Nick covered his face with his hands, then let out a harsh laugh. “I mean, should I?” he said. “Everyone acts like I ought to. That night…I tried so hard. But when the adrenaline wore off and it all set in…” He wiped at his eyes. “You made a pass at Bex. You begged her to leave me. Why am I supposed to be the bigger man?”
“You’re not,” Freddie said. “But you’re my big brother. You’re the best of us. I believed you when you reached out to me that night, and then you left, and I was on an island. I had no one. I did what I could in order not to go mad.”
“And I’ve been slowly going mad instead,” Nick said. “I wanted to put this away. But I can’t. I can’t not wonder what you’re feeling when you hug Bex, or whether you’re flirting when you try to make her laugh. And don’t tell me I’m overreacting, because I missed it the first time and it’s nearly ruined me.”
Nick didn’t seem to know whether to be scared or relieved that he’d released the words he’d kept under his tongue for the last eight months. He wrapped his arms around his torso, as if to hold all the rest of his feelings inside. I was frozen, my hands cupped over my mouth, unsure whether to intervene or let Nick bleed this poison.
“And there’s nothing for it, then,” Freddie said raggedly. It should have been a question, but, heartbreakingly, was not.
Nick sank into the sofa. He was silent for a long moment. “I don’t think I can tell you what you want to hear,” he finally said, so quietly that I could barely hear him.
Freddie appeared to deflate. He nodded very, very slowly, started to move toward Nick, then caught himself and clenched his fists. Instead, he strode for the door.
“Freddie,” I said urgently. “You can’t leave. We can’t…”
But I didn’t know where to go from there.
Freddie paused in front of me and shrugged so helplessly. “We tried,” he said.
A world of love and loss and loneliness passed in the look we shared.
“I’m not giving up on this,” I insisted. “You can’t, either. We can fix this, Freddie.”
He broke the bond with a facetious bow. “The art of the exit, Killer,” he said. “You have to know when to make one.”
He cast one last agonized look at Nick. And then he was gone.
I turned to Nick, still on the couch, huddled up as if trying to hide within himself. When I crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder, he twitched and jerked away, as if by instinct.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he muttered.
“I knew you hadn’t dealt with this,” I said. “That we hadn’t, you and me together. But I was too chickenshit to push it.” I took a deep breath. “In case this wasn’t just about Freddie.”
“I only want to feel this way about Freddie. I only want to blame him.” Nick met my gaze with deepest sorrow. “But the thing is, I will never know how you looked at him or how you kissed him. And it eats at me,” he said. “Was it the same way you look at me or kiss me? Or, if not, is that worse? It’s agony, Bex, and it’s infected me. I cannot stop thinking about it.”
I’d wanted this conversation. I’d tried to have this conversation, and tonight, I’d even pushed for it. But it was brutal to hear him put to voice everything I’d been afraid of hearing, and to know that it was every bit as bad as I had feared. Probably worse.
“I’m scared I can’t ever be your safe place again, because I’m part of the problem,” I whispered.
“All that playacting this summer was my safe place.” Nick swallowed hard. “Margot hadn’t been anywhere near Steve’s brother. It made it easier to push the rest of it away. But then we came home and we were right back in the thick of it. Seeing him around you…” He stared at the floor.
“We need help,” I said. “I don’t think we can cope with this alone.”
“No. I’m not ready for that,” Nick said, leaping up and pacing toward the fireplace. “This just happened.”
“It happened eight months ago.”
“That’s not how it feels,” he said.
“I get that, I promise, but we have to go somewhere from here. Tonight has to mean something,” I pleaded. “We can’t keep on this way.”
“Yes, but I’m the one who has to suck it up and look past the most hurt in order to move forward.” Nick pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead. “I know I’ve been an ass to Freddie. Because I can control that, and I can come out on top. But everything else…” He spread his hands wide, then let them fall with a thwack to his sides.
“But at least we know where we stand,” I argued.
“That’s just it. I have no idea where we stand.” He flexed his fingers and fidgeted. “I feel like I can’t breathe in here.”
I closed my eyes to gather my thoughts, and when I opened them, he was already at the double doors.
“Nick, wait,” I called after him. He stopped in the foyer. My stomach felt like it was trying to climb out of my mouth as I caught up to him.
“You said you forgave Freddie the night of our St. James’s wedding because you felt like you had to,” I said, taking his hand and holding it to my pounding heart. “Did you…is that also why you married me? Because it was easier than the alternative?”
He was quivering. I rubbed his hand as if trying to hold him together myself.
“I love you,” he said. “That was the one truth I knew for certain. So I thought, Just get married, make it real, and then we’ll deal with what comes.” He stepped away from me and my hand fell. “But what if that’s why you chose me?”
“It’s not,”
