The Glasshouse (Lavender Shores Book 6)

by Rosalind Abel

  Sure sounded like it.

  It couldn’t be that easy. Could it?

  I answered the siren call and glanced back at the journals. No. There was proof after proof from those journals, in the letters, even in the photographs. It wasn’t that easy. Touch on the back of my neck or not, it wasn’t magic.

  And I didn’t love Harrison. There was no way I could. No matter what my body told me. No matter what his kiss or his touch did to me. No matter what I felt when he looked into my eyes. I did not love Harrison. That would be impossible. And to think anything else would be ludicrous.

  Mom was right. Alan did ruin my life. The one I had before him died the day we met. What she didn’t understand, what she can never understand, was that Alan was my life.

  Though I couldn’t recall ever hearing Alex Rivera’s voice in real life, it came to me then. Whispering those words I’d read countless times over the past few months. Was that really how it had been for him and Alan, truly life-changing from the very first day?

  Love at first sight. A person knowing who they were going to marry the second they met them. Gazing into someone’s eyes and just feeling that surety. The whole world talked about it, everybody dreamed about it, hoped for it.

  But it was horseshit. Had to be. A life didn’t change the minute you met someone; it didn’t crumble because of a kiss, or a fuck, or a glance.

  Even if Alex said it could.

  Although, I’d seen enough proof from Alex and Alan’s life that it actually had happened that way. But perhaps that was the sort of couple it happened to. The tumultuous kind. The ones haunted by demons through their entire relationship. Leading to nearly euphoric days together and followed by weeks of hell. Cut off from both of their families.

  Now, that made sense. Change your whole life because you bump into somebody one day; what would you expect? Chaos and agony. It didn’t take a color-by-numbers instruction to visualize that picture.

  And Harrison said he wanted us to start out on the right foot. Him and me. He even asked if I was okay with that. Couldn’t get a much clearer meaning than that gesture.

  And what had I said? That I was more than okay with it.

  And I had been. Maybe was still? My God, some of Great-Uncle Alex’s DNA really had wormed its way into me somehow. Fuck.

  On the chance that was the case, it didn’t mean we had to jump into anything. We didn’t have to lose our ever-loving minds. We could go slow. The man had been getting married in front of the entire world barely less than a week ago. It wasn’t the time for him to start a new relationship, not even close. But that couldn’t be what we were talking about. Not starting a relationship—again; we didn’t love each other, we couldn’t. We didn’t really know each other all that much.

  So, then, what were we doing? How long was it appropriate to wait to start dating someone after they had broken off an engagement?

  Scrap that, we wouldn’t start dating. We’d simply see each other. We’d… hang out. We’d have dinner, talk, get to know each other.

  In the meantime, between all of that, we could kiss, maybe. Kiss and… rip each other’s clothes off and fuck our brains out.

  Okay, that felt manageable. And more sensible, slightly. Just getting to know each other in an appropriately paced and meaningful way. The sex part wouldn’t be quite so appropriately paced, but whatever.

  I left the sofa and started to make dinner, replaying the logic to see if my new plan was sound. It was, as much as it could be. And even if it did sound more romantic, more like Alex and Alan to jump in headfirst, this other way was smarter. Equal amounts risk and prudence.

  I nearly had the baked chicken breast and sautéed vegetables done when the phone rang. It was Micah. The chicken had about five more minutes, so I clicked Accept and lifted the phone to my ear. “Seriously, dude, I take off one afternoon and the place falls to shit so you have to interrupt my dinner?”

  He didn’t answer, but I could feel his presence.

  “Micah, if you’re getting ready to pull one of those ‘the call is coming from inside the house’ pranks, you need to call from another phone. It came through with your picture on it.”

  “I take it you haven’t been on the internet or turned on the TV?” He didn’t laugh at my joke, didn’t even sound slightly amused. In fact, he sounded like he was getting ready to tell me someone had just been diagnosed with an incurable disease. “You haven’t, have you?”

