The Cornerstone (23 page)

Will:
Not yet

Will:
Where are you?

Shannon:
A town council meeting outside of Boston that is testing my patience for humanity because they’ve been debating the local ordinance relative to shrub trimming for 90 minutes and they won’t get to my proposal to update the structure of a property until midnight because they have to approve every time someone changes a light bulb around here.

Shannon:
Why do you need to know?

Will:
Because I’d like to have a chat with your pussy and I don’t want anyone else to hear you come

Shannon:
Am I supposed to be down for that?

Will:
Here’s what I want.

Will:
I want your panties in my hand. Without me even asking for them.

Will:
And I want your skirt around your waist

Will:
And I want to inhale that sweet scent

Will:
And I want to lick you until you can’t speak

Will:
I love the way you taste.

Shannon:
What part of “at a town council meeting” did you misunderstand?

Shannon:
I’m surrounded by people and I have to stay here until they get to my proposal, and you’re waxing poetic about the ladybits

Shannon:
I don’t call you while you’re blowing up oil pipelines, do I?

Will:
All right fine. Call me when you get home.

Will:
But for the record, I’m usually preventing the oil pipelines from being blown up.

*

Will:
I want to talk about the holidays

Shannon:
Awesome.

Will:
Why won’t you consider it?

Shannon:
You’re extrapolating quite a bit from a one-word response

Will:
Yeah, I am. I can hear text sarcasm from 3000 miles away

Will:
What’s wrong, peanut?

Shannon:
Nothing

Will:
Save us both the time and energy of wading through the bullshit and tell me.

Shannon:
I’ve fucked things up with Sam

Will:
What happened?

Shannon:
I’ve handled the whole thing wrong. Everything. I’ve taken a lot of shit for coddling him over the years, and I should have kept doing it. Never should have backed away or gotten into this fight about his issues and his strange girlfriend or any of it. I should have snuggled him up and doubled down on the coddling.

Will:
Ok, so move on. If you want to do things differently, go ahead.

Shannon:
Yeah, unfortunately, Sam’s busy being furious at me and he interprets everything I do as manipulative or malicious or whatever, and he’s not having it

Will:
I know what you should do

Will:
COME TO MEXICO

Shannon:
omfg would you stop it?

Shannon:
Allow me to be abundantly clear: I am not going to Mexico with you. I have articulated my reasons and I’m finished with this topic.

Will:
Your reasons are shit

Shannon:
They’re still my reasons and I’m serious about being finished. I’m not talking about this anymore.

Will:
And here’s why your reasons are shit

Will:
You’re in a war of hearts and minds with Sam. You need to let the insurgency run itself into the ground. Let it blow up, burn down, and when there’s nothing left to lose, you can get in there and fix things

Shannon:
I can’t let Sam blow up or burn down

Will:
At the minimum, you need some distance from that shit.

Will:
Matt and Lo will be in Mexico, so you’ll have family. Also: Judy will love you.

Shannon:
Don’t you think Judy will require some kind of explanation as to why I’m joining the Halsted Family Festivities?

Will:
Let me deal with Judy

Shannon:
And you’re going to deal with Lauren, too?

Will:
Stop obsessing about that. Come to Mexico. Stay with me. There’s nothing more to be said.

*

Will:
Care to explain why you aren’t answering your phone?

*

Will:
Here’s the situation. I’ve called you 6 times and left 5 voicemails. That means it’s time for you to call me back.

*

Will:
Just talked to Tom. He confirmed you’re alive.

Will:
He’s a treasure, btw. Gave me your entire schedule for the week.

*

Will:
Peanut. talk to me.

SHANNON

Eleven months ago

“W
hat’ll it be?”
Riley asked.

His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows and his collar was open at the throat, and he seemed truly content tending the makeshift bar in Patrick and Andy’s apartment on Christmas Eve. The glassware was arranged in neat rows, his lemons and limes were beautifully segmented, and all the bottles were lined up like an army of liquor.

“I’d like to shed some brain cells tonight,” I said.

His fingers tapped the bottle tops for a moment. “Who’s getting you home?”

I scowled. “I can get myself home, thank you.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, grabbing the rum. “Sounds like someone isn’t feeling the spirit of the season.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and sank further into my scowl. “Nope,” I said, “not really.”

He continued pouring liquids into the stainless steel container, and asked, “Didn’t want to spend the holiday on the beach?” I looked up from his rhythmic shaking with a frown. “I figured you’d be seeing Captain America since you’ve been spending most holidays with him recently.”

What happened to not seeing anything?

“Be a good boy and stop talking about things above your pay grade,” I said, wincing.

Spending Christmas in Mexico with Will and his parents, Wes, Lauren, and Matt was crazy and out of the question. I wanted Will time. I didn’t want to deal with Lauren’s knowing grins or Matt weirding out, or focusing my energy on not swearing my ass off in front of his parents. And it seemed so sudden and public and official, all the things I wasn’t convinced I wanted right now.

This was scheduled sex. Easy, uncomplicated, not an issue-for-me-to-manage, along-for-the-rollercoaster-ride scheduled sex.

I liked the vague, gelatinous nature of things with Will, mostly. I didn’t love sneaking around and I was nearly at my breaking point when it came to the secrets I was keeping from my brothers—or not keeping, in Riley’s case—and Tom and Lauren, but there was something wonderful about leaving this off the books. It was as if we had something no one else could interfere with. As long as it stayed between us, it was our little insults-and-hate-sex bubble, and that was kind of perfect.

Of course, those feelings changed every time I was alone in my bed, missing him and beyond desperate for a steady stream of affection.

And dick. Let’s not pretend I didn’t appreciate the easy access to dick.

Riley pointed to his nose. “Next time you see him, you should tell him it still feels a little out of whack.”

Glancing around the open floor plan, I noticed Sam helping Andy in the kitchen, Patrick and Nick talking with some of their marathon training group friends near the television. No one was close enough to hear us.

“How are you always creeping on people like this? Do you get a sixth sense for it?”

Riley laughed as he handed me a glass. “I know I’m not the smartest guy in the bunch, but I’m pretty sure I know what I walked in on last summer,” he said. “And you’re a little obvious in your refusal to discuss your recent travels. The lady doth protest and all.”

“Great,” I mumbled around the straw. “What is this?”

“Comfortably Numb,” he said. “And like I said, I never see anything.”

“I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not,” I said. “I’m getting a distinctly extortionist vibe from you right now.”

Riley wiped his hands on a bar towel, and draped it over his shoulder. “I don’t have the attention span for those shenanigans.” He waved me off, saying, “Go sit in a corner, and be Grinchful. It’s not Christmas without somebody trotting out the melancholy.”

I sagged into a chair near the fireplace, scowl still intact, and sipped my drink. I wasn’t melancholy; I was a masochist.