Prologue

PROLOGUE

“What was I thinking? What the actual fuck was I thinking? This was a bad idea. Everything’s going to go wrong. I know it. I mean, it’s going to end in fucking disaster. And humiliation. And years of therapy… I mean years .”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Noah. Could you stop being so dramatic?”

“And could you stop being so calm?” I asked straight back as we hustled past our party guests, Margot and I each carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres that had been picked half clean. “I’m teetering on the brink of a world-class panic attack right now, so if you wouldn’t mind taking off your sensible book agent’s hat and replacing it with your sympathetic best friend’s hat, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Margot pointed to the top of her head. “This is my sympathetic best friend’s hat, and it’s telling me to tell you that Joel’s birthday is going to go off without a hitch. Trust me, everything is going to go swimmingly tonight.”

“Swimmingly? Oh fuck, now I know I should be worried.”

Margot flicked her fiery red hair defensively. “Why?”

“Because you only ever use jargon from the fifties when you’re pretending not to be stressed.” I held my tray high as I weaved through the living room of our Greenwich Village brownstone, now crowded with sixty of Joel’s and my nearest and dearest friends. As I approached the kitchen I called out to Carol and her new boy toy—“Coming through!”—before bumping open the door with my ass.

I plonked the tray down on the kitchen counter, opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a fresh tray, before spinning around so fast I almost crashed straight into one of Joel’s college pals. “Jesus, Pete! Watch out for the deviled eggs. What are you doing in here? You know the kitchen is off-limits when I’m hosting.”

“I’m looking for some tape. One of your ‘Happy Birthday’ signs has fallen down. By the way, how did you go getting your hands on those tickets to Ben Platt at Radio City Hall?”

“Not now, Pete.”

“It’s just that I was kinda hoping I could make it four tickets instead of two.”

“Seriously?”

“Not now, Pete,” said Margot, repeating after me as she rummaged through a kitchen drawer and slapped a roll of tape into Pete’s hand. “Now vamoose.”

I blinked, wide-eyed. “Vamoose? Fuck, you’re really stressing me out now. That word is older than Joel’s grandma’s deviled egg recipe.”

“I am not stressed. But I’d love you forever if you let me smoke right now. Please can I smoke?”

“Please can you not ask questions you already know the answer to!”

“Okay, okay. And maybe I’m a little stressed too. I’m simply trying to manage equal parts perplexity over your choice of retro hor d’oeuvres, and a very real concern that the slightest impact on your emotional state right now is going to slow down the delivery of your new manuscript to me. In fact, if I really thought about it, my stress is the result of your stress rubbing off on me.” She took the tray off me and set it down on the counter. “So, talk to me. What’s up with you? You’re supposed to be the devil-may-care journo who can charm his way into any A-lister’s dressing room or sweet-talk his way past security to steal a backstage interview not even Rolling Stone could nab. And yet here you are like some hysterical hostess with a fridge full of shrimp cocktails and a twitch so nervous it could make the dials on a Richter scale wanna dance. This isn’t you. The Noah Van Owen I know is cool, calm, and confident. He makes his own rules. He makes his own luck.”

“Yeah, well, this Noah Van Owen also makes his own crab cakes. Now would you mind passing me that tray so I can get these out to our guests?”

“Otherwise, what? The entire night will go to hell in a handbasket? It won’t. The world is not going to end tonight. Everything is going to be fine. Noah, repeat after me, everything is going to be—” I could see her thoughts ricocheting across her face. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me you invited Joel’s sister. Please tell me you didn’t invite Joel’s sister. What’s her name again? Vulva. Clitoris. Vagina.”

“Regina.”

“So close.”

“And if she knew you called her any of those names, I’m pretty sure she’d pull a few strings and have you banished to an eternity in hell.”

“Oh goodie, we can go together. Hasn’t she already booked you a one-way ticket, you and all of Dorothy’s other friends? What a party that’ll be. Ooh, I bet there’s deviled eggs on the menu down there too.”

“We can only pray. In the meantime, you’ll be happy to know there’ll be no other form of prayer tonight because no, I did not, nor would I ever, invite Regina to one of our gay soirees, whether it’s Joel’s birthday or not.” Suddenly something other than our conversation stole my attention. “Wait. Do you hear that?” I turned my ear toward the living room, then shouted so loud they would have heard me in Tribeca. “Lloyd! What the fuck is that you’re playing? Is that Nicki Minaj? Jesus, you had one job. Now put Dame Shirley Bassey on like I told you!” With a huff I turned back to Margot. “Where were we? Oh, that’s right… you were trying to convince me that—”

“Everything’s going to be fine.” She gave a long slow nod as though she was talking to someone who had just come out of a coma. “What are you worried about, burning the cheese fondue? Who cares? What’s the worst that can happen tonight?”

