Chapter 15
The house was eerily quiet when Rhys woke up the next morning. He lay in bed, feeling as if something was off and trying to figure out what it was. Then he realized the silence was the problem. In just a few short days, he’d gotten used to Thomas’s presence.
Once he left his bedroom, he wouldn’t hear Thomas puttering around in the guest bedroom or bathroom, humming or singing quietly. He wouldn’t be greeted by the rich scent of fresh brewed coffee when he went downstairs. The blinds would still be closed. The house would be dark.
Everything would be quiet and still, just like it had been every morning until Thomas arrived.
He knuckled his eyes to rub away the unexpected burning of his lids, and then he threw back the covers and forced himself out of bed. He’d done the right thing. Thomas was better off without him, and he was better off alone.
His phone rang while he was waiting for his bagel to finish toasting, and he looked at the screen with dread, expecting the caller to be his mother. To his surprise, it was Aunt Marion — Scott’s mother — and he hit Decline. She was probably calling to do damage control on Scott’s behalf, but Rhys didn’t want to hear it. He blocked Scott’s number on his phone, and then he booted up his computer so he could block Scott on his social media and set up a filter to send any emails from Scott straight to the trash. He didn’t care how much Aunt Marion or anyone else bleated to him about “faaaaamily.” He was done with Scott for good.
Part of him hoped Viv would be too busy preparing for the reunion to call, but he doubted he would be that lucky. Sure enough, he’d no sooner started spreading strawberry fig jam on his bagel when he heard his mother’s ringtone, and he released a long sigh before picking up the phone and hitting Accept.
“Hey, Mama,” he said, his voice laden with weary resignation.
“Good morning, Rhys,” Viv said, and he could hear the disappointment oozing from each syllable. “I won’t insult your intelligence by beating around the bush, so don’t you insult mine by pretending you don’t know why I’m calling.”
Rhys closed his eyes briefly and braced himself for the difficult conversation, his stomach knotting up with apprehension. “I know why. Is Thomas okay?”
“About as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” Viv said, a note of censure in her voice.
“Did he stay with y’all last night?”
“He did,” Viv said. “He told me his side. I’d like to hear yours, but we’ll have to talk about it later. I just wanted to let you know he’s all right. He and your father are on their way to Asheville. Thomas booked a flight for this afternoon. Right now, I’ve got to finish setting up for the reunion. It’s too last minute to call everything off, but I understand if you’d rather not come.”
“Do you want me to be there?”
Viv paused, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded warmer and gentler. “Rhys, honey, it’s entirely up to you. If you aren’t up to socializing right now, I understand, but Thomas won’t be here, and neither will Scott, so you don’t have to worry about seeing either of them.”
In the end, he opted to stay home. He wasn’t ready to face the questioning looks and potential nosy questions, especially since the driving motive behind the reunion had been to introduce his new “boyfriend” to the rest of the family. Instead, he sat on the couch in his underwear all day, eating cold pizza and binge-watching one of his favorite shows on Netflix. He tried not to think about Thomas or the fact that it wasn’t just their fake relationship that was over. Their friendship was too, and the pain of that loss dug sharp and deep.
Over the next few days, Rhys spent his time trying to dodge nosy relatives and to establish some semblance of a normal routine, but without work to distract him, he found it difficult to concentrate on much of anything. On the third day, he gave up any pretense of productivity. After breakfast, he caught up on email, most of it work-related, and then he went outside to sit in one of the rocking chairs on his front porch because he didn’t feel like doing anything else. There wasn’t much of a view of the mountains from the front of his house, but he could see them in the distance over the roofs across the street. He lost track of how long he sat there with a beer in hand, keeping the chair rocking slowly with his foot, until he was distracted by the rhythmic click of footsteps on the sidewalk. He glanced in the direction the sound was coming from and saw his mother approaching. She had a casserole dish in her hands and a concerned expression on her face.
“I’m fine, Mama,” he said. “It was a breakup, not a death. You didn’t have to bring a casserole.”
“I’m not a fool, Rhys McAlistair Sutton, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat me like one,” she said as she climbed the steps onto the porch. “I’m going to go put this in your fridge, and then we’re going to talk. Do you want anything while I’m inside?”
He almost said “peace and quiet,” but he knew better than to voice that kind of sass aloud. “Another beer, please?” he asked instead.
She took his empty bottle and went inside, and when she returned to the porch, she handed over a chilled bottle, vapor still curling out of the neck. He accepted it with murmured thanks, but his stomach was churning too much for him to risk taking a sip just yet. Viv sat down in the rocking chair next to his with a quiet sigh, and they rocked in silence for a few minutes.
“Thomas told me the truth,” Viv said at last, her tone conversational. “That you and he weren’t really dating. What I want to know is why you felt the need to lie to me. To all of us.”
Rhys shrank in his chair a little, feeling like he was six years old again with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “You jumped to conclusions just like the reporter who published that picture,” he pointed out. “You saw what you wanted to see, and I hated the thought of disappointing you.”
“So you lied?” Viv shifted to face him, her expression incredulous. “What did you imagine would happen when the truth came out?”
“I hoped it wouldn’t,” he said. “I thought we could pretend to date for a while and then manufacture a breakup. That way, you’d be satisfied that I’d at least tried to get back into the dating pool again, and I wouldn’t have to hear all about grief counseling and how it would be healthier if I moved on with someone new.”
“In other words, you saw this as a chance to get me off your back,” Viv said in a sardonic drawl, and Rhys squirmed a little.
“I mean, I wouldn’t have put it that way, but…”
“But that’s exactly what you did.” She pursed her lips in a disapproving moue. “I swear, I never intended to raise such a selfish, cowardly child, and yet here you sit.”
Rhys sat up straight, indignant over the accusation. “How was I selfish? I didn’t coerce Thomas into coming here. He chose to do it.”
Viv tutted and shook her head. “You were selfish because you were willing to lie and hurt me, your father, and the rest of the family. Why? Because you were tired of hearing what you knew was the truth. You’ve been running from your grief ever since Andy died. I’ve tried to steer you off that path, but you’ve been bound and determined to stay on it. You were selfish because you were willing to drag Thomas into your mess and hurt him too. You’re a coward because you drove him away instead of giving a real relationship a chance.”
