Page 53 of The Hitman’s Final Job

“Sorry. I just—” I look at Tess. “Do you know what an Atlantis Cruise is?”

Tess nods. “It’s one of those Mediterranean ones, right? That go to the Greek islands?” She sits up slightly. “I’ve never been outside the US, but I read a lot, and I’m absolutely fascinated by Greek mythology.”

“Tess,” I say, trying my best not to laugh because I don’t want to offend my new carb dealer, “an Atlantis Cruise is a gay cruise. Gay men only. It’s quite famous.”

The room is quiet as Tess absorbs the information.

Then she laughs, followed by Clayton once he recovers from thinking about his wife on a gay cruise.

“That,” she says, when she can speak, “explains absolutely everything. Why Chris suggested it, and why all of a sudden the gay male population of Pine Ridge has developed a serious interest in vegetable growing.”

“How big is this community?” I ask. “For research purposes, you know?” I’m only joking, but Vaughn tenses in the corner of my eye. He’s sitting close enough I easily put my hand on his leg under the table.

I’m surprised when he puts his hand over mine and leaves it there.

Tess refills her wine glass and then shares a look with Clayton. “Pine Ridge has always been a sanctuary for LGBTQIA+ folks,” she says. “Our two boys are at college right now. Hudson has introduced us to various boyfriends and girlfriends over the years. Luke hasn’t brought anyone home yet … We’re their parents. We only care that whoever they bring home makes them happy. That’s all. That’s the whole thing.”

“That’s— I wish I’d had that growing up.”

Vaughn’s hand tightens on mine.

“Well,” Tess says, simply, “you have it now. That’s how Pine Ridge works.”

Vaughn releases my hand and stands to clear the plates. I try to ignore the feeling of loss as I stand as well.

“Sit down,” I tell him. “You cooked.”

“You prepped,” he says.

“That’s not the same as⁠—”

“Boys,” Tess says.

We look at her.

She stands up. “Clayton, take Vaughn to the living room. Silas and I will clean up.” She starts stacking the empty plates like she expects zero resistance from the men around her. “Go.”

I grab the serving platter and follow her into the kitchen. We work in silence for a moment, filling up the dishwasher and cleaning the bigger pans.

Then she says, “Is there something going on between you and Vaughn?”

The dish in my hands is suddenly in need of careful inspection. “Um … I … no.”

“Maybe it’s not my place to say, but I can feel something. Besides, I’ve never seen someone’s eyes fighting so hard to look the other way as Vaughn’s fought to look away from you. All evening.”

My head is crowded with all the secrets I keep. The ones I keep professionally, out of habit, or because the truth is too complicated to give to anyone. I’m so tired of them.

I don’t want to keep this one.

“There’s … nothing, but there’s also something. It’s complicated, because Rowan is my best friend and I’d never do anything to jeopardize our friendship, but also my life is in Atlanta.”

Tess hands me another dish. “Both of those things can be fixed.”

“Tess—”

“People move,” she says. “All the time. For all kinds of reasons. That’s not an obstacle, that’s a choice. And Rowan— Rowan is a good man. He’d be surprised, maybe. He’d need a minute. But he’d want his dad to be happy, and he’d want his best friend to be happy.”

“He’d probably want them not to be each other’s happiness.”