I relented and closed my eyes, although I kept an ear on the proceedings in the living room to make sure Lloyd did as he was told. “What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll tell you what’s the worst that can happen. The whole thing could be a complete catastrophe. What if Joel freaks out at the idea of a surprise party for his fortieth birthday? I know he’s Mr. Nice Guy. I know he’s the fun one everybody loves. I know he’s the one who lights up every room he walks into. But what if he’s had a bad day? What if his students frustrated the fuck out of him, or he couldn’t get a scholarship across the line for one of his precious prodigies, or the music didn’t… fall into place. He tells me that’s what he lives for, the days when the music just… falls into place. What if that didn’t happen today? What if the last thing he wants to do is have sixty of his closest friends shout ‘surprise’ in his face the moment he opens the door? What if all he wants to do is cuddle up with Chet on the couch and listen to records? Speaking of Chet… where is that stumpy-legged furball?”

I pushed open the door to the living room and called over the music and chatter, “Has anyone seen Chet? Where the hell’s Chet?”

Some of the party guests shook their heads, others helped me search behind furniture and under the couch before Andrea came down the stairs saying, “I just went to the bathroom and saw him through your bedroom door. I think he’s moping.”

“Moping? That dog’s just like his master, he loves a crowd.”

As I headed for the stairs, Robert caught me by the arm. “Noah, are you and Joel still on for the jazz club next Saturday night? Andrew wants to bring his cousin, he’s new in town. You guys don’t mind, right?”

“Sure. Whatever.” I cast my eye to the right. “Miranda, glasses off the Steinway. Do you want Joel to have a meltdown?”

It was a question I asked myself as well, as I started up the stairs, getting halfway up before I checked my watch. Joel would be home soon. I knew he was going to be later than usual, he told me in the voicemail message he’d left an hour earlier, but the minutes were ticking away.

When he’d phoned, I saw his name appear on the screen and desperately wanted to hear his voice. I never ignored his call, I loved hearing his voice. But guests were arriving, and cocktails were being mixed and fondue was bubbling on the stovetop, so I let the call go through to my messages and listened to it after I knew he’d hung up.

He said he was running a little late.

He said he had a letter to post in the mail, and after that he’d be straight home.

Who the fuck posted letters anymore?

I laughed again at the thought of him licking a stamp and putting it on an envelope and finding a mailbox on his way home, then from my spot halfway up the stairs I called back down to the party. “Lloyd, turn the music down. Everyone, Joel’s gonna be home any minute now so listen out for the doorbell. I took the house key off his key chain this morning without him realizing it, so the doorbell’s our only warning. The second you hear it, everyone hide.”

I hurried up the stairs to our bedroom. “Chet? Where are you?”

I dropped to my knees and craned my neck to see under the bed.

With his head resting on his front paws, Joel’s scruffy Russell Terrier glared at me sulkily as though I’d just thrown his favorite chew toys in the trash. “What the hell are you doing under there? It’s your daddy’s birthday. Come out and play. Do you have any idea how many pats and half-eaten Swedish meatballs are waiting for you downstairs?”

Chet gave a low, miserable grumble.

He and I had never really seen eye to eye. He was Joel’s dog, and the furry fucker liked to remind me of that fact on a daily basis. Joel had rescued Chet from a dog shelter when Chet was just a puppy. A year later, Joel rescued me from a string of terrible relationship choices. But even after the three of us had been together for eight years, Chet had an unwavering understanding of the pecking order in our household.

Joel was king.

Chet was his furry little prince.

And I was the servant who did all the cooking.

Yes, despite the fact that I was the freelance music journo turned author who worked mostly from home, keeping Chet company while Joel went to work at Juilliard every day—despite the fact that I had made it part of my routine to feed Chet and walk him to the local dog park twice a day where I scooped up his poop while he played with the other pooches—there was no breaking the bond between a master and his ever faithful hound. I was, undeniably, the bottom rung in this house.

“Daddy’s gonna want to see you when he gets home, so come on down and join the party.”

Another moody grumble.

“I’ve got drinks to pour and food in the oven, so if you don’t come out now, I’m just gonna leave you here to mope all by yourself.”

A cranky sigh.

