DUMPED

by Lucy Hawkins

  “Go on. ‘Much less’ what?”

  She let out a slow breath. “Much less a guy. All this time, I’ve been trying to set you up with my single girlfriends. Do you even like girls? I mean, there are some people who like both, but do you…?”

  Hank shook his head. “They’re pretty, but not my type. I like guys, Rhi.”

  “Right.” She nodded, her lips pressed together. “Well, this is embarrassing. If I’d known, I would have at least tried to hook you up with the right gender.”

  “You were trying to help and I… I just don’t like talking about my personal life. It’s not like I corrected you or anything.”

  He hadn’t intentionally kept his sexuality a secret, but his personal life was exactly that—personal. It had been his longstanding policy that if he wasn’t fucking someone, it wasn’t any of their business who he liked. Now, he saw that logic for what it really was: fear. Hank had seen the way Alex had been treated in high school as the only gay kid in Redwood. In Florida, it had been easier. But being back, he hadn’t wanted to face the same ostracization Alex had. Especially when he had a business to run.

  “So, I take it Alex was the mystery person making your face light up like a Christmas tree the other day?” Rhiannon asked. “I mean, he’s not exactly the kind of guy I would have picked for you. He’s nice, but he’s just… flighty.”

  Hank cleared his throat. “Okay, if we’re going to talk about this, I need to make one thing very clear. Alex means a lot to me. I know this seems new, but it really, really isn’t, so if you could keep the put-downs to a minimum, that would be great.”

  The spark of mischief in Rhiannon’s eyes died down, and she placed her hand on Hank’s arm. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it as an insult. You just seem like total opposites, that’s all. I mean, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re not straight.”

  “I know how he seems to other people,” Hank said. “He seemed that way to me too, so you’re not alone. But there’s so much more to him than this spoiled little socialite moved back to his hometown. He’s… He’s special to me.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Can you?” He raised an eyebrow. “How?”

  Rhiannon snorted. “You should see your face right now. You look like someone just handed you a box of puppies.” She pushed away from the counter. “Listen, your secret’s safe with me. I’m not going to tell anyone. But I still wish you’d told me sooner you were gay. What did you think I’d do, turn on you?”

  Hank shrugged. He really hadn’t been able to guess how Rhiannon would take it. How anyone would take it for that matter. After all, Alex had been angry when he’d found out, and that had been more shocking than anything.

  “It’s just one of those things that like… How do you even go about telling your only friend you’re gay? ‘Hey, we need more milk for the inn, and also you’ve been trying to hook me up with the wrong kind of person.’”

  “Yeah, pretty much like that,” Rhiannon said with a nod. “You know, now that I know you’re gay, this changes everything. If this whole thing with Alex doesn’t work out, let me know. I know a couple of guys up in Albany—”

  “Rhi?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Too far.”

  She nodded. “Right. Understood. I’m going to get the dining room set for breakfast.”

  Breakfast. That was a thing he needed to get started on. Groaning, he pulled himself up from the barstool and started to work on waffle batter.

  After the last of the dishes had been cleaned up and the guests left to explore the town, Rhiannon came back into the kitchen bearing a small stack of mail. Most of it looked like junk—coupons to the local pizza place and auto shop—but she held out two pieces that looked fairly important. One was thick and the other thinner.

  “These two came for you today,” Rhiannon said. “You might want to take a look.”

  Rather than open them in front of her, he took them to his office and closed the door.

  The thick envelope was from Paragon Financial Services, the bank Norma had mortgaged the inn through. Inside was a statement of how much was left to pay off. He unfolded the paper and scanned the document. Of the original eighty thousand, forty-five thousand had been paid, thanks to the wedding and the subsequent increase in business. And with the way the waiting list was looking right now, it seemed he was on track to get the entire thing paid off within the six months Mr. Healey had given him.

  He looked up over the fireplace where he’d hung a picture of him and Norma above the mantle. Someone had snapped it after one of his football games. His helmet hung from his fingers beside him, and Norma had one arm wrapped around his waist, her head leaning on his shoulder. He’d always been taller than her, even as a gangly thirteen-year-old. They must have been facing the sun, because they were both squinting in the photo, but the pride on Norma’s face was still plain to see.

  Hank had told Alex the truth the night before—she wasn’t his biological aunt. But she was his family, more so than his mother, who ran out on him before he could even get to know her, or his father, who had only ever seen him as a disappointment. Norma had seen the potential, even sitting in the principal’s office. Now he was doing the same—seeing the potential in a house she’d invested in. This was her legacy. And he was so close to saving it.

  The second envelope contained a thank-you note from Hazel and Aaron and a post card from Florence, Italy. The note took him by surprise, although it shouldn’t have. He had supplied the venue for the wedding and done his best to make sure everything had gone flawlessly. Still, it made him a bit self-conscious. He thought he’d done a good job of fading into the background, but apparently not.

  Dear Hank,

  We can’t thank you enough for providing the venue for our beautiful wedding. Without you, our special day truly wouldn’t have been as special. I know Alex already explained this to you, but Hazel’s parents married at The Lakeside, and it was important we keep that tradition alive. The cake was also a huge hit, and if it isn’t too much trouble, we’d love to have you create something for our baby shower in a few months. We’ll sort out the details later.

