“Baby girl, stop.”
“Don’t make me talk about it,” I blurt out, keeping my eyes on his hand holding my wrist. “I will, just not now.”
Gregory flicks the gas off on the stove and leads me to a chair. “I need your advice.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Willing?”
“Yes.” I nod enthusiastically, loving him for not pressing me. For understanding. “Tell me.”
“Ben’s telling his family this weekend.”
I bite my lip, delighted I’m doing this to stop myself from grinning. A real grin. Not forced or fake. An actual proper grin. “Really really?”
“Yes, really really.”
“And…”
“And what?”
“And you’re happy, obviously.”
He finally breaks and grins from ear to ear. “Obviously.” But his smile fades just as quickly as it appears, making mine fade with it. “By the sounds of it, this will come out of left field for his parents. It’s not going to be easy.”
I take his hand and squeeze hard. “It’ll be okay,” I assure him, nodding when he looks at me dubiously. “They’ll love you. How could they not?”
“Because I’m not a bird.” He laughs, kissing the back of my hand. “But Ben and I have each other, and that’s what counts, right?”
“Right,” I assert without delay, because it really is right.
“He’s my someone, baby girl.”
Happiness for my best friend soars. Maybe I should be cautious on his behalf. After all, Ben has been a dick on more than one occasion, but I’m delighted he’s finally over what others will think of his sexuality. Anyway, in reality, I’m in no position to pass judgment. Everyone has their demons, some more than others—Miller definitely more than others—but everyone is fixable. Everyone can be forgiven.
“What’s up?” Gregory asks, snapping me out of my musings.
“Nothing.” I shake off my wayward thoughts, feeling more alive and awake than I have in… hours. Is that all it’s been? “That envelope.”
Gregory’s sudden awkward shifting tells me he knows what I’m referring to. He was there, he saw, so of course he knows, yet I have an inkling there’s more to it, especially given that he’s avoiding my gaze. “What envelope?”
I roll my eyes. “Really?”
His face screws up in defeat. “The evil fucker gave it to me. Told me to give it to Miller. You know it’s not the first time I’ve seen him, right? He was that nasty fucker who turned up when you ran off to New York. I happily left him and William in Miller’s apartment to their staring standoff. Fuck me, it was like being between two cowboys ready to draw! I nearly passed out when I opened the door to him.”
“You let him in?” I gasp.
“No! Nan did! He said he was an old friend of William’s. I didn’t know what to do!”
I’m not surprised. Nan’s more tuned in than any of us are giving her credit for. “What was in the envelope?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Greg!”
“Okay, okay!” He starts with the awkward movements again. “I only saw the paper.”
“What paper?”
“I don’t know. Miller read it and put it back inside.”
“What was his reaction to what he read?” I don’t know why I’m asking such a silly question. I saw firsthand what his reaction was when I walked into the kitchen. His head was in his hands.
“He seemed all cool and calm…” He pulls up, thoughtful. “Not so much after giving you a hug, though.”
I snap my eyes to Gregory’s. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” He shifts a little, awkward. Or is it worry? “He asked casually, you know, whether you and I had ever…”
“You didn’t!” I recoil, fearing all kinds of shit will hit the fan if Miller ever found out about our fumble under the sheets.
“No! But shit, baby girl, I was seriously uncomfortable.”
“I’ll never tell him about that,” I promise, knowing exactly what he’s getting at. Only Gregory and I know, so unless one of us is stupid enough to mention it, then Miller will be none the wiser.
“Can I have that in blood?” he asks with a sardonic laugh. He actually shudders, like he’s imagining what could happen should Miller find out about our silly little hookup.
“You’re being paranoid,” I tell him. He couldn’t possible know. Which reminds me. “Did he show William the paper?”
“No.”
I press my lips together, wondering if Gregory is working with Miller and William. That letter, whatever was in it, had my part-time gentleman go into emotional lockdown. He needed to think. He’s gone home to the familiarity and preciseness of his apartment to think. And he didn’t take me with him—his self-professed source of therapy and de-stressing.