Nunzio exhaled slowly. “You’re right. I’ll bounce if that’s really what you want.”
And of course he had to go and be agreeable.
I scowled. “Just tell me what you want, Mr. Rodriguez.”
He laughed softly, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was hard and sardonic. “Look, Michael told me about your conversation at the wedding. He told me that you’d lied about cheating on him. That you knew… we’d find our way together if you weren’t in the picture.”
This time it was me releasing an ugly laugh. “Right. Found your way together. You really expect to believe the two of you weren’t fooling around while he and I were a couple?”
To my surprise, Nunzio didn’t recoil the way Michael had at the wedding. His face went a little bleak, and he looked away.
“Honestly? I think we did.”
I put a hand on the desk to steady myself.
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” he said quietly. “And you don’t give a shit about excuses, but… I’ve lived for Michael since I was a kid. I’ve been in love with him since I was young enough to understand what I was feeling. The way I needed him? It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t typical. I was a mess when he had boyfriends. I—” Nunzio looked at me squarely. “When you were with him, talking all that stuff about moving in and marriage, there were times when I felt so fucking empty that I didn’t even want to be alive. The thought of him being tied to someone else forever killed me.”
In my planned verbal assault on him, this was the part where I mocked him. Where I called him a liar. In practice? The stricken expression on his face showed nothing but genuine distress as he thought back on that time.
“I know it sounds fucked up,” he said. “And I’ve never told Michael that I felt that way. He’d think I was a wreck. And I was. I was a wreck for him. I loved him so much that I didn’t know who I was without him. So, I fucking hated you for existing. For taking him away. For being better than me.”
My mouth tightened.
“You were better for him. You know you were.” Nunzio took a step closer to me. “I was just the drunk player who was a bad influence back then. Who got all up on him when we were wasted and never realized how all that drinking had become his crutch.” He wet his lower lip but didn’t drop his eyes. “We used to drink until we didn’t remember who we were anymore, man. We blacked out so much. But I used to get flashes… of me kissing him. Begging him to love me. To want me.”
My heart hammered against my chest, but it wasn’t anger I was feeling.
It was pity.
The despair he was describing? The desperation? I’d never felt that level of need for Michael. If I had, I’d have never been able to let him walk away.
But I understood what he was describing because I felt it for Victor. The emptiness and devastating loss of a future I’d started to imagine, and hope for, was washing down the drain.
“You don’t owe me anymore explanations,” I said after taking a long deep breath. “What’s done is done.”
“It wasn’t done at the wedding,” he said sharply. “Michael was reeling after that conversation.”
“And I was reeling from being at a wedding and seeing the two of you being so in love while knowing I provided the stepping stone for you to get there,” I snapped back. “It hurt. It still hurts when I think about how wrong I was about what the two of us had, and how long I let it draw out hoping he’d give me his heart.” Another humorless laugh slipped out of me. “But right now, Nunzio? I don’t want to carry that anymore.”
Nunzio rubbed his hands together. “Look. We’ve never been close, so while I’m relieved to hear this, I’m not the one who would benefit most from knowing.”
My jaw clenched. “The best I can do is promise to stop fleeing from Michael when we’re in the same place. I’m trying to restart my life, not spend my time patching up the past. I’m ready to move on. And I have someone I want to move on with.”
His eyes gleamed and his eyebrows ticked up. Part of me wondered if he’d felt insecure about the lack of closure about me and Michael, or if he’d been tensely waiting for the drama to rear up again since we traveled in similar circles.
“I get it.” He took a step back towards the door. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for being disrespectful to your relationship.”
“Even though you’re relieved I fed him a lie that sent him into your arms?” I asked dryly.
Nunzio’s mouth twisted up into his familiar boyish smirk. “I will never be sorry for that.”
“Wow.” I scoffed. “Leave before you wear out your welcome. And feel free to tell Michael that I don’t wish him a slow painful death.”
“Or me?”
I picked up my phone. “Don’t push it.”
His rich, deep laugh filled my office right before he lifted his hand in a wave and slipped outside. Only when he’d walked away did I collapse in my chair and take a deep breath.
Who knew the confrontation I’d spent years dreaming of could make me feel so goddamn relieved. And free. It was done. All of it was done.
Not just tying up loose ends with Nunzio after years of resentment and lingering pain. I was also done with the idea that Michael had been my one true love… that I’d lost. Somehow, some way, in the past several days of coping with the idea that my thoughtlessness and headstrong bullshit had driven Victor away, I’d failed to realize that my response to breaking up with Michael had paled in comparison to what I was experiencing now.
Yes, I’d been numb. I’d internalized the failure of our relationship. I’d taken it all on my own shoulders and considered myself unloveable.
Now?
Now I wondered if what I’d felt for Michael had ever truly been love at all. Because what I felt for Victor? It was the strongest feeling I’d ever had for another person.
I was not ready to give that up.
Cross Island, ch 22
Chapter Twenty-two
Victor
This wasn’t how Thanksgiving was supposed to go.
