Forgive My Mistake

by Lynn Van Dorn

  Forgive My Mistake

  A North Shore Short Story

  Lynn Van Dorn

  Forgive My Mistake © Lynn Van Dorn 2018.

  Amazon Kindle Edition.

  Edited by Judith Singer.

  Cover Design by Lynn Van Dorn.

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any characters, locations, events, or businesses are works of fiction, and resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Acknowledgments

  Stay in Touch

  Also by Lynn Van Dorn

  Author’s Note

  For those who have read the North Shore Stories, this story takes place after both Be My Mistake and Damage Control, but before Daddy Issues.

  1

  Ethan Gets Punched

  “You're Ethan Hawkins, right?” asked a belligerent voice.

  Ethan looked up from his drink, a mediocre G&T, made with cheap gin and too much tonic water and ice. “Yes. Why?”

  The voice belonged to an extremely attractive man. An extremely attractive famous man. Granted, that wasn't shocking; he was at a Hollywood party. Attractive famous men were thick on the ground. This particular attractive famous man was Seth Monroe, though, and he was trouble with a capital T.

  “I am not gay,” Seth stated.

  “That's nice,” Ethan replied, still backing up.

  “Make sure you tell that to all the fucking idiots you work with at TMZ. I am not gay. Francis is my best fucking friend.” Seth paused and his expression darkened further. “We are not fucking.”

  “Yet,” Ethan's mouth said before his brain could stop it. Ethan hadn't written the piece that had Seth all hot and bothered, but he had read it. Twice. And made a few suggestions to Mandy that she'd gleefully added while snickering.

  Seth and Francis Pauley had been photographed together many times. They were, as Seth had stated, best friends. But some lucky-ass pap had taken a money shot of them: Francis leaning in close to Seth, his hand on Seth's rather nice ass.

  Seth seethed at Ethan. “We're not gay.”

  Ethan looked Seth up and down. “Jury's out on you, although I'd be willing to bet there's some bi-curious lurking there. Francis, though—”

  “Is not gay!” Seth insisted.

  They were starting to attract an audience, Ethan noted. Charlie wasn't part of it, though, which was probably why he said, “He was gay enough to suck my dick at a party a year ago. It wasn't bad. You could do worse.”

  Which was when Seth hauled his fist back then punched Ethan in the face.

  2

  Charlie Gets Angry

  “Tyler! It's good to see you again.” The actor was beautiful, as always, but his beauty seemed less brittle than it normally did. Ethan was right. Being in love very much agreed with Tyler.

  Tyler made a face. “You might be the only person besides Ethan to sincerely mean that,” he said. “It's all I've heard tonight, though.” He took a deep drink from his martini, then ate one of the many olives that sat skewered in the drink.

  Tyler's companion was a very handsome dark-haired man whose age seemed to be somewhere between Tyler's age—twenty-six— and Charlie's age—forty-three. “I think you sell yourself short Ty,” he said, then adjusted his glasses. “I've noticed that people like you even when you're not putting forth any effort.”

  Tyler grabbed the lapels of the man's well-tailored suit coat. “Dr. Rosen,” he cooed. “You say the sweetest things.” Then Tyler batted his eyelashes up at his boyfriend. His first name popped into Charlie’s head. Josh. Dr. Josh Rosen.

  Charlie tried to remember what sort of doctor Rosen was—he knew Ethan had told him, but it now escaped him—when the taller man bent and captured Tyler's mouth with his own. Charlie, out of politeness, looked away across the room and saw some man punch Ethan, the blow landing right on one of his boyfriend's lovely blue eyes.

  “Excuse me,” Charlie said because there was never a call to be rude. “I need to go over and murder someone.”

  3

  Ethan Gets a Note

  At first, Charlie had been spectacular. He'd swooped in, swiftly punched Seth in the stomach, then whispered something into his ear as Charlie caught him. Seth's golden skin had turned positively green at whatever it had been, so no doubt it had been nasty. Charlie might look like a total Daddy angel with his blond hair and blue eyes, but he could be ruthless. Ethan rather liked that about him.

  Charlie swept Ethan into his arms and marched out of the party. There'd been cuddling in the back of the limo, then Charlie had tucked Ethan into their bed with an ice pack on his face and kiss on his not-bruised cheek. Later, Josh had shown up to examine Ethan's bruises while Tyler stood behind him and rolled his pretty eyes theatrically.

  After Josh had pronounced that there didn't seem to be any damage to Ethan's eye or the socket, he and Tyler had left, and Charlie had crawled into bed with Ethan and held him tight while he whispered sweet words into his ear, then made slow and sweet love to him.

  It had been absolutely lovely and was almost worth getting punched in the face.

  Then Charlie had to spoil it, like a total douche.

  The next morning, Ethan woke alone, as he often did, since Charlie liked getting to work early. Ethan thought that was ridiculous since Charlie owned the movie production company, and he couldn’t exactly be late when he was the boss, but Ethan had more or less come to terms with his boyfriend being a total weirdo morning person.