  The pleasant pounding of my heart from thoughts of Harrison jumped with a rush of adrenaline to dread. “No. Why?”

  “Good. Keep it that way.” Suddenly, there was a clatter in the background, like he was throwing things, and I thought I heard Connor’s voice and the jangle of keys. “Don’t, I’ll be right there. Just stay put until I get there, and we’ll deal with it together.”

  “Deal with what together?” My palms were sweaty. I had no clue what the hell was going on, but my palms were sweaty, making the phone hard to hold. “Micah, just tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “No. Please, just trust me and don’t do anything until I get there. I’m on my way.”

  “Fuck that, man.” I hung up on him and clicked the browser on my cell, though I had no idea what I was looking for.

  Micah’s face interrupted as he called back. “Dude, quit calling unless you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Adrian, can you just breathe for a second? Just wait for me to get there. It’ll take me ten minutes.” He sounded panicked and irritated. But mostly panicked.

  “I don’t care if you come here or not, but either tell me what’s happening, or I’m hanging up on your ass again.”

  “You stubborn—” The roar of an engine starting up cut off his words. “Fine. But I’m coming over.”

  “Like I said, come over. Fuck.”

  He was silent for a few more seconds but started talking right as I was ready to hang up on him again. “Did you actually have sex with Harrison?”

  I froze, replaying his words. Surely, I was just hearing the worst question I could imagine, not what he’d actually spoken. Part of my decision of not starting to date Harrison had the benefit of keeping it to ourselves for a while so we wouldn’t have to deal with people telling us we were stupid, especially when I knew they’d be right.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I couldn’t tell if Micah was disappointed or angry.

  There didn’t seem to be any point in lying. Besides, I could trust Micah with my life, let alone a secret about sex. “I did sleep with Harrison, well… kinda.”

  “Okay.” Disappointed. He definitely sounded disappointed, and resigned, for some reason. “I was hoping the video had been faked somehow, but with the glasshouse—”

  “What?” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “What the fuck are you saying, Micah?”

  “There’s a… sex tape, of you and Harrison, at the glasshouse. It’s… everywhere.”

  I hung up on him. There was a sex tape? I couldn’t even force the words to make sense. I opened the browser again, tried to figure out how to search, and had started typing Harrison’s name when Micah’s stupid face popped up again as he called. “Goddammit!” I tossed the phone across the room and snagged my computer.

  It took all of thirty seconds to find it.

  I sat in horror at my dining room table, laptop open beside the journals that got me into this mess and watched in stunned horror as Harrison and I fucked like wild men in the glasshouse.

  The rain distorted the view so much that it didn’t require any blurring. It was ready-made for national consumption. But there were moments when things cleared enough to make Harrison’s face and features undeniable. As well as my own. The thing was less than four minutes long. It hadn’t caught us in the beginning. It didn’t show us taking off our clothes, didn’t even show the blowjob I’d given Harrison. But with what it did show, that didn’t matter. I could see the second that I pushed into him, then a few heartbeats later when I paused and
pulled out, realizing how caught up in the moment we’d been without condoms. Of course, that part wasn’t discernible on camera. It simply looked like we’d altered position slightly.

  There was Harrison Getty, America’s gay sweetheart, the star of Titan Passions getting fucked by some strange man in a nasty-ass greenhouse. Even through the rain and some of the distant thunder, our muffled voices and grunts and the sound of things falling from the table were discernible. The video ended moments after we separated, before we started talking again.

  I sat there stunned, in complete disbelief. How the hell? Who? Why? I glanced at the video again—that particular link had already been viewed nearly a million times. And that was just the counter on YouTube. I had no doubt that thing had spread like wildfire on every branch of social media. Then I remembered Micah’s words. Apparently on television as well. I bet the gossip shows were having a heyday with it.

  Shit.

  What the fuck was I supposed to do? How would people look at me? The things they would…. Oh my God. Harrison. What would they say about Harrison?