“Last chance.”

This time he let out a fart.

“Nice. That’s real nice. You’re on your own, you stinky mutt.”

I let out an exasperated humph at Chet then a groan as I pulled myself up off the floor.

“I heard that,” came Margot’s voice from the doorway. “You’re thirty-eight years old, Noah. Creaky bones and old-man groans aren’t supposed to kick in till you’re at least fifty.”

“Trust me, it’s not the mileage. It’s the bumps in the road.”

“Chet giving you attitude again?”

I sat on the bed. “I kinda wanted him to be there when Joel got home. I just want everything to be perfect tonight.”

“And it will be.” Margot sat next to me on the bed. “Why are you so wound up about everything?” She stopped and eyed me with suspicion. “Wait a minute, there’s something more going on here. You’re not just nervous about this party going off without a hitch. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I bit my lip, but not even that could keep the secret any longer. “Actually, there is something I haven’t told you yet.”

In all honesty I had no idea why I hadn’t told Margot earlier. I guess when you’re about to ask the man of your dreams to marry you, your insecurities and doubts and fears of rejection are somewhat heightened… like through the fucking roof heightened… like on a clear day you can see forever heightened… like—

“Noah?” Margot’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. “Oh my God. You’re going to pop the question, aren’t you?”

I gulped nervously and all the words I was about to say went down the hatch too. All I could do was give a silent, slightly petrified nod.

Margot squeed and threw her arms around me. “Holy crap, I’m so happy for you! I’m so excited for you! And now I’m so stressed I think I could throw up. Oh jeepers!”

“Exactly my thoughts!”

“Relax, you’ll be fine. It’s all going to be just fine. Where’s the ring?”

With a trembling hand I scooped a small ring box out of my pocket and popped it open. It was a silver band with a treble clef engraved in it, with a small diamond set inside the circle in the tail of the musical symbol.

Margot sighed. “Noah, it’s beautiful.”

“You think he’ll like it?”

“Like it? He’s going to love it.”

“You think he’ll say yes?”

“Of course I do. Noah, you and Joel were made for each other. I’ve never known two people who are so happy, so perfect, so damn head over heels in love. This, my dear friend, is about to become the most memorable night of your life.”

Her words eased my nerves, and my heart swelled with confidence and joy.

And then the doorbell rang.

“Oh fuck, it’s him,” I gasped.

I clutched Margot’s hand for support as we hurried down the stairs together. In the living room, all our friends hushed their conversations, looking from me to the door and back again expectantly.

“It’s him. He’s here,” Lorna said, squeezing her fists excitedly.

“Quick, hide. Everyone hide!” Justin said to the crowd in a loud whisper.

“And be quiet,” Theo hushed, bringing the party to complete silence. “Everybody shush!”

The bell rang again.

I pushed past a bloom of helium balloons, hauled Margot to the front door with me and peered back to our guests one last time, mouthing “Ready?”

Everyone nodded, then ducked behind the furniture and squeezed into doorways, out of sight.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves, knowing that on the other side of that door was the man I loved, the one person in the world with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my days.

In that moment I knew I had nothing to be afraid of at all.

I knew he’d be thrilled to see all his friends gathered together to help him celebrate another milestone in this life.

I knew we’d spend the night laughing and drinking and dancing to his favorite songs.

And when I was ready to pop the question later that night, I knew he would smile his handsome smile and say “yes.” And after that we would spend the rest of our charmed lives together in each other’s arms. Just the two of us. And yes, Chet too.

As I saw our path ahead unfold so gracefully in my mind, a sense of calm overcame me.

My hand stopped trembling.

I reached for the door handle and pulled open the door.

And as I did, from behind me the entire room shouted, “Surprise!”

But in front of me stood not the man of my dreams… but a man and a woman in police uniform.

“Mr. Van Owen? Noah Van Owen?” the female officer asked me.

I glanced at Margot and saw a look of dread I’ll never forget wash over her face.

“Yes. That’s me.” My voice quivered.

“Do you know a Mr. Joel Matheson?”

“He’s… he’s my boyfriend. Is everything okay? It’s his birthday,” I muttered stupidly.

The female officer looked at her partner then back at me. “Mr. Van Owen, I’m afraid we have some bad news…”

My knees buckled before she could say another word.

Margot tried to catch me but I slipped through her arms and hit the ground hard.

My vision blurred…

The voices I heard all around me faded away…

Leaving nothing but the memory of a single word that would forever echo through the darkness…

“Surprise.”