  Breakfast was waiting for him on the table that sat in Charlie's insanely large bedroom in his even more insanely large mansion that perched in a lofty spot of Beverly Hills and commanded a spectacular view of the city.

  Ethan seated himself, enjoyed the view, and started to eat his normal breakfast of fruit, yogurt, bacon, and toast. There was a note on the table with his name on it, written in Charlie's handwriting. Ethan snatched it up and opened it, curious as to its contents. The message, as it turned out, was rather terse.

  * * *

  Sweet boy,

  * * *

  I don’t want you going to work. Stay home and in bed. That's an order.

  * * *

  Daddy

  * * *

  Ethan felt his ears burn, but it was with anger, not embarrassment. After the years he and Charlie had been together, he thought they had come to an understanding on the whole Daddy thing. Charlie pampered Ethan and Ethan allowed himself to be pampered. Charlie dominated him in bed and Ethan loved the shit out of that. Charlie called him “sweet boy” or “perfect boy” or lovely boy” and Ethan called Charlie Daddy. In private. It was just between the two of them.

  And Tyler, but Ethan had had to confide in someone. Even if that someone had giggled like mad and made endless fun of him while they googled Daddies and tried to figure out what exactly Ethan was supposed to do. As it turned out, it wasn’t particularly complicated.

  When Charlie was Daddy, Ethan did what he said. Whatever he said. But Charlie wasn’t supposed to be Daddy all the time, and this was going a step too far.

  Ethan crumpled up the note and got ready for work.

  4

  Charlie Gets a Scolding

  Charl
ie sat in his office, supposedly looking through the notes his lawyer had given him on a contract, but actually waiting for a phone call that didn't come.

  He was starting to feel uneasy.

  Every call and text that wasn't Ethan ratcheted up his worry. He was beginning to think that possibly he'd miscalculated.

  When a text came from Tyler, Charlie's heart sped up. Tyler was involved with a project, but it wasn't a Weston Works production, so whatever he had to say probably wasn't business. Charlie cleared his phone's lock screen then opened the text.

  * * *

  Tyler: Charles Weston, you motherfucker, what WERE you thinking? I thought you were supposed to be INTELLIGENT. Clearly I have been led astray and sorely mistaken.

  * * *

  Charlie blinked at his screen.

  * * *

  Charlie: What?

  Tyler: Don't you play stupid with me, mister. I have YOUR boyfriend sobbing in MY house. It's a damn good thing Josh is tolerant. And at work. Most men wouldn't understand this sort of thing.

  * * *

  Charlie's stomach plummeted.

  * * *

  Charlie: Sobbing?

  Tyler: Well, sniveling mostly. His nose is red and his eyes are puffy. PuffiER, rather, thanks to the whole black eye thing. He looks awful.

  Charlie: Shit.

  Tyler: Yes. That about covers it. What kind of shitty Daddy are you, anyway? You know we researched this, right? We Googled the SHIT out of the whole Daddy dynamic, and went down this kinda scary rabbit hole of porn, but mostly we read articles and blogs, because I am a SUPPORTIVE friend and Ethan is far better than you deserve, and know that I know what I'm saying:

  Tyler: You are the Worst Daddy Ever™

  Tyler: And that's saying some shit. We read some horror stories, let me tell you.

  Tyler: So. Are you gonna fix this or not?

  Charlie: I'm coming over. Don't let Ethan leave before I get there.

  Tyler: Good. Do NOT have make-up sex in my house. Gross.

  * * *

  Charlie let the phone drop from nerveless hands. This was not what he’d expected at all. His boy shouldn’t be so upset. Ethan should feel excited, and pleased, not wronged. Maybe it was because Ethan felt like he’d been neglected. Charlie had been very busy lately and they hadn’t used the Twinkpit in weeks.

  Clearly, Charlie needed to get things in hand, including, and especially, Ethan.

  5

  Ethan Gets Sulky

  Ethan lay on Tyler's couch and glared at the man who'd just entered the room. “Dammit, Tyler. I told you not to call him.”

  “I am not bound by your strictures, E. Ex, remember? Besides, I didn't call. I texted. Next time, be more specific.”

  “I hate you,” Ethan grumbled.

  “No, you don't. I have to go. Behave yourselves. Do not get cum on the upholstery. You hear me? Good. Ta!” With that, Tyler flounced very deliberately away in the most obnoxious way possible, shooting Charlie a glare as he passed by.

  “Can we talk about this?” Charlie asked.

  Ethan looked away. “I'd rather not. I'm still furious with you. Do you have any idea what happened when I went into work today?”

  “Um…” Charlie looked guilty, but also a bit baffled, as if he knew what he'd done wrong but not why it was bad. That look made Ethan even angrier.

  “I was told, by my boss, that all my assignments had been given to other writers and I was on vacation until after the first of the year.”

