A Kind of Honesty Page 24

  “Right. We’ll talk when you get back. I just—” He paused for a long moment and let out a ragged sigh. “—I’ve been here before. I’m not doing this again.”

  “Baby, it’s not like that—”

  “You don’t know what it’s like. I know you, Tim. And I’ve got a bad feeling I know what’s going on here. Look… we’ll do this later. I have to go.”

  He hung up before I could respond. I kept my phone glued to my ear in a weird kind of frozen state. As much as I hated to admit it, I understood where he was coming from. I could claim this was different. I could claim I wasn’t like the actor who’d left him to play the Hollywood straight guy or the other assholes who backed off when things got a little too real. It didn’t matter what I said. I had to prove it.

  I had no idea how to prove myself. Explain? Yes. Prove? Not so much. I’d hoped for inspiration during the flight home, but nothing came to me. I was already an anxious flyer. One who didn’t take pharmaceuticals. Thinking about a conversation I didn’t know how to prepare for made my palms sweat. I was better off zoning out to music for five hours.

  Once our plane touched the ground in New York City, I was a ball of energy. I speed-walked through the terminal, urging my friends to hurry the fuck up to meet our ride. Flying privately came with major benefits, but we’d opted to share two cars back to the city, which meant I was at Rand and Will’s mercy.

  “What’s he doing?” I asked Will irritably, pointing toward the men’s restroom.

  Will raised his eyebrows but didn’t bother answering my rhetorical jab. Rand reappeared a moment later. He lifted his carry-on bag over his shoulder and cast a quick look between us.

  “Who pissed in your Cheerios?” He nudged my elbow playfully and then slung his arm over Will’s shoulder. “Let’s get coffee on the way to—”

  “No. No coffee. Get it on your own fucking time. I’ve got shit to do. No stopping,” I growled, walking purposefully toward the exit.

  The waiting was over. It was time to act.

  11

  The roads were generally less congested on Sundays, but there was always some idiot driving too slow or making stupid maneuvers that inevitably added time to everyone else’s commute. It was seven o’clock now. Carter should be home. Unless he was at the gym. Or out with a friend. Maybe I should call first. No, I should surprise him. Fuck. I was a nervous wreck. I couldn’t sit still and I couldn’t stop looking at my watch. Rand and Will gave me a couple of worried glances but didn’t bother asking what was wrong with me. They knew. And they didn’t question my request to take my bags with them when I asked to be dropped off first at Carter’s place. They seemed to gauge my unsettled state better than me.

  “Good luck, Romeo,” Rand said in a soft voice.

  I nodded before exiting the car and looked up at the lights in Carter’s window. Luck. I could use a little of that, I mused.

  I rang the doorbell and waited. And waited.

  The sound of a siren blared in the distance, disturbing the quiet on his street. I turned toward the noise as though seeking a tangible distraction from the heavy weight of frustration.

  The latch clicked behind me a moment later. I spun back to face Carter, who was leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed. His expression wasn’t hostile necessarily. Nor was it welcoming. However, after more than two weeks apart, it was definitely not the homecoming I hoped for.

  “Come in.”

  He stepped away from the door and disappeared inside. I closed my eyes briefly and sent up a quick prayer as my heart drummed a funereal beat that had the dual effect of making my palms sweat and my feet feel like cement blocks. The contrary sensations made me dizzy, but there was no time to catch my breath. I had to plow forward and hope for the best.

  Carter led the way through his lavish living area and down a hallway decorated with museum-quality art before turning the corner into his kitchen. The space was grand. The rest of his home was traditional elegance with pops of contemporary, but the kitchen was completely modern. It was sleek and chock-full of cutting-edge elements designed to fool the eye. A guest in this space would be drawn to the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows with views onto the lush courtyard. They would happily take a seat in one of the modern stools at the marble-topped island while sipping Chardonnay and gazing at the hunky chef at the stove.

  I usually walked into this room with a sense of awe at the sheer brilliance of the design. Tonight I barely noticed.

