Chapter 33

Chapter 33

We spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around our inlet paradise. Brandon spent a fair amount of it openly staring, as I remained topless in French fashion. Several times he insisted I needed help reapplying yet another coat of sunblock. I was generally happy to let him so long as I could repay the favor.

Just as we were starting to think about the hike back to Marseille, a small boat turned into the gully that formed our small corridor of paradise. It looked like a fisherman"s boat, not much more than a rowboat with a motor affixed to the end: the kind we"d seen drive past the distant end of the inlet all day but never enter. In the front stood a man with a pair of binoculars. As the boat drove close, he dropped them and started waving so wildly I genuinely thought he might fall off the small boat.

"Who"s that?" I asked Brandon, who was lying on his back and reading the latest Neil Gaiman novel.

He dropped the book to his chest, then propped up on his elbows and looked to the water, his hand a visor over his face.

"What the..." he muttered. Then, with more recognition: "Oh!"

The boat came as close as it could without hitting the shallow bottom of the lagoon, and the man hopped into the water with a splash.

"Christ, that"s cold!" he yelped as he made his way to shore.

I frowned. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn"t quite place him.

"There you are, man. Are you trying to outrun the law or something? I have literally been looking for you all fucking day."

My jaw dropped when I finally recognized who stood in front of us, clad hilariously in slacks rolled up to his knees and a dress shirt soaked through with sweat. It was Cory Stewart, head of public relations for Sterling Ventures and Brandon"s potential campaign manager. My stomach dropped. What the hell was he doing here?

Brandon looked like he was wondering the same thing. Without even looking my direction, Brandon swiped my shirt off the ground and threw it at my bare chest. After catching several of Cory"s furtive glances, I obediently pulled it on.

Now that the show was over, Cory dropped next to Brandon and took a seat on the pebbled beach while he wiped sweat off his brow. The boat driver, who couldn"t have been more than sixteen, tossed out an anchor and pulled a beer out of a cooler.

"I have been going in and out of this goddamn maze all day," Cory said before taking several gulps from a water bottle. "If it wasn"t for the tracker on your cell phone, I never would have been able to find you."

"You have a tracker on his cell phone?" I asked sharply.

Brandon darted me a quick, blue look. "It"s a precaution. With everything that"s happened with your dad, I thought it might be a good idea if someone could find me in a pinch. For safety"s sake, just in case something happens. You have one too, by the way."

I gulped. Oh.

He turned a glare on Cory. "I"m pretty sure interrupting my vacation doesn"t qualify. What are you doing here, Cory?" Brandon asked as he sat up completely and faced his subordinate.

Good question. I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head.

"There are things we need to discuss. You"ve been avoiding my calls," Cory replied with a pointed finger at his boss.

"It couldn"t have waited another few days?" Brandon asked with a deep scowl that made me very glad I wasn"t on its receiving end.

"Unfortunately, boss, it couldn"t." Cory glanced at me as if just realizing that, apart from my breasts, I was actually there. "Maybe you should go for a swim, honey," he suggested with a smile that felt about as warm as ice water.

I quirked an eyebrow with all of the Brooklyn attitude I could muster. "Excuse me?"

Brandon placed a hand on my leg. "She"s not going anywhere," he said. "Unlike you, if you don"t start treating her with some respect. What the fuck, Cory?"

I swallowed, not wanting to get involved or cause trouble, even though I already really didn"t like this guy. "Brandon, it"s fine. I"ll just pack up my stuff and start hiking back. You can catch up in a few minutes."

"You"re not going anywhere," Brandon stated unequivocally, the hand on my thigh keeping me pinned to my towel.

I relaxed, and he released the pressure, although his hand stayed where it was. Considering how Cory was looking at me like a bug he wanted to squish, I was perfectly fine with a little territorial show. I was feeling a bit territorial myself.

Cory looked back and forth between the hand and his boss"s face.

"All right, fine," he said. "To be frank, things are going to shit. Gary Crown just announced he"s running for mayor, which means there"s yet another competitor for the DNC"s endorsement. They want you, of course, but they"re getting tired of waiting around. The board is yelling for a decision on the IPO or else they are threatening to vote you out, and Miranda––" he glanced back at me "––you sure you want her here?"

"Spit it out," Brandon ordered. "We don"t have any secrets."

