Stewart stayed. Henry didn’t ask him to, but he didn’t need to. There was no way that Stewart wasn’t going to stay the night in his bed, and when Henry grabbed him and pulled him toward the shower after they’d slept in their mess for a few hours, Stewart wasn’t going to say no. They had a nice shower together where they made out and jacked each other off. It was perfect and languid, the perfect nightcap for a day that had felt desperate, burning with passion and desire.
Now that they’d had sex, there was so much left to explore between the two of them. When Henry had asked Stewart if he was hungry at midnight, Stewart had said yes. He thought this was Henry’s polite way of kicking him out, but instead, Henry had made them pancakes and they had eaten them while watching a satirical cartoon on Henry’s terrible sofa.
As Henry laughed about something that was happening on the TV, a little bit of syrup dripped down on his chin, the light from the TV and the little lamp on the accent table the only thing illuminating the entire room. Stewart’s heart jumped as he looked around, realizing that this was it, this was exactly what he wanted in his life.
Sure, the couch needed to be replaced and a bigger TV needed to be bought, but those… well, those weren’t needs. Stewart didn’t need any of those things, though his back might eventually need a better sofa. What he needed was for Henry to always be there. What he needed was for Henry to touch his shoulder when he heard something funny on the show, or to pause the show to explain a pop culture reference that Stewart didn’t get and then watch him roll his eyes when he realized he wasn’t getting through to him. Stewart didn’t expect it to always be this easy. He expected there to be fights, arguments, disagreements, but this sort of domesticity was exactly what he needed. Henry was exactly what he needed.
He wasn’t going to let him get away. He didn’t know how long he had, but he was going to convince Henry that they could be together. It suddenly became the most important thing he had ever done when he was watching his boyfriend—soon to be ex-boyfriend, though he hoped not—eating his pancakes and laughing about something stupid on TV.
Stewart had edged closer to him. His body had gotten so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off of Henry. It was exactly what he needed. He nuzzled into him and fell asleep there until Henry nudged him softly and told him it was time to go to bed.
Stewart had slept more soundly than he had in years while Henry was at his side. It had been perfect. When he had woken up, though, Henry wasn’t in bed with him anymore.
Stewart found a note on his pillow.
Hey, I called in sick on Monday but I can’t do it again today. There’s coffee in the cupboard next to the fridge and I think there’s bread, too. Make yourself at home. You don’t have to leave but I had to go to work.
There was no sign off. There was something there, but it had been crossed out, and Stewart didn’t know what it said. He held the note up to the light. He could see the word love behind the rest of the ink.
He felt a little sick to his stomach as he saw the words. Henry clearly felt the same way about him. Stewart wanted to go to his place of work, get on his knees and beg for forgiveness.
He should have never tried to put his family ahead of Henry. Henry was his family, he realized as his heart leaped in his chest. Even if he wasn’t there now, that was what he wanted Henry to be, and it would have been more than just a little stupid to let him get away. Stewart knew exactly what he had to do. It wasn’t going to be easy.
He found a pen on Henry’s nightstand and held the paper over the nightstand. He was slow and deliberate in writing his own note on the back of the one Henry had left for him.
I love you.
He stared at it for a while. That didn’t seem like enough. He needed more than that. He needed to let Henry know that he didn’t intend to leave him, that this was exactly what he wanted to do. That this was the most important thing in the world to him. None of those things could fit onto this tiny pink post-it though, certainly not onto the back of it.
He swallowed as he wrote the next sentence.
I’ll be back.
***
He went to his house first, because he needed to make sure to look good when he stormed into his sister’s workplace. A certain standard was expected if anyone was going through to see her. Normally, he would have just said he was Stewart Miller and the receptionist would have happily let him through, but he didn’t want that advantage now.