  Another sex tape. With a man who was not his fiancé.

  With another flash of panic, I was up and darting across the room. I snagged my cell, miraculously unbroken. I had to make sure he was all right. Maybe he didn’t know yet. If so, then I needed to get to him.

  Just as I was getting ready to tap his name, there was a pounding at the door. It startled me, and I nearly dropped the phone. Before I could finish making the call, the pounding came again.

  Why in the world wasn’t Micah letting himself in; he had a key.

  And then I heard the voice calling my name in between the thumping on the door.

  Oh shit.

  Forgetting Harrison and the phone, I looked toward the back of my house. I could run. Maybe make it to the garage, peel out of the driveway, and get the hell out of town. No, that wouldn’t work. She’d simply throw herself on the car. I just had to run out the back and book it on foot.

  “Adrian Rivera, you open the door right now, or I swear to God I will kick it down and come in there and kill you.”

  She would too.

  Walking toward the door and twisting the deadbolt might’ve been the bravest thing I’d ever done. The minute I did, she shoved it open, knocking me out of the way.

  Lucy Rivera stormed into my house, followed by my father, who shut the door quietly behind him. “Guess who called me half an hour ago.” She paused a mere inch from me, and though she was shorter, I cowered as she glared up into my eyes. “Well, guess, Adrian. Guess who called me.”

  I dared to glance over her shoulder at Dad, who gave a tight shake of his head.

  Mom smacked my arm. “Don’t look at him. Your father is not going to save you.” Another smack and I returned to her eyes. “Kimberly Epstein, that’s who. Of course, she was raging about how this was all intentional. Just a Rivera plot to humiliate her son and their family in front of the world. Calling me all kinds of names.” Mom sneered as she took a step back, casting a furious glance at my father. “But we both know she’s loving every minute of it. Something to throw in our faces. Sure, Will seems like he’s been playing the part of a fool. And that’s embarrassing. If I were her I’d be mad too, but you.” She whipped back to me, finger in my face. “You are the tramp who was fucking around with Will Epstein’s fiancé behind his back.”

  “Mom! I am not a tramp.” Even as the words left my mouth I could almost hear Andre and Micah howling in laughter. I had most definitely been a tramp.

  She smacked me a third time. “That’s what everyone will say. That the gardener came along and tempted Harrison into running away from little Prince Charming Epstein.” Right when I thought she was going to hit me again, tears filled her eyes, and though no anger left her voice, it began to quaver. “That’s what they’ll say. You know it. They’ll call you the help. Some hired hand who’d corrupted the football star. You just wouldn’t listen. You never could. The only reason you picked to be a farmer was to rub it in our faces.”

  I could feel the lecture coming I’d heard throughout my entire life. I had it memorized. Hell, I dreamed about it. I couldn’t bring myself to stop her. In the moment, I couldn’t even blame her.

  Dad reached out and attempted to touch her shoulder. “Sweetheart, don’t.”

  “Shut up, Jack.” She yanked her shoulder out of his reach and returned her tear-filled glare to me. “Lavender Shores wasn’t just a haven for gays and lesbians when it was founded. The place was for tolerance and equality for everyone. When your father’s grandparents helped found the town, they made sure of that. Gabriel and Lucia weren’t gay, but they were just as oppressed. They founded this town with the others so their children, regardless of what the rest of the country did, could be anything they wanted, no matter the color of their skin. Anything.” She made a sweeping gesture back to Dad. “And they were! Your grandfather was a doctor, your dad and I are doctors, your sister is a professor but she married a doctor. And your brother, sure, not as good as a doctor, but he served his country with pride, and being a pilot isn’t a bad career. But you… you had to be in the sun all day, digging with your hands, like none of their sacrifices were worth anything. And now….” Her finger was dangerously close to my eyes as she shook it. “And now, you do this. Have an affair with a nearly married man and top it off by having the stupidity to get caught on camera doing it. For all we know, you played the part of a fool for him. Clearly Harrison can’t get enough of his ten minutes of fame. Well, honey….” Tears finally fell. “You just gave it to him. He’ll get more and more famous. And you’ll just be the Mexican who ruined his marriage.”