  I stopped at the island, watching Carter move to the wine refrigerator. He poured one glass of wine, then reached for a second glass and filled it with water. He pushed the water toward me before turning back to clean an imaginary mess.

  “Carter, look at me.”

  He froze for a moment but obeyed. I wished I could round the corner and pull him against me. I wished we didn’t have to climb an invisible obstacle to regain our footing with each other. I’d missed him terribly. It was unfair to be so close again and yet feel the chasm of space as though we were still three thousand miles apart. I drank in the smallest details. The way his hair fell over his brow. The way his navy blue T-shirt hugged his biceps and complemented his lovely eyes. He looked mildly disheveled, which wasn’t like him at all. A sure sign he was as strung out as I was.

  “I wanted to tell you about that dinner with Miranda, but there wasn’t a chance. It was late, then you were busy and I was—”

  “I believe you.”

  I let out a dramatic rush of air and gave him a relieved grin that quickly faltered. He had more to say, but I could tell it wasn’t “I missed you. Get naked.” I furrowed my brow and waited for him to continue.

  “But?” I prodded.

  “But I—I can’t do this again.”

  “What do you mean?” I ran my palms over the condensation on my glass, hoping the cool moisture would keep me from breaking out in a sweat.

  “I’ve had my finger on a Repeat button for six months. I’ve been here before. I’ve read the story of my life in a tabloid and watched helplessly while the guy I thought had my back scrambled to appease his agent, his manager, and anyone who had anything to say about his career. It’s all about keeping the peace. Giving the public what they want. For me, it’s fucking déjà vu.”

  “This isn’t like that at all. Cammy showed me those two pictures. The one of you and me and the one of Miranda at the market. She suggested we throw off the gossipmongers with a friendly photo of Miranda and me having dinner. No caption. Just enough to make people question what—”

  “Got it. Make people question. Tell them a half truth, let them think what they want. Don’t you get it? It’s all still a big fucking lie!” He smacked his hand against the marble counter hard and looked away for a moment. “I know what comes next. Now you’ll say, ‘Don’t worry. Give this some time to blow over.’ But waiting never works the way any of us plan. A new story will usurp yours, and she’ll come up with something more outlandish than a lie about upcoming nuptials and a baby you aren’t even sure is yours.”

  “It’s not. She admitted it. She admitted she was using this whole ridiculous story as publicity to keep her name in the limelight until her baby daddy could get out of his marriage. To keep her name in the papers until she delivers her kid and can fit back in her bikini. She’s using me to—”

  “Bullshit. You’re letting yourself be used. No one has permission to fuck you over unless you give it to them. Your inaction speaks louder than words, Tim.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “It’s not my place to tell you what to do. You have to figure that out yourself.”

  I finally gave in and wiped the sweat from my brow before trying to formulate my plea. Honesty was the best policy. I wasn’t going to concede defeat.

  “Look… I’m out. Everyone knows I’m bi. I can go to the press with the real story and wipe this away, but—I’m not free to do it immediately. I have—”

  “Commitments,” he finished my sentence with a humorless half lau
gh and then raised his wineglass to his mouth. “Do what you have to do. I’ll do the same.”

  “What does that mean? Are you speaking in code or—?”

  “It means I can’t get out of my own way!”

  He set the glass down hard enough to crack it. I watched the amber liquid slosh precariously and felt oddly in tune with the violent movement. The creeping sense of foreboding enveloped me, twisting its way inside me like it had when I was a young teenager listening for the first bang signaling the beginning of a furious rage. My fingers twitched. I tapped them on my thigh in nervous rhythm. My fallback when drums weren’t handy and I was trapped. There was no escape now. Real life was demanding its due. I fought to swim above the buzzing sound in my brain when I heard Carter speak. And immediately wished I hadn’t bothered.

