THE WIFE? Blue shook his head. The wife?
That woman was Vivian?
John’s wife?
The one who left him?
And crap. She was gorgeous! Her nose was a little big, but Jesus. Gorgeous.
Blue had been so shocked to see her standing there in the living room, looking like some kind of movie star, holding those gloves and that big clutch. When he’d realized he was in nothing but his tighties, he’d turned nineteen shades of red (at least). That’s when he’d excused himself and gone upstairs.
Where he was now. Trapped. Because he didn’t want to go back downstairs when the steps ended right there in the room where they were talking… or whatever they were doing.
God, oh God, oh God, oh God!
Blue began to pace.
He wrung his hands.
John’s wife!
His gorgeous wife.
She was back.
To stay?
Was she back to stay?
“What if she wants him back?” he said aloud. “What if she won’t grant him the divorce? She doesn’t have to, does she?”
He searched his mental files, but there was nothing there on law or the like—certainly not divorce law.
“What if he wants her back? What if this is it? What if I have to leave? What if he tells me to leave?” The idea of going back to that abandoned house, the one he’d actually liked at one time, turned his stomach to lead. Not that he was ashamed. But this house was filled with love. The other was nothing more than a structure to protect him from the elements.
What about Chewie?
And as if psychically called, the dog’s fluffy, curly head nudged his thigh. Blue reached down to pet him, only vaguely aware he was doing so.
I’ll have to find a better place. But I can’t afford anything. I’ll have to get a job. Then find an apartment. Will John give me time? Is he getting ready to come upstairs right now and ask me to leave? Where would I go? Mom’s? Does she have room? It’s a small house! Elaine’s? Would she take me in? For just a little bit? I could stay in a back room at Four-Footed Friends. God! What do I do? Shit. Oh God. Oh God, oh God. What can I do? No! This can’t be happening. It can’t. Please, God. Please no. I can’t live like that again. I can’t do it! I can’t start again. Too good. It was too good to be true. Gone. He’s going to make me leave. Start again. Be alone again. No! Nonononono. I don’t want to be alone again. Don’t want. Don’twanttobealoneagainpleasenonotaloneagain!
Chewie gave a loud bark.
And Blue snapped back to reality.
He trembled.
Chewie looked at him with big concerned eyes through curly brown bangs. He made a little woof noise.
Blue shook himself. Thought about how he’d just fallen into one of his word storms for the first time in weeks. Thought whirlpools. Because of John. John had helped him with that. Both because he joined in on the conversation so Blue had no panicky need to fill the silence, and because John never sat there slack-jawed, staring, as if there were something wrong with Blue.
Even better. Because it was also okay to be quiet with John.
Blessed relief.
But John wasn’t here, was he?
He was downstairs.
With his wife.
“Woof?” Chewie asked.
Blue let out a very long sigh. Said, “I’m okay, Chewie.”
Chewie cocked his head. Looked at him like “You sure, Blue? You’re not shitting me, are you? Huh?”
Was he okay? I’m not sure.
Was he about to lose everything?
Then Chewie made another noise, shoved his head up under Blue’s hand, and gave him another long look.
And for some reason it seemed to Blue that maybe, just maybe, Chewie was saying, “Trust him. Trust John.”
Trust John.
Blue nodded.
He would trust John.
What else could he do?
JOHN STEPPED into a pair of sweats he found in the laundry room, as well as a T-shirt. No shoes, but that was okay. He was armored again. Covered. He had learned to love the freedom of his skin, but not now. Not today. Not with her.
When he stepped back into the living room, he found Vivian pouring herself some scotch. He clenched his teeth. She knocked it back. His scotch. Not hers anymore. She had left.
Sensing, perhaps, that he was back, she turned and asked him if he wanted one.
He did.
Vivian poured another for herself and one for him as well. Turned and stepped toward him. He reached out and took it. Made sure their fingers didn’t touch.
For a second he thought she was going to try and clink glasses with him. He stepped back. Sipped. Sipped larger. But didn’t knock it back. He was in control.
She was in his place.
“What are you doing here, Viv?” he asked. Again.
“Mind if I sit?” she asked calmly, seeming sure of herself. Or nearly so. He could tell he’d rocked her. She was regrouping. He’d seen her do it a thousand times.
