Nathan
I was hiding behind a giant Christmas tree, third glass of champagne in my hands, watching the seconds tick by on grandpa's watch, secured around my wrist. I couldn't decide between drinking more and potentially getting too wasted, or quitting now, knowing I wouldn't embarrass myself, but likely not surviving the evening.
Even the trees here seemed to be decorated by professional stylists. I wanted to hit myself, thinking of grandpa, grandma, Sam and me, completing this whole ritual every single Christmas, grandpa singing his favorite carols, then wrapping his arms around gran to dance with her, my brother and me staring up at their wide smiles, oblivious to the fact our parents weren't there. Thinking of June and how she'd give us directions to where this ornament and that ornament should go, the hooks too tiny for her to hold, Sam sticking out his tongue in concentration as he followed her every word.
When I'd given her the news a few weeks earlier, assuring her I would come back soon, that I'd do everything to change the situation, and she hadn't believed me anymore, the truth had hit me on the head with the force of an underground train speeding through the tunnels.
I'd been a fucking fool.
I might not have been a relationship expert; still, I should've been able to see this wasn't working. Not like this. This wasn't where I wanted to be, trying to avoid my colleagues and girlfriend's family, amongst all these liars and manipulators and people convinced they were better than anyone else. This wasn't me, and this wasn't how I'd planned to live my life.
I wondered if June had already known that from the start. Wouldn't surprise me. If she had, though, why hadn't she told me before I left? I would've stayed if she had, I was sure.
I wouldn't have had to disappoint her then.
Would have had to disappoint Charlotte instead. But I was going to do that no matter what.
This was the first time I wished I'd told her about Lena. At least, she would've known I wasn't this great guy she seemed to think I was, this perfect picture I was continually trying to live up to, even though I should've realized I would fall short someday.
"Boo!"
Oh shit, no... I turned around to find Edward smirking at me, a hostile sneer jerking at the corner of his mouth. He was wearing an extravagant suit, like he'd walked off the set of a movie situated in the nineteenth-century countryside, and he held a glass of what seemed to be bourbon in each hand. Great.
Saruman had found me. Seemed like the eye of Sauron could see right through Christmas trees.
"Well well," he said, "there you are! Your ravishing girlfriend is looking for you, mate. What are you doing back here? Is this some strange American tradition we Brits don't understand?"
I took a big gulp of the champagne. Yeah, I'd definitely rather get drunk. The lack of an answer didn't bother Edward; it never did. He liked hearing himself speak better anyway.
"Don't you think my cousin looks absolutely appetizing today?" he continued. "Wonder why you haven't taken her upstairs yet. I mean, if she'd been mine..." He licked his lips, his grin widening, and I didn't think I'd ever been this disgusted with someone before. He thrust forward, in the direction of the tree, then threw his head back laughing.
"You're an asshole, you know that?" I said, suddenly done with silently suffering through his talks.
Big mistake. It made him cackle. He pointed his finger up, taking a sip of each of his glasses and saying "ahh" afterward. He smacked his lips loudly, making sure to spit in my face a little. "I heard you were into those," he said, and he cleared his throat.
I shook my head. What was he talking about now? I didn't even want to know.
Then, he jerked his hips forward, and he didn't have to explain himself for me to get what he meant: "Into assholes? Isn't that how you people do it?" There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, one I wanted to smash into pieces. This was the reason you didn't challenge guys like him. They only liked it. "Or what, are you always bottom, or whatever you men call it?"
"Edward."
The voice didn't faze him in the slightest. On the contrary, he smiled wider, turning towards Albert in a black suit, throwing his arm around him. "Albert, old man!" he said. "We were just discussing our love lives. How's yours?"
"Private."
Somehow, Albert's one-word answers were even enough to shut Edward up. He chuckled, like it was all a big game, before pushing one of the glasses in Albert's hands. "Here you go, mate," he said. "I don't mind what you two do together. I'm a very tolerant man." He opened his arms into a grand gesture, as if he was about to hug the both of us. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I have to find my beautiful cousin and keep her entertained while you... hide behind Christmas trees." Another annoying chortle and he left, almost skipping in the way a four-year-old girl would.
I'd never been a violent person, but in that moment, I pictured sprinting after him, jumping on his back, and beating his face to a pulp, so he could never smirk again.
Seemed like Albert was having similar thoughts: "Bastard." He looked down on the bourbon in his hand, then put it in the window sill. Behind his designer glasses, his eyes examined me, similar to how he'd do it with new clients: almost inconspicuous. I only knew he was doing it because I'd seen it hundreds of times before. "You alright?"