  “I have horrible taste in men. I welcome behavior I wouldn’t put up with in any other facet of my life. Not only do I welcome it, I fall for it. You’re not the first. Every time I say it’s the last, I wind up back here or somewhere very like it. Same sorry story. I’m the idiot waiting. Waiting for someone to fight for me. For us. I’ve done it my entire life, Tim. I’m well acquainted with the feeling.”

  “This isn’t like that, Carter. I’m not that guy. I’m—”

  “You’re exactly that guy!” he thundered.

  My breath caught at his fiery blast. I shook my head emphatically and chanted a litany of “No, I’m not. I’m not.” But he was just getting started.

  Carter paced to the window, then around the island and back again. The rhythm was building around him like a storm. My mind worked furiously to find something calm to cling to in the chaos. I tapped my fingers anxiously, setting tempo to his frenetic motion. Panic was building, making it hard to concentrate on words again. He moved directly into my space and grasped my hands roughly to stop my nervous movement.

  “You are. I mistook your quirky compulsion to keep the peace for a sweet personality trait. Like you naïvely wanted to keep everyone you care about happy.” He snorted derisively and turned away before continuing in a gentler tone. “But that isn’t it. You aren’t altruistic, Tim. You’re scared.”

  “Of what?” I scoffed in a squeaky voice.

  “Of being outed. God forbid if someone finds out who you really are. It’s one thing for an unreliable tabloid to sensationalize a story about rock stars who swing both ways. Hell, if they didn’t claim to know something titillating about your sex life, they wouldn’t be doing their job. But… this isn’t about being bisexual. That’s hardly interesting to most people nowadays. It’s about being transparent. Exposed.”

  My hands shook. There was no rhythm to my movement now. It was unbridled tension fighting for some kind of release. Or escape. I wanted out. I didn’t like where this was going.

  “That’s not—that’s not how it is. It’s complicated.”

  “Not really. It doesn’t matter anymore.” He sighed heavily, combing his fingers through his hair distractedly before looking me in the eye. He looked unbearably… sad. Not fierce. Not proud or angry. Just sad. “I can’t pretend this is enough for me, Tim.”

  I swallowed hard and took a tentative step forward. “We don’t have to pretend. I can fix it. I need time to—”

  “I’m not waiting for your ex-girlfriend to deliver her baby. I’m not waiting for the shit to hit the fan when it comes out that the kid isn’t yours or maybe it is and it’s twins. I’m not waiting for scandal or redemption or for someone, anyone else’s peace of mind.” He bit his bottom lip and gave me a lopsided, teary smile that tore at my heart and knocked the breath from my lungs.

  I reached out to touch him, but he stepped backward. “What about us? Don’t pretend we’re nothing. Don’t pretend we don’t have something special. You know we do. You say you want to be honest, then be honest! Tell me you can really walk away from us like this is no big fucking deal.”

  Carter moved into my space, pushing at my chest before capturing my face between his hands fiercely and sealing his mouth over mine. His tongue demanded entrance. He yanked at my hair as he probed with a violence that threw me off guard. I backed up a few steps and hit the wall hard enough to shake the expensive artwork hanging nearby. Carter bit my lip, and then sucked it before covering my mouth and devouring me whole. And I let him. I knew what he was doing and part of me thought I deserved it. He was punishing me for my careless words. Daring me to accuse him again of not wanting this. Us.

  I pushed him away, gasping for air as we stared at each other through a haze of hurt and sorrow. I swiped at my wet lips and opened my mouth, but he spoke first.

  “I love you, Tim. Not like a brother or a friend or a trick who knows I like rough sex and dirty talk. I love you. And there is no part of you that doesn’t know that. There is no part of you that can doubt me. But we’re done here. And I need you to go. Please.”

  My mouth felt like a desert. I was shaky and unsure. I thought of ten different ways to argue my point, but I couldn’t stop trembling and I couldn’t look him in the eye. It hurt to see his pain when I was vibrating with my own. I hung my head and stared at the deep grooves in the dark hardwood floor before stepping sideways. I walked to the doorway slowly, and then stopped in my tracks.

