20. Arlo

CHAPTER 20

Arlo

"I look ridiculous," I grumble, tugging at my collar as I look at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.

Ginny smooths the shoulders of my black tux down. "You look gorgeous," she assures me. "Boring, but gorgeous."

I sigh and turn around to look at her. "Do you really think you're going to get away with wearing that?" I ask, in awe of her bravery as always.

"It's a dress," she protests in mock outrage.

I crook an eyebrow. "It's a bright pink nineties bridesmaid dress that you dug out of a charity shop for a tenner that you've paired with red Doc Martens and a baseball cap."

I don't comment that the baseball cap is for the team that Thomas used to play for. I half want to kill her, half want to cry, and half want to send my Daddy a photo of it and tell him that not all my family hate him.

Yes, I'm made up of three halves now. That's about the state my brain is in.

Ginny snorts and twirls in her poofy dress. "The shop only wanted three quid for it. I insisted on ten. It's just so awful."

I wrinkle my nose. "It's so shiny. Did people really used to wear things like this to weddings?"

"The nineties were wild, babe. Anyway, your mum said I had to come to this stupid thing and that I had to wear a dress. I am complying with both of those requests."

"This is why you're not the one she's trying to matchmake," I say, giving up on tugging at my attire and heading for the door. "Everyone is going to avoid you like the plague."

"I know. It's glorious," she crows. "Right, come on. Let's go get pissed for free. That's always a silver lining."

Like me, Ginny has been determined to make her own way, and that means making her own money. But I don't blame her for taking advantage of family dos like this when they happen. My parents might be rubbish at many things, but they always get in the good booze, I have to admit.

We head along the corridor toward the stairs, and I slip my hand into my pocket, feeling the edges of my Bali magnet against the pad of my thumb. It's become my good luck charm, my comfort blanket. I've never gone anywhere without it since I came home.

It makes me feel like Thomas is close by, which is a good thing because he told me that work went crazy, and his phone has been turned off for long stretches of time over the past few days.

I've missed the hell out of him.

I'm pretty sure he's waiting for me to take the next steps in our relationship. How many times has he told me that I'm the one in charge? Texting has been great, and we've swapped a lot of photos, but I need to hear his voice, soon. See him smiling at me.

Earlier, I messaged to ask if he might want to video call later when all this nonsense is done. I have a strong feeling I'm going to need to debrief, and thanks to the time difference, it should still be early in the evening for him in New York.

The message hasn't been delivered, though. Hopefully, he'll turn his phone on in the next few hours. But if not, I'll call him tomorrow or the day after, whenever works for him.

I don't want him to think I'm giving up on him. In fact, when Pa casually mentioned that we have an office in New York a few days ago, my mind started whirling, thinking I could maybe talk my way into a trip there as part of my ‘getting up to speed' training. The idea of being able to visit Thomas in his home city makes me feel giddy.

As tumultuous as my thoughts are, I'm pulled from them as Ginny and I walk down the main staircase, coming into view of a couple dozen gala guests. I make myself push my shoulders back and loop my arm supportively through Ginny's as she beams at everyone, almost daring them to object to the ‘misogynistic display of femininity' she's been subjected to.

I agree with her. Why can't she just wear a suit if she wants to? It's still formal wear.

My mother appears out of nowhere, her horrified gaze traveling over the taffeta poofs that make up Ginny's shoulders and skirt, the scuffed boots, and the backward baseball cap with her short, dark hair poking out from underneath. A small bag that looks like a spider's web swings from her wrist. She deliberately went hard on the black eyeliner and blood-red lips to complete the look. If someone asked if she was the front woman for a rock band, I think I could convince them they were right.

"Great bash, Auntie," Ginny cries, slapping Mummy on her arm. "Arlington and I were just headed to the bar."

She tries to drag me away, but my mother lifts a hand and cuts us both an icy glare. "I need a moment with my son, Genevieve," she says, apparently choosing to forgo the argument with Ginny about her outfit.

