All the Way to Shore Page 13

  “Maybe we would but it would’ve ended the same. Marco doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “No! I can’t believe that. I mean, I knew he’d be angry at first, but—”

  “He told me it’s over.” Jonathan sat up with a small groan. His body ached from his hairline to his toenails. “Can you get me the aspirin?”

  After staring at him with a stricken expression, Anthony stood up. “Be right back.”

  As Anthony walked into the bathroom, Jonathan sank back against the headboard. It was over, just like he had known it would be. Marco’s words circled, taunting him. Not because you’re Jonathan Vallen, but because you couldn’t trust me. Or yourself. And the next time I open myself up to love, it will be to someone who’ll give me their whole self, warts and all.

  That was some irony right there. Jonathan laughed grimly. If he’d just trusted himself and Marco enough to be who he was—Jonathan Vallen, warts and all—he’d be riding off into the sunset with his handsome prince. Oh, they would’ve still had to face down the evil monarch, Frederick Vallen, but given the way Marco had handled him today, Jonathan didn’t see that being a problem. He smiled for a moment, remembering how Marco had eviscerated Father this morning with a few choice words. Then he sobered, remembering how it had felt to be at the receiving end of that eviscerating tongue. No wonder he ached like he’d been beaten up.

  “Here, Jonny.” Anthony held out two aspirins and a glass of water.

  “Thanks.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “No, Tony.” Jonathan washed down the pills, then set the glass on the table and closed his eyes.

  “You know, I really don’t think this is over.”

  “Please.” Jonathan cracked an eyelid open to see Anthony pacing the room again, arms crossed, looking fiercely thoughtful. “No more.”

  “I’m serious, babe. That man is in love with you! I saw how he was staring at you last night, all evening long. And you’re in love with him.”

  Jonathan watched Anthony pace. “So? I blew it. End of story.”

  “Nope. You two are it for each other. You’re destined. Didn’t you tell me that?”

  Jonathan heaved a sigh. “I had that feeling. It all seemed cosmic and epic for a while.” He closed his eyes again. “Clearly, that was just wishful thinking.”

  “What did Marco say? Specifically?”

  “God, just drop it.”

  “Please, Jonny.”

  Knowing Anthony wouldn’t stop until he spilled, Jonathan dragged himself up the headboard a little farther and opened his eyes one more time. “He asked me why I lied. I told him. He wanted to know if it was because I didn’t feel good enough as myself or because I thought he was a bastard from, you know, before.”

  “All good points.”

  “Yeah. I told him it was both at first, but then it was because I didn’t want it to end.”

  Anthony cast a sigh. “I hope you told him I’m to blame for the whole thing. Me and my stupid fairy tales.”

  “No. Because you’re not to blame. I didn’t have to go along with it.”

  Anthony hugged himself as though he were cold, then kept walking. “Okay. What did he say after that?”

  “He….” Pain shot through Jonathan, and he studied the bedspread as he recalled yet again Marco’s damning words. “He said it was the end. Not because I was Jonathan Vallen, but because I didn’t trust him or myself enough to be who I was. He said… um….” Jonathan cleared his suddenly tight throat. “He said when he opened himself up to love the next time, it would be to someone who gave him their full self. Warts and all. That’s what he said.”

  The silence was so prolonged, Jonathan raised his eyes.

  Anthony stood stock-still, like he’d been tagged in a game of freeze tag. “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “What?”

  Anthony gave a shake, coming back to life. “He said ‘the next time I open myself up to love.’ Meaning he opened himself up to being in love with you! That’s major! I bet Marco Pellegrini has never opened himself up to love before.”

  “I know he hasn’t. He told me he’s never had a serious relationship. But what’s so beautiful about it now? He’s talking about the next time, because I blew it.”

  “I don’t think you did. Don’t you see? He’s hurt! He fell in love with you, and he wanted all of you. He wanted to know that you found him trustworthy by giving yourself fully to him, and because you didn’t, he thinks it’s about him. Like he’s not safe enough or something. I bet it’s because he has to be such a hardass in business. And he was a hardass with you back when he took over Vallen.” Anthony practically hopped around the room, eyes gleaming. “This just proves that you two are hopelessly in love, you’re the key to his lock, he’s the missing puzzle piece in your… your jigsaw, and once y’all get over this hurdle, there’s going to be the most amazing makeup sex ever.”

