Chapter Twelve

Life goes on because it has to, and the world stops for no one, least of all Nicholas James Clarke. He’s barely two blocks away from the bakery, still reeling from the experience of Matthew shutting down on him as soon as he realized who James was, when his phone rings.

It’s Karen, and he knows it has to be important. She knows where he is, she wouldn’t bother him if it was anything less than the end of the world. He nearly drops the box of samples in his rush to dig his phone out of his pocket.

“James,” she says, as soon as he picks up the phone. She sounds frantic, manic in a way that he knows means there’s a new job but it’s not going to be a fun one. She had sounded the same for the last three senatorial weddings, and the university gala they had thrown the year before. “You should come in to the office. Now.” At that, she hangs up, the line clicking dead before James has a chance to reply.

At the very least, his worry over Karen does a bit to help quell the disappointment at how the afternoon had gone. He knows his work, can fall back into it without having to think about it, and it helps to have a familiar routine to set him more at ease. He turns and heads for the subway, grateful at the very least to have something to take his mind off of Matthew for a bit.

It must be a job, he thinks. Karen never sounds that anxious about anything but work, and she wouldn’t have asked him to come into the office otherwise. He hopes it won’t be too bad. He’s still reeling from the last wedding, the nightmare that had been trying to arrange everything he needed in just over a month. It had gone over perfectly, but he’s still sorely in need of a break from lavish weddings for a little while.

***

No such luck, though, because when he steps into the office, Karen is waiting in the front lobby with a pinched look on her face and her fingernails tapping impatiently against the wood of the front desk.

“I don’t think we should take it,” she says as soon as he steps in, and he raises an eyebrow at her. “He’s a prick and he goes against everything we stand for and I know you’ll say yes because you think we need the publicity but I’m telling you right now, we don’t need the publicity this bad.”

She breaks off and pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, closing her eyes. James sets aside the box from Matthew’s and hangs up his jacket, patting Karen on the back when he passes her. “Slow down,” he says, countering the tired glare she throws his way. “Who is it?”

“Mills. Richard Mills.”

“The mayor?” James asks, grimacing. Mills wasn’t their mayor, thankfully, but he was the mayor of the next major city over, and he’s well-known enough that the sound of his name alone puts a sour taste in James’ mouth.

Karen sighs. “Not for long, if he has his way. He’s running for governor.”

James stiffens. Mayor of a different city was one thing, but Mills running for governor is an entirely new piece of news to him. Mills had always been staunchly bigoted, openly homophobic and not afraid to tell the world. James is out to the people who matter to him, of course, but if he takes the job and Mills finds out, it won’t be pretty, to say the least. Still, if he doesn’t take the job, he’ll have to explain why, and he’s not sure a vague difference in politics statement will be enough to cover it. “And we’re what?” James asks, weighing his options. “Throwing him a gala? A campaign party?”

“A wedding,” says Karen, voice heavy. “A vow renewal, technically, but basically a wedding, for all intents and purposes.”

“A wedding,” James repeats, deadpan.

“I know, I thought the same thing. He says he wants to push the importance of the ‘real’ American family in his campaign. Complete bullshit, if you ask me, since he and his wife can barely look at each other, but it’s a campaign tactic.”

It’s a campaign tactic, which means this will be, without a doubt, the most public event James has ever done. If it goes right, it would mean a whole new level of respect for him, not to mention Karen and the company. He doesn’t think there’s any objective reason to turn down the job. It’s publicity, a chance to show off every skill he has in his repertoire, not to mention it would pay incredibly well. He doesn’t have much on his plate, either; the only thing holding him back is the fact that he disagrees with Mills on just about every social situation he can think of.

He doesn’t have to like the man to design his wedding, though, he doesn’t even have to be friends with him. With a note of finality, a nagging feeling of dread in the back of his head that he pushes down, he turns back to Karen.

“We’ll take it,” he says, feeling a bit like he’s just nailed down his own coffin.

***

“You never told me how it went with Matthew,” Karen says later that night, as James makes dinner and she flips through the files they need to get started on Mills’ wedding. James immediately winces, memories of the afternoon flooding back. Matthew had been so closed off, so clearly offended by the situation that all James could do was leave the shop and hope something of their friendship was still salvageable. He had known it was a bad idea to go there, to tell Matthew the truth flat out, but he also knew it was the best option that he had at the time.

He turns the stove off and takes the pot of pasta out to the table, pushing Karen’s stack of papers to the side so he can set it down. She smiles up at him when he does, but her face falls a bit at his expression.

“That bad?” she asks, dishing out a serving of pasta for herself. James sits down opposite her and picks up a stapled packet from the top of Karen’s pile, running his eyes down the list of bridal stores in the city without really absorbing any of it.

“That bad,” he replies, not looking up from the paper. “He completely shut down when he found out. Turns out he hates boss me more than he likes actual me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Karen chastises. “Maybe it was just, I don’t know, a shock. Wouldn’t you be put off, too?”

“I’d be put off, yeah. I wouldn’t run back into the kitchen when he just asked to sit down and talk.”

Karen hums gently, a sympathetic smile on her face. James feels a twinge of regret at his outburst. He hadn’t mean to involve Karen, but she had asked and he had been bursting to say something about it ever since leaving Matthew’s.

They eat in silence for a while after that, the only sounds filling the room are the shuffling of papers and the clink of silverware against ceramic plates. Karen looks up at him every now and then, clearly wanting to say something, but she doesn’t speak. James doesn’t prod her. He’s uncharacteristically tired after the events of the day, and all he really wants is to curl up and go to sleep for a while.

More than that, he wants to go back to the bakery to see Matthew. He knows that isn’t possible, though. Not right now, not tomorrow, not like it had been before. It’s unfair, how their friendship was cut short so soon after they finally got to meet each other properly. It’s his fault, though, he knows that. Still, he’s already laid his cards on the table, and it’s up to Matthew to take the next step.

That doesn’t stop him from mulling it over all through dinner, though, and again once Karen leaves for the night. As he’s pulling on his pajamas, his phone lights up. It’s nothing important, a spam email that he deletes as soon as he sees it, but he keeps his phone in his hand for a few moments. Quickly, before he can change his mind or talk himself out of it, he types out a short message and sends it out.

Matthew, he writes. Sorry for today. I really did mean to tell you.

He’s asleep before the reply comes in, nearly an hour later. He doesn’t see it until he wakes up, but it sends a bolt of lightning straight through his chest when he does.

That’s all right. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. Coffee on me next time.