Cory blinked at me like he didn"t quite believe that. I forced myself not to flinch.

"Fine. Miranda, your wife, just told us she is planning to take her story to the press if you don"t get back to Boston. Immediately." Cory looked back to Brandon, who was now tensed and approximately the color of a tomato. "Basically, I"ve been dealing with a public relations shit show since you left, and I"ve been trying to call you for the last five days. Five days, man. I finally had to steal your itinerary off Margie"s computer and come hunting for you."

Brandon sighed and rubbed a big hand over his forehead. The movement made the muscles in his chest and shoulder ripple.

"Do we need to go back?" I asked in a small voice, although my heart sank at the thought of it. I didn"t want our vacation to end.

"No," Brandon mumbled through his fingers. He sent me a small smile. I was unconvinced.

"Boss," Cory said, but was quickly cut off.

"I said no," Brandon barked. He exhaled a long, slow breath, then looked at Cory. "Miranda"s not going to say shit about what happened with Ricky O"Neill. Not about anything that matters. Otherwise she"d be in as much trouble as I would."

I gaped. I wasn"t aware that anyone knew about that besides me, Miranda Sterling, and her deceased father. Sixteen years ago, Brandon had been a twenty-one-year-old financial wunderkind still spending half his time hustling pool halls with a group of friends in Dorchester, his old neighborhood. One night, they"d hustled the wrong people and found themselves in a fight that ended with the other group"s ringleader, Ricky O"Neill, shot and killed. Brandon hadn"t shot the gun, but he had been a target of the prosecution, only to be saved by Miranda"s (false) alibi in exchange for a ten-year contract at her father"s investment firm. That lie had eventually led to his romantic involvement with Miranda and their essentially loveless marriage. At least, loveless from his perspective.

Cory blew a raspberry through his thin lips and scratched his cropped hair. The actions made him look like a grumpy chimpanzee.

"Not that story," he said with another look my way.

Brandon cleared his throat. "You don"t have to talk in euphemisms. Skylar knows everything."

Cory blinked with obvious surprise, then wiped another layer of sweat off his brow.

"Christ, it"s hot," he complained. "How can you be sitting out here all day like this? It"s fuckin" maniacal."

"Spit it out, Cory," Brandon said as he reached into his bag and pulled out a few bottles of water.

He opened one, took a sip, then offered it to me before tossing the other to Cory, who drank from it like a dying man in the desert.

"She wants to tell the story of you and your friend here," Cory continued after he had drained half the bottle. "Cause a fuckin" public relations nightmare, that"s what she wants to do. Turn herself into the wronged woman. Listen, your little stunt at that benefit last month really fucked things up. I thought you were going to keep things quiet until the papers had been signed, man. Instead you turn around and flaunt your sidepiece all over Boston. Did you really think your wife was going to let her humiliate her like that and get awa––Hey!"

He wasn"t able to finish his sentence before he was lifted bodily off the beach and hurled into the water. Brandon stood at the water"s edge, chest heaving with the sudden effort.

"What the fuck, man!" Cory yowled from where he sat chest-deep in the water. He stood up with another big splash. "This is Armani! What the fuck was that for?"

Behind Brandon, I couldn"t help but laugh, although I tried to cover it as a cough. I wasn"t successful.

"I told you, Cory. Respect," Brandon said as he stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You don"t pay me for respect, boss," Cory retorted as he swished back to the beach. "Ah! What the fuck is that!"

He scrambled the rest of the way out, and I had to hide my face behind my hand to stop from laughing as he circled around his body, looking for signs of sea life that might be stuck to him. Brandon didn"t even bother to hide his laughter, carved abs flexing with every loud hoot. Then he pressed a brief kiss to my head before sitting easily with his arms lounged over his knees.

"Skylar"s off-limits," he said to Cory, who had finally calmed down enough to accept the extra towel as he sat down next to Brandon. "You"re the best at what you do, Cory, but I pay you to tell me like it is and fix shit. The insults are done if you want to keep your job."

Silently, Cory nodded, although his jaw clenched as water dripped off his chin.

"And remember that one of these days, she might be your boss too," Brandon said.

My stomach flipped. What did that mean?

Cory"s soaked, rodent-like gaze flickered between the two of us before he cleared his throat.

"I apologize," he said through clenched teeth, although he was barely able to make eye contact with me.