"I'll get you a double," Ginny whispers not so subtly to me. I give her a small smile, then turn my attention to my mother.

"You look ravishing," I say automatically. It's true that she does cut an impressive figure in her dark blue body con dress, but as always, she just looks cold to me. Sharp. I'd never dare hug her at the best of times, but right now, she looks like an ice queen.

"Thank you, darling. I'm afraid you won't have much time to keep your cousin company tonight, however. Maryanne Sibson arrived a little while ago, and is waiting for you on the patio."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and manage a tight grimace that could pass for a smile instead. "Once I have my drink, I'll go say hello," I promise, intending to do no such thing. I'll probably have to interact with the terrible woman at some point, but I'm not going to be glued to her side. I doubt either of us wants that. Unless something's drastically changed, Maryanne likes me about as much as I like her.

But my mother grabs my elbow and digs her nails in through my suit jacket and shirt, ignoring my protest as she begins marching me toward the back of the house where our patio opens out onto a lawn large enough to be a golf course.

"You will not embarrass this family at our own event. Is that clear?"

"Mummy?" I squeak. "I'm not going to do anything of the sort. But you've got to understand that Maryanne Sibson and I are a terrible match. She's not interested in me. I can assure you."

"That's because you haven't tried hard enough," she snips back. "I'm completely done with your selfishness and immaturity, Arlington. Your father and I have given you everything, and you disrespect us at every turn. Well, I've let you have your fun, but that ends tonight."

We stumble outside, and she releases me, smiling and mouthing hello to a few people nearby. Most of the guests are still inside, hovering by the buffet tables and the silent auction display. If anyone questions why my mother is harassing her twenty-five-year-old son, nobody says anything.

"Fine," I snap, unable to keep my anger from bubbling over. "I shall talk with Miss Sibson. But if you're expecting anything more than that, I'm afraid you're going to be deeply disappointed."

She looks at me coolly. "And why would I be disappointed?"

"You know why," I grit out.

Her laugh is more than cool. It's arctic. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Arlington. Now stop whining like a child and take this."

From her clutch bag, she pulls out a small velvet box. I can't help but gape. "And what is that?"

"Your grandmother's ring," she says smugly, opening the little box to reveal a gold band with several enormous sapphires set into it. It matches her dress, which I think is weird on so many levels. But I'm too furious to make any psycho-sexual jokes right now.

"And what am I supposed to do with that?" I bite out.

She's still calmly offering it up for me to take, which I refuse to do. "Maybe not tonight," she says with a titter. "But you might as well hold onto it for when the time is right."

For a second, I just stare at her, blinking slowly. "You know this is insane, right? I'm not going to propose to a girl I hardly know and really don't like just because you snap your fingers."

Finally, she seems to get that I'm serious. She clenches her jaw and glares at me, shutting the ring box and thrusting it back into her clutch. "If it will stop you from running off to Asia and acting like a little whore , I'll do anything and everything in my power. You are my son, and you will not tarnish my reputation like this, Arlington!"

My blood runs cold. "W-what?"

This time her laugh isn't cold. It's hot and nasty. "Did you really think we didn't know, darling? Of course we wanted to believe that little story you told us. But we trusted you, and look where that got us. A retreat for perverts? I was mortified. So, yes. If I have to arrange your engagement to make you see sense, I will. This is not a game, young man, and you will behave."

I can feel the tears forming in my eyes, but I do everything in my power to keep them at bay. So for several long moments, I stare at the woman who gave birth to me, and wonder what I ever did to make her hate me so much.

Then all hell breaks loose.

"LOOK!" Ginny yells as she comes skidding out onto the patio, two glasses of Champagne clutched in her hands. "Look over there!"

A dozen more guests come spilling out of the house, all talking over one another as they point out over the lawn. I'd been facing Mummy and had my back to the darkness of the garden. But as I turn around now, I see there are lights in the sky.

"It looks like a helicopter is landing," I say, not quite sure I can believe my eyes.

