“Really? You don’t feel like I was lying to you?”
“About what?”
“My family. Our past. All the drama. I just—”
“No,” he cut me off. “That has nothing to do with lying. That’s their shit. Not yours.” He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around my back, holding me firmly against his solid body. “We’re good, Randall. And we’re going to get through this. I promise.”
Chapter Sixteen
THE FRONTdoors of my parents’ house had never seemed so imposing. I stood in front of them, trying to prepare myself. I’d tried to every second on the drive from Seattle to Mercer Island. I wasn’t any closer. How did a person talk to his parents about taking money for sex? It was more than enough of an overshare to come out as gay all those years ago. To have to confirm everything they were reading was true?
Dear Lord.
I’d wanted to run away from the Northwest countless times in my life, but never as much as this moment.
The summons had arrived in the form of a text from Dustin about half an hour after I saw the article in theSeattle Weekly. And a summons was exactly what it was.
Family Meeting. House. 3PM. Do not bring Noah.
That I even noticed the command among the myriad of calls from reporters was a miracle. Not to mention a testament to how much I didn’t want to do this, and how much worse it would be in front of my boyfriend, that I didn’t bring Noah, just because of that text message. However, the need to save some face in front of Noah was even more powerful than my rancor at being told what to do. I also didn’t let Noah see the text. All bets would have been off. Instead I simply told him it was something I needed to do alone.
I’d been vulnerable enough in front of him the past few days. I couldn’t take any more. Plus there was the high chance this family meeting would melt down into a family yelling match, of which I doubted I could refrain from taking part. He didn’t need to see me like that. No one did.
Feeling like I was pulling my own guillotine lever, I stretched out my finger and pressed the door chime.
In mere seconds, Pearl opened the door, a quizzical expression on her face.
“Thanks, Pearl.” I stepped into the house.
The maid didn’t respond. She simply shut the door, cutting off the gloomy day outside. Not that the inside the house was any more cheerful.
Pearl motioned past the entryway. “They’re waiting for you in the great room.”
I bet they were. “Thanks again, Pearl.”
She dipped her head and waited for me to pass.
Trying and utterly failing to take deep breaths as I walked through the entryway, I suddenly realized why Pearl had looked at me so strangely. I paused, looking back at her and the doorway.
I’d rung the doorbell. To my own family’s home. I didn’t use my key or go around back like I normally did. I rang the doorbell like a stranger or guest.
Or a victim.
I attempted a smile at Pearl as she lifted her brows at me, then turned back around. She probably thought I was nuts. Well, whatever. Nuts was better than what most people were thinking about me at the moment.
And then I was in the great room. The three of them were seated on one of the long sofas. Dad in the middle. Mom and Dustin on either side. They looked awkward sitting there. Facing the empty couch.
The three of them. Judge. Jury. Executioner.
I crossed the room and sat where I knew I was expected to go. The empty couch. The witness stand. Maybe the death chamber.
Dustin spoke before my ass hit the cushions. “Too good to let yourself in through the door, Randall? Now that you’re famous, you finally don’t think you’re on the same bar as the maid?”
“Dustin, enough.” Dad didn’t turn to look at him, but kept his eyes firmly trained on me.
I glanced at Mom, who didn’t seem able to meet my gaze. I turned back to Dad, meeting his eyes. “I thought we were having a family meeting. Where’s Kayla?”
Dustin answered, “She’s with Bailey, of course. Hardly appropriate to have a child hear this conversation.”
