My father, Matt, is like him; he loves deeply and needed not Mom but also Tristan to be happy. I look at Ethan who is lost in his own thoughts, quiet. I bet he’s wishing for the same. Maybe he misses Lori, but he doesn’t want to tell us.
Who knows what goes on inside his head?
“She went on and on about him not being honest,” Zeke continues. “She gave him an ultimatum right in front of us. She had always been jealous of you. In that moment, she was jealous of all of us.”
“Wait, did she know you’re bisexual?” Nana ask, and Ethan shrugs. “Why not?”
“It’s not like we have to wear a sign that says who we are,” Zeke snarls, and doesn’t give Ethan a chance to answer—or maybe saves him from answering. “Do you see me telling everyone I’m fluid? No, but if I ever get into a relationship he or she’ll know. You should do the same, Eth.”
Okay, so we’re going with the short version. We’re not telling her what really happened that night. The whole, “I thought you were fucking Hannah since the band began, but it wasn’t only her. That’s why you’re always with them because you let them fuck you.”
Her words didn’t sit well with me, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, as Ethan requested. “You fucking bitch, how dare you talk to Ethan that way.”
“He lied to me,” she said defensively.
I looked up at Ethan who shook his head.
“He’d never lie about it. You don’t want to be with him, so be it. Leave him, but stop calling him names just because he’s different. You don’t fucking deserve a man like Ethan.”
“This is why you two are always together. You two are a couple. I’m just your beard.”
She used offensive slurs, and while she was leaving, she threatened to call a lawyer because she deserved half of his company.
Luckily, Zeke recorded everything, and our lawyer made sure she left Ethan silently.
“I mentioned it a couple of times,” Ethan says weakly. “She disregarded it as if it was nothing. I should’ve pressed and made her understand. When it finally clicked during that party, it was ugly.”
“Are you okay, Eth?” Hannah asks, worry in her voice.
He nods. “Better than I was while dating her. It’s a work-in-progress.”
Ethan is better. He’s been coming out of the closet—again. None of us realized he had been hiding himself while being with Lori.
“That’s all, Em. Yes, I swear it’s temporary. I’m sure you two will work out something else when you’re done with this contract. If he needs anything else, I’ll have him contact you directly. Thank you for taking him as a client. Yeah, I vouch for him. Hannah appreciates you too. Yes, I’ll tell her.”
“Em wants you to call her. Something about the cats,” Alex tells Hannah, after he hangs up. “Also, next time we’re visiting the family, we have to stay at Em and Jack’s.”
I don’t tell him that the next time they’re in Colorado, she’s staying with me. I don’t pay attention to what they say until Zeke speaks, “You should tell the Speedman about your first kiss, in case you have to dump him. I come first, right?”
Ethan rolls his eyes, and I get ready to stop the fight because Alex might kick his ass for being an idiot.
“Zeke was my first kiss.” She smirks. “Davis was going to pick me up, we were going to an award ceremony. I was nervous about it because what if he kissed me. I had never kissed anyone before.”
“She was too worked up,” Zeke adds.
“So, he just did it and said, ‘There, your first kiss. You should be cool now.’”
Zeke and Hannah laugh. Alex doesn’t look amused but doesn’t give a shit either. The guy gets us.
The doorbell rings before anyone can talk. It’s Duncan’s assistant. Alex and I help get Rocco into the helicopter.
“I’m going, man,” Zeke says when I get back. “I didn’t think about the consequences.”
“You never do,” I remind him.
“There’s so much going on in my head. It’s fucked up,” he declares. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—or your family. They’ve always been nice to me. Like no one else has been since …”
Since his mom died, he doesn’t say, but the sad face says it all.
“We’re still brothers,” I assure him, giving him a hug. “This time do it fucking right. No bullshit, do you understand?”
I grin when Nana says something along the lines of, just do it right. First and foremost, for you.
I wish Rocco had been awake, but I trust he’ll get it this time.
A couple of hours later, I’m landing in Centennial airport, and a guy who looks a lot like Alex waits for me in the terminal.
“Tucker Decker,” I say, extending my hand.
He looks at it and then at me. “The Tucker Decker?”
I nod and look around, because I want don’t anyone to know I’m here.
“Jason Spearman,” he says, shaking my hand. “Let’s get you settled in before we start talking business. Do you have any idea of what type of business you’d like to run?”
“Not sure,” I confess and give him my background.
Four years as a musician, two as a special operations agent for my uncle, and almost seven heading the foundation. Since I was twenty-one, I’d been helping with my parents’ bars. I know how to run them.
“Any degrees?”
“A business degree with a minor in literature,” I tell him. “A master’s degree in computer science.”
He whistles. “How did you manage graduating from all of that shit?”
“Well, while in the band, we had tutors. We all graduated early from high school. Our manager, who happens to be my father, made us go to college. We did most of that online. How do you think Hannah became one of the youngest professors?”
He nods. “That makes sense. I’ve always wondered about her. Okay, so you’re good with numbers. Let me think about what we can do.”