  Best wishes,

  Aaron and Hazel

  P.S. Thank you for the swans.

  Hank found himself smiling as he reached the end of the note. He’d never let on that he knew Hazel was pregnant at the wedding, so of course they would keep up the ruse. Maybe one day he would tell them he knew all along, but then they would want to know how he’d known. More than likely, they would suspect Alex, and Hank didn’t want them to think badly of him, especially when Hank had guessed instead of being told.

  Pulling open his desk drawer, he stuck the note in his planner. When he had more time, he’d give Hazel a call and see when they needed the cake for the baby shower. Knowing his luck, all the denizens of Manhattan’s high society would see it and want him to make cakes for their baby showers. If that happened, he really would need someone else to help with the inn.

  At least Alex would have the wedding planning side of things under control. Hank still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed so easily. Granted, he’d agreed after sex, so it might not be completely binding, but something told him it was. Anyone could see Alex was passionate about weddings, and Hank was pleased he could give Alex a way to plan them away from the scrutiny of Manhattan.

  The landline rang, but Hank ignored it. Rhiannon could answer it. He needed to make sure the leak in room nine was completely fixed and then start on lunch.

  “Hank,” Rhiannon called a moment later. “You’re gonna want to answer this one.”

  “If this is that woman from a couple nights ago, offer her a complementary stay and hang up.”

  She’d been incredibly demanding and didn’t particularly warrant a complementary stay, but if it made her happy, he’d allow it.

  “No, I…” Rhiannon hesitated. “He says you hired him? He sounded really weird.”

  Ray. Hank grabbed
the landline off his desk.

  “Hang up, Rhiannon, or I swear to God I’ll fire you.” A moment later, he heard a soft click. “Ray. Tell me you have something.”

  Of course he had something. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have called. Oh God, what if it was bad news? What if Daniel was dead? His stomach dropped. They deserved more time together to get to know one another as adults. He didn’t even care about the money. Not anymore. Just as long as he could see Daniel again.

  “I found him,” Ray said. “He’s not dead. He’s been living in South Carolina under a different name.”

  Ray kept talking, but all Hank could hear was the whooshing of blood in his ears. Daniel was alive. He was safe. And he hadn’t tried to contact Hank. Not once in the year he’d been missing. Relief, hurt, and anger warred inside of him.

  “Can you give me contact information for him?” he choked out.

  Grabbing a pen, he wrote down the address Ray gave him. He wouldn’t do anything as impulsive as going to visit. Ray had been right. If Daniel hadn’t gotten in touch, there was a reason. Instead, he’d start off with a letter. Keep it informal and familial. Yes, a letter would do perfectly. Now all he needed to do was figure out what to say.

  Twenty

  Alex

  Butternut squash, plum tomatoes, carrots, celery. Butternut squash, plum tomatoes, carrots, celery. Butternut… He really should have written it down, but it was only four items. How hard was it to remember them? Except if he forgot even one of them, the Bolognese would be ruined.

  Hank had been kind enough to give him the recipe, yet another one of Norma’s. Only this one had been passed down from her great-grandmother. No pressure or anything. At least it was just his mom and Taylor. If Hank were actually going to be there, Alex doubted he’d be brave enough to cook at all.

  The day was surprisingly decent for late July. Rain the night before had brought the humidity down to a bearable level, so Alex had decided to walk to town. It was only a few blocks—less than a mile—and the scenery was worth the heat. In the distance, the Catskills loomed, the tree canopy decorating the mountains like icing on a cake. Several of the shops downtown had planted flowers outside their doors, painting the sidewalk in pinks, yellows, and purples. Their sweet floral scent filled the air, mixing with the mouthwatering aromas coming from Magnolia’s Bakery and the smell of turpentine coming from the local art guild, whose members sat outside painting a landscape of the town.

  Alex nodded a quick greeting then turned the corner onto the main street toward Smith’s Grocery. He glanced down at his phone, adding the groceries he’d memorized to a memo. Better safe than sorry.

  “Alex?”

  He knew that voice. It had taunted him throughout high school and even the occasional dream years later. Clutching his phone more firmly in his hand, he dragged his eyes upward.

  “Charlie,” he said, his voice tight.

  “I knew you were back in town, but I hadn’t had a chance to say hi to you,” Charlie said. “Great job on that wedding, by the way.”

  Anger burned in Alex’s sternum. So, this was how it was going to be? Charlie was going to pretend he hadn’t thrown rocks at Alex and berated him every chance he got? Or did he honestly not remember all the shitty things he’d done?

  “Thanks.” Alex didn’t look at him. He didn’t trust himself to speak. There were too many things he wanted to say and none of them appropriate for the passing children on the street to hear.

  “Um, mind if I walk with you? Are you headed to Smith’s?”

  Alex’s left hand clenched into a fist. “Yes, actually. I mind a lot. No offense, but I don’t really want to walk with the person who made my high school hell.”

  He fully expected Charlie to defend himself. After all, that’s what he’d done every time Alex had called him out on it in the past. Instead, he looked sheepish.

