by Lucy Gage
After biting my tongue long enough, I spoke up, hoping to get them to come to a decision about these countertops before their construction project fell behind.
Again.
Seriously, these two were probably the most indecisive couple ever.
“If you’re looking for something that mixes together the classic and modern, I would go with this.” They both looked on as I pulled out the sample of white soapstone. “It will catch the light and sparkle just enough without being too over the top. It’ll go perfectly with the cabinets you’ve chosen, too.”
“Oh that’s perfect,” the wife cheered. “I love it.”
“Great. We’ll take it. Get me the papers now before she changes her mind,” he joked, but I was already on the move, pulling the order forms out from my desk.
By the time they’d left the showroom, my next appointment was walking in. I had just enough time to sort through the papers and file them away before rising from my desk to greet them. They’d stopped to look at a tray of samples on their way over to me and as I walked to them, the man walking through the doors made me stop in my tracks.
It couldn’t be.
In the split second that I’d laid eyes on him, my anxiety spiked, the blood rushing through my veins like water flowing through a broken dam. I was about to trip over my own two feet, but luckily the counter in front of me stopped me from making a complete fool of myself.
Wearing freshly pressed black dress pants and a light purple dress shirt, he exuded confidence. His legs were long and lean, his muscles stretching tightly behind the fabric of his sleeves. Even though I was halfway across the show room, I could see the high cheek bones, the hard, strong angle of his jaw – which of course was covered in a dusting of scruff.
My weakness.
In some kind of erotic slow motion, I watched as the man moved his sunglasses from his eyes up into his red hair. Everything about this man looked like him. And I was ready to run away, just like I had all those years ago, but by the time I caught my breath, I realized it wasn’t him.
The man walking toward the area where we had all the backsplash samples was simply someone who looked a hell of a lot like the only man I’d ever loved.
Like the only man whose heart I’d ever broken.
In desperate need of some relief from the twelve hour day I’d just worked, I dropped my bag by the front door and immediately walked over to the bar set up at the back of my kitchen. The smoky burn of the whiskey was just what I needed to soothe away the stress of my day.
With my drink in hand, I walked out to the patio and flopped down into the outdoor couch sitting under the pergola. Being a custom homebuilder sure had its perks. Not a second before the feeling of happiness settled into my veins, my phone rang. “Of course she would call today,” I said to myself, as my mom’s name and number flashed across my screen.
“Hi Mom,” I chirped into the line. I knew why she was calling. It was the same reason she’d called me all week.
“Hi sweetie. How was your day?” Her question was nothing more than a formality. She had business to get down to. We both knew it.
“It was good. Nothing out of the ordinary,” I answered, waiting for her next question.
“That’s good. Now, listen. I called because –”
“I know why you called,” I said, already annoyed by the tone of her voice. But I knew better than to let that creep into my words.
“Good. Then we can stop tiptoeing around, talking about work.” Her tone had changed. It wasn’t the same lighthearted wistfulness I’d come to expect from her. “Now, I looked up tickets. There’s a flight –”
“Do I really have to go?” I cut her off once again. Yeah, I was sulking. And yeah, I was whining to my mom, but still. I really didn’t want to go. My earlier run in with his look alike did nothing but make me want to avoid this wedding like the plague.
“Oh, Ry. You have to be kidding, right?” She laughed into the line, the sound of her hand muffled the receiver and I was certain she was letting Dad in on our conversation. “He’s your brother. And no matter what,” she paused, letting out a frustrated sigh. “No matter what’s gone on between the two of you, you need to be there. Besides, you haven’t been home in years. I’m starting to feel like you don’t like us or something.” Though she was laughing, I knew she was done with our daily conversations – the daily back and forth of whether or not I’d be going to Patrick’s wedding. And her picking at the idea that I didn’t like them was more of a reality than either of us wanted to admit.
I was certain her mom senses had kicked in and she could see me roll my eyes even from hundreds of miles away. “It’s not like he’d miss me or anything.” I was being petty, but I didn’t care.
“Ryan Michael,” she scolded. “You better get your ass on that plane tomorrow morning or so help me God, you won’t be able to sit for a week.” Before I could even respond, she gave me all the details of the flight she’d booked for me, knowing full well that I wouldn’t do it on my own. “Now, I know you didn’t write a damn thing down, and I don’t need to you say you missed something and that’s what made you miss your flight, so I already emailed you. So there’s no excuse. And I’m going to text you the information, too. Oh, and I already booked you an Uber for tomorrow morning so you can get to the airport on time.”
Damn her. Why couldn’t I have one of those technologically impaired parents like everyone else? But rather than dwell on that fact, I swallowed the last of my drink and simply said, “Yes, Mom,” trying my best to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“You know, your brother is only going to get married once.”
“We’ll see about that,” I snapped, wishing I had never answered her call in the first place.
“Oh, sweetie.” She sighed, her frustration filtering through the line and joining me right here in my back yard. “I wish whatever it is that’s been going on between the two of you, I wish it would go away. I don’t know why you two are so distant.”
