe had no chance to mend fences—if that were possible. He was gone the next week.
As for Vivian. Two years older, she had no use for Ashe. Or—as Georgia reminded him—anybody else. If it wasn't about her, she wasn't interested.
"I sound like a bitch." Georgia sighed as a white gazebo came into view. "Isn't there an unwritten rule against slinging crap at your family?"
"To outsiders? Hell, yes." Lightly, Ashe tapped Georgia on the chin. "To each other? Sling away. You've given me a heads up on what to expect from Vivian and Bradley." Georgia smiled when Ashe rolled his eyes. "Maybe they won't strike me that way."
"When our siblings strike, they never do it head on. Sneak attacks all the way. So watch your back."
Ashe started to laugh until he got a look at Georgia's face. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
So much for a week of familial togetherness. Ashe hadn't expected them to slaughter the fatted calf. However, he had hoped more than one person would be happy to see him. His hopes for reconciling with his father were fading fast.
"What about you, Georgie?" Ashe used the nickname automatically, glad it slipped out when he saw his sister's face light with pleasure. "Is Josh still the man of your dreams? Are my nieces mostly sugar with just the right amount of spice?"
"I'm a lucky woman, Ashe." Georgia sighed, happily. "I have a secret. Can I trust you?"
Growing up, Ashe and Georgia were each other's confidants. She would tell him about her boyfriends or fallings out she had with friends. Ashe shared his dreams—a career in music. It felt nice to fall back into old patterns.
"Have I ever ratted you out?"
When Georgia looked right and left—and left again—Ashe raised his eyebrows.
"The bushes have ears," Georgia explained. "Unlike you, the rest of our clan does not believe that discretion is the better part of valor."
"Is it really that bad?" Georgia nodded. "Why do you stay?"
"That's my secret." Taking Ashe's arm, they continued across the lawn. "Josh has a job offer in Los Angeles. We've kept it on the QT until everything was finalized. We move a week after Dad's birthday party."
"That's fantastic, Georgie. We can see each other whenever we want."
"I know." There was an added bounce to Georgia's step.
Which brought Ashe to a topic he hadn't planned on broaching. However, knowing that Georgia would be a big part of his life from now on, he felt the need to clear the air.
"I don't know how to ask this without sounding like a whiny little twit. But here goes. Why didn't you come to see me the last time the band played in Boston? Or anytime we were in the area?"
"Ashe—"
"I understand wanting to stay in Dad's good graces. But—"
"We did come."
"You did?" Confused, Ashe pulled to a stop. He turned, looking Georgia in the eyes.
"That was the fifth time I've been to one of your shows."
"I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me? Why not take the tickets I offered you?"
"Massive paranoia and no backbone." With a sigh, Georgia shook her head, her eyes sad. "Do you know how much I've always envied you? You got out. I stayed. I married a man who worked for my father. We live in his home. He pays for the private school my daughters attend. It may not be a perfect life, but it's comfortable."
"Don't beat yourself up for that." Ashe left home because it was the only way. How
ever, he didn't blame Georgia for staying with what she knew. "I'm sorry we missed out on seeing each other." Wanting to lighten the mood, he adopted his best cocky smile. "So you've seen The Ryder Hart Band five times. We put on a damn fine show, don't you think?"
"I don't have the words." Georgia grasped Ashe's arm. "I knew you were talented, but… oh, Ashe. The first time, I had to keep reminding myself that it was my baby brother up there. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I cried when you played the saxophone solo on Missing You. I didn't let go of Josh's hand during the entire concert." She chuckled. "It took a week for the circulation to return in his fingers."
"I wrote that song for you."
"Oh, Ashe." Tears welled up in Georgia's eyes. "I'm sorry. I've been a horrible sister. Can you forgive me?"
"Love means never having to say you're sorry."
Georgia froze in the middle of wiping her cheeks. "You did not just say that."
"What?" Lips twitching, Ashe batted his eyes. "You quoted Shakespeare. I can't quote Ali McGraw?"
"Yes, if it weren't perhaps the worst movie line ever."
"But memorable." Happy with the results, Ashe brushed the last tear from the corner of Georgia's eye. "And true. I can forgive you for two very important reasons. First, I want to."
"Easy as that?" For the second time that day, Georgia walked into Ashe's open arms.
"Easy because of the second reason. I love you, Georgie. Always have. Always will."
"I've missed you so much."
"Never again." Holding Georgia close, Ashe kissed her temple.
"It was almost six."
Ashe let out a confused laugh. "Six what?"
"Times I saw you in concert." Moving back, Georgia smoothed out the material on Ashe's shirt, wiping the wet spot left by her tears. "I went with Josh to Los Angeles last month—he had a final interview. He was going to be busy, so I wrangled a ticket to the show you did at the Hollywood Bowl. It turned out I couldn't go. I knew a friend was in town on business, so as a treat, I gave the ticket to her."
"A friend?" Ashe hoped he sounded nonchalant. He didn't feel that way.
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