Chapter 16

Sixteen

I hope you're happy now.

Jonathon had thought or muttered it about a thousand times throughout the years, whenever he woke up next to a stranger or under a pile of them or when he hit Share on a particularly sleazy post. He'd stare at his fading reflection in the mirror, haunted by his exploits and wallowing in shame, and Jonathon's only comfort was that one day Leo might see the wreckage and blame himself.

But from all that Jonathon had learned from Riley via Carl and by eavesdropping on Muriel and Tilly, Leo hadn't been happy at all. He had been under the impression that Jonathon had changed his mind and wanted nothing to do with him, so Leo had given up and moved on.

That revelation didn't comfort Jonathon in any way or inspire forgiveness. If anything, it added to the bitterness he felt and was making it impossible for Jonathon to sleep. He stared at the constellation slowly spinning over his head as Milo slept soundly on the bottom bunk.

Leo's unhappiness and loneliness was another act of betrayal in Jonathon's mind. It was bad enough that Leo had allowed Sabine to manipulate him, but for it all to have been for nothing was an insult to injury.

You were supposed to be happy.

Jonathon couldn't be mad at Leo for being unhappy , could he? Not justifiably, at least. But there Jonathon was: pissed to the depths of his soul at Leo for allowing Sabine to rob him of any happiness. It wasn't at all surprising to learn that she had been behind their breakup. But allowing it to go on for so long and doing nothing about it? Jonathan would almost have preferred to learn that Leo was happily married with a pack of puppies or a brood of children.

At least one of them would have been happy and Jonathon's misery wouldn't have been utterly pointless. Looking back, Jonathon could practically pinpoint when Sabine began weaving her spell on Leo. It had begun with the roses on Jonathon's bedside table, and had ended with a phone call to Sabine almost a month after Sch?nbühel.

Jonathon had sent so many emails, reminding Leo of the promises they had made and begging him to come to London or meet in Paris or Berlin. Every attempt went unanswered while Jonathon refreshed inboxes and searched his notifications for any sign of Leo. There was nothing but silence after Leo kissed him goodbye and whispered his vow.

Jonathan's world came crashing down around him about a month after they had parted at Sch?nbühel. He was in London and was supposed to be preparing for school. Instead, he was in his bedroom in Muriel's rented townhouse in Kensington, pacing angrily and listening through the endless rings. "You can't do this, Leo. You promised you'd come back. We had a deal."

The line picked up and Jonathon held his breath.

"Ja?" Sabine prompted impatiently, sending Jonathon's hopes plummeting.

"Hey, Sabine, it's me again. Is he available?"

"Mr. Hawthorne, how lovely to hear from you again." Her tone suggested it was not lovely and that someone else might have been listening. "I'm afraid Mr. von Hessen is on another call and is just about to leave for the airport."

"The airport?" Jonathon brightened. "Is he coming to London?"

"No... He's going to Cannes. It's important for Mr. von Hessen to make the right impression at certain key events this year," she explained, clearing her throat. "With the right people," she added.

Jonathon's jaw fell. "What kind of people?" he asked loudly.

"I'm so sorry, Schatz," she said, her tone patronizing and heavy with exaggerated sympathy. "I did warn you that Leo can be very fickle and he's been so busy."

"I know, but?—"

"And we did have concerns about your…situation," she interrupted.

"My situation?" Jonathon lowered onto the foot of his bed. "What situation?"

Sabine laughed. "You can't be serious!" She paused for a moment, then gasped. "You poor, poor dear. It would be one thing if it was just your age or the fact that you're an American, but your family has a dubious history."

"Leo doesn't care about any of that!" Jonathon had argued. "He knows that I don't have anything to do with my parents and I don't care about money," he said, but she made a flat, noncommittal sound.

"It seems he's come to his senses and has accepted how complicated and embarrassing this could be for him."

Jonathon shook his head. "No! Leo loves me. He promised that none of that mattered."

She sighed and Jonathon heard an impatient tapping. "I thought it would only be fair to warn you because there will be pictures…"

"Pictures?" he rasped, feeling like his chest was caving in. "What do you mean there will be pictures? Pictures of what?" Jonathon demanded. He glanced at the mirror and his nose was running and his lip was wobbling. Jonathon looked as pathetic as he felt and wondered how he could have ever believed it was real.

