"And if I hadn't?"
"Then I would have come to you eventually. I wasn't going to let you disappear forever." His eyes met mine again. "But I wanted you to choose to let me in. I was tired of always being the one to force my way through your walls."
The hurt in his voice was raw and real, not just anger about the wedding or the running, but something deeper. Years of me keeping him at arm's length, handling things alone, never asking for help even when he offered.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Not for running; I had to do that. But for not telling you, for not trusting you, for making you wait and wonder if I'd ever let you back in."
He was quiet for a moment, then reached across the table and gripped my hand.
"Don't do it again. Whatever happens next, with Mom, with Dad, with everything, you talk to me first. You don't disappear. You don't handle it alone."
"I promise."
"I mean it, Tobias."
"I know. I promise."
"Now." Tristan's voice shifted, some of the tension easing. "Tell me about the guy in the parking lot who looks like he's about to break down the door."
I couldn't help but smile. "His name is Vance."
"The security guard from the hotel."
"Former head of security. He helped me escape and gave me a place to hide."
"And now?"
"Now he's..." I searched for the words. "He's the reason I figured it out."
"Figured what out?"
I met my brother's eyes. "Why I couldn't marry Elizabeth. Why I never felt what I was supposed to feel." I took a breath. "I'm gay. I think I always knew, deep down. But I couldn't see it until I met him."
Tristan nodded slowly, as if this was confirmation rather than news.
"I wondered. That night with the scotch." He squeezed my hand. "I'm glad you finally know."
"You're not surprised?"
"Tobias, you showed no interest in every woman who crossed your path for twenty-six years. I had my suspicions." A small smile. "I'm just glad you found someone who makes you happy."
"He does. He really does."
"Good." Tristan leaned back. "Then I want to meet him properly."
We walked out to the parking lot together. Vance straightened when he saw us approaching, his whole body alert.
"Tristan, this is Vance." I reached for Vance's hand, lacing my fingers through his. "Vance, my brother."
Tristan extended his hand. Vance hesitated, then shook it.
"Thank you," Tristan said. "For helping him. For giving him a safe space."
"He doesn't need protection. He just needed space to figure things out."
Tristan studied him. The guarded stance, the watchful eyes, the way he positioned himself slightly in front of me.
"Former Army," Tristan said. "Head of security at the Grandview for six years. No criminal record. Good credit." His mouth quirked. "You check out."
