About the Langfords. About Langford Development Group—three generations of building Manhattan's skyline, reshaping neighborhoods, turning empty lots into empires. About privilege and comfort, everything handed to me on a silver platter. About expectations, legacy, and the weight of a name respected for generations.
I told him about Tristan, my older brother. The heir apparent. The one destined for greatness while I floated in his wake, the spare son, the insurance policy, the one with no real purpose except to exist in case something happened to the first.
"I did everything right," I said. "Columbia. Architecture and real estate development, double major. Graduated with honors, joined the family company like a good Langford." I swirled the bourbon in my glass. "But Tristan was being groomed to takeover. I was just... decoration. Three years of attending board meetings where no one asked my opinion. Reviewing blueprints that had already been approved. Sitting in on client dinners to fill an empty chair."
"You have two degrees and they made you a placeholder?"
"I had ideas. Good ones, I think. A historic preservation project in Brooklyn, adaptive reuse of old factory buildings. I put together a whole proposal." I laughed, but it came out bitter. "My father said it was 'charming' and put it in a drawer. Tristan got the real projects. I got event planning and photo opportunities."
"So why the wedding?"
"Because I thought if I couldn't contribute like Tristan, at least I could do this. Be useful. Make the alliance my parents wanted. Give them something they could use."
"Alliance?"
"The Ashworths. Old money, good connections, a daughter who needed a husband. Elizabeth was perfect on paper." I stared at the candle flame. "Kind, intelligent, beautiful. Everything I should have wanted."
"But you didn't."
It wasn't a question. He'd figured it out—maybe from the beginning. A man doesn't run from his wedding to hide in another man's apartment without a reason.
"I couldn't." I took a breath. "I've never wanted women. Never felt that spark, that pull everyone talks about. I dated them because I was supposed to. Kissed them because it was expected. But there was never anything there."
Vance was quiet for a moment, processing. "Does Elizabeth know?"
"That I'm gay?" I shook my head. "No. Nobody knows. Except for my brother Tristan."
"He knows?"
"I told him junior year of college. We were drunk, and he was going on about some girl he was seeing, and I just..." I took a long drink of bourbon. "I told him I'd never felt that way about anyone. About any woman. He looked at me and said, 'Yeah. I figured.'"
"He suspected?"
"He's observant like that. Noticed things I thought I was hiding." The memory was warm, even now. The relief of finally saying it out loud. The way Tristan had just nodded, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "He told me it didn't change anything. That I was still his brother."
Vance's hand found mine in the darkness. He squeezed.
"And your parents?"
"They don't know. I never told them." I traced a finger along the rim of my glass. "I thought about it once. But my mother—she has these ideas about what a Langford should be. And my father only cares about legacy, about the family name. I knew they wouldn't understand."
"So you hid."
"I hid. For years. Dated women I felt nothing for, smiled at parties, played the perfect son." My voice was steady, but my chest was tight. "I thought if I performed well enough, the feelings would go away. Or at least stop mattering."
"Did they?"
"No." The word came out raw. "I felt nothing for Elizabeth. For eighteen months, I dated her, held her hand, kissed her goodnight. And I felt absolutely nothing. Just guilt."
We sat in silence. Vance's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, a steady point of contact in the darkness.
"Tristan didn't come to the wedding," I said finally.
"Because he knew?"
"He was the only one who knew the truth. When I told him about the engagement, he just looked at me with this expression—" I shook my head. "Disappointment. Not at me. For me."
"What did he say?"