"He won't be alone while he's there, Schatz," Sabine said with another sigh.

"No." Jonathon shook his head. "What about my emails? I don't think he's getting them, Sabine. He would have answered me."

"I made sure he saw them myself," she replied.

"He would have answered."

"Then, I would have made sure you received it. I take my job very seriously, Mr. Hawthorne. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid Mr. von Hessen has changed his mind and is moving on. I hope you do as well. I truly wish you the best."

"The best?" Jonathon took that like a kick in the gut. "The best! Leo was the best. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

There was a long silence. "I would suggest you move on. I wish you the best, Mr. Hawthorne."

He hung up and Jonathon never called or wrote again.

A few days later, he saw Leo at Cannes with a gorgeous British race car driver. The photos of Leo with his hand around Royce Sandringham's waist were perfectly tasteful—too tasteful in flawless tailoring and perfectly chiseled, stubble-dusted jaws. They looked like boyfriend twins and Jonathon had thrown up.

He was bluffing when he paid a limo driver to take pictures in the backseat with him. The driver wasn't as hot as Leo, but he was pretty with warm tan skin and a sexy Puerto Rican accent. Before Leo, Jonathon had a weakness for guys from Brooklyn so all the boxes had been checked.

The driver—Carlos or Diego—was sweet and had told Jonathon he didn't want any extra money and that they could "do whatever." They had kissed and Carlos or Diego had said all the right things, complimenting Jonathon and offering to take him someplace nicer so they could get to know each other. But Carlos or Diego didn't stand a chance.

"You're just a boy and that suit is made of polyester," Jonathon had said, lashing out and stomping out any hopes Carlos or Diego might have had. He wasn't in the mood for hope that night and Jonathon was taking Carlos or Diego down with him.

Next time, take the money and mind your own business.

The gloves came off almost five months later. Jonathon was furious when Leo was seen at Fashion Week with a model. Any model would have stung, but Petra Becker was Austrian, twelve years older than Leo, and semi-retired and considered a fashion icon. She was statuesque, a vegetarian, an environmentalist, and a philanthropist.

Jonathon got into drinking and cocaine after several papers and social media outlets suggested that Becker would make a perfect Archduchess.

After that, Jonathon stopped looking. He eventually heard from Muriel that the Margrave had "lost interest in that model" but it didn't matter anymore, Jonathon had cut the cord and was in free fall.

The years became a bright, numb blur, with cocaine and other drugs drowning out the pain. The throbbing exhilaration and the racing of his heart was the closest thing to the rush Jonathon felt when he came with Leo's hand locked around his throat. But that was all he could feel until he woke up a few days later, scorched and raw. He would stumble back to the Olympia and up to 6A, sunburnt from the inside-out and hollow, to face Muriel and Tilly's worried faces.

"Where have you been, my boy?" Muriel would ask, fretting with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

"Just out with friends," he'd lie and kiss her cheek on the way up to his room and Jonathon would throw up and cry in the shower until he was too exhausted to remember where he'd been and who he'd been with.

He would sleep until Tilly and Muriel threatened to send for a doctor or tell him it was time to pack for another trip. No matter where Muriel took him or who she threw him at, Jonathon couldn't outrun memories of Leo and the cycle would repeat itself.

The glitzy frenzy of posh parties, travel, drugs, fashion, sex, gossip… Jonathon was suspended and floating in an ugly snow globe, relying on bumps and strange men to shake him up and keep him numb.

Jonathon hated every moment of it, but not as much as he was afraid to be alone. He had been so independent and happiest when he was exploring, reading, or painting. But after Sch?nbühel, Jonathon ached most for Leo and the past when he was by himself. No matter how many times Jonathon painted memories, he couldn't wish them into portals and put himself back into those moments with Leo at Sch?nbühel.

He was locked away, far out of Leo's reach, in a tower of broken promises and glittering trash. Sabine had laid the foundation with her lies, but Jonathon had added the rest of the bricks himself.

How, in the aftermath of Leo's return, did Jonathon go about dismantling that tower? Going back to his old life with Muriel wasn't an option, but Jonathon hoped that they might make a fresh start.

Upstate New York had always sounded nice, or Seattle. But the odds of convincing Muriel to live anywhere in the United States but Manhattan or Water Mill were close to nil.

"Maybe Ireland?" he mused.