When we arrive at the penthouse, Emmeline and June are already waiting for us. Alex mentioned this place belonged to his brother in-law and it comes furnished. At least I don’t have to worry about shipping my furniture from Washington or buying new stuff. I want to concentrate on my future—whatever that might be.
“Welcome,” June says. “I’m sorry about everything that’s happening.”
I shrug and don’t say anything. I’m in no place to receive her sympathy when I fucked up too. Pria’s right. Just because I chose Cancun, it doesn’t mean I should’ve behaved like I’m still nineteen.
During the flight, I had plenty of time to think about this weekend. I wasn’t even enjoying it. Time to fucking grow up, but under my own conditions. No one gets to dictate my future. I decide it.
“Here’s my number. Anything you need, you come to me, okay?” she continues. “You’re Hannah’s family and that makes you part of us—a close family friend.”
“Thank you for everything,” I tell them as they leave.
I check my bank accounts and realize that only Zeke, Nana, and Ethan wired me the money I requested. Rocco didn’t send me shit. Six months from now, he’s going to complain because he’s not part of my business. I’m sure by now, he’s in California handing over his electronics.
Fuck, I hate that they have to go through this shit again. When are they going to learn?
We all have to learn, I remind myself. This is the last time I do anything for them.
I’m hauling my luggage upstairs when my phone rings. It’s Mom. Just seeing her name pop up on the screen makes my mood darken. I second-guess answering, but in the end, I do it because I can’t just ignore her.
“Hi,” I greet her.
“Where are you?”
“Does it matter?” I answer.
“Tucker, you can’t just disappear.”
“Well, Tristan, aka husband number one, said you’re done with me. Maybe you should make up your mind,” I argue. “Grandpa Bradley agreed, and if I know Matt, aka husband number two, is right beside you encouraging yo
u to hang up. ‘We’re done with him, Thea.’”
“Tristan didn’t say that,” she protests.
“I’m sure that’s what he meant.” I raise my voice.
“No, he didn’t. We’re a family. Matt, Tristan, and I want to help you,” she continues. “We’re family, an unconventional one, but we’re your pa—”
“Save your lecture. I made my decision, as Tristan kindly suggested,” I say sarcastically.
“Ethan said you left town.” She changes the subject, and I want to call my best friend and remind him of his loyalties. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“He wanted me gone.”
“You’re taking this too far, Tucker.”
“Well, your husband said that you’ve been making all my decisions for the past fourteen years. It’s time for me to decide what I want.”
“You can’t just leave us, we’re your family,” she continues. “Winter’s birthday—”
“It’s always all about them, isn’t it? What the kids want, how they feel. What about fucking Tucker, Thea?”
“Tucker, you’re being unfair.”
“Am I? Everything I do is wrong. I barely have your support, but your other children always get their way, don’t they?”
“You’re ours too,” she says, almost sobbing. “The problem is that you don’t want to be ours. I love you, but I can’t make you love me. If you need me, I’m here.”
“Tell Winnie I’ll be there,” I say, finishing the call.
Of my five siblings, she’s the one I love the most. From the moment I first held her, I knew I’d do anything for her.
Something about having her in my arms after she took her first few breaths and cutting her umbilical cord makes me want to protect her from everything. If only my mother had been that way with me.
6
Sage
It’s not like Mondays are bad on their own. People make them shitty. There’s always a stack of to-do shit that’s not important on Friday. Then, when the weekend is over, it becomes urgent right at seven o’clock in the morning. It’s not exactly Monday’s fault—I think. People just create the chaos because that’s human nature.
In my family’s case, everyone waits for Monday to ruin my week. Honest to goodness, I wouldn’t mind if they called me over the weekend to inform me of their nonsense.
Nonsense I have to fix, because Sage Heywood is the ‘fixer upper’ of the family. It’s not that I’m reliable; it’s just that I’m easy to convince to do what they don’t want to do.
Also, I’m one of those people who, by nature, bends over and backward for everyone. Obviously, I should know better. All those self-help books in the educational section of the bookstore point out that seeking love by keeping others happy isn’t healthy. I just don’t learn. It’s a process.
The last time we had an emergency, I moved across the country. My grandfather had a stroke. Grandma and Gramps needed help with everything. Needless to say, I uprooted my life and here I am in Baker’s Creek, Oregon.
Where is that?
The middle of nowhere, corner of the Pacific Northwest. We’re known for our festivals and our ski resort. It’s a beautiful place, if not boring, at times. Coming from Manhattan, I had a lot to get used to. The coffee shop closes at seven—there’s only one coffee shop in town.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Once I learned that you could walk at your own pace, that saying hello to your neighbor wouldn’t get you killed, and that life isn’t just about what you own, I fell in love with my new life.
I accept that moving gave me a chance to reinvent myself. Begin a new chapter where no one judges me or rejects me because I’m no longer Douglas Earnest Rosedale Ritzy III’s wife. He got the friends, and I claimed my freedom.
Let’s call it a win and not talk about him again.
