Page 84 of The Invisible Roommate

“Do we get to meet him?” Gavin asked, sporting a smile so encouraging it inflated Gerard until he remembered where Emory was.

“He’s … he’s a bit tied up at the moment.” Guilt weaseled around in his chest. He should’ve been there, talking with Emory and reassuring him everything would be okay, but even if he could extricate himself from this laborious conversation, how would he have carved his way through the thicket of fans who had come to snap his picture and post that he hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth?

“What happened to Toby?” Garret asked. Gavin hit him with a Dude, did you really just say that? look.

“You knew about me and Toby?” Gerard asked, shocked.

“You don’t run up room service bills like yours if you’re spending your nights alone,” his father said, but there was much less of an edge to it.

“We all knew,” Gavin said, delivering the news more gently than the others. “We figured you’d tell us in your own time.”

“Whether it was serious or just a phase,” his father added.

This time, it was Garret who came to his defense. “Dad, I think maybe you should let us do the rest of the talking.”

His father raised a finger in protest but backed off. The veneer fell away, if only for a moment, leaving them all locked in an emotional stalemate. Where did they go from here?

“Look, Ger, the helicopter is waiting. It’s not safe for you to stay here with all those fans camped outside. They know where you are. Two bodyguards aren’t going to keep you safe, and I’m sure Regina wants her lawn back. Nobody is telling you that you can’t come back here, but the Nomeys are a week away.” Gavin used a firm yet understanding tone. “We’re nominated as a group. We should rehearse and perform as a group. Even if it’s our last time.”

“It won’t be—” their father started.

“Seriously, Dad. Cool it.” Garret shook his head. Gerard was grateful and half-proud of him.

“I can’t go without seeing Emory,” Gerard said. Despite his desire to leave the band and the industry, he didn’t want everything to implode because of his stubbornness. One final performance wouldn’t kill him, and if he was entirely honest with himself, winning a Nomey would allow him to go out on a high.

“Can he come here?” Gavin asked.

Gerard knew he’d have to tell his family the truth about Emory eventually, but right now he’d already shared too much. “Not at present.”

“We’re all going to have to make some concessions here,” his father said, less of a demand and more of a sigh. “Your mother wants to see you. She’s worried about you. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

At that, Gerard acquiesced. Gerard could return to New Jersey, reassure his mother, settle his obligations, perform at the Nomeys, and then come right back to this homey apartment with the newly visible man that he loved.

It wasn’t a perfect plan. It wasn’t even really a plan at all. And maybe that was the true marker that his time on Iping and with Emory had changed him. He was ready to accept that even the best-laid plans had their unseen surprises; he had to embrace them.

“Fine. I’ll go,” he said. “But I need to do something first.”

39Emory

On Emory’s first walk of freedom, sun slipping down off its peak and fresh autumn air swirling around him, a waterlogged poster board crossed his path.

Emory pressed his foot to the corner so it didn’t blow away before he read it.

I GERARD WELLS

The words were written in thick black marker, and the heart was bright red and coated in glitter. Dirt and bay water crinkled the edges and smudged the ink, but the message shone through. Feeling sentimental, he brought it home with him, thinking of it as his first act of community service. He did promise Sergeant Adye he’d pick up litter and storm debris for the foreseeable future.

Surprisingly, none of the Ipingers wanted to press charges against him.

Earlier, Sergeant Adye had said, “Everyone was impressed by your grand apology. It took guts to confess the way you did. It was a little dramatic for my taste, but … in my thirty years of police work, I never seen such a display. Here on Iping, we value honesty, and we look after our own.”

Confusion had crunched in Emory’s chest, even as joy sparked in his stomach. “But I’m not an islander.”

“Some people are born on the island, and some people are called to the island. Don’t make much difference either way when we all get buried here at one time or another.” His gaze oozed empathy through the obscuring bars. “That’s how family works.”

“They consider me family after I scared them, and I stole from them?” he’d asked, wondering if he’d repented enough for this level of grace.

Sergeant Adye raised a bushy black eyebrow. “Nobody said family is perfect. Half the time you don’t even like ’em. But you look out for them just the same.”