Ginny thrusts one of the Champagne flutes into my hands. "It certainly does, babe. Let's go say hello!"

"What? Wait!" my mother barks, but Ginny has already grabbed me by the hand and is dragging me across the grass. Several other guests are beside us, carefully approaching the helicopter as it touches down. Ginny lets go of me to grip her hat down on her head, stopping it from blowing away.

My heart is hammering in my chest. I don't know why I let Ginny push us to the front. I should go back inside. This could be dangerous, after all. My recent experiences have made me slightly less na?ve, which is probably a good thing. But it's like my feet are rooted to the spot. I have to know who has the audacity to crash my parents' party in such a spectacular fashion.

In hindsight, I really should have known.

As the helicopter settles, people jostle around me, but everyone respects the invisible line we've decided not to cross for safety. I'm intrigued, but not enough to risk getting too close to one of those still-spinning blades.

As the whole thing gradually powers down, the main door slides open, revealing a single passenger inside.

He scans the crowd anxiously while my mouth just hangs open.

He can't see me in the darkness.

"Thomas?" I croak.

"Thomas!" Ginny shrieks.

"Arlo?" he calls out hopefully.

Safety be damned. I lurch forward, throwing myself at the helicopter and the man who's half climbed out of it.

"Daddy," I sob, not caring if anyone hears me or not as I throw myself into his arms, my Champagne glass dropping to the ground.

He bellows as he wraps his arms around me and picks me off the ground with the force of his hug. I can't stop myself from bursting into tears, and I melt against his familiar body, drinking in his unique scent and just generally basking in everything he is.

"You're here?" I squeak in disbelief as he steadies me back on my feet. My gaze skitters over his body, which is always amazing, but right now? Whoa. "You look incredible," I splutter.

He grins and gives me a little twirl, and my heart almost explodes. He's in a full top hat and tails with a white carnation in the buttonhole of his black jacket. "If I was going to be your date, I had to dress the part," he says with a wink.

"My date?" I repeat. The helicopter has mostly died down now, so I'm aware that people will be able to hear him if they're paying attention.

I don't care.

He winks at me. "Yeah, baby boy. I heard there was a shindig going down and you needed a date."

Before I can make my flabbergasted brain muster up a response, a vibrating body appears by my side. "Mr. Beltran," Ginny practically yells as she thrusts her hand out toward him. "Big fan, huge. So nice to meet you."

Thomas looks at me warily. "Oh…you like hockey?" he asks, glancing at her baseball cap.

Ginny frowns. "Oh, yeah, that's the thing you do. Or did, I guess." She retracts her hand and uses it to yank her hat off her head. "I'm more a fan of you, if I'm being honest."

She shoves the cap onto my head instead, ruining my perfect hair that I spent ages on.

Hair I just wanted to make Mummy happy.

I readjust the cap and grin at my Daddy. "She's a big fan of you," I repeat with a wink of my own.

He looks between us and laughs. "In that case, I'm Thomas. Nice to meet you."

"Ginny," she informs him. "Arlo's cousin."

"Arlo," he repeats fondly.

Yeah, she knows my real name, Daddy. She's cool.

"What is the meaning of this!" My father comes storming up to us with my mother by his side. I wince, but I refuse to back down.

In fact, I stun everyone by stepping next to Thomas and letting him slip his arm around me.

My parents look like they're going to go nuclear.

"Arlington?" my mother spits.

"My name is Arlo," I tell her, shaking but determined not to back down. "And this…this is my date."

My mother splutters out a laugh and looks around at all the guests. Interestingly, Maryanne fucking Sibson is so invested in this situation, she's nowhere to be seen.

"Don't be silly, Arlington. This is…um…I mean…"

"Sir, you are trespassing," my father snarls.

Thomas shrugs, and if possible, my heart really does detonate.

He's not afraid of my parents.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Hythe-Wandsworth. But I was worried about my boyfriend here. I don't think he's been very happy since he came back from his trip."