He nodded toward the couch. “Sit.”
She did.
Then she took a deep breath.
“The papers startled me,” she said, and was that a slight tremble in her voice?
“Why?” he asked.
“As I said. I figured I would be the one to do it.”
“That I’d be sitting here waiting for you?”
“You didn’t.”
“Didn’t?” he echoed.
“Wait.” Then she trembled. “You certainly didn’t.” She glanced at the staircase. “But good God, John? What is he? Twelve?”
“He’s twenty-three.”
Her brows rose slightly. “He doesn’t look it.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Oh God, I’m doing this. I am talking about Blue. My lover. With my wife.
Ex-wife! Even if it wasn’t legal yet.
“Gay, John? You’re gay?”
“I guess I am.” No. Not a guess. “Yes, Vivian. I’m gay.”
Said it. Said it out loud. To her.
“Then why did you marry me, John? Was I some kind of beard?” She took a drink of her—his—scotch.
“I didn’t think of myself as gay. Bisexual, I guess. And I loved you.”
Now where did that come from? He’d surprised himself, and he saw by her expression that she was surprised too.
“You did?”
“I did, Vivian. Or I wouldn’t have married you.”
“So you knew you liked men?”
He clenched his jaw. Didn’t know why. Relaxed it. “I knew I found men attractive. But I was never with one.”
“Not once?” she asked.
He shook his head. Once. Twice.
“Not even that high school shit that boys do?” She raised a perfect eyebrow. “You know. Jerking off with buddies—”
“No.”
“But now?”
“Now I am with a man.”
“A boy!”
“A man.” He grinned. Hoped his eyes said something. Something a little mean.
Now she nodded. Looked like she was about to say something. Maybe that this all explained why he’d been such a boring lover. He decided to say it himself. “I guess that explains why I was such a boring lover, Vivian.”
And suddenly the mean was gone. He didn’t have the energy for it. Or even the need. And why hurt her? Hadn’t there been enough hurt already?
Because hadn’t he figured out that she wasn’t the villain in all this?
“Not boring, John,” she said quietly and looked at him with those dark brown eyes of hers—nearly black they were so dark. “Just not….” She looked away. Sighed. “Inspired.” She turned her eyes back to him. “God, John. I never suspected for a second….” Her eyes widened. “Were you the one who was bored?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think I was.”
She glanced again at the steps, then looked back. “Does he inspire you?” Very quietly.
John let out a long sigh, finished his scotch, and then sat on the couch next to her. “He does, Vivian.”
She shook her head. “Why did I not see it? Not once?”
Because I didn’t even allow myself to look. Not while you were around. “Because when I married you, I vowed to be true. I didn’t look.” Then, admitting, “Not often.”
Vivian nodded.
“I’m sorry, Viv,” he said, not realizing he was going to say it.
“Sorry?” She blinked.
“For not being the man you needed me to be.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I am sorry I drove you away. I should have been a real man and let you go so you could have what you wanted. I just… I just didn’t realize. Not until….”
“Until what?”
Admit it. Be honest. His heart started to pound.
“One kiss,” he sighed.
“A kiss?”
“One little kiss. And I knew. Knew I wasn’t bisexual. Knew I wasn’t just attracted to men. One kiss and I knew I was gay.”
And wow. Wow! A mountain lifted up off his shoulders.
Gay.
He. Was. Gay.
How could he keep realizing the truth as if it were something new? But now that he’d said it to her? Now it was realer than anything ever.
“I didn’t cheat on you, Vivian. Not one single time. Not before you left. And after? When you left, you left, Vivian! I knew it was over, that there was no way you were coming back. Papers or not, we weren’t married anymore. Because you left. Left me stone-cold.”
She looked away and then back. Swallowed hard. “I didn’t cheat on you either,” she said quietly. “Not before I left. But while I was in Cancún….”
He nodded. It was okay. Because she had left. It wasn’t cheating.
Legal or not, they weren’t together.
“Was it good?” he asked. Actually hoped it was.
It took her forever to answer.
Then she nodded. “Yes,” she said quietly.
And he smiled.
“Good.”
Neither of them said anything for a long time. Then finally he needed to tell her. “I’m not boring, Vivian. I was simply content. Is there anything wrong with that?”