  Jonathan listened to Anthony prattle on with his newfound theory of happily ever after. One of these days he was going to strangle his cousin for being such a staunch believer in fairy tales. But not today. Today, he was too tired. He slid back under the covers. “Wake me up when it’s time for dinner.”

  “I have an idea for dinner too. We’re going to talk to Sophia. She knows her brother, and she’s seen you two together. She’ll help. All is not lost, Jonny!”

  “Okay.” Jonathan felt his eyelids get heavy. Sleep, sweet safe oblivion, beckoned. He wanted to be in a place where nothing hurt. He just hoped he didn’t dream of Marco.

  MARCO FASTENED his seat belt as the plane’s engine came to life. The engine noises were always louder in these smaller planes, and that was okay with Marco. He’d rather not talk with Frederick any more than he had to.

  He’d already set a boundary with him when they’d gotten into the cab. “I am not discussing Jonathan with you, so don’t even start.”

  Frederick had puffed up like an ugly bird. “You have no right to say what we will or won’t discuss, especially where my son’s welfare is concerned.”

  Marco had laughed in disbelief. “Your son’s welfare? I doubt that’s of much concern to you. He moved to Cape Cod to get away from you.”

  “Did he tell you that?’

  “Uh-uh. I won’t be drawn in to discussing him. Anything you want to know about Jonathan, you ask him.” He’d turned his head to study the passing scenery while Vallen scowled and muttered. What a prick. It was a wonder Jonathan had turned out so well, with Frederick for a father.

  “I can’t believe you… did whatever you did with him. Unnatural acts.”

  Marco’s scalp had prickled at Vallen’s low poisonous voice. He’d turned back. “How do you like it with Margaret Lawrence, Frederick? Missionary? Or do you do it doggie style?”

  Frederick had paled, then turned a furious red. “How dare you!”

  “If you don’t like your business associate discussing your sex life, then stop thinking you can discuss mine. Or Jonathan’s. Your son is well past the age of consent. He’s almost thirty, for God’s sake. What he chooses to do in the bedroom and who he chooses to love are not subject to your approval, if they ever were.”

  They’d spent the rest of the cab ride in icy silence, but at least Marco had shut him up about Jonathan.

  Now, in the plane that was taking him farther and farther away from the sun and the sea and Jonah’s sweet eyes—yeah, yeah, he knew his name was Jonathan, but he wanted to remember his Jonah—all Marco could do was think about him. How devastated he’d looked in the stateroom. How he’d told Marco he loved him, even after Marco had said it was over. How he’d left the pendant, even after Marco had thrown it at his feet. A little whisper of hope sounded, which Marco firmly rejected. No. He would not open himself up to someone who’d lied to his face, who’d let Marco fall in love with him and say all those things. God, what a fucking chump he’d been.

  If there was anything Marco hated, it was losing control of a
situation. Once you showed your weaknesses, you were fair game to be taken advantage of. Jonah had wormed his way into Marco’s heart, and he’d lowered his defenses. He should have realized something was up. Hell, he’d known something was up, but he was too busy falling for the guy to follow his instincts. He’d been around long enough to know that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. So why hadn’t he been more wary of Jonah Rutledge?

  Because Jonah was everything Marco had been missing, craving without even knowing it. He’d been so consumed with climbing the ladder of success, eating the dogs before they ate him, that he hadn’t realized how empty he was. Then along came a guy who wasn’t trying to outmaneuver him or show off his prowess. An ordinary guy, albeit extremely attractive, who wasn’t trying to cash in on his looks or moves or talent. A guy who was completely into Marco, not in order to gain some foothold, but just because. A guy Marco could be himself with and have that be enough. A guy who felt like home.

