Page 26 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
“I had to go to New York. It was all very last minute, and I didn’t get back until late last night.”
What, or who, is in New York? But Lucian couldn’t, wouldn’t ask, and he bit down on his tongue.
Neither of them said anything for a minute or two. Lucian fiddled with his spoon, failing to find the words to fill in the deep hole which had opened up between them.
“Hey.” Arlo leaned in across the table. “I know you’re wondering, and it’s no big secret—”
“You don’t have to say a word. Your private life is—”
“My business? This is Collier’s Creek, remember? A small community, and small communities are the same wherever you go in the world. Even Australia.” Arlo sighed, his cheeks golf balling as he stared out through the window.
“I was with somebody.” Arlo turned his attention back to Lucian. “In New York. We were together for a few years. When it ended, I took the chance to make some changes in my life, one of which was to sell my half of the architectural practice to my business partner, and come back here. That was a few months ago, but wrapping everything up back east, it’s taken longer than I thought. It’s been harder, too, and fraught with difficulties.”
“Honestly, Arlo. You don’t have to tell me this, not if you don’t want to.”
Who was the man Arlo had left back in New York? What was he? Why did it all come tumbling down? Questions he wanted to ask, questions he couldn’t, because those same questions would be turned back on him.
“I know, but I’d rather you heard it from me, not through rumor and half truths.”
Lucian said nothing and Arlo gazed at him, as though waiting for Lucian’s permission to tell him what he wanted him to know, from his lips and nobody else’s.
“Okay,” Lucian said, his voice little more than a dry whisper.
“His name’s Tony, and he was my partner. We were in it for the long haul. Or so I thought. I even designed a house for us, close to the beach in Massachusetts. It was supposed to be our getaway for when things got too much in the city. I paid for the construction, the fittings and furnishings, and the running costs.” Arlo shrugged. “It didn’t bother me, because I was the higher earner. But I registered the place in both our names. Legally he owns half, which wouldn’t have been a problem if everything between us had gone to plan. It didn’t, which is why he’s still in New York, and I’m here.”
“I’m sorry. I really am.” A relationship Arlo had thought was forever, before it all went to shit. Lucian’s gut tightened. He knew all about those.
Arlo stirred the remains of his coffee. “We were both trying to keep afloat something that should have sunk long before it finally did. He was — is — younger than me. It didn’t matter most of the time, but when it did…” He sighed and shrugged. “But we were very different. Maybe too different, and we ended up wanting different things out of life.
“We should have been honest with ourselves, and each other, a lot sooner, but we just clung on tight, thinking it would come out ok. But of course it didn’t.” The rhythmic clink, clink, clink of the spoon on the side of the cup was as regular as a metronome.
“I’d been dissatisfied with the direction of my life for a while. Professionally, I was reaching my peak. We had the pick of projects, and we could afford to be fussy about who we worked with. But it was stressful and draining and I just didn’t love it anymore. I kept thinking of coming back home, but when I told Tony you’d have thought I said I wanted to run off and live in a mosquito infested swamp or something. He’s New York born and raised — I’m not sure he even knows where Wyoming is.”
Arlo threw the spoon down and he looked up, his gaze falling not on Lucian but out of the window, all the way back to New York. The harsh ring of a cell and a peal of laughter burst the bubble that had surrounded Arlo, making him jump as his gaze darted back to Lucian.
“So I sold my half of the business, like I said, and Tony and I ended just before Christmas. I’d reached the point of wanting out of the career I’d spent so long establishing, and out of the city I’d made my home. And we both wanted out of the relationship. Not that there was any relationship left.
“It was a relief for both of us, and it put an end to the nasty arguments. Or mostly. But, we were together a long time, so there’s a lot of practical stuff to unpick and settle — which includes the fight over the beach house. He wants to buy me out, at way below what it’s worth. I want to sell. That’s why I went back to New York, to try and sort things out once and for all. It didn’t work.”
Arlo smiled, but it was sad and tired, and didn’t reach his eyes. Lucian ached to give him the hug he looked like he could do with, but instead, he clamped his hands together.
“So that’s why I came back. To reset and re-evaluate. To live a different, simpler, less complicated life. Even if Francine doesn’t believe that’s a way for a man to live.”
“Ah, Wilbur.”
“Exactly. He’s not the first, but I’m going to make sure he’s the last. The one before him was a podiatrist, and the one before him was a hair stylist. She seems determined to make me over,” he said with a shrug.
Arlo’s words had shaken him, the parallels in their reasons for coming to Collier’s Creek pulsing like a strobe light. They were both seeking refuge from pain, to reset and start again, to steer clear of heartache and heartbreak. They were both on the same page, yet something contracted in Lucian’s chest, and grew smaller by the second. It made him want to cry, but he smiled, the biggest, brightest one he could dredge up.
They talked, light and inconsequential, until their fresh coffees were long gone and the staff were tidying up and sweeping the floor, the cue for them to go.
Outside, the sun had turned a hazy, soft gold against the deep cloudless purple-blue of the sky. In the distance, the mountains loomed large, the town’s guardians and protectors.
“You don’t get skies like this at home, or at least not anywhere near London.” Lucian gazed into the wide sky. “The colors are different, deeper and more intense. More defined. Harder edged, and kind of heavier, a gritty crime drama rather than a cozy mystery. Less watered down than home. Listen to me, getting all arty-farty.” He turned his head to look at Arlo, expecting to see a smile on his lips; instead, he was staring at him, his concentration as hard and sharp as a blade.
“No, you’re right,” Arlo said slowly, his eyes still focused on Lucian, looking at him as if he were truly seeing him for the first time.
Lucian fidgeted, the urge to dip his head under Arlo’s heavy scrutiny growing stronger, but he held his gaze. People bustled by them, traffic filed past, but as Arlo continued to gaze at him, they could have been the only people left standing on the planet.