  “I… yeah. I understand.” He smiled, and something in his expression looked almost pained. “You, um… you look really good. I just wanted you to know that. Your name’s been all over town, and it sounds like you’re doing well for yourself.”

  What the hell was this? Was Charlie seriously trying to absolve himself of his guilt by telling Alex he looked like he was doing well? He swallowed down the reply he wanted to give and instead just nodded.

  “I’m doing fantastic. I’m actually seeing someone and it’s great. And I’ve got a wedding business that’s picked up a lot of traction.” He hated how defensive he sounded.

  “I’m happy for you. I—well. Anyway. I just wanted to say hi. It was great to see you.”

  “Yeah um… yeah. I’ll see you around.” There was no way he was going to tell Charlie Jefferson it was great to see him when he would rather have walked barefoot across hot coals.

  Pulling his grocery list back up, he squared his shoulders and walked away. He’d been the bigger person. If Charlie couldn’t even bring himself to apologize, Alex had nothing further to say to him. Not that he figured there would be any future conversations even if Charlie apologized.

  In the end, it took an additional two trips to get everything he needed to make the Bolognese, and by the time he had all the ingredients, the sun had already started setting and Taylor had ordered pizza instead. Alex grabbed two slices and carried his plate to the living room where his mom had turned on reruns of Charmed.

  “You’ve been quite the busy bee lately,” his mom said as he sat down on the sofa. “Things going well?”

  He knew that tone. Growing up, his mom had never asked them outright about sensitive matters. Instead, she’d asked around her main question until her kids gave up and told her everything. It was going to be no different tonight.

  “Yes, Mom, Hank’s great. Thanks for asking. We’ve actually been working on getting the wedding planning thing back up off the ground.”

  Over the past few days, he and Hank had come up with a business plan of sorts. Hank would oversee the catering and the grounds, while Alex would be in charge of hiring extra help, coordinating with the outside services like florists, and setting up the schedules for each wedding. Surprisingly, they’d had the most trouble agreeing on what cut of the profits Alex would take. He’d gone in with what he thought was a reasonable offer, only for Hank to tell him he was underselling himself. It had taken the better part of an afternoon and some mediation from Rhiannon for them to finally come up with a figure that worked for both of them. Even then, Alex was fairly sure Hank was being way too generous.

  “That’s great, sweetie. See? I knew you’d get back on your feet. You just needed some time.” His mom took a bite of pizza. “So, when’s your first wedding?”

  “Well, um… actually it’s in a month.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Taylor stared at him as though he’d grown another head. “You were a nervous wreck trying to get Hazel’s wedding done, and I swear if I have to live with you through another few weeks like that, I might actually resort to fratricide.”

  “Oh wow, I didn’t actually know you knew big words like that,” Alex deadpanned. “I’ll be fine. The couple’s taken care of most of the details. They already have the color scheme and the flowers, and even the cake picked out.”

  Compared to Hazel’s wedding, it was going to be a walk in the park. That was the main reason he’d accepted the request. Of all the couples who’d sent in emails begging him to plan their wedding, they were the ones who seemed to have everything most together. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they were willing to pay more since their wedding was so close.

  He’d hit the ground running, meeting with the caterer, the bride and groom, and the florist to make sure everything was in place. It felt… good. This was his forte. It was what he had gone to school for and trained for. Sure, he still wasn’t convinced in the sanctity of marriage, and there was a fifty-fifty chance the couples he worked with wouldn’t last. But at some point, between setting up his website and answering inquiries, he’d started to feel it again. That kid-on-Christmas-morning feeling wh
en everything was magical and exciting. Maybe Grant hadn’t completely ruined him after all.

  “Well, I’m glad things are working out for you,” Alex’s mom said. “I know you’ve been in a bit of a slump lately, and you deserve to be able to put your skills to use. Now when are you going to see that boy of yours again?”

  “Mom!” he yelped.

  “What? Can’t a mother want to ask about her children’s love lives?”

  “Then ask Taylor about Scamp Mowbray. She’s only been seeing him for the past two months.”

  “Alex!”

  “Wh—really, Taylor? Scamp Mowbray? Doesn’t he live in a shipping container or something ridiculous like that?”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “He renovated it into a tiny house. He’s trying to get to the point where he can live off the grid.”

  “When have you ever cared about the environment?” Alex asked with a snort. “You use more hairspray than the entire cast of Grease, and you keep your laptop plugged in even when it’s fully charged.”

  “I never said we had it in common. Besides, he thinks my hair looks nice.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Kids.” Their mother’s voice was firm. “Is it really too much to ask for you to be civil to one another? I mean, really. You’re nearly thirty, Alex. And Taylor, you’re almost twenty-six. You should be able to carry on a conversation without going for the jugular. Or did I raise two wolves instead of functioning human beings?”

  “Sorry, Mom,” they both mumbled.

  Alex picked at his pizza, his run-in with Charlie still on his mind. “You know,” he started, “I saw Charlie Jefferson when I went out for groceries.”

  “Which time?” Taylor asked with a smirk.

  “Is that so?” His mom glared over at Taylor before turning back to Alex. “How is his sister?”