  Charlie continued to look confused. “Isn't that a good thing? I talked with Harvey and—”

  “That is the problem, Charlie. You talked with the fucking head of TMZ! Like it was nothing. And now I have the holidays off.”

  The look of confusion deepened. “But you were complaining about having to work over the holidays, and after what happened at the party last night, I felt you needed some time to recuperate. I told you not to go to work today.”

  Ethan wanted to punch his boyfriend for being so sweet and yet so dense. “Do you have any idea how much you fucked up my job situation? Everyone works the holidays. Everyone. Except me, apparently, because my Daddy intervened on my behalf. You can't do that, Charlie. You just can't. In your house, yes, I do what you say. Within reason. But I have a life that exists beyond you, and you can't control that, too. I thought you got that.”

  Charlie looked stricken. “Our house.”

  “What?”

  “It's our house, Ethan. Yours and mine.”

  And that was just the problem, because it wasn't. But Ethan didn't feel like arguing the point so he just tipped his head back and sighed.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean… God.” Charlie buried his face in his hands and Ethan felt a tiny bit bad. But just a tiny bit. He was still enormously pissed off. The looks his co-workers had given him as he left work, having been told he was officially on vacation, had been bad, but the snide whispers spoken loudly enough for him to overhear had been worse.

  “They said 'sugar daddy’ and 'boy toy’ and ‘whore’ and a lot worse, Charlie. My colleagues. People I thought who respected me. And the worst part, you asshole, is that they aren't wrong. Because of you. You made their words valid.”

  Charlie looked up and his face was ghost white. “I'm sorry,” he said.

  “I know. But I'm still angry as fuck at you.”

  “Will you come home with me? Please.”

  Ethan looked at his boyfriend. He was downright beautiful and tragic and it was so fucking unfair. Ethan loved him, but he was so angry, he was afraid that he would break something between them, possibly irrevocably. He shook his head. “Not tonight. I need…space. Space that doesn't belong to you.”

  “I…see.” Although it looked like he didn't. Charlie looked sad and confused and the only thing that kept Ethan from throwing himself into Charlie's arms was the memory of the whispers and all those unkind eyes.

  “I'm spending Christmas with my parents, Charlie. I know you were supposed to come, too, but I think maybe you shouldn't. I'll tell them you had to work, that some crisis came up with some film being shot overseas or something. Okay?”

  Charlie looked like he thought that was the opposite of okay but he nodded tightly. “When are you coming back?”

  “I'll let you know.”

  Charlie reached over and stroked Ethan's cheek with infinite care. “I fucked up. Will you let me make it up to you?”

  Ethan sighed. As angry as he was, he still loved Charlie with his whole heart. “Yeah,” he allowed. “After Christmas.” After I've had time to not want to give you a black eye that matches my own.

  “All right.” Charlie stood, then bent over and kissed the same cheek he'd just caressed. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

  Ethan waited until he heard the front door of Tyler's house to click shut, then he grumbled, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

  6

  Charlie Gets Good Advice

  “You are an idiot,” his mother pronounced. “I like Ethan. Fix this.”

  Brenda Sharp glowered at him over her hot toddy. She was resplendent in a dark green sheath that hugged her still trim figure.

  “I will, but he asked for space. I know I fucked up, and trying to fix things will just make him resent me more. I have to wait for him to come to me. I can’t force this, Mom.”

  His mother sighed. “If you love something, set it free. Here. Eat a cookie. It won’t help, but it’s a cookie.”

  Charlie accepted a fat cookie dotted with cherries and chocolate and took a disconsolate bite. “Ethan would love these,” he said. He felt far too glum to enjoy the cookie, let alone the holiday, so he put the cookie down, barely tasted.

  “You know what else they say, don’t you?” Brenda asked. She reached for a sugar cookie.

  “Mmm?”

  “Well, if you love something, set it free, if it comes back, it’s meant to be.”

  “Yes,” he agreed shortly, feeling cranky as hell.

  “And if it doesn’t come
back, hunt it down and then chain it to the bed.”

  That startled a laugh out of him. “God, Mom. You’re terrible.”

  Brenda gave him an arch look and took a sip of her toddy. After she swallowed, she said, “But you love me.”

  “But I love you.” And for the first time in days, Charlie smiled.

  7

  Ethan Gets Sick of His Relatives and Purple

  It was the day after Christmas, Ethan was with his family, and he felt stabby. The worst part was that, in a fit of anger, he’d bought a return flight from Sacramento that didn’t leave for two more days. What had he been thinking? Yes, he needed some time to himself, but a week with his family was not the right way to go about that. He didn’t know how he’d make it through the remaining days without committing some form of violence.

  For one thing, he’d managed to forget exactly how purple his childhood home was. It was his mother’s favorite color, and it dominated the house in every shade from pale lavender to darkest violet. The effect was oppressive. Nate wasn’t sure how his father stood it, but he suspected an undiagnosed case of color-blindness.