“Me either, Mom. Me either,” I lied before telling her I had to go. That was another lie. There was no reason for me to end the call with her other than I didn’t want her picking at the scab of my broken relationship with my brother.
And I certainly didn’t want to get into the real reason I wasn’t super thrilled about going to the wedding. Because if seeing someone who only looked like him had that kind of an effect on me, I knew I wasn’t ready to see him again.
He had to be here.
There was no way he wouldn’t come to his own brother’s wedding.
His parents were here.
His brother was the groom. My sister the bride.
There was no way in hell he wouldn’t show up.
But no matter how many times I told myself all those things, I knew there was the very distinct possibility that Ryan wouldn’t be here.
And if anything was truer than the sky being blue, it was that Ryan Masterson would always do what he wanted to do – no matter what anyone else expected of him.
He followed his head despite what his heart might have told him.
A trait of which I would forever be jealous.
I looked down at my watch for the hundredth time in the last…minute. It had only been a freaking minute. Raking a hand through my hair, I let out a deep breath. If just the thought of seeing Ryan again had me this worked up, I knew I would be a hot fucking mess if he actually did walk through that door.
The same door I’d had my eyes glued to since I showed up at my parents’ house.
It made no sense really, because even if Ryan showed up, he wouldn’t sneak into the door on the side of the house, leading right down to the basement. He certainly wouldn’t use the spare key I’d made him all those years ago. The key only we knew about.
No, if he did show up, he’d park his car out front, not around the block like he used to. He wouldn’t worry about his headlights illuminating the road and waking my parents. He
’d walk right up the driveway, not tiptoeing his way among the shadows of my mother’s tall rosebushes. Ryan would press his long finger to the doorbell, alerting everyone of his arrival, not at all concerned about not being seen.
What was supposed to be a silent huff of derision ended up falling from my lips like some kind of rueful chuckle.
“What’s so funny over there?” My mom’s question pulled me from my wayward thoughts. And it also scared the crap out of me.
“What? Huh?” I sputtered, turning to face her, sloshing my drink over the rim in the process. “Nothing, oh nothing,” I continued like a fool as I cleaned the droplets of vodka from the counter.
“Good, then you can help your mother out,” she smiled over at me, folding a dishtowel before draping it over the edge of the sink. “Grab that tray and please go out and say hello to everyone. Patrick’s parents just showed up too. Go out there. You know your sister won’t be happy if you don’t join in the party tonight. She worked so hard on all the details.”
Smiling, I walked over to her, holding the tray of appetizers she’d told me to grab. “You’re right, Mom.” I kissed the top of her head. “Just been distracted. But I’m here now.”
“Good.”
With a deep sigh and a resigned attitude, I turned away from my mom and simply hoped for the best. “Hey, there you are,” my sister, Sarah called out as I walked into the living room where everyone was gathered. “I was wondering where you went.” Excitedly – which was the only way Sarah ever did anything – she introduced me to Patrick’s parents.
We both knew it wasn’t an introduction. We’d all known each other, but considering I hadn’t seen them in over a decade, we may as well have been strangers.
“Mr. and Mrs. Masterson,” I greeted them, shaking their hands while being as cordial as possible. “It’s so nice to see you again.” We’d all grown up together – me and Sarah, Patrick and Ryan. We all spent the bulk of our time here though, since Ryan and Patrick’s parents were both working. If you asked me, MaryBeth and Stephen Masterson were conservative to a fault – a trait they passed on to Patrick, one that apparently my sister was able to look past. Their conservatism played a huge role in why Ryan spent every moment of his free time here.
Hiding your boyfriend from your parents was a lot easier to do when you didn’t bring him home with you.
Not that anyone knew about us in the first place. But his fear of them – or anyone else finding out about us – was enough for me to keep his secret, too.
They smiled and nodded, almost perfectly in sync. And the closer I looked at them as they talked about nothing in particular, the more I realized they were almost exactly the same person. Dressed in the same color scheme, they blended into one another. A bubble of laughter threatened to escape as they both took a sip of their red wine at the exact same time. Luckily, I was able to stifle it.
“So are you still interested in - what was it that you did back in high school? You and Ryan were always busy with some project or another.” Despite keeping her attention focused on the conversation, I could tell she really didn’t care much.
“Welding,” I answered politely, even though polite was the last thing I felt.
“Oh that’s right,” Mr. Masterson answered with a touch of derision in his voice.
They made very little effort back then to hide their distaste for anything blue collar. A teacher and a policeman, they wanted their children to grow into upright professionals, with smooth hands and clean faces. Ryan’s love for building was a passion they wanted to demolish. Over the years, as I’d caught glimpses of the man he’d become through overheard conversations with Sarah and Patrick, I was more than happy to know he’d followed his heart and built his own construction company despite their disapproval.
If only he could have done the same thing where we were concerned.
Before saying anything else, I swallowed the rest of my drink, hoping it would give me the liquid courage I needed to make it through the rest of this painful conversation. Thankfully, Sarah came to my rescue without me asking for it. “Quinn actually has his own custom shop. His waiting list is over three months long. He’s made quite the name for himself around here.”