He knew that he wouldn’t go in on even footing if he went in like that, so it was important that he dressed up. After all, his sister was his banker and this was business. It was cold when he finally got to his house. He smiled at Anthony, his driver. He didn’t know how long he could keep a driver, but hopefully the estate would assign him a different sort of position somewhere.
He could only hope so. He thought about his staff. He was responsible for a large group of people at the nonprofit that he volunteered for, and he knew they might all be out of work the moment he left, so it might be better if he started doing this in stages.
He took a deep breath as he got to his door. He fumbled in his pockets for his keys and looked around as he waved his driver away. Anthony would circle the block, maybe go have a nap in the car. Stewart had slept very well but he was still tired from the night before. In truth, he was emotionally spent. His bed was tempting, but there were a lot more things that he needed to take care of before he allowed himself to sleep.
As he passed his living room, where his answering machine was, he couldn’t help but go to it and press the play button. It was something he did every single time he got home, something he had been doing for many years.
“You have seven new messages,” the machine’s tinny voice said.
He took a deep breath. He didn’t know when he had gotten so popular, but he sure as hell didn’t like it. He wanted to make them stop, erase them all before he had to hear them, but he was also curious about how his sisters had approached what had happened.
“Hey,” Alison’s voice said. “I know you’re not answering our calls and I can’t blame you. I just want to apologize for how shitty everyone was. Henry seemed like a lovely man and I want you to know I’m always here to support you, so reach out whenever you want to, big brother. I’m always going to be here for you.”
Stewart smiled. He was glad he hadn’t deleted that message. He loved Alison and her only crime was not standing up to Beatrice, but the only one who ever did was Bonnie. He was pissed off at her, too, and he was sure he was going to tell her. Not yet, though. The next five messages were all from Beatrice, all variations of ‘call me, we need to talk’. The very last message was from his mother. It was very composed and efficient, simply asking him when the two of them could meet for coffee.
Stewart swallowed. He was terrified of what his mother had to say, but he was also an adult. His mother didn’t control his destiny anymore. He was the only one who was in charge of his life, and his mother needed to learn that. There was no way to get around it, he thought. After going to see Beatrice, he would have to go see her.
He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and scrolled until he found his mother’s face. She answered after only two rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom,” he said. “Are you busy?”
“No,” she said. “Thank you for calling me, darling. Your sisters said they were worried about you, and you weren’t answering the phone.”
Stewart smiled. “Well, it’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always with you?” she asked. She sounded amused, but mostly, she sounded resigned. His mother wasn’t exactly okay with him being queer, but she wasn’t completely misunderstanding about it either. The two of them simply didn’t talk about it. When it was a given that he was going to marry Elle, then she didn’t have to worry about it at all. Stewart couldn’t help but think that had something to do with her apparent acceptance of his sexual orientation.
“Did they tell you what happened?”
“Vaguely,” she replied. “I would rather hear it from you. I know Beatrice has a tendency toward dramatic retellings.”
Stewart chuckled. “Well, good,” he said, “but listen. You might hear from her again because I’m going to go see her and I’m going to tell her some things I don’t think she’ll want to hear… things I think I’m going to have to explain to you, too.”
There was a beat before his mother answered. “Is that right?”
Stewart swallowed. He was scared. His family was magnificently powerful, and if they wanted to make his life hell, they certainly had all the resources to do it. If they didn’t want him to go, he might be trapped there for good. They might withhold his resources. He had enough by himself though that he should be okay, at least for several years. That was exactly what he needed to talk to his sister about.
He went into his bedroom and got dressed. He made sure to pick his most expensive clothes, the best ones. He brushed himself off and looked at himself in the mirror. He brushed his hair back with his hand and took a deep breath.
He knew his life was going to change a lot when he went to his sister. There was something about this that was far scarier than anything he had ever done. He had never really faced his sister head-on. He took another deep breath and brushed himself off once again. It was something he did when he was nervous. He was extremely nervous then.