"It"s fine," I said. I looked back to Brandon. "It sounds like you guys have a lot to sort through. Should we start hiking back?"

"Fuck no, we"re not hiking. Not if you want me out of here by tomorrow." Cory stood up, brushed the tiny pebbles off his pants, and jerked his head toward the boat.

Brandon followed his gaze, then blew out a resigned sigh. "I think Cory"s right, Red. We need to get back to the house sooner rather than later." He gave me a rueful grimace. "Can you forgive me?"

Cory didn"t even try to hide the disgust on his face at the question, but I just smiled and nodded.

"Of course," I said. "Whatever you need."

Brandon rewarded me with a bright smile that seemed to reflect off the impossibly clear waters in front of us, then leaned in to give me a quick, but thorough kiss. His hand snaked around my waist and gripped my shirt. The electricity mounted between us again; it was always there, just below the surface.

He released me with a grunt. "Damn," he murmured, too low for Cory to hear him. "I was hoping to make you scream on those rocks again before we left."

Something buzzed inside me, and I tried and failed not to blush. Brandon grinned, then turned back to Cory, who quickly resumed a bland expression.

"Well, you should probably stay for dinner," Brandon said. "Apparently, we"ve got some shit to take care of." He looked over his manager"s shoulder to the boat driver, who was sound asleep on the bench. "That is, if our driver isn"t already passed out for the evening."

"I"ll fuckin" tow the boat back to Marseille myself if I have to," Cory said. "Now, let"s just get your shit and go."

~

I ended up sending myself to the local market to pick up dinner, since after sitting in a boat with Cory for the twenty minutes it took to get back to town, I was heartily sick of the man. He reminded me of a cartoon rodent, one of those Looney Tunes characters who played slick bankers and traveling salesmen. He never stopped talking. I had absolutely no idea what Brandon saw in him, other than the fact that he seemed to be obsessed with his job, which was protecting Brandon"s image, and the fact that he seemed to be good at it.

When I came back to the villa, the sun was already starting to set over the cliffs to the west of the city, and I paused for a moment on the front stoop to take it in. Pools of magenta, violet, gold, and tangerine streamed from the horizon, with craggy shapes of the cliffs blocking the rays like shadows of primeval ruins.

I sighed. Even though we still technically had a few days left, Cory"s presence seemed to portend an early end of our blissful two weeks. I hugged myself close and closed my eyes, lost for a moment in the memories. Whatever stresses were coming for us, we"d always have this time. Brandon must have known we"d need it, and I was incredibly thankful for that foresight.

Voices filtered from the patio to where I stood below: Cory and Brandon, still debating how to resolve all of the drama.

"The board will keep as long as you call Karen Richards tomorrow," Cory was saying. "But you can"t fuckin" forget, boss."

I moved to open the door, not wanting to eavesdrop, but stopped when I heard my name.

"Now, what about the Skylar situation?"

"What situation?" Brandon asked sharply. "You said it yourself. Miranda already knows, so it doesn"t matter anymore, does it? I"m not going to skulk around like we"re doing something wrong."

"So, it doesn"t matter that to half of Catholic Boston, you"re absolutely doing something wrong?"

"If Miranda doesn"t want to be embarrassed, she should just sign the fucking divorce papers and be done with it!"

There was a loud screech of a chair leg on tile, then footsteps pacing––Brandon"s, most likely. I could easily see him pulling his hands through his hair in frustration.

"It"s not just that," Cory said. "The Miranda thing...it will blow over eventually. People will figure out that she"s been hanging on you for years, and I agree that at some point she"s going to realize it makes her look clingy as fuck. But Brandon, you asked me to vet you, and I did."

There was a long sigh. I couldn"t tell if it was Cory or Brandon.

Cory continued. "That means I had to vet her. And her family"s connections to the mob don"t exactly make her a great candidate for First Lady, if you know what I mean."

"Cory, I swear to fuckin" God...do you want me to toss you into the harbor this time?"

"Hey man, it has to be said! You need simple right now, man, and she is not that. She"s young and hot, I"ll give you that. I"d want to hit that too––"

"You can stop right the fuck there."

