Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Mortimer, please,” urges Douglas, “for the tenth time, really, you don’t have to … sorry, boys.” He goes to his husband and starts whispering to him.
Byron takes the chance and is on me at once in a hushed voice. “Sorry. I know this is kind of sudden and we weren’t ready to entertain, but—”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“Where were you this morning, anyway?”
Fuck. Did I even think of a cover story? “I just … I went out for the …” Oh, I just realized I can tell half the truth. “I went to Mrs. Shaheen’s ‘Madame Seazall’ spot to see if she was still coming to our big day, since she didn’t answer the invitation and we can never catch her at home, but … she was in one of her moods and shooed me off. We might want to count her seat empty.”
Byron frowns. “Between her, both of my aunts, and my ill grandfather not coming, we’re gonna have lots of empty seats. Go ahead,” he says with a gentle patting of my back. “Get changed.”
“Thanks, babe.” I give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Oh! I almost forgot. You left a candle burning in the bedroom before you left, so I put it out.”
I stare at him, unblinking.
He put it out already.
“Really, Griffin,” he goes on, “you shouldn’t be so reckless. That’s how fires start.”
“Sorry, yeah. I guess I was just …” I glance toward the living room where Douglas and Mortimer seem to be inspecting the pictures hanging on the wall and still whispering to each other. “… a bit preoccupied.”
Yeah, that’s what I am right now.
Preoccupied as hell.
A moment later finds me standing in the middle of the bedroom with my shirt off, hanging from my fist. The thick scent of smoke from the candle lingers in the air as I listen to the gentle noise of Byron and his dads laughing and talking in the other room.
It shouldn’t make a difference, right? When West is inside me, it doesn’t matter whether the candle is lit. If it’s lit, then he’ll just be here when he leaps out of me. If it’s not, then he’ll vanish when we separate.
But what happened to me in the middle of the street felt like something completely different. I felt like some part of me was tearing in half. Not to mention it was the first time we separated while outside of the apartment.
I don’t know how to feel right now.
What if he did shatter into a thousand pieces?
What if Westley Harmeyer is no more?
“If you’re here,” I say out loud, “West, please, pick up something, move something, do something. Kick me in the balls, I don’t care, just show me a sign.”
I wait, listening, anxious.
Nothing happens. Nothing moves.
No one kicks me in the balls.
I’ve never wanted someone to kick me in the balls more than I do right now.
“Westley Harmeyer,” I try again, “my best friend, my confidant, please, if you’re there, anywhere …”
“Who?”
I nearly jump out of my bones as I spin around.
Byron is standing at my door, which I didn’t even hear him open.
Did he hear …? “I-I was just …” How much did he hear? What do I say? “I was just going over the, uh, list of … of guests … out loud. My usual self. Worrying.”
Byron frowns in thought. “Hmm. I don’t remember a Westley Harmeyer on the guest list. Or any Westley.”
Fuck. He heard. First and last name. “It’s someone from school. He might be coming. I’m just, uh …”
I’m getting too comfortable with lying.
I hate this.
Byron leaves the doorway and comes up to me, at once bringing his arms around my shirtless body, pulling me against him for a hug.
His lips touch my ears. “Babe, I can tell something has been off with you for a while. We don’t have to talk about it now. We can wait until we don’t have company, but I’d really, really appreciate it if you let me in at least a little, so I don’t sit over here on my own panicking over what’s troubling my fiancé so much.”
I have no idea where I’d even begin.
Yet still, I say: “Okay, babe.”
Then we separate. I put on a shirt. And the pair of us return to the table by the fire escape to enjoy brunch with Douglas and Mortimer. To my relief, nothing of much importance is talked about at all. They tell us all about what’s happening back home. I tell them about my parents, whom they still haven’t met, and how my mom is going to be the one who keeps it together, and it’ll be my dad who falls apart into tears from the first moment of the wedding until the last. That makes both of Byron’s dads laugh—even cold-eyed Mortimer.
Everything is basically perfect, calm, and as normal as can be.