However, it’s not often that helping my family benefits me. Usually, these kinds of good deeds screw me in one way or another. Today, when my sister’s name appears on my phone’s screen, at seven in the morning, I know I’m about to take a wild ride.
“Jerome broke up with me,” she says on the other line.
What I should say is, Well, thank God. He’s a loser.
What I actually tell her is, “I’m so sorry, Sienna. What are you going to do?”
“The wedding is off,” she says with an exaggerated sob.
Again, there’s a world of difference between what I want to tell her (let’s go to Aruba to celebrate—your treat), and what I actually have to say as her maid of honor. “Are you sure? You two seemed so perfect for each other.”
Which is a big fat lie. The asshole is despicable.
“He was fucking his assistant.” She breaks into a louder cry.
Didn’t I tell her that the asshole was hitting on me during their engagement dinner? But Sienna refused to listen to me.
“You’re confusing friendliness with flirting,” she argued.
There’s a world of difference between being a flirtatious man and telling your soon-to-be sister-in-law, “Maybe I made the wrong choice. You seem edible. Is your auburn hair natural? Can I see if the carpet matches the drapes?”
He’s a pig with zero class.
Sienna went on and on, “Jerome is so perfect. Mom and Dad love him.”
Well, having our parents’ endorsement should have been a big fat red flag.
“So, you just caught him right now?” I look at the time. It would be ten in the morning in New York.
Doesn’t she have to be at work at eight? What can possibly have happened within the last two hours for her to catch him?
“No, I went to surprise him this Saturday—he was working on a special project for Dad.”
I look at the pile of invoices I have to go through today. The list of books I need to order and the ones I have to search for. My planner has in big red words, drive grandpa to the city for his doctor’s appointment.
She had all weekend long to call me and waited until today to drop the news. Which means now is the time to panic and fix whatever Sienna has to fix. Let’s just hope it’s not begging the asshole to take her back for making a scene while he was doing the nasty with the assistant.
“Why didn’t you call me on Saturday?” I ask patiently.
“My friend Elizabeth suggested a spa day to try to calm my nerves and to see if we could fix things. We went to Vermont,” she says, her voice lost its edge and is now calm. “Last night when I got home, he had packed all my things and said it’s over.”
“Wait, he kicked you out of the apartment?”
I rub my head, right where a headache is beginning to form. Dexter, our older brother, swears Sienna has the useless syndrome. She’s unable to make a decision on her own. In literature, she’d be the character people call “too stupid to be alive”—or is it “too stupid to live”?
When she makes a decision on her own, she ends up screwing up her life—and I have to fix it.
“Yes. He said he realized he’s not in love with me.”
Of course, narcissists are only in love with themselves. She should know. She’s a fucking psychologist for fuck’s sake. The worst therapist in the world. The only reason she studied that was because according to her friends and counselor, it was easy.
“What are you planning on doing?”
“I don’t know,” she sobs. “Our parents are pushing me to fix this. The wedding was important to them.”
It’s always about Mom and Dad looking spectacular, no matter how much they screw us kids.
“If you want, I can lend you some money to lease an apartment,” I suggest.
“I think I want to leave New York,” she states, and I’m unsure of how to react. “Like you did. You seem to be doing better.”
On the one hand, she’s finally leaving the worst place on earth—believe me, that city is worse than hell. Moving away from our parents is the best thing she can do for herself. On the other hand, I don’t have any energy left in me to help her start from sc
ratch. I already have a lot going on as it is.
“Where would you be going?”
Please don’t say Oregon, I send a little prayer. I promise to go to church more often, I bargain with God who might be too busy to listen to my frivolous pleas.
“There’s an opening at a rehab center in Costa Mesa, California. My old professor from Columbia offered me the job,” she states.
I sigh with relief but then ask, “How about housing?”
“They offer housing within the facilities,” she continues. “This is destiny, right?”
She has a point. It seems like everything is falling into place and she doesn’t even need me—wait a minute.
Sure, move to the other side of the coast, but why exactly is she calling me about this?
This is one of my biggest flaws—there’s a huge difference between what I want to say and what I can say to my family. Believe me, if it was anyone else, I’d be upfront.
Speaking to Sienna when she’s having an existential crisis is like walking through a minefield. Anything I say might end up costing me my freedom and earning me a sister under my care.
“Of course, I’m so glad that things are working out for you. Let me know if you need help, like researching what you need to do to change your driver’s license.”
That’s a good offer, right? I’ll make her life easier since the DMV can be exhausting.
“Well, now that you mention it,” she says, lowering her voice.
Ugh, here it comes.
“Can you come to New York to take care of the presents and the RSVPs? Mom said that if there won’t be a wedding, she won’t help me.”
And Sienna wouldn’t clean up her own mess either. I bang my head against my desk lightly. There it is. I knew this wasn’t a simple call. She needs Sage to fix her fucking mess because she can’t say no to Mom, just like she can’t take responsibility for her fuck ups.
“Let me make a few calls,” I say. “Someone can probably take care of it for us. There’s no way I can leave. Our grandparents need me.”
Us After You Page 4
