CHAPTER 22
Will
Thanksgiving with my relatives was a nightmare, and all I wanted to do was wake up.
First, I’d had to tell my parents that Vaughn was gone, and why he’d had to leave so suddenly that he couldn’t say goodbye or get the rest of his stuff. I didn’t want to get into specifics, and “work emergency” was clearly not the real reason. My mother, bless her, took one look at my face and didn’t ask. My father, well…he hadn’t known what to make of anything about Vaughn from the minute we’d walked in, and Vaughn’s exit was no exception.
Charlie, though. There was no getting around her.
She’d hauled me into her bedroom, still full of posters from her teenage obsession with Hole, and crossed her arms over her chest while she demanded to know “everything.”
That was the problem. I couldn’t tell Charlotte “everything.” Because telling her everything meant starting with Vaughn’s penchant for art theft, and his promise that he wouldn’t ever steal again. With how I’d once called him a liar, and he’d just proven, once again, that he was.
“We had a fight,” was all I’d allowed, followed by, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
If we’d been back in D.C., no doubt she would have ignored my protestations entirely and badgered me until I confessed. But we were at home, and at home we were a team. She had my back, and the second I gave her a plaintive look and said softly, “Please, Charlie,” I knew she’d back off in favor of protecting me from our inquisitive family.
I didn’t know how I’d managed to get through the family get-together without losing my mind. I stood there with a beer and nodded along with my uncle’s hockey talk.
Every now and then, my eyes would search the room for Vaughn’s tall form, his silver hair. Then I’d remember why and get another drink. I was torn between fury and loneliness, two terrible emotions that went terribly together. Everything made me think about Vaughn: the food, which he’d have hated and eaten without a complaint; my cousin Megan’s long diatribe about the resurgence of nineties fashion, which would surely have inspired some hidden barb from Vaughn about my own lack of fashion sense; the game of euchre I lost because I could barely concentrate on my hand, at which Vaughn would have trounced everyone effortlessly. My father prided himself on his euchre skills, so I wished I could’ve seen that. Then I’d think about Lawson and get mad again, because how dare he do this? How dare he assume I couldn’t take care of myself? How dare he play god?
Luckily, my family was used to me being the quiet one, and with Charlie there to distract them with stories, it wasn’t so different than any other holiday.
And that was the problem. This one was supposed to be different. This was supposed to be the one where I introduced my boyfriend to my parents—the boyfriend I’d been thinking more and more about asking to live with me. And not because rent in D.C. was outrageous, which had been my reason for moving in with Harris. No, this time I wanted to live with someone because I loved him and wanted to share a life with him.
I was in my room, packing my things and Vaughn’s in a larger suitcase, and Charlie couldn’t have picked a worse moment to barge in, because she found me standing with Vaughn’s shirt in my hand, my eyes burning.
“Jesus, can you knock, Charlotte!”
“Oh my god,” she said, when she got a look at me. “What happened?”
“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. Still don’t.”
“But you look miserable.” Her eyes searched mine. “Is it—it’s not over, right?”
The thought of that nearly brought me to my knees, but what the fuck choice did I have? How could I stay with someone I couldn’t trust?
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I really don’t. And please, I can’t—” My voice got choked. “I can’t.”
“Okay.” My sister knew the last thing I’d want was a hug, so she backed off and left me alone, closing the door softly behind her.
I pressed Vaughn’s shirt to my nose, inhaled his scent, and cried. I’d hoped it would make me feel better, but it didn’t. Not at all.
* * *
My sister’s understanding of my need to be left alone with my emotional turmoil lasted exactly one week before she started badgering me to talk. I put her off without much creativity, citing a huge case at work and a dead phone battery. I knew I didn’t have long before she’d find a way to corner me.
Honestly, it was only the holiday season that was keeping her from showing up at my door. Her days and nights were full, so I was safe—for the moment.