He turned on his heel and there was a moment of doubt as he started to walk toward his front door. Fuck, this was going to uproot his whole life. He had tried so hard for so long to just fit into what they wanted and he had felt like he had succeeded.
Now, though, after everything, after Henry, things had changed. There was nothing Stewart could do about it. When he was faced with the possibility of not having Henry in his life, the very idea of it made him extremely depressed. He didn’t want to have a life without Henry.
He didn’t know if Henry was going to take him back. He didn’t know if he deserved it. He needed it, he needed, and he needed him to feel like he fit into Stewart’s life. He needed Henry to see that he was going to do anything to make sure that Henry fit into his life. If that didn’t work, then he needed Henry to know that he was going to do anything he could to make sure his life had room for Henry in it.
If Henry didn’t want him, then that was okay. Well, no, it wasn’t okay, but Stewart could live with that. If not being with him was Henry’s choice, then that was something Stewart could come to terms with.
Pushing Henry out of his life because of his family—there was no way for him to live with that. That was all the pep talk that he needed. He walked out the door and called Anthony to come back around and pick him up.
***
Beatrice looked magnificent sitting behind that glass desk. She was wearing a pantsuit that she’d had for about six months, the kind of thing she knew looked good and that she intimidated people with. Stewart didn’t need to be intimidated by her suit. He was already intimidated in spite of it, especially because they were talking about his money. Some of it was certainly his family’s money, and that was the tricky part.
She got up from her desk to try and give him a hug, but he managed to maneuver his way out of that. He didn’t want her to hug him. He didn’t want her near him at all. She seemed to sense that, because she was slightly startled when she tried to hug him and he moved away from her.
“What’s going on?”
He glared at her. “Let’s sit down.”
“Stewart…”
“We need to talk,” he said. He grabbed one of the chairs, pulled it up and sat across from her. She hardened a little as she went back to sit in her chair. She sat up, her back straight, and then set her gaze on him.
“Let me start,” she said.
Stewart waved her away. “That won’t be necessary.”
“It is necessary,” she said. “If you won’t talk to me, I’m not going to work on the business side of things. I’m going to give you over to Joseph, who is an excellent banker and would take very good care of you.”
Stewart scoffed. “Cowardly. Not unexpected, either.”
“I just… I owe you an apology,” she said.
Stewart cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “And what do you owe me an apology for?”
Beatrice took a look at him, then her shoulders slumped down slightly. “Look,” she said. “You and I, we have disagreed about a lot of things over the years.”
“Yes,” he said.
She sighed. “One of the things we don’t disagree on is that I acted poorly when you introduced Harr—”
“Henry,” Stewart said.
“I acted poorly with Henry,” she said. “I’m willing to admit that. I’m willing to admit that I let my judgment get the better of me. It’s a problem, of course, because there was no reason for me to act like such a bitch.”
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to be the one to tell you that.”
She sighed again. She threaded her fingers in front of her on the desk and leaned forward slightly. “Listen to me,” she said. “I know that you're hurt. I know that you're upset with me because of the way I acted around your boyfriend, and you have every right to be. I didn't need to act the way I did. I was just taken aback because I never expected you to come home with a gigolo.”
“A gigolo,” Stewart echoed.
“I honestly thought you had more sense than that. Look, I get it, it's easy to get sucked up with someone that's much younger than you, especially someone who shares your same interests.”
“Are you talking about penises? Is that the interest you think we share?”
“I’m… I don’t pretend to know what interests you, Stewart,” she said. Her hands were still in front of her and she was leaning over. All I know is that you were going to get married; everything was set. You and Elle have been engaged for a long time, and now you were acting like you were going to back out."
“I was going to back out,” Stewart said quietly. “The plan, my plan, was always to back out. That’s why I let you guys meet Henry because I was definitely going to back out.”
“I didn’t want you to,” Beatrice said. “I never felt like you gave Elle enough of a chance. When a good-looking guy, who is half your age appears as though he’s some sort of prospect… well, honestly, Stewart, that's worrying. It's very worrying.”