The Thanksgiving plan, as briefly discussed in the monstrous bed we’d shared at the Four Seasons, had been to make food and hole up with Clive with the caveat that his mom might chew him out and guilt him into going to Long Island. The backup plan had been for him to go to Long Island… with me.
We hadn’t hammered out the details on what he was planning to introduce me as but judging from his promises that the guestroom in their house had a spacious bed, I’d assumed he wasn’t going to hide that we were sleeping together.
Instead of either of those pretty ideal, and hard-to-believe, plans… I was once again in the room I inhabited at Tonya and Mere’s apartment. It was early afternoon, it was snowing outside, and I’d heard Mere and Tonya talking in happy voices all day, but I wasn’t about to go out and join them.
Nah, I’d stay in my hole with Craigslist open on my phone and keep scouring the site for apartments. My first big assignment had ended in a shitshow that I’d poured out to Chester in a massive meltdown, but he’d kept the hairier details to himself.
So, he’d given me a Come to Jesus lecture that had reminded me of my uncle, covered for my ass, and I’d still gotten the fat bonus and a reassignment. After the New Year, and once he returned from his apparent annual holiday trip to Paris, the staff was being shuffled around so the “same mistake” didn’t happen again. No more friends guarding loved ones. More staff. And for me—more training. Chester was putting himself back on Kenneth Stone, and I’d be his back-up. No more QFindr for me.
Thank fucking God.
No more guarding doorways and having to deal with dumbass hipsters eyeballing my scars. No more having to force smiles and be personable for the staff. But with that, came me having to forfeit my ability to watch Clive as he worked. No more hiding smirks when he dead eyed someone, or when he tore into someone on the phone.
I had no idea when I would next see Clive. I’d demanded space, and he was giving it to me. It had only been a fe
w days since his last text message, but not being able to see or speak to him after us existing in a bubble for nearly two months? It was cutting me deep. I stayed in my room, sent messages to people trying to rent out overpriced apartments, and made a list of household items I’d need to buy if anyone ever gave me a shot. It was easier than thinking about anything else.
“Hey, you up?” Tonya’s voice easily penetrated my bedroom door. “You ready?”
The fuck?
I went to open the door and watched her give my sweatpants and threadbare T-shirt a skeptical glance.
“So, you’re not ready,” she said flatly. “We’re about to go, so…”
“Go where? What are you even talking about?”
Tonya stared at me for a second before glaring over her shoulder. “Ma, I thought you said you asked him!”
“I thought you asked him!” Mere’s voice floated from their bedroom. “Because remember, I said I worried I always come off too pushy?”
Tonya ducked her head. “Damn, she did say that. My bad.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you talking about, T?”
“We’re having a—whatever the hell it’s called… FriendsGiving. You’re supposed to come with us.”
“Who says?”
“Says everyone, I don’t know.” Tonya waved vaguely in the direction of the window. “Steph, Angel, Caleb, Aiden—”
My skeptical stare went to a full-on side eye. “What the hell? Where is this thing happening?”
“At Aiden, Chris, and Jace’s place.”
“For real? That’s how you spend your Thanksgiving?”
Tonya smirked. “Not usually, but what are we gonna do now that the QFindr squad and our squad is all twined up into one big happy family? There’s only a couple of people in the whole combined crew who even still talks to their biological relatives. And I’m pretty sure Chris took his men to his parents’ house earlier for a pre-Thanksgiving dinner, or his mom was gonna beat his ass.”
It was still totally bizarre to me. “Wow.”
“I know it’s weird, but it is what it is. Apparently, Caleb also throws a fancy Christmas party too.”
“Well, have fun,” I said, picking up my phone again. “Bring me back a plate.”
Tonya gave me a scathing look. “Stop being stupid and go get ready. We’re supposed to be there in less than an hour, and you know traffic is going to be ridiculous.”
I chewed on my lower lip, not moving, and finally found the courage to ask, “Is Clive gonna be there?”
Tonya gave me a knowing look. “I asked, but Aiden said he doubts it. Clive put in all his vacation days a couple of days ago. Said he couldn’t focus on work. Understandable, in my opinion.”
“He’s probably going to his parents’ house,” I muttered, looking away. “They ask him to go for Thanksgiving mostly every year, so…”
Why was I telling her this? She had no interest in Clive’s annual Thanksgiving plans. That was all me. I was the one who’d been obsessing over what he was doing with his time since I’d made the big production and stormed out.
“Why don’t you just call him?”
I shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Good reason.”
I glared. “Look, I’ve never—this has never happened to me—” Use your ‘I’ statements. “I’ve never cared about someone like this before, but he fucked up, and I can’t deal with someone who’s gonna make mistakes that big.” I was being vague whenever she didn’t know the whole story, but I couldn’t bring myself to fill in the blanks. At the heart of the matter was the fact that Clive must have known what that move would do to me mentally despite his own false sense of invincibility, and he’d done it anyway. Regardless of the fight and the flesh wound I’d gotten that hadn’t even needed stitches, he’d had to know how badly I would freak out. “I dunno what to do.”