I’d thrown myself into work manically, but my last two cases had been clear-cut instances of insurance fraud. I knew I should’ve been glad that I’d prevented people from getting away with fraud, but instead I wished I would get assigned something on par with the Gardner Heist, to really take my mind off things.
Vaughn had texted me apologies, and left voice mails on my cell, which I hadn’t listened to because I didn’t think I could handle his drawl in my ear without breaking. He hadn’t tried calling me on my office phone; still, every time it rang my heart pounded and my mouth went dry as I thought about what I’d do if it was him. Every time it wasn’t, I was breathless with relief—but I couldn’t deny that I was disappointed too.
Finally, afraid I was going to lose my mind, I sent him a text asking him to give me some time to think without contacting me; that I’d be in touch when I was ready to talk. I half expected him to ignore my request—maybe I half hoped too—but he didn’t. My phone was bereft of messages, and though I’d gotten just what I’d asked for, it made me feel worse.
When Charlie showed up at my apartment the day before Christmas, armed with Thai food and determination, I was such a wreck that I was a little bit glad to see her. Because if she was here, that meant she was going to make me talk. And if I talked, maybe…I didn’t know.
“No more hiding, and you’re talking,” she bossed, waving a carton of khao phat at me. “Or you don’t get this.”
I’d barely tasted anything I’d eaten for weeks, so it wouldn’t matter. But that sounded too pathetic to admit, so I just leaned against my door and stared at her, making a last-ditch effort to look mad. “If I wanted you to come over and talk to me, I would have asked you.”
She rolled her eyes. “In what reality would you ever do that? Come on, Will. I know you’re miserable. Look at you.” She chewed on her lip. “He’s miserable too.”
My sister had been doing a lot of work for Vaughn, including some winter fundraiser thing, so I guessed she must have seen him and that was how she’d know.
“Well, it’s his fault.” Great. I sounded like I was twelve. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to talk to her.
“What happened? I’ve never seen you with someone who just…you guys just worked,” she said, and I felt my stupid stomach drop, felt a burn in my eyes, and wished she would stop talking.
Just like the millions of times I’d wished for that growing up, it didn’t work.
She went to the kitchen, telling me all sorts of things about relationships needing challenges to function, that whatever happened we could work through. I wondered how the hell she knew about any of these things, since, of the two of us, I was the only one who’d ever had a relationship last longer than a few months. We weren’t easy to be with, us Foxes.
“I just don’t get it,” she said, dumping the khao phat into a bowl and pushing it at me. “Did he cheat on you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Because if he did, fuck that guy and don’t take him back.”
“He didn’t cheat on me,” I assured her. Oddly, that had never been something I’d worried about with Vaughn. “He—it’s not really something I feel comfortable explaining.”
“Tough. You’re so miserable I can barely stand to look at you. Tell me why.”
I caved. Of course I did. Oh, I put up a good front at first and tried to get her to leave me alone, but it didn’t work. It never did. Finally, I gave up and came clean about our fight at Thanksgiving.
She listened to me tell her how he’d gotten Lawson transferred with a surprised expression. “Wait, what? How did he even do that?”
“He’s rich,” I said, shrugging. “That’s how.”
“It’s not enough to be rich. You need like…an in or something. With the FBI.”
I recalled the diversity training in Durham, and how I’d seen Vaughn speaking to the deputy director.
“I think he does have a contact. But it doesn’t matter—even if he didn’t, he’d get one. You don’t know Vaughn. When he’s determined, he makes it happen. He doesn’t give up.”
“Wasn’t that guy a dick though?” My sister frowned. “Lawson. He hit on me that one time and you went ballistic.”
“I did not go ballistic. I just told you why you should throw a drink in his face and tell him to fuck off.”
“That’s the Will Fox version of ballistic,” she pointed out. “But, like…why are you so mad about this? It seems like a bit of an overreaction.”
This was the part that was hard to explain, without getting into Vaughn’s less-than-legal activities with art. “Because, Charlie, it’s patronizing and manipulative, and it shows lack of moral character—”
“To not want your boyfriend harassed by a homophobic jerk every day?” Charlie interrupted, scoffing. “That shows a lack of moral character, really?”