  “I’m going to fix this, Cart. I’m going to make it right.”

  The moment the studio car pulled up in front of my building that night, I spotted a swarm of paparazzi waiting for me. A couple asked questions about Spiral’s upcoming release and tour dates, but most of them wanted to know about me. If I’d once thought I had an inkling about what Rand went through when nosy reporters asked personal questions about him and Will, I was sadly mistaken. And extraordinarily unprepared to be the focus of attention.

  It didn’t get any better in the following days. I couldn’t walk anywhere without someone jumping out of a shadow to ask about my private life. Were Miranda and I really getting married? Or did we break up? Did we set a date? When was the baby due? Fuck, it was like a conversation with my mother. I shrugged them aside and put my head down as I raced from curb to car with as little fanfare as possible. They wanted a sensational story, and though I had a doozy in my back pocket, I had some work to do first.

  Which, like it or not, included a trip to Baltimore.

  I boarded a private jet home and arranged to have a driver shuttle me directly to my mother’s house. I couldn’t chance anyone following me from the airport to my condo to pick up my truck. Being surrounded by the entertainment reporters she voraciously followed would invariably throw her off stride and add unnecessary distraction. It was one thing to watch other people’s lives on television and quite another to be the focus yourself.

  I hopped out of the town car and thanked the driver before turning toward a Jeep parked at the bottom of the driveway. Rob got out of the driver’s side a moment later and came to greet me with a brief nod.

  “Are you dropping Liam off or—?”

  “I’m picking him up. We’re going bowling,” he added with a lopsided smile.

  “Ah. Is Jordan in the car?”

  “No. This is our thing. We started a bimonthly tradition after Jordan and I got married and Li was feeling a little… jealous, I guess. Every other week we take turns deciding what to do for our night out. Tonight it’s my turn. In a couple weeks you can bet we’ll be at the arcade stuffing coins into slots for tickets,” he said with a laugh, adjusting his sunglasses as he glanced toward the house.

  It was no wonder I found him attractive when we were teenagers. Rob was a handsome guy. But he was also a good man.

  “Sounds like fun,” I commented idly. I hadn’t counted on running into him this visit, but I figured I should muster the balls to apologize for the last time I’d seen him.

  Rob’s expression was unreadable, but he nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. I was out of line. All that stuff… it’s old news. It’s not important anymore.”

  “It might be old but it was important
once. The choices we made were selfish and hurtful, and we all paid for them. But I’m not sorry. I love my kid. He makes everything worth it.”

  “In spite of my crazy family?”

  Rob chuckled. “Gail isn’t crazy. She just needs reassurance. Kind of like Liam. He’s been here after camp every day this summer. If he misses a day or she has a bad conversation with Kat, she gets antsy. She wants definitives in her life. Things she hoped for when we were all younger and easier to manage.”

  I scoffed. “None of us were easy to manage. Kat least of all.”

  “True. And now your sister is an adult with adult-size problems she doesn’t want to fix. Or manage.”

  I rubbed my hand over my scruffy jaw and swiped my sunglasses from my nose. Talking about Kat always made me edgy. I wanted to protect her, but I couldn’t. She was literally her own worst enemy. “I used to think she did this out of guilt. Like she was punishing herself for getting between us. Now I’m not so sure.”

  Rob shot me a surprised look. I couldn’t blame him. I’d made a habit of shutting him down every time he’d tried to bring up our past. But I had a strong feeling that step one in fixing my current mess was to acknowledge the original one I’d done my best to forget. It was best to make peace with what I couldn’t change.

  “Maybe. But it was my fault too. I’m sorry. I—”

  I held up a hand to stop his speech as the front door clattered open. “Hey. You’ve said it. I know. It was a lethal combination of alcohol, anger, hurt, and family dysfunction. And let’s not forget teenage hormones. I get it. It’s just occurring to me that you’re the only one who’s fully acknowledged his part and moved on. I think it’s time I do the same. I’ll never mention this again, but I want you to know… I forgive you.”