  Mom rarely had outbursts. When she did, they always revolved around that issue. Sacrifices the family had made. Even though she’d married into it, she took them seriously and was grateful for them. Amelia, Andre, and I had been lectured endlessly as children about our expectations. Not just as founding family members of Lavender Shores, but as representatives of Hispanic pride.

  And she wasn’t wrong. Nor had it been that much of a secret. I’d always rebelled against the edict, against having to be anything because of my heritage, based on the town or my blood.

  There was a quick knock before Micah walked in, halting abruptly at the sight of the three of us. “Oh! Sorry.” He dared to glance at me. “You… okay?”

  “Just turn your sweet little cheeks around, Michael Bryant.” Mom had no love lost for Micah. She’d had hopes I’d leave farming, but when Micah moved back from New York and became my business partner, those hopes died. Any remaining respect left when he married his adopted brother Connor. Though, I knew secretly, she also appreciated that it showed one more time why the Rivera family line was of a better caliber than the other four families. “I brought this boy into the world, and if I want to take him out of it, it’s none of your business.”

  “Lucy, you’ve got to breathe.” Dad was always soft-spoken. Just as driven as Mom, and just as devoted to the family name, but much more reserved. “Micah didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just checking on his friend. And Adrian will fix this.” He turned his hard stare on me and I felt five years old again. “Won’t you, Adrian?”

  Foolishly, I glanced at Micah for help, as if he had the answer, and then shrugged. “How in the world do I fix this, Dad? It’s already out there. I didn’t even know it was filmed, and I guarantee you Harrison didn’t either.”

  The thought of that possibility made my heart lurch. Though I didn’t know Harrison all that well, that idea didn’t feel right. He didn’t do this.

  Determination filtered into Dad’s tone. “I don’t know exactly. We’ll hire someone… a… fixer, publicist, or something. They’ll have some way to spin this so that you are the victim here. That you were exploited.”

  “We were both the victims here, Dad. We were both exploited.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not the least bit concerned about Mr. Getty. Trust me, with his millions and connections, he’ll spin th
is however he wants. We need to get ahead of that now.” He nodded, as if agreeing with his own thoughts. “I have some contacts in the city. I can get you on some news show in the morning. You can renounce Harrison, talk about how you feel betrayed by him, that he would do this to you. Talk about whatever promises he made to get you to have an affair with him.”

  “I wasn’t having an affair with him.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew how ridiculous they sounded. How they would sound to anyone. That video proved otherwise. “Either way, I’m not renouncing Harrison. This isn’t his fault.”

  Mom hissed and glared at me, seeing so much more than Dad. “Oh, no. I know that look. I can see where this is going in that head of yours. You are not going to keep carrying on with that man. You are not.”

  Behind her, Dad winced, and I noticed Micah cock his head as he studied me.

  I straightened, and though I tried not to lift my chin in defiance like I was a teenager instead of a nearly forty-year-old man, I failed. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to tell me my feelings.”

  “Your feelings? Your feelings?” She shook her head and gave a dark laugh. “Men and their stupid feelings. I didn’t say anything about your feelings, Adrian. Even if they are there, they’ll flip to the next beautiful man who walks by. In the meantime, you ignore those feelings, and you end this. You are not going to drag this family through the mud in front of the entire country.”

  “Actually, Mom, I am.” I realized how that sounded and I tried to adjust. “Not drag the family through the mud, but I am going to keep carrying on, as you say, with Harrison. We are—” Shit. “—in a relationship. We’re together now.”

  “Don’t you even start to think—”

  “Harrison and I are together. You might as well get used to it. You and the rest of the goddamn world.”

  Motherfucking shit.