That disdainful look they were giving me now, that was the look he ran away from – the one he needed to escape. It was like being burnt alive under the magnified rays of sun. They hated that I was gay – didn’t think it was natural. They hated that I worked with my hands. They knew I had my own shop. They knew I was a success. They simply hated it all just because I wasn’t straight. So this conversation, the pleasantries we played along with were nothing more than a game to keep the night moving smoothly.
I was about to say something to defend myself from their harsh glare, but then everything changed.
“I’m sure he has.” A deep voice spoke from behind me sending shivers through my body, reaching deep into my soul. Only one voice could ever do that.
Ryan.
The room stood still. The music stopped. The crowd disappeared.
And the disapproving looks of his parents faded into the background.
As I turned to face him, the last twelve years came racing back to me, crashing into me as if it were a car being driven by a drunk. This man, tall dark and so incredibly handsome walked away from me all those years ago. No matter how many times I’d lied to myself in the years of his absence about not loving him it was just that - a lie.
In my silence, his parents took the opportunity to step around me and greet their son. Though I overheard bits of the conversation – how his flight was, how nice it was to finally see him, how much they’d missed him – I felt so distantly removed from it all. It wasn’t until Sarah took my hand and literally pulled me back into the circle of her future in-laws that the room came back to life.
“Isn’t this great?” Sarah chirped. “I don’t think we’ve all been together since, this one over there,” she paused, tipping her chin over at Ryan. “Went away to college and pretty much never came back.”
“I’m here now,” Ryan answered, but I could tell his words were directed at me.
They cut me to the bone. Flayed and far too vulnerable to hear any more of the sinfully seductive voice of the man I once loved, I excused myself to take care of some imaginary task that somehow immediately demanded my attention.
The remnants of their mumbled conversation followed me out of the room and into the warm summer night.
My heart ached for the man who’d just re-entered my life. My heart ached for the pain I’d felt all these years. My heart ached because even though I hated him, I knew I still loved him.
My heart ached because, just like the conversation I’d escaped, Ryan hadn’t followed me outside.
On closer inspection, the man who I thought looked like Quinn wasn’t even close to the real thing. He paled in comparison in every way possible.
Quinn’s hair was a deeper red, more passionate if that’s even a thing - his eyes a more vibrant shade green, like something out of an ad for Ireland. And though they both had similar builds, there was something about Quinn’s that made him sexier, more sinful, impossible to resist.
The more I stood there, listening to the incessant droning of my brother and parents, the more I realized how much I despised having to be here. They might not know it, but they were the reason I never came back.
Well, more specifically, Patrick was the reason.
Bits of that night flashed through my head, keeping me mute among the crowd of people milling about us.
Fag.
You love him?
Mom and Dad will hate you.
You disgust me.
“Are you okay sweetie?” Mom chimed in, pulling me away from that dreadful flashback.
“Yeah, sure, Mom. I just, uh,” I stammered. Looking down at my empty hands, I lied. “Just need to get a drink. It’s been a long day.”
Every step toward the kitchen felt like an etern
ity. Sadly, I found myself side-stepping the floorboard I knew squeaked.
Old habits die hard, I thought to myself.
“Ryan!” Annie, Quinn’s mom, opened her arms as she walked toward me. “It’s so good to see you! Get over here.” When she hugged me, I felt like I was home, more so than I felt greeting my own parents. “You look so grown up. So handsome,” she complimented, patting her hand on my face. There was sadness in her eyes and in that instant I wondered how much Quinn had told her.
As if she’d read my mind, she tipped her head toward the back door, saying, “He’s out there.” She patted my back, encouraging me to take that first step. “I’ll keep your parents out of the way.” The sadness in her eyes mixed with something that looked a lot like hope and I’d forgotten how much I’d truly loved being in this house, with these people, feeling like a part of their family.
Loving their son.
Get that shit out of your head, Ryan. Internally, I chastised myself for allowing my brain to go somewhere I vowed never to go again. I left here for a reason, and while I might be here for this weekend, for this stupid fucking wedding, I knew on Monday I would have to leave and never look back. Just like I’d done twelve years ago.
Despite my own warnings to myself, I slid open the glass door and stepped over the threshold. Just as I’d suspected, he was sitting on the edge of the dock. He’d rolled his pants up revealing the muscular curve of his calf. Though he didn’t turn around, his body became rigid, straightening as my steps sounded out.
Every step I took toward him was just as painful as the ones I took walking away from him all those years ago. And if possible, these hurt even more. Because as much as I wanted to take him in my arms and say all the apologies, and beg and plead with him to forgive me, I knew I couldn’t do any of those things.
With less than a foot between us, I’d entirely forgotten whatever I thought I was going to say to him, all courage and strength vanishing like the fog billowing off the water before us.
“You came back,” he spoke quietly, keeping his focus on the barely rippling water. “I thought I’d never see you again.”