There’s no denying that Greg earned his trust over the last six months. One withheld interview can’t change that. Julien couldn’t have told Greg about his parents, taken Greg to his sacred paint-and-sip, and let Greg fuck him without a condom if he hadn’t.
So he should let Greg know that he has a choice. Julien will choose Greg if Greg wants to choose him back. Even if that also means choosing to overcome misunderstandings, lifestyle differences, and the new state line between them.
Because Julien knows in his heart that Greg is worth it.
After all of this, he just hopes Greg feels the same.
Twenty-Seven
GREG
“Surprise!” the entire staff shouts when Greg enters Martin’s Place. A metallic banner reading Happy Going-Away, Greg! hangs over their heads.
Weird phrasing. Weird feelings. Greg wants to rip down the banner and run away.
Or rather, run back.
He doesn’t want to leave. Even if that still means he can’t be with Julien.
Ever since he dipped out of Stryker’s apartment on Sunday morning while Stryker was still sleeping, Greg’s been stuck wondering how he can take it all back, even if his bartending gig is up on Indeed and his room in Rufus’s house is up on Zillow.
Greg thought it was odd when he got the text from Augustine telling him to come in an hour later than usual, but he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it since he is leaving them in a lurch. As far as he could tell over the past week, they weren’t being inundated with applicants to replace him, and the few they did get weren’t qualified enough. Greg swears he wasn’t eavesdropping, but it’s not a big restaurant.
Julien stands behind the bar, two acrylic drink dispensers filled with liquid and fruit before him. Greg’s heart aches. But with no job and no place to live in Allentown, what’s he supposed to do?
“Aw, thanks, everyone,” Greg says to muffle the shouting in his head.Retreat! Retreat!Because that’s not how he works.
When the academy spat him out after graduation, he booked a one-way ticket to New York City.Go! Go!When he got the offer to work at Martin’s Place after credit card debt and Stryker’s rejection ran him out of New York City, he packed up his life once again.Go! Go!
For once, he’d like the merry-go-round of his life to stop. He wants to get off his horse, plop down in one of those rocking benches (preferably next to Julien), and hash this out. This is wishful thinking, but maybe looking on the bright side doesn’t always have to be a coping mechanism. Maybe sometimes it can be a strength.
Augustine steps forward, extends an ecru-colored envelope out to Greg. “We wanted to give you a proper send-off. A thank-you from us to you for all the amazing work you did here with us. We’re gonna miss you, Harlow.”
The card might as well be a brick. It weighs him down. He wants to tie it to his ankle so they can’t drag him out of there at the end of the night. Of course, he’s got one more shift tomorrow, but it’s a quick one, and Fridays are too busy for all this.
The crowd steps aside, and Rufus and Jessica stand there. On their heads are pointy paper party hats. In their hands are noisemakers that unroll and whizz.
Greg wants to, but won’t, cry.
Everyone lines up for a glass of sangria, conversations break off, and Greg gets a ton of pats on the back, lots of voicings of “good luck.” He’ll miss these people, especially because the smells and faces and everyday gossip have become commonplace and comforting. Will he find that at his new job?
Bar Deco has already begun advertising his start.COME GET SERVED BY GOODWITHHISHANDSHARLOW.When his new boss texted him the picture, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. In Allentown, he got to be Greg, and that photo illustrated that once he returned to New York, he’d be reduced to his handle once again. A personality. A body. A means to an end.
Martin comes around. “Let’s get a little sangria in you before we send you on your way.”
Greg had purposefully been avoiding the line. Everyone was limited to one glass, but he overdid it over the weekend. He needed to be sober, even if that would make the whole evening harder to endure. Plus, he didn’t want to have to be served by Julien. If they could say goodbye from afar, it would be easier. Less painful.
“Eh, I—”
“I insist.”
By the time Greg reaches the front of the line, Martin has disappeared and so has a good amount of the sangria. Nervously, Greg meets Julien’s eyes. Arresting him to the spot. “You made the sangria without me...”
“I did,” Julien confesses. “I came in early. I wanted you to be able to enjoy your celebration.”
“I’ve been so busy packing that I forgot to even send over inspiration for the mix.” Greg scratches the back of his neck so he has something to do with his fidgety hands. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I figured it out.” Julien has the ingredient cards on their shiny metal sticks facing backward. He gives Greg the tiniest, sweetest smile. “Can I offer you some white?”