“No. Treating people like he can manipulate them as he sees fit,” I bit out, shoving my bowl aside. It tasted like dust, anyway. Spicy dust. “Like my life is something he can step in and rearrange to his pleasure. That shows a lack of moral character.”
“I mean, I get that,” she said slowly, but she still sounded unsure of what my problem was, looking at me with raised eyebrows while eating my abandoned khao phat.
“Amory’s used to getting what he wants, Charlie. And he thinks the rules don’t apply to him. That’s the opposite of what I believe. Maybe we’re just too different to work.”
“Maybe you are,” she said, and it knocked the air out of me to think it. “I saw that. But I saw your face just now. You aren’t done with him, Will. No way. So, listen, bro. You think in absolutes. See the world in black and white. Stuff is right or wrong, people are criminals or victims, et cetera. Vaughn strikes me as a gray area kind of guy. Of course that’s gonna mean disagreements about stuff. But, honestly? You could use a little damn gray in your life because otherwise…”
“What?”
She shook her head, shoving food in her mouth instead.
“Charlotte, what?”
“Fine, Jesus.” Her eyes flashed. “Otherwise you’re gonna end up like Dad!”
That had not been what I expected to hear.
“What the hell, Charlie? I’m nothing like Dad and you know it!”
“Yes, you are, babe. You have these…rigid ideas about people. How they should act, how they’re allowed to fit into your world. Sure, maybe your ideas aren’t the same ideas as Dad’s, but it’s still this way of meeting people with ultimatums.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out but a harsh, choked noise. That had hit a bit too close to home.
“And if people don’t conform to your ideas, you walk away. Just like you did at Thanksgiving. But sometimes you have to hash stuff out. You have to try and understand that the end result isn’t all that matters. That sometimes the reasons why people do things count for something. You want to know what I really think?
“Christ, all this has been you pulling punches?” I scowled at the countertop where a few grains of rice clung to the faded tile. Charlie ignored me.
“The truth is, I don’t think Vaughn lets you get away with thinking in absolutes and I bet that scares the shit out of you.”
“He got someone reassigned to a different state because of his last name and his bank account,” I reminded her. “After I’d told him to stop manipulating me. That is pretty fucking black, sis. No grays there.”
“And again, I say, yeah, that might be a factual description of what he did. Sometimes the facts aren’t the only important thing. Sometimes the motivation has to count for something. Only you can decide if you think Vaughn’s motivation really was to try and…control you, or whatever. Is that who he is?” She shrugged. “Your call. But given that you’ve spent the time since Thanksgiving looking like you were gonna puke at the idea of not being with him, you probably owe it to both of you to at least think it through. To at least talk to him. Rather than throw him out of Mom and Dad’s house and then refuse to ever see him again. Jesus, dramatic move, P.S. At least now I know that nothing I ever do at a family holiday, short of fucking on the kitchen table, will make Mom and Dad think I’m the one with issues.”
She smirked. My head was spinning.
“Maybe I’m just trying to keep myself from getting hurt.”
“Too late, babe,” she said softly, and I slumped back against the counter and didn’t look at her for a minute.
“Yeah,” I breathed, and knuckled dampness out of my eyes.
“I’m sorry, bro.” Charlotte and I reached for each other’s hands at the same moment, clasping them over the bowls of food. “You really love him, don’t you?”
I nodded and shrugged helplessly.
“Sometimes we have to bend a little bit—compromise what we think we know—for love. It’s scary as hell, but what’s the alternative? Keep living your black-and-white life and never see Vaughn again.”
My eyes flew to her face as I felt panic set in at the thought of never seeing Vaughn again. Never feeling his silken hair twine around my fingers. Never feeling his warmth at my back as he leaned in to whisper something in my ear. Never lying with him and hearing the moment that his breathing changed and he drifted off to sleep, trusting, in my arms.
I couldn’t stand it.