  Marco clamped his earphones over his ears and turned his iPod to the Rachmaninoff piano concerto he and Jonah had listened to in the cab that first day they’d spent together. The day he’d kissed him in the flower gardens. If he was going to wallow, he might as well do it in style.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  ANTHONY SCANNED the dining room, stunning in his final night’s outfit. The dress theme tonight was Rainbows, and Anthony resembled a brilliant peacock down to his multicolored fingernails. He even wore feathers. Jonathan slouched beside him like a bedraggled sparrow, wearing the clothes he’d thrown on that morning, still as sore and exhausted as if he’d been through ten rounds.

  “I wonder if she’ll come to dinner? I wonder how much Marco told her? I wonder—ah, there she is! Let’s go.”

  Anthony grabbed Jonathan’s arm as if to prevent him from running away. It made Jonathan think of the first time they’d seen Marco and Sophia on the ship. He’d wanted to run away then too. He probably should have.

  Sophia stood by the captain’s table, Melanie at her side, both wearing bright colors. She wore a walking boot decked out in glittery material, and her hair gleamed with rainbow highlights. When she threw back her head and laughed, her resemblance to Marco pierced Jonathan’s heart. His steps slowed until Anthony tugged his arm.

  As they neared the table, Sophia caught sight of them. Her joyful wave told Jonathan she didn’t yet know they’d betrayed Marco. And her. Praying for a lightning bolt to strike him, he plodded after Anthony, who had darted forward to give Sophia an embrace.

  “Jonah!” Sophia reached out for him. He had no choice but to hug her, hating himself the whole time. “I’m so sorry Marco had to leave. Can you believe that boss of his? From all I’ve heard about him, Frederick Vallen is a real jerk.”

  “Oh, you’re right about that,” Anthony said. “But darling, could you come with us for a minute? We need to talk to you.” He smiled beguilingly at Melanie. “You don’t mind if we steal her, do you?”

  “Go right ahead. As long as you bring her back in one piece.”

  “Absolutely!” Anthony tucked Sophia’s arm in his, and Melanie handed over her cane, then fixed her with stern eyes.

  “No hopping around on that leg, you hear?”

  Sophia blushed prettily. “Yes, Doctor.”

  Anthony headed for the deck with Sophia, chattering and laughing, while Jonathan trudged silently behind. He wished Anthony would cool it on the merriment, given the bomb they were about to drop.

  Outside, they made for a group of deck chairs pushed against the ship’s wall. That got them away from the railing where plenty of people were still standing, drinking and laughing, having a final smoke before dinner.

  After helping Sophia into the chair and securing her cane behind, Anthony dropped to one side of her and gestured to Jonathan to take the chair on the other side.

  “So, what’s up, guys? This is all so mysterious!”

  “I take it you haven’t heard anything… um, unusual from Marco?”

  Sophia sat up straighter at Anthony’s question. “What do you mean? Is he okay?”

  “Oh Lord, sorry to scare you, doll. As far as I know, he’s fine. That is… er—” Anthony cut himself off, appearing flustered for the first time.

  “What’s happened?” Sophia turned worried eyes to Jonathan. “Jonah?”

  Hell. Jonathan plunged in, given that Anthony seemed to have jumped ship on the conversation. “Marco found something out this morning. About me and… and Anthony.”

  “Who?”

  “Andrew over there is my cousin, but his name isn’t Andrew. It’s Anthony. Anthony Vallen. And I’m not Jonah Rutledge. My name is Jonathan Vallen.”

  “Vallen? Like Marco’s…. Are you related to…?”

  “I’m Frederick Vallen’s son.” Sophia stared, speechless, so Jonathan forged on. “I met Marco a year ago when he came to take over Vallen Industries.”

  “You two met? But that’s impossible! He would have told me.”

  Sophia’s bafflement stabbed at Jonathan. “I’ve changed a lot. He didn’t recognize me.”

  “Okay. Is this some kind of a joke?” She turned from one to the other with a hopeful smile. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”

  Anthony grimaced. “I wish I could tell you we were. It’s all my damn fault. When we saw you and Marco, we recognized him, of course, and Jonny panicked. They hadn’t gotten along too well a year ago. But Jonny’s lost forty pounds and gotten contacts, and he looks completely different now. When Marco didn’t know him, I made up the names, to have a little fun.” He sank lower into the deck chair, and his next sentence was a mumble. “How was I supposed to know they’d fall in love?”