Ginny stifles a scream, but only just. I don't blame her. Boyfriend? I had no idea one word could make me so delirious. My mother isn't so fortunate. Her scream is also not the happy kind. "Don't be so vulgar, young man. My son is just about to get engaged?—"

"Oh, Mummy, enough!" I explode.

It's loud enough that it does actually render her mute. In fact, everyone is now silently staring at me.

Good.

"I'm gay," I say for the first time in my life to my parents. "I've known I was gay since I was seven years old, and if you're honest with yourself, so did you. I refuse to stay closeted in front of all these people just to make you happy. Everybody, are you listening? I! Am! Gay! Arlington Hythe-Wandsworth is as gay as a Christmas tree! Did everybody hear that?"

My mother looks like she's going to faint. My father has his disappointed face on. All I care about is that Thomas hugs me tightly to him, and Ginny punches the air with a "Yesss!"

"I'm so proud of you," Thomas says.

"Fine," my father bites out. "This is all very adorable. What was your plan after this little stunt, Mr. …?"

"Beltran," Ginny provides with great enthusiasm. "Thomas Beltran, the multi-millionaire ex-hockey player. And Arlo's his boyfriend. Mr. Beltran's fans are going to adore him. Isn't that right, Mr. Beltran?"

Thomas grins at my ridiculous cousin. "If Arlo is comfortable going public, I know they're going to be obsessed with him. But only if that's what he wants."

I turn to see him looking at me with such love it snatches my breath away. "I want to be with you so loudly and proudly," I tell him, my voice catching with emotion. "I'm done living this false life. I want to be with you and be real."

"Young man," my father snaps. I look at him, tall, slim, gray, and pinched. Joyless. I don't know why I've been afraid of him all this time. "You have responsibilities. Whatever you're thinking, you can't just walk away from this family or our company."

Something wholly reckless sweeps over me like a wave from the beach in Bali.

"And what would you do about it if I got on this helicopter and never came back?" I ask, genuinely curious.

A gasp sweeps through the crowd.

Both my parents' mouths drop open. "You'd be penniless," my mother eventually manages to utter.

Wow. Of course that's all she can say. Not that she'd miss me or that she loves me enough to change her mind. It hurts, but it's not surprising.

Thomas barks out a laugh. He looks at me before tenderly kissing the top of my head. Then he looks at my parents. "With all due respect, ma'am, he really, really wouldn't be penniless."

"I want to go with you," I blurt. It all seems crystal clear to me now.

"Of course, Arlo," Thomas says. I can tell he wants to call me Lolo, but that can come later.

We have all the time in the world for that.

I can also tell that he doesn't understand me.

I shake my head. "Not for the evening, not for a visit. I…I want to go back with you to New York. Indefinitely. I want to try living near you and dating you and starting a new life all of my own. There's nothing for me here." Horror grips me and I jerk my head to look at Ginny. "Except you, of course!"

She looks at me like I might be clinically insane. "What are you talking about? Fuck off out of here! If I miss you, I'll come to New York City because that really is not a chore. Hell. Get in this contraption right now, and I will go shove all your shit into bags and ship it to you. Do you hear me?"

I smile weakly at her. "Yes, ma'am." Then I look at Thomas. "Is that okay with you?"

He shakes his head, and for a heart-stopping moment, I worry I've really fucked everything up.

"You're not going to live near me, baby. You're going to live with me. If that's okay, then we can leave right now."

The tears I was fighting back spill as I half sob, half laugh, and kiss him in front of everyone, my parents be damned. "Let's go," I whisper.

"Wait!" Ginny throws up her hand to stop us from boarding the helicopter. "One final thought."

I stare at her and eventually give into her dramatics. "Yes?" I prompt.

She grins like the cat that found the cream. "They can't marry you off if you're already married. Just an idea." She downs her Champagne then launches into a sprint, possibly going to my bedroom to pack my stuff before anyone stops her. "I'll courier your passport tomorrow!" she yells as she disappears into the darkness.