"Yeah... As far as I can be..."
"What's on the card?"
I sighed deeply, running my hand through my hair, only to be reminded it wasn't that long anymore: Albert had taken me to a barbershop last week, convincing me it was time to "let the grunge go" and "get practical". Funny thing for a nearly bald man to say. He'd been right, though: I'd never been able to shower this quickly before, not to mention how easy it was to get ready in the morning. Be that as it may, I did try to avoid glancing in mirrors. I looked like an adult more and more, and it didn't correspond with how I felt inside. It scared the shit out of me.
"A secret," I said. My fingers touched my breast pocket, the place the third recipe card was stored away. It'd arrived yesterday, and if it hadn't been for me going through all the envelopes to search for a bill, it'd probably have gotten lost in the pile of Christmas wishes sent to Charlotte and me.
"From June?"
I jerked my head to stare at him. How did he know? There was no way he could've deducted it was from her: her name wasn't on it. And yeah, I'd been stealing glances at it during dinner, but I'd been careful to make sure no one would spot it, especially not Edward. "Yeah... It's a... tradition." Although the tradition had been broken now. I was supposed to get a smile with it, and little Christmas lights in those brown eyes, and a hug or two... Instead, something large and heavy had nestled itself in my stomach as I'd read through the recipe, and it hadn't left me since. "Wish she could've given it to me in person."
Albert's shoulders twitched slightly. "Next year."
"Yeah... sounds too long, though..." She might not even like me anymore. She might believe she wasn't important to me at all, because why wasn't I there when I'd promised her I would be? Why would she trust anything I'd said? I'd told her I didn't want to end up like my parents, and look where I was now.
Hiding between the branches of a tree because a man worse than the combined forces of Simon Redstone Jr. and Madeline Redstone didn't care what happened to me, as long as he could keep me under his thumb and have his daughter close. And I'd let him, falling right into his trap. Here I was, amongst people who should be with their families right now, people who certainly trash-talked each other once they were in the comfort of their own home, people I wasn't sure truly liked me or were specialists in pretending — that was at least one thing I could be thankful for when it came to Edward: he didn't even try to conceal his dislike.
This was the reason I didn't want to become a lawyer. What was wrong with me that I forgot about all that?
Would there be flights going from Heathrow or Gatwick to California on Christmas Eve? And if there were, would I be the coward who got on it, ruining my reputation here and, far more importantly, breaking Charlotte's heart?
"Want my solution?"
"Well, yeah — of course!" The words tumbled out too fast, and I managed to trip over them. I'd been wondering about it ever since he mentioned it, secretly hoping it'd give me a reason to leave this place, hoping it'd give me an excuse to go back home.
Albert shook his head a little, long lips pressed together. "I'm going to San Francisco. Friend asked me to come work with her. Took my Bar Exam during my trip last month."
So, that was the reason he'd been encouraging me to talk about home lately. It hadn't been about me and my homesickness, it was about himself. For a second, the mention of SF had made my heart stop — until I realized he hadn't invited me to go with him, and I'd be stuck here, this time without the only Englishman I liked to get me through the day. "That's — that's great."
He smiled again, probably at my failed attempt to sound excited. "Want you to come with. Be an associate."
I froze, not saying anything. Did he just... did he really...? The heavy, massive feeling evaporated and was replaced by the urge to high-five him — he was handing me the perfect opportunity.
I could go home.
"You want me? Why?"
My head was spinning, maybe a consequence of the champagne I'd downed earlier, and for some reason, the only thing I could do was envisioning June looking over her shoulder to smile at me — again and again and again, until it got me dizzy, and I forgot why I was thinking about her in the first place.
Albert just shrugged. "You're good, and you're likable. It's a rare combination."
I wasn't that good at all. Most of the time, I had no idea what I was doing, and it was only due to sheer dumb luck I hadn't made a big mistake yet. I was sure there were much more suitable candidates than me. "Albert, I'm practically a rookie."
"It's a lower position than your current one."
That was probably true. Lower, and more adequate for my skill sets, but not given to me by my girlfriend's father. Was it any different to have Albert throw it in my lap, though?
It was like he could read my mind: "You'd still do an interview."
San Francisco with Albert.
June and Sam.
No Charlotte.
He raised his eyebrow at me, staring right into my eyes, void of any emotion. "Yes or no?"