"Brandon, the Brooklyn D.A. has an open investigation that lists her father!" Cory protested. "Not to mention that her grandfather was basically a runner for the Gottis until he was whacked. Don"t even get me started on her stepdad. Maurice Jadot is one shady fuck. All I"m saying is, there are a lot of other redheaded fish in the sea, my friend."

There was an awkward pause, filled only with the din of a car driving down the street. I froze, my insides twisted together. Say something, I thought, mentally urging Brandon to stand up for us like he"d always done. In all of my worries about the dramas in Brandon"s life, I"d never considered the fact that my family"s history might be his undoing as well. How naive.

I was about to walk inside when Cory spoke again.

"I see," he said to some unspoken communication.

I wished more than anything I could see the expression on Brandon"s face.

"Then I have to ask," Cory continued. "Is there anything else we need to know about her? Anything else that might come up in a character attack? I"m not saying you can"t run, my friend. If there"s anything we know from this last election, it"s that literally anyone can get elected. If I can"t get you elected, I have absolutely no business being in marketing. But it will be a whole hell of a lot easier if we can control the narrative."

"There"s nothing." Brandon"s voice was pulled tight as a drum.

Cory waited a few beats, then sighed.

"All right," he said, although he clearly thought it was anything but. "Just...be careful, will you? Keep it casual. Take it slow. Maybe don"t be seen making out on the street together?"

"We"ll take it exactly the way it needs to go," Brandon said.

I clutched my groceries tighter to my chest.What did that mean?

But he didn"t say anything else, and the conversation turned to discussing a press release planned for Ventures. I entered the house and walked up the short flight of stairs to the main floor.

Brandon and Cory both turned from their seats on the balcony, beers in hand, with completely opposite expressions: a dark cloud over Cory"s pointed features, while Brandon"s chiseled face brightened immediately. Even with Cory sitting there, I couldn"t help but smile back. The twisting in my belly lessened.

"Hey beautiful," Brandon said as he stood up to greet me with a kiss.

I didn"t have to look at Cory"s face to see the irritation at the affection.

Brandon looked eagerly into the bags I had set on the dining table. "What do we have here?"

"Oh, you know, the goods. Wine, cheese, bread, charcuterie. A bunch of local fruits and veggies." I sighed as I pulled out the food. "I"ll never get enough of French markets."

Brandon walked into the kitchen to grab dishes for the three of us. Cory meandered in and looked suspiciously at the food.

"Isn"t the cheese here unpasteurized?" he asked with a frown.

I rolled my eyes. "Christ. The best cheese in the world is from France. You might actually like it if you gave it a chance."

The words came out before I could stop them, and Cory flashed me another look of blatant irritation. Behind us, Brandon chuckled.

Cory narrowed his beady eyes. "I"ll try it," he mumbled.

As Brandon set down our plates and glasses next to the impromptu buffet, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

"Hold on, it"s Bubbe," I said, and stepped out of the room, leaving Brandon and Cory to take their loaded plates back to the balcony table.

"Hi Bubbe," I said once I was in the bedroom. "Is everything all right?"

"Hi sweetheart," came my grandmother"s low, thickly accented voice. "Everything is fine, it"s fine. We were just calling to...check when you were coming back."

I frowned as I sat down on the bed. "Really? That"s all?"

There was a brief silence, then a sigh.

"Well...your father...it"s nothing, but I think he"d like to see you."

There was some shuffling, like she was moving to a different room. In a slightly hushed tone, she continued.

"I just think he could use a pick-me-up from his daughter is all," Bubbe said.

"Katie hasn"t been coming back around, has she?" I asked sharply, my hand twisting the edge of the bed sheets. There had been no word from the security team, but that didn"t mean she wasn"t texting or contacting Dad in other ways.

"No, no, no," Bubbe assured me. "Not since you were here last." She paused again, and something about the reticence in her voice made my heart beat a little faster. "But the thing is, bubbela," she continued, "he missed his group therapy session two days ago. He said he just went for a walk, but honey, I don"t know...I couldn"t reach him for several hours, and he lost the security."

My spine prickled with the thought of where my dad might have ended up, depressed, upset, and alone. I toyed with the end of my ponytail and made a decision. This had gone on long enough.

"Bubbe?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"Dad needs to get out of New York. It"s time."

There was a silence, then a long sigh.

"Yes," she said sadly. "I think you"re right."