But I'm too much in shock to really process that, turning to look at Thomas. "I mean…she's got a point. And it might help with US citizenship?"

"Is that your way of asking for another passport to lose?" Thomas asks, but he's tearful too, showing how not-crazy he thinks this idea is. He kisses the back of my hand, then leads me toward the helicopter.

"Arlington Hythe-Wandsworth!" my mother screams.

I glance over my shoulder.

"That's not my name," I say without much emotion. "Good-bye, Mummy. Good-bye, Pa. Take care of yourselves."

I step up into the helicopter and into the next chapter of my life. Thomas yells something at the pilot, and the blades start whirring again. The throng on the grass immediately step backward, giving us room.

I'm safe.

I've escaped.

It doesn't seem real, but as Thomas gently settles a headset on me, I know it to be true.

Whatever Ginny manages to pack and send, I'll appreciate. And after all the trouble it caused, I'll definitely need my passport, especially if I really do want to go to America. But honestly? I have my phone in my pocket, and everything else can be replaced.

I show Thomas the other item I have in my pocket. The only thing that couldn't be replaced and the thing I value even more than my phone.

The magnet. "You were always with me," I tell him.

He hugs me tightly as we slowly start to lift off the ground. He shoves the door so it slams shut, safely encasing us inside. "You were always with me, too, Lolo," he says, his voice coming through the headset as he rubs his chest over his heart.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we rise higher. I know a helicopter could barely get us to London, let alone New York.

He grins at me and waggles his eyebrows. "I booked us a suit at a fancy country hotel. Something told me your folks wouldn't invite me over for a slumber party."

I snort before slapping my hand against my mouth. "I can't believe that just happened," I say in awe.

"Baby boy?" Thomas says, a slightly serious tone to his voice. He rests his hand on a box on the bench we're sitting on. I didn't notice it before. It's got a grate at the front of it and a handle on top. "I got you a present."

Confused, I lean over and peer inside the box, not really understanding what I'm seeing. "You got me…a tiny lion?" The creature has a furry face and paws, but the rest of their body is shaved down to the skin. Even their tail only has a fluffy pom pom tip at the end.

Thomas laughs, then opens up the top of the box so I can see clearly inside. It is a tiny lion. They look up at me, meow, and…

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT'S JOLLY!" I scream so loudly the helicopter dips ever so slightly. I'm sure the pilot is pretending that nothing happened as he rights us again, but I'm too busy grabbing my poor naked kitty up and hugging him against my chest. "What? How?"

Thomas leans forward to wipe away the tears that are already streaming down my cheeks. "He's been on an adventure of his own," he says, clearly very pleased with himself. "Kirana was positively gleeful to help me catch him and take him to a vet. He gave him a checkup. His mats were just too bad, so we decided to shave him, but his fur should grow back pretty quickly. Other than that, he's actually in great health! One of Kirana's friends very kindly agreed to accompany him on a plane to London if I paid for the ticket. He's got a pet passport, and we'll need to top up his jabs after quarantine but…"

He sighs and cups the side of my face with his big hand. "Is he ours?" I whisper, not daring to really believe it.

"We're a crew," Thomas says thickly. "A captain doesn't leave any crew member behind."

I cry into what's left of Jolly's fur around his neck. He's looking like once we get back on solid ground again, he's going to murder every single one of us, but I don't care.

"I love you so much," I tell my angry cat. But then I look up and meet my Daddy's eyes before taking his hand in mine. "I love you so much," I tell him, too.

"Lolo," he says, his voice cracking. "My baby boy. Do you really want to come live with me?"

I nod. "More than anything, Daddy."

He leans over, careful of Jolly, and kisses my forehead. "I love you, too, baby boy. Here's to the start of our next adventure," he says.

I link our fingers and think about what Ginny said. I know she was joking, but my parents really couldn't marry me off if I were bound to someone else.

Legally, that is.

My heart is already his. It has been since I sat down across from him in that airport lounge.

But I wouldn't mind a fancy ring to prove it.