Page 54 of Angels Fall
Son of a bitch.
“So,” I say to him, in an attempt to make this all seem completely normal and not walk my parents into a conversation about anything having to do with me and Tyler, “you convinced Mom and Dad to let you pay for all this? Hell, that’s a Thanksgiving miracle in itself.”
Mom walks over to Tyler so that she’s on one side of him and Dad’s on the other. She takes up his hand. “Well,” she says, “he’s very persuasive.” She squeezes his palm and nudges him. He grins in his unforgivably charming way and winks.
Is—is Tyler Morgan flirting with my mom? Shit, is my mom flirting with Tyler Morgan?
Dad then makes fists and sort of shadow boxes with him, saying. “Yep! Sure is!”
Forget Mom, is Dad flirting with him? Jesus Christ.
“Shall we have a drink before we head down for Thanksgiving dinner?” asks Mom.
“We?” I ask. “Is… Tyler? Are you… having Thanksgiving dinner with us?”
“Well, sure he is!” bellows Dad. “That was part of the deal! We said, ‘OK, we’ll let you pay for the suite and all, but dinner is on us, and you have to come!’”
I swear to fuck, I feel like I’m in the middle of some bizarre, alternate-universe holiday commercial for… like, long-distance service, or some damn thing.
“Come on,” Mom says. “Let’s all head into the living room for a cocktail.”
“I got it,” Tyler exclaims, stepping over to the bar in the corner. “Georgina, still gin and tonic? Simon, you want a Manhattan?”
“You remember!” Mom says, delighted.
“Maddie? Whatcha drinking?” Tyler asks.
All three of them look at me expectantly, broad smiles plastered across their faces.
“Um… Just mix up everything that’s there into a glass, and make it a double.”
“And then after a few years of seeing what the world had to offer a guy like me, I just kind of wound up back here.”
Tyler’s wrapping up the story of where he’s been for the last seven years. I’m alternately surprised by the little details I didn’t know and pissed off that I’m only just discovering it all now. Because it reminds me again of how far gone from us—from me—he’s been.
“Wow. That’s some kind of a story,” says my dad. “And what happened with Nadir’s—that was his name, yeah? Nadir?” Tyler nods, affirming the name of the translator he worked with to develop the technology he sold that made him a multi-millionaire. The translator who died before he got to benefit from what he and Tyler made. “What happened with Nadir’s family?” Dad finishes asking.
Tyler gets solemn. “Um, yeah. Yeah. I don’t really know, actually. I…” Tyler trails off. Huh, it’s not solemnity I see. It’s shame. “Yeah. I dunno.”
There’s an awkward pause. Then Dad says, “Well, that’s war, huh? Hell, as they say.”
“Yeah,” Tyler huffs out. “It can be.”
“Well”—my mom takes Tyler by the arm—“we’re just glad you’re OK. And that you’re back home!” I forgot how much Mom and Dad always loved Tyler. They kind of saw him as a second son. Especially after his mother died. He was at our place all the time. His dad was such a bastard. Probably still is. And for just a moment, I get sad for someone other than myself. But then I stuff it down. Because I can’t afford to share my sorrow.
Mom touches Tyler’s beard. “And what’s all this about? Is this a trendy thing that you’re doing, or…?”
“No, Georgina, just too damn lazy to shave.” Tyler smirks and everyone laughs. I dunno how he fucking does it, but he does.
“So, Maddie!” says Dad. “Tell us more about this real estate thing you’re doing! You’ve been so hush-hush about it, but Tyler says it’s going well.”
“Oh…” Shit. I really don’t want to have to lie straight to my parents’ faces. “Yeah, well, um…”
“Tell ’em about Robert, Maddie,” Tyler chimes in, encouraging with a knowing look. Evan must have told him that I came by the station. Fuck.
“Oh, well, yeah, just, um, Robert Vanderbilt and I are maybe talking about—”
“Robert is Evan’s husband,” Tyler volunteers.