"I"m going to look into a program up here for him," I said. "Brandon will help, and I"ll figure out the finances. But we need to get Dad out of Brooklyn. Out of that scene, at least until his hand heals. You could come too..."

Bubbe scoffed openly, like I knew she would.

"And what would I do up in that city?" she asked. "I am a Brooklyn Jew, bubbela, always have been, always will be."

"You could be a Brooklyn Jew in Boston for a while," I offered, though I already knew the answer. Bubbe wouldn"t leave Brooklyn as long as she had an active bone in her body.

"I"ll be fine here, Skylar," she said, although she couldn"t quite get rid of the sadness in her voice. "You just get everything ready for Danny. Don"t worry about me."

Like that would ever happen. But instead, I just said, "All right, Bubbe. Will do. I"ll call you when I get back next week, and we"ll figure out the next steps, okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart. You give that handsome man of yours my love, and a kiss for you too."

I blinked. It wasn"t like Bubbe to be so openly affectionate. Things must be worse than I thought.

"I will," I said softly. "My love to you and Dad."

~

The developments of the day hung over us like clouds as Brandon and I curled together beneath the gauzy canopy of the bed, the French doors left open to let in the warm night breeze. Our vacation had started out idyllically, but now the stresses of home had found us across an ocean and a sea.

We lay separately, facing each other in the moonlight. Whether it was the unexpected disruption of Cory (and the awkward dinner that had gone late into the night) or Bubbe"s phone call, which I"d relayed to Brandon after Cory had left, something had shifted. The carefree mood was gone, and we were left with what remained: the joy of being together, but the knowledge that another tide of change was coming.

"I think it"s good," Brandon was saying about Bubbe"s and my decision. "It"s progress, especially if we can convince her to move too at some point." He pressed his lips together, then nodded to himself. "I"ll have Margie find an apartment for him close to a good rehabilitation center. We"ll have David drive him to Boston next weekend."

"You don"t need to do that," I started to say, but Brandon silenced me with an exasperated look.

"Stop," he said. "You"re about to start a new job that is going to ask more of you than anything else you"ve ever done. I should know; I"m the one who usually does the asking."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew he was right. Come Monday, I"d soon be working close to eighty hours a week for the foreseeable future. I"d barely have time to eat, let alone go down to Brooklyn every other weekend to keep Dad out of trouble. It was why I had already admitted to Bubbe I"d let Brandon help.

"All right," I relented.

Brandon only offered a brief smile in return.

We lapsed into silence again, content just to gaze at one another. Under other circumstances, I might have found us nauseatingly sweet, but right now, I just was content to enjoy the quiet.

"God, you"re beautiful," Brandon murmured for the umpteenth time on our trip. Every so often he"d interrupt our light conversation to say it, and each time, he made me blush.

I buried my face in my pillow, but couldn"t keep the silly grin away. "You are ridiculous."

When I looked back at him, he was still staring at me. His tanned features were dark against the white of the pillow case, and in the moonlight, his eyes glittered like stars. He reached out a finger to trace the edge of my cheekbone.

"I"m just a man in love," he said softly.

The words warmed me all over. It was these moments that made me feel like we could last always, that nothing could break us. I wished with all of my heart that were true.

Brandon played with my fingers. Our hands were so different: mine were so long and slim compared to his big paws.

"You aren"t..." he started as he stared at our interwoven hands. "Do you...you aren"t hiding anything from me...are you, Skylar?"

When he looked back at me, Brandon"s eyes were wide sapphires in the night, but they glowed with something other than happiness.

I hugged my pillow closer, trying and failing to ignore the pang of guilt in my stomach. Green eyes or blue?

"Why do you ask?"

He searched my face, then sighed and shook his head.

"No reason," he said. "Just...sometimes I get the feeling like you"re maybe holding something back." He shook his head with a rueful smile. "Sorry. It"s probably all in my head."

Now was the time to tell him. I had been waiting for months, waiting for a time when we weren"t inundated with work drama, family drama, exam studying, and all the other excuses I"d amassed. If we were going to move forward, we had to be one hundred percent open with each other. I knew that.

But.

I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. The words clogged in my throat, and the pang in my stomach grew while my skin crawled and crackled, like it was made of glass.

Brandon had been hurt so much in his life. By his mother, his father. His foster parents, his wife. By me.

I couldn"t bear to do it again.

~