“Or,” Charlie said, leaning in and looking at me intently, “you could go find him, and see if there’s a way to make it work. A possibility that you can give up a little bit of this uncompromising version of yourself and still be okay. It is okay, you know?”
“What?”
“It’s okay to give yourself permission not to be a hundred percent perfect and noble and correct all the damn time.”
Her voice was fond and exasperated. The voice of someone who saw me more clearly than I could see myself. And with far more empathy.
There it was: the truth. I wanted to forgive Vaughn. Just like I’d wanted to ignore the fact he’d stolen art. But if I let myself do that…if I allowed myself to deviate from the path I’d set out upon…what would that make me? Who the hell was I if I wasn’t the one who upheld the law, who followed the rules, who kept everyone—and everything—safe? My head swam and then Charlie’s arms were around me and she was squeezing me so tight I could hardly breathe, the way she had when we were kids.
I hugged her back. “I’m still mad you think I’m like Dad,” I muttered.
“Dad has his good points, Will. He was a cop and he helped a lot of people, just like you do. You both helped people by following the rules. But hey, take it from me. I make people happy by bringing them light and color and joy, delicious food and perfectly box-pleated table linens.” She smiled at me. “And if something doesn’t work, I change it until it does.”
We pulled apart, and I took a deep breath. “You, uh…you said he’s miserable?”
“As a raincloud.” She raised her eyebrow and I leaned in before I could stop myself. “He’s moping at his place in Jackson Hole. Wyoming. Been there for days and planning to stay until after the holidays.”
The idea of Vaughn all alone for Christmas ended me. Charlie and I had planned to spend the day together, but it was obvious she wanted me to go off and retrieve my estranged boyfriend instead. I frowned, something nagging at the tiny part of my brain that wasn’t relegated to being sad and conflicted. If Vaughn was at the Jackson Hole property, then Charlie hadn’t seen him while working on the fundraiser. In which case… “How do you know he’s miserable and that I’m not answering his text messages?”
She bit her lip. “Um.”
“Has he called you?” I asked, furious all over again. “See, Charlie, that’s what I’m talking about! He wants something, so he—”
She didn’t let me or my righteous indignation get very far. “Stop, stop, Jesus, no. Natalie told me,” she interrupted.
“His assistant? He had his assistant call you?” I didn’t know if that made me more angry, or less.
“You’re doing it again, brother mine,” she sighed. “Natalie and I…so, actually, guess what? I’m dating someone, ta da! Natalie. I’m dating Natalie, and she told me. About Vaughn being miserable, and where he’s spending the holiday.”
Wait, what? “You’re—since when?” I blinked.
“Before Thanksgiving. I was gonna tell you, but…” She shrugged. “Your drama happened.”
I scowled, but it made sense. Something had to have been distracting her or she’d have been over here badgering me a lot sooner than the day before Christmas, busy work schedule or no. “Is she—is it serious?”
“It’s been like a month,” she said dryly. “But I like her a lot. We…” She blushed and cleared her throat. “We, uh. Get along. Anyway, she really likes Vaughn. I do too. I mean, yeah, I get that he fucked up. But Will, he loves you. And if you think about it, it’s kinda romantic.” She gave me a poignant look. “Besides, don’t lie. You’re thrilled that Lawson guy’s gone. So get off your high horse, cowboy, and go rope your man.”
“Go away,” I said, drawing her back for a long hug. “Thanks, Charlie.”
“You’re welcome. You’re a good person. A kind and fair person, and I’m not trying to say you should immediately forgive him but…don’t miss out on being happy if you can. Life’s too short, and all that.” She kissed me on the cheek, hugged me one last time, and then left with the remainder of my khao phat.
I sat at my kitchen counter for a long time, then finally broke the cookie in half and read my fortune.
Someone replaced your fortune with this one. Your luck sucks.
For the first time in weeks, I smiled.
Then I went to the bedroom, threw a few things into a backpack, and went to check on flights.
I’d make my own luck, thanks.