  Jonathan cleared his throat, and Sophia swung her head back to him. “And I went along with it, intending to tell you all the truth at the end of the night. But Marco and I hit it off so much that… I got scared that if he knew who I really was, he’d remember what a loser I’d been, and….”

  “And Marco knows about this? He knows that you lied to him?”

  “Well, yes. We ran into Father—um, Frederick—as we were leaving the ship this morning. I… I tried to explain to Marco, but….” Jonathan trailed off at the absolute fury on Sophia’s face.

  “You—do you know what you’ve done? My brother has never fallen for anyone the way he fell for you, Jonah.” Her eyes filled with tears that she dashed away angrily. “And for him to find out it’s all been a lie, after he opened himself up? You bastard!”

  “I’m so, so sorry. It was stupid and thoughtless. Not all of it was a lie. Only my name. I did fall in love with him. That’s the God’s honest truth.” Jonathan would have gone on, trying to plead his hopeless case, but Sophia was struggling to rise from her seat.

  “Hand me my cane.”

  “Sophia. Doll. Please—” Anthony’s plea died in his throat at whatever look she threw at him.

  Jonathan rose quickly and retrieved Sophia’s cane. He held out his arm to help her up, and she shot him a lethal glance before using his arm as a lever. She hadn’t even gotten fully to her feet before he broke into rapid speech, babbling in desperation, knowing it was probably his last chance to ever have Sophia’s ear in this lifetime.

  “Sophia, I want you to know I love Marco. I love him with everything I have. And I know he… he loves me. For whatever reason and however much I screwed it up, something brought us together this week, like it was meant to be. We both felt that. If I could, I’d spend my life trying to make it up to him for being scared and weak and a liar. Because he gave me so much this week. Tell him thank you for me. Tell him I’m going to live my life out loud, just like we talked about. Tell him… I love him.”

  Sophia gave him the most withering glance he’d ever received. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?” And with that, she hobbled away.

  Jonathan and Anthony watched her disappear into the ship. Then Anthony stood up, none of his usual sparkle evident. “Well. That didn’t go as planned.” He sighed. �
��Remind me never to do anything this stupid again. Dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry. I’m going back to the room and pack.”

  “Okay.” Anthony opened his mouth like he was about to say something else, then shook his head and clasped Jonathan’s shoulder.

  Jonathan walked back to the stateroom, Sophia’s words reverberating in his mind.

  Why don’t you tell him yourself?

  Good question, Sophia. If I wasn’t such a hopeless loser, I’d try to answer it.

  PART THREE

  Chapter ONE

  BOSTON—January 2016

  MARCO’S JOURNAL

  HAPPY FUCKING New Year. The only good thing about this shit day is how happy Bunny the magical cat was to see me. Right now she’s in my lap, purring like a motor, and shows no signs of moving anytime soon. So I’m working around her. Pets are good for unconditional love. Another good thing about them—they don’t lie to you. They don’t pretend they’re someone they’re not for almost a whole fucking week, then expect you to still love them and give them a chance.

  So. Jonah Fucking Rutledge. The perfect man for me. Who turned out to be Jonathan Fucking Vallen. Son of Frederick Fucking Vallen, Prick Extraordinaire. Like father, like son? I wouldn’t go that far. Jonathan is way better than Frederick. He’s sensitive, artistic, musical, intelligent, and emotional. And kind and loving. And humble. And fun. He’s pretty much everything Frederick is not.

  Frederick did a number on Jonathan’s head, though. He made Jonathan believe he isn’t worthy of love. So Jonathan had to turn himself into someone else. Jonah. As Jonah, he could allow himself to be admired. He could let himself flirt. He could have an affair, a shipboard romance. I doubt that Jonathan would have opened himself up to such abundance. Crap, now I’m remembering the stuff Jonah said after we visited the rain forest and the church. That stuff about never having allowed himself to live life fully before. Living his life out loud. I wonder if he’s still going to get a place in Boston.