Moody, cozy, green, whimsical… Everything Manhattan wasn't. He recalled that Muriel knew an Irish lord with a castle by the ruins of an old abbey. She often said that she wanted to visit Ireland more and that he'd promised she could stay there whenever she wished.

"I think I could paint there," Jonathon said and smiled as he imagined a portrait of Muriel and Calista with a dramatic Irish castle in the background. "It's time I looked after Muriel. She's taken care of me long enough."

Perhaps this was closure, learning that he hadn't been abandoned and easily forgotten. Jonathan no longer felt the sting of rejection and the silence had been lifted, revealing a truth that was simply…disappointing.

Jonathan knew how to recover from disappointment. With the exception of Muriel and Tilly, Jonathan had been let down by nearly every person he had known. His parents had done him a favor by never being anything but absent so he never had anything but low expectations for them.

He learned quickly not to get attached to nannies because they never lasted long. His parents couldn't afford to keep one for more than a few months. And the decent nannies were in a hurry to move on because Jonathon's father drank heavily when he was at home and couldn't keep his hands to himself.

None of the kids wanted to play with Jonathon after he moved to the Olympia with Muriel. The little clique of children that used to congregate in the courtyard and loitered in the lobbies and on the sidewalks outside had shunned Jonathon. On more than one occasion he had heard a parent whisper "Stay away from that Hawthorne boy. He's no good." as they steered their precious offspring away from Jonathon and his corrupting influence.

It continued to happen at parties and openings when Jonathon would escort Muriel. Thankfully, people rarely acknowledged him or batted an eye when he helped himself to a glass of wine or champagne. He could amuse himself for hours if he was tipsy, silently roasting rich assholes who had more money than taste.

That was how he entertained himself before Sch?nbühel and Jonathon had appreciated that the drinking age in many parts of Europe was sixteen or eighteen. He had thought himself a man of the world at barely twenty, living on the fringe of society as Muriel rubbed elbows with minor European royalty.

But even at twenty, Jonathon had been a naive child who would have been better served if he had more friends. A decent penpal could have changed Jonathon's life by telling him he was in way over his head with Leo and Sabine. Friends, Jonathon was finding, made all the difference in the world. He had told himself that Muriel and Tilly were enough and that it hadn't been worth the effort to change people's minds about him.

He learned how wrong he was when Riley rescued him after the gala. Hiding with the Ashbys and having their support was infinitely better than whatever Jonathon would have come up with. He had no idea where he was going to go after he stuffed his toothbrush, some clothes, and cash in a bag. Jonathon would probably be hiding in the Olympia's basement, sleeping on boxes and eating cold pizza.

I could ask for his advice now.

Jonathon sat up, glancing at the clock on Milo's desk and cringing. It was just after midnight. He decided to see if Riley or Giles were still up, reasoning that some fresh air might help him sleep if they weren't.

He climbed down and silently slipped out onto the balcony, leaving the sliding door cracked behind him so he wouldn't wake Milo when he returned. It took Jonathon just a moment to climb over the low wall and make his way around the apartment's large living room balcony and around the corner to Giles and Riley's wing.

A soft giggle made Jonathon pause when he reached the wall of topiaries. He cleared his throat loudly, announcing his presence. "I hope I'm not interrupting," he called quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and praying he hadn't caught them in an intimate moment.

"Not at all!" Riley said before his hand reached through the narrow shrubs and snatched Jonathon's wrist. He was yanked and Jonathon laughed as he stumbled after Riley, offering Giles a wave once he was on the other side.

"Make yourself at home," Giles said from his spot on the daybed. He was sitting cross legged with a quilt around his shoulders and it appeared that they were playing chess. A blunt burned in an ashtray on the coffee table and there were two glasses of red wine.

"It looks like I am interrupting. You two are having a lovely evening," Jonathon noted, backing away, but Riley grabbed his hand again.

"And it's even lovelier now that you're here," he insisted and Jonathon was deposited on the daybed, bundled in a quilt, and given a glass of wine while Giles set the game aside for later.

"This is all too much," Jonathon protested but opened his mouth obediently when Giles offered him a hit from the blunt.

"There you go…" Giles crooned like he was soothing one of his children. He gave Jonathon a fond pat on the head before returning to his spot. "Can't sleep?" he asked and Jonathon nodded as he exhaled.

