“Stella,” I hear Matthew hiss from just outside the door. “Stella, I know you’re in there!”
When I don’t say anything, he bursts through the door and flicks on the light, exposing my half-ass hiding place. But that seems to be as far as his brilliant plan goes, because he just stands there across from me, lips shut tightly like he’s trying not to breathe.
“Look,” I reach my hands out like I’m facing a wild animal. “You don’t have to say anything. This is as awkward for me as it is for you.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Matthew quips as he leans into the counter. But he doesn’t look so untouchable now—the arrogant Matthew I’ve known has left the building. Instead, he looks vulnerable. He looksnervous.
“I could tell you it wasn’t what it looked like,” he says, looking down at his Vela Bianca slippers, “but that seems like a pointless exercise.”
I clear my throat.
“How long have you two been…”
“Together?” Matthew shrugs. He still can’t bring himself to make eye contact with me, so his gaze darts around the room until it settles on the pristine stove. “I don’t know. Six years?”
“Sixyears?”I gasp.
“Not all at once,” he protests. “It started in college, although it wasn’t really anything then—at least that’s what I told myself. I was still seeing other people. Girls. Doing what I was supposed to.”
“What about all the women? The tabloids?”
Matthew shrugs.
“Just photos. Mostly. Sometimes when we’re in Europe, we’ll meet someone who both of us?—“
“Ok,” I stop him, putting up my hand before he defiles my ears with the details of his sex life. “I don’t need the specifics.”
Matthew sighs.
“So, nobody knows?”
Matthew shakes his head.
“Steven’s family are ultra-conservative. And his dad is my father’s business partner. But even if he wasn’t…”
Matthew’s eyes roll upwards and he pinches the bridge of his nose. I know that move. It’s big strong man for “I’m not crying.” I remember Dr. V pulling it on me right after he told me he was leaving me for discount Dolly Parton, because it was just “so hard” for him to see me hurt. But Matthews near-tears seem somehow more genuine.
“I’m a Warren,” he tells me. “This part of me… it doesn’t fit. I’m supposed to join the board and marry a Kennedy.”
Have I really been so focused on my own drama that I’ve missed this? Matthew may be a narcissistic twat, but he’s far from untouchable.
He’s just as afraid of disappointing his family as I am.
“Matthew,” I say carefully, “your parents adore you. So does Harry. You don’t think they’d understand?”
Matthew looks at me like I’m the village idiot.
“How many gay billionaires do you know, Stella?”
I screw up my face at him.
“Matthew, I know this may come as a shock to you but… I don’t knowanybillionaires.”
That makes him laugh, just a little. But it’s enough to shake up the dark cloud that’s been hanging over his head since he came in.
“Please,” he begs me, and I can hear the desperation in his voice. “Don’t tell them. I know I probably don’t deserve anyfavors from you, but they already think I’m a mess. I don’t need to give them one more reason to be disappointed.”
I pause for a second, because maybe there’s a tiny part of me that wants to let him sweat it out, before I grab his hand. A look of utter shock comes over his face, but there’s no malice in it.