She shrugged.
He gave her a wicked smile. “I’m definitely not boring now. Trust me.”
Vivian blushed. Wow. “I do,” she said. “How could you be with that stunning creature in your bed?”
“He is, isn’t he?” Now he couldn’t help but grin.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“So it wasn’t you. It was me. Okay? I didn’t know, Viv. I wouldn’t allow myself to know any earlier.”
“Until one kiss,” she all but whispered.
He took a long breath. Let it out. “Until one kiss.”
Neither said anything for what seemed an eternity.
“Thank you,” he said. Knowing he needed to. How important it was.
“For what?” she asked, clearly surprised.
“For leaving me, Viv. If you hadn’t, I might never have discovered who I really am.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip. Then rubbed her teeth. Probably didn’t even know she was doing it. She was making sure she hadn’t gotten any lipstick on her teeth.
Then she stood up, held up her empty glass. “One more?”
“Sure,” he said.
So she went and took the—his—scotch and poured them both a generous two fingers, and this time they did clink glasses. Drank.
Was it happening this simply? Was it over this easy?
“I’ll sign the papers,” she said then.
“I would like to keep the house,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, still miraculously keeping it simple.
“I’ll buy you out, of course.”
“Pfftt,” she said with a wave.
“It’s only fair.”
“All right,” she said. “Whenever.”
She finished her scotch. He finished his. Then she stood again and headed to the door, pulling on her gloves as she did. She paused and turned around. “No, wait.”
Wait? For what? It’s been said. This is the perfect good-bye. No accusations. No anger….
And something fascinating happened. Her expression…. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was seeing.
Then he saw it.
No mask. I am seeing her totally without her mask.
She reached out and touched his arm. Shook her head.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
What? Do what? No. Go. Go, Vivian.
“I can’t let you take the blame. It’s not your fault.”
He narrowed his eyes.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve been feeling so guilty, and dammit, I almost let you take the fall. I can’t. I won’t let you. God, I need another scotch!”
Another?
She held up a hand, brows high. Made a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking! I do have to drive.” She cleared her throat again. “The last few years, John… I was shit to you.” Vivian shook her head, and God, were those tears in her eyes? Vivian? She didn’t play that card.
“The things I would say to you. How I criticized you.” She looked up at him. “This part inside hated me for doing it. And then it just became easier to turn it on you.”
“You hated me?” That stung.
Vivian shook her head. “No! Not that.” She looked down at her hands. “But in the end it’s the same. I turned that hating myself and my life….”
“You hated your life,” John echoed.
Their eyes met again. “I should have been honest. With you. With myself. Before it went that far. You’re right. We could have ended this years ago. You could have discovered yourself earlier. Had all this time to be with… with a….”
“A man?” he asked.
She nodded.
But then I wouldn’t have Blue. “Everything happens for a reason,” he said. “Everything happens when it should.”
She pursed her lips. “Do you think we’ll be able to be friends?”
“I’m willing,” he said, further surprising himself when he realized he meant it. He liked her. And now that they weren’t a couple, he realized he loved her.
“I loved you, John.”
He smiled. “I did too. I do love you. I probably always will.”
“You don’t hate me?” she said, clearly surprised.
“Not at all.” How wonderful. He didn’t! “Do you hate me?”
She smiled. “Not at all.” She leaned in and gave him the lightest kiss.
Then she left.
And John went upstairs.
BLUE HEARD the creak of the second-to-top stair. Knew it was John. He was lying on the guest bed, arms around Chewie, who was spooned up with his back to Blue’s belly.
“Blue? Where are you?”
John was standing in the doorway. “Why are you in here?”
Blue didn’t say anything.
“Why aren’t you in our bed?”
Our bed?
“Our bed?” he whispered.
John nodded. “Yes. Our bed.”
Blue’s heart skipped at least one beat. Relief immeasurable flooded through him.
John came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, and Chewie sat up and gave him a doggy kiss.
“Where is your…” wife…?
“She’s gone. For good. We’re over.” He reached out. Took Blue’s hand. “And now we’re forever,” he said. “If you want me.”
Blue scrambled up onto his knees and threw his arms around his man. His forever.
“Yes,” he said.
Forever.