He looked good. He’d always been handsome—tall, tanned, blond hair. He was All-American perfection—smart, funny, kind. It was difficult to reconcile the Thom I’d known growing up with someone who’d cheated on me.
I gripped the stem of my champagne glass, my body fighting the urge to flee, my chest tight.
He’d finally stopped calling a few weeks ago. I hadn’t listened to any of his voice mails, hadn’t been ready to face him.
He began walking toward me, apparently taking my frozen stance as permission to approach. Maybe it was. I didn’t even know anymore. I hadn’t been prepared for this, but now that it was here, I wasn’t sure what I felt. I wasn’t angry anymore. Wasn’t even really sad. He felt like a stranger with whom I’d once shared a few intimacies.
Maybe more than anything, I was just confused.
And then he was right in front of me, and I couldn’t avoid the moment anymore.
“Hi.”
I couldn’t make myself smile, could feel the weight of dozens of pairs of eyes on us.
So awkward.
“Hi,” I echoed, my head spinning, feeling as though I was having an out-of-body experience.
He swallowed. “You look nice tonight.”
Apparently, we’d been reduced to social pleasantries. “Thanks. You, too.”
This was too bizarre for words.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked, a pleading look in his eyes.
Shit.
I could do polite and superficial. Anything more seemed like a bad idea. I didn’t know what was left to say.
“I don’t—”
“Please.”
It was the look in his eyes that did it. Somewhere along the way I’d convinced myself that he was an asshole for what he did to me, but seeing him up close again, staring into the eyes of the boy I’d grown up with, it was hard to believe. I was hurt, but something inside me made the decision for me.
I nodded. “Okay.”
I walked out to the patio, the same one I’d stood on with Gray, Thom trailing behind me, ignoring the whispers that surrounded us. It felt like the longest walk of my life. When the fresh air hit me, finally, I could breathe again, no longer skewered by the intent gaze of a hundred prying eyes.
Thom closed the door behind him and stared at me. Silence stretched, filling the chasm that separated us. I waited for him to speak, figured that since he’d initiated this reunion it was up to him to set the tone.
And then he did.
“I’m sorry.”
My breath hitched.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he continued. “Ever. I didn’t think it would affect us. That I could pretend like it wasn’t a part of me. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Wouldn’t affect us?” I choked the words out. “You had sex with someone else on our wedding day. In a church.”
His eyes got tight. “I know.”
“Just tell me why. Because that’s the thing I don’t get. If you knew you were gay, why did you get involved with me? Why did you propose to me? Why did you make me think you loved me? That we’d have a future together? You were my friend. Always. How could you hurt me like that?”
“I loved you, Blair. I always loved you.”
“As a friend.”
Guilt flashed in his eyes, and he nodded.
“Did you cheat on me when we were dating?” I asked, my tone hollow.
I figured I knew the answer to that one, but if he was going to give me some of it, then I needed all of it.
He stiffened. “Yes.”
“A lot?”
He shook his head. “A few times. I hated myself afterward every time. And each time I’d convince myself that I was going to end things with you, that I was going to come out to you, my parents, but I just couldn’t.”
My hands trembled. “Our wedding—seeing you and Brad—do you love him?”
“I do.”
I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse, but on some level, the part of me that couldn’t completely erase our past was glad he’d found someone that made him happy.
I pressed my lips together. “When did you realize you were gay? Did you always know?”
He rubbed his brow, his shoulders hunched. “Did some part of me always know? Probably, yeah. I didn’t really recognize it then, maybe because I knew my parents would never accept it. I tried to do what they wanted me to. Tried to be the person everyone thought I should be. I asked you out because you were one of my best friends. I loved spending time with you. Loved you. And I thought that we could work together. That if I was with you, that other side of me would just go away. I didn’t want to be gay. Didn’t want to be different. My father gives a fortune to conservative political candidates each year. I knew how he’d feel.”
His words resonated with me in a way I hadn’t expected. The pressure he spoke of, the expectation to fit a mold, was one I easily identified with. The mask he’d worn was much harder than anything I’d ever dealt with, but I understood what it was like to pretend you were someone you weren’t. To feel like no one saw you. There wasn’t much that was worse than being surrounded by people who were supposed to love you, and feeling invisible instead.
“I’ve tried calling you to apologize. I understand why you wouldn’t take my calls, and I’m so sorry for everything that happened. I never intended for it to become the mess it did, for our business to be spread all over the tabloids like that.”
In all fairness, that had been more due to my reputation than his.
“I know.”
His eyes were pleading. “I thought we could be happy together. I thought our friendship would be enough.”
And then I realized, really realized, that we’d both been settling for something because we’d been afraid to take a chance, to step outside of the world we’d lived in. We were living our lives on paper, on the society page, at dinner parties, and that was no life at all.
I didn’t love him. Not like that. And as hurt and embarrassed as I’d felt fleeing my own wedding, as much as the memories of people on the street shouting, “Hey, where’s the groom?” as I left the church still stung, those emotions weren’t about my relationship with Thom. They were about me.
“It wasn’t. Not for either one of us. I didn’t see it, but I should have.” If things had happened differently, if I hadn’t been nervous and gone to talk to Thom, if the timing had been off just a bit—minutes—I would be standing here at this party with his ring on my finger and a life ahead of me that never would have made me happy. Not the way I deserved to be happy. Not the way he deserved to be happy.
And what had been a Shakespearean tragedy became my saving grace.
“Are you happy with Brad?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“And your family?”
He gave me a wry smile. “Freaking the fuck out.”
“Join the club. My parents are livid.”
His expression sobered. “It wasn’t your fault. If anything, they should be pissed at me.”
I shrugged. “My mother thinks I should have married you anyway. You know how she is.”
“You did the right thing. For both of us. I’m just sorry it got as out of control as it did.”
“Me, too.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I miss you. Miss talking to you. Miss hanging out.” His voice got tight. “We were friends before. Do you ever think we could be friends again?”
I never would have thought I’d feel that way, but once you stripped the embarrassment away, I realized there wasn’t any pain left. He hadn’t broken my heart; hadn’t even touched it.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Maybe we can get coffee sometime?” he suggested.
I smiled. “I’d like that.”
We spent ten minutes on the patio, catching up, the awkward tension between us slowly dissipating with each moment we spent together. When I’d finished, I didn’t have the heart to return to the party, to deal with the stares and the questions.