He looked at her. He wanted to tell her to go to hell, but he couldn’t deny that there was some validity to what she was saying. He straightened up as he looked at her. As angry as he was at his sister—and he was incredibly angry, almost impossibly angry—he understood where she was coming from.
Beatrice had always been the protective type and Stewart hadn’t really spoken that much about Henry to his sisters. He had just spoken about not wanting to marry Elle, which wasn’t the same as introducing his boyfriend to them at all. That was on him.
He took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He set his gaze on her and nodded.
“So yeah,” she said. “I lashed out at your boyfriend. I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry for it. If you let me meet him again, I will apologize.”
“Why in the world would I let you meet my gigolo again, as you put it?”
“Because I owe him an apology,” she said. “Regardless of what you want to do with him going forward, I owe him an apology.”
Stewart closed his eyes. “He broke up with me.”
“Stewart…”
“No,” Stewart said. “That’s it, right? You got what you wanted. There is no reason for you to do anything else. He’s never going to want to see me again because of you. Congratulations, sis. You did exactly what you set out to do.”
She bit her lips. “I never meant to make you unhappy.”
“You just meant to humiliate my boyfriend and the chips, well, they would fall where they will.”
“Stewart…”
“It’s okay, sis,” he said. “They’re just my feelings. I’m sure I’ll get over it eventually since my feelings are as unimportant to you as they have always been.”
“Stewart,” she said, reaching forward and taking his hand in hers. He yanked it away, feeling a little slimy and disgusted at the touch. He hadn’t expected his reaction to be quite so visceral, but it was and he couldn’t stop himself.
“No,” he said. “I know exactly what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it.”
“What am I going to say?” she replied, once again holding her hands on top of the desk. Her fingers were threaded and she was staring at him.
“You’re going to tell me that I have to uphold my end of the deal,” Stewart said, leaning into her. “I didn’t find someone else, so now I have to marry Elle.”
“You don’t—”
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t have to marry Elle. That’s what I came here to tell you. I’m sick of all these expectations, everything that all of you want me to do. I can’t get free of them, but I must. I need to be able to stop living my life for you guys.”
“What does that mean?”
Stewart glared at her. “It means that if you managed to treat me and someone I care about that poorly, then you don’t care about me,” he said. “So, I’m extricating myself from this whole mess, something I should have done a long time ago.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”
“Please,” he said, rolling his eyes. He leaned back into his chair when he spoke. “We both know that if anyone understands this, it's you. You’re the one with all the financial acumen in the family, and you are the one who stands to lose the most from my investments. Don’t worry though. I know you’re well protected. I know that no matter what, you have plenty of money to play around with.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Oh, please,” Stewart said, rolling his eyes. “We both know that’s exactly what it’s about. I’m a grown ass man. You don’t care who I have sex with. If I were having sex with a sex worker—fuck, I have plenty of money to throw at a gigolo and you know it—that wouldn’t have really been a big deal. But no. You could tell, couldn’t you?”
She swallowed. When she answered, she wasn’t looking at him. “I could tell,” she said. “I knew instantly that you had feelings for him from the way you were looking at him.”
“That makes sense,” Stewart said. “You know what else? It sucks.”
She sighed. “I wish—I just wish I had been more prepared.”
He waved her away. This wasn’t about how she felt, not anymore. This was just about him doing what he needed to do. “Look, I get it,” he said. “You want me to marry the person I'm engaged to.”
“It’s not that big of an ask,” she said.
“You’re joking,” he replied. “It’s a huge ask. You know that I was never officially engaged to her, because it was never my intention to marry her. She knows it. I can’t believe you guys don’t know it.”