“Well, I have no relationship advice for you, so…” Tonya spread her hands. “I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough to admit you’re not straight.”
I snorted out a laugh. “I thought you knew, anyway?”
“No, I didn’t. I thought you were a homophobe, bro. Do you not remember how you acted to me when you found me and Stephanie fooling around?”
The humor faded, and my mouth turned down. “Yeah, I remember. I was a real piece of shit.”
“If you’re bi or—”
“Gay.”
Tonya blinked at me in surprise the way Stephanie had only a week ago. “I swear you were checking out Meredith that first night you showed up.”
“Yeah, well, she’s pretty. It doesn’t mean I wanted to touch her or anything.” I scratched the back of my head and fought the urge to retreat. “Sorry if it bothered you, man.”
“I didn’t harbor a whole grudge because you glanced twice at my woman, I’m just surprised.” Tonya crossed her arms over her chest, head cocked. “So, if you’re gay, why did you flip on me and Stephanie?”
“It’s gonna sound like an excuse.”
“Okay, say it anyway.”
Dredging up the past used to be something I avoided no matter what, but the past couple of months had seen me doing it for constant reflection. And it had helped me figure a lot out. And explain a lot more. “A couple of people I hung out with, including that kid Shawn, used to talk a lot of shit. They acted like they were trying to defend Stephanie’s honor because I was her brother, and so they’d talk about you. It was just better off if you two didn’t mess around. I didn’t know what might happen, you know?”
If she was shocked, she didn’t show it. She just kept giving me that same slightly unimpressed look. “Is there a reason you acted like a dickhead instead of explaining that?”
“Because I was an actual dickhead, and I didn’t think Stephanie would believe me. It’s not like I had any credibility.”
“I’m glad you know that, son.” Tonya released a slow breath. “Look Vic, I know all of us gave you a hard time when you came back, and it seems like you’re not even mad about it. You know why. And you probably know you deserved it.”
“I did. I’m not mad at all.”
“Even at Raymond?”
I cringed. “That’s different.”
“Why? Because you had a crush on him?”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that, T. It’s…”
It was complicated. It was frankly a disaster. And yet, as I locked eyes with Tonya and tried to come up with a way to explain why being around him made me feel so out of control and messy, I couldn’t think of why he was the exception anymore. He used to make me think of Shawn, but now I could think of Shawn without my self-loathing and guilt maxing out at one hundred percent.
“It’s just something I need to get over,” I finished. “And I’m getting there, I think.”
“Sounds good. Get over it tonight.”
I finally cracked a smile. “No thanks, Tonya. I really just need to be alone right now. I appreciate you, though. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done without you and Mere the past few months.”
Tonya’s mouth twitched up, and Mere appeared in the hallway in a swirl of long blond hair and a short gold sequined dress. “Wait, what did I miss? What did my wonderful self do to bring joy to your life?”
“Walked into a craft store and let the glitter section explode all over you,” Tonya deadpanned.
Mere glared at her.
I burst out laughing. “I think you look nice.”
“Thank you, Victor,” she said, flipping her hair dramatically in Tonya’s face. “I’m glad you can appreciate my fashion even though your Thanksgiving attire leaves a lot to be desired. Be prepared for Jace to try to give you a makeover.”
“He’s being stubborn and not going,” Tonya said, sliding behind Mere and pulling her close. “Determined to sit here and angst with that tired pot pie I saw in the freezer.”
“It’s a Thanksgiving pot pie,” I informed her. “A special edition.”
Tonya rolled her eyes.
“Okay, whatever, but what do you mean at his house?” I demanded. “Is he home?”
“I have it on good authority that he is.”
“Whose authority?”
Mere held up her phone. “Aiden’s. He and the boys swung by Whitestone on their way back from Chris’ mother’s house, but Clive refused to come. He didn’t want to see anyone and according to Aiden, looked ready to stay in bed for the rest of the year since he’s taken the next month off.”
My stomach bottomed out. “Wow.”
“I know.” Mere cringed. “Maybe you two can spend the day together and go back to being pissed tomorrow?”
I didn’t say anything, and Tonya squeezed Mere. “All right, we gotta go.”
“Am I being too pushy again?”
“Yup.”
Mere frowned.
I forced a reassuring smile. “Nah, you’re good. Seriously. I know you just want to help.”
“In that case, you should definitely go to Whitestone. Especially since you still have that monstrous SUV.”
Tonya began dragging her girlfriend down the hall. “Let me know if you need anything, Vic. We won’t be too far.”
I nodded, jerking my chin at them in farewell, but didn’t hear anything after that. All I could do was picture Clive alone in his big house, isolated from everyone else, and put that image side-by-side with how things could have been.
It hurt my heart. My whole damn chest. And it prompted me to turn back to my room so I could get changed.
***
Clive
My mother had called multiple times since the previous day, but I didn’t have the heart to call her back. We’d already hashed out multiple times that if I skipped Thanksgiving, I’d definitely show up for Christmas dinner, and I’d promised I would do “something fun” for myself today.
Cross Island Page 23