He hummed happily as the tension faded from his limbs and spine and a smile spread across his lips. "Thank you. I've been thinking about what I should do next and I wondered if the two of you might…have any advice?" he attempted with an awkward wince. "I don't really know how to ask a friend for help. You're kind of my first," he admitted.

Riley's eyes grew huge and shimmered as he nodded. "Sure! We'd love to help and we're lucky to be your first friends, Jonathon," he said and Giles gave Jonathon a gentle punch on the arm.

"We're very lucky. What can we do?"

"Thank you," Jonathon replied, needing a moment to steady himself. "You two, and Milo and Luna, have been so kind. I think you might have saved my life," he confessed with a watery laugh. "I was drowning after years of treading alone in the big, awful sea. And then, you two pulled me out. You've listened and never once did you judge me and you've helped me see that I'm not worthless. I don't hate myself anymore and I want to be happy again."

" Good. I think you're brilliant," Riley said with Giles nodding in agreement. "I can't wait to introduce you to everyone, once you're ready. A lot of us have been secretly rooting for you, because we thought your aunt was holding you hostage," he whispered and cringed apologetically, making Jonathon gasp and shake his head.

He knew who Riley was referring to. Riley and Giles shared a big found family of queer friends that gravitated around Reid Marshall's nanny agency. Jonathon had crossed paths with many of the Marshall Agency's former nannies—including Riley—and their current spouses in the course of his many misadventures with Muriel.

"I'm sure they'll be thrilled to meet me," Jonathon said, widening his eyes at Riley sarcastically.

"They will, though!" he said with excited certainty. He wasn't smoking but had been sipping from his glass as he listened. "You and the Tuckers are going to hit it off when they get back, they're both artists. So is Agnes. You already know Agnes Cameron, don't you?"

Jonathon nodded slowly. "Vaguely. Through my aunt. I don't think she has a very high opinion of me. For good reason," he added, but Riley waved it off.

"If there's one thing Agnes knows, it's that people usually aren't what they seem and it's never too late to make a fresh start. She's the last person to judge someone because she had a pretty wild reputation before Penny."

"Agnes is proud of her wild reputation, though," Giles said, earning a chuckle from Riley.

"She should be. Agnes Cameron didn't do anything that the average wealthy man doesn't do. It's just more acceptable to be a billionaire playboy than a playgirl."

"I have always admired that about her," Jonathon said. "She never let any of the gossip get to her and she's always played by her own rules."

"That's what you should do," Riley suggested and Jonathon shook his head.

"I'm not half as strong as she is. That's why I'm thinking about leaving. If I can talk Aunt Muriel into it."

"Where will you go?" Riley asked, sounding concerned.

Jonathon shrugged. "I'm not sure yet, but I was thinking Ireland might be nice."

Riley's jaw fell and he threw Giles a startled look. "Ireland?"

"No one will know me there," Jonathon explained. "Muriel has an elderly lord friend with an old castle we could stay at." He didn't want them worrying about a repeat of the Sch?nbühel Affair.

"What about von Hessen?" Giles countered as he passed the blunt back to Jonathon.

"Right. About him…" Jonathon stalled, taking a long drag and holding it in until his lungs hitched and his head expanded like a balloon, making him giggle as he exhaled. "What if I just…didn't?"

"Didn't?" Riley asked and Jonathon nodded as he took another pull.

He forced the smoke out slowly, delighting in the tingling of his extremities and how light his whole body felt. "I think I could talk Muriel into sneaking away with me tomorrow night. We could be landing in Ireland before Leo even realizes we've left the city."

"Don't do that," Giles said, shaking his head. "There's still a chance you can work things out with the Margrave."

"Is there?" Jonathon laughed, giving him a skeptical look. "What if I'd rather walk away and skip the whole messy reunion and another disappointing goodbye? I think I might have all the closure I need now, and anything more will just be ripping open old wounds."

"You have to talk to him," Riley urged, taking Jonathon's hand in his. "You'll regret it if you leave without talking to the Margrave. There could still be a happy ending after all of this," he said with a wide, hopeful smile. "Don't run away. Give Leo one more chance!" he whispered. "I think he'll fight for you this time."

Jonathon chewed on his lip, considering. "You might be right, but I'm not sure I want him to anymore."