“Elle is a sensitive person,” his sister said. She was playing with her hair, something she only did when she was nervous. He looked her up and down, appraising her. As far as he was concerned, she should be nervous. Everything that she had done to him was unforgivable, but especially driving Henry away. If she had driven him away forever, if he couldn’t get him back, Stewart didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to forgive her. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to be around her at all.
“I have nothing bad to say about Elle,” he coolly replied. If anything, Stewart was sure that Elle was going to be supportive and understanding when she met Henry. They were friends. Stewart was always supportive and understanding when she dated anyone, and she was always the same way about the people he dated.
“I have nothing bad to say about Elle either,” his sister said quietly.
Stewart leaned back into his chair. “The truth about Elle is that she's nice, she's very cool, and she's my friend. She deserves to be with somebody who loves her, not me.”
“Because you don’t love her,” his sister said.
“Because love is far more important than I was giving it credit for,” Stewart said. “That’s something I've only just realized is really important since I met Henry.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s okay,” Stewart replied.
“It’s not—”
He waved her off before she could speak again. He didn’t want to hear her explanations anymore, he was so sick of them. He was so sick of her. He had come here with every intention of ducking in and ducking out. He didn’t want to engage her at all.
“I understand what you meant,” he said, looking right at her. “I know that your marriage is difficult and I feel for you.”
Her expression hardened. “That’s not fair.”
“Yeah, maybe it’s not fair,” he said, “but we both know that it’s true. Maybe you should just, I don’t know, shut the fuck up.”
“Jesus Christ, Stewart,” she said quietly.
“Jesus Christ is right,” he said. “I know that you were also engaged to someone when you were very young, but then you did what our family expected you to do.”
“Because it’s what we all do,” his sister replied.
“Right, it’s what we all do, and I know that you're probably annoyed with me that I don't want to do it,” he said. He leaned forward and looked straight into her eyes, his hand gripping the table in front of him. “And that's something we can talk about, later. We can talk about all these things later, but right now, I'm here to get my money.”
She blanched at that, her blue-green eyes widening. “What money?”
“All the money I invested in those buildings down on the north side of town. I know for a fact that I made a profit on that, and I know that it was just my money.”
She nodded. “Here,” she said, her face taking on a mask of professionalism Stewart had rarely seen. “Let me check your account.”
“I know that a lot of my assets are entangled with the Miller assets,” he said. “I don’t want to fuck with that. I don’t want to deal with any of that, honestly. I just want… I just want my money.”
She stared at him and swallowed. “Your money.”
“That’s right.”
“Not the family’s money.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Not the family’s money. My money. Only my money. Keep everything that's yours. I just want what I invested.”
“You want to withdraw what you invested?”
“Exactly,” Stewart said.
She swallowed once more. She didn’t seem to have recovered from the shock of his first question. “You know that there's going to be a problem if you take it out right now, right?”
“There’s already a problem,” Stewart said quietly. He kept staring at her, waiting for Beatrice to say something that would make him change his mind. There was nothing there, though. She stared at him until she looked down at the keyboard in front of her and then nodded.
“You know that you will incur several fees,” she said after running her fingers through her hair.
“I know.”
“They would be sizable fees,” she said.
He nodded. “I know,” he said. “Let’s talk numbers.”
“You earned three million dollars of profit with the investment you made of two hundred thousand. If you take it all out, you’re going to incur a penalty of twenty percent. That’s six hundred thousand dollars.”
“But I would still be making a considerable profit,” he said.
“You would, but it’s not worth it,” she replied. “There are many ways you can get around the fees. I mean, honestly, Stewart, I don’t understand why you need the money right now. You have plenty of cash on hand, plenty of assets.”
He took a deep breath as he looked right at her face. “Isn’t it obvious, Beatrice? I’m extricating myself from the family business. I’m selling the estate and getting my money. I won’t fight for any of the Miller money.”
She blinked. “What does that mean?”
“It means what you think it means,” he replied. “It means I’m done. It means that I’m out.”
“You’re out,” she echoed.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re goddamn right I am.”