"So good to see you. And I can't get over that tie." He tapped the knot at my throat, grinning at the dark green fabric embroidered with blazing red poinsettias. "Where do you find these things? I need to know so I can steal your style."
"I wish I could tell you," I said as Max and Wes shifted out into the exterior hallway and fell deep into conversation. "They were my grandfather's. All of my ties were his."
Tom studied the knot again. "He's a selfless man to part with such a sharp collection."
I shook my head. "When he passed away a few years ago, my mom asked me to go through his things and take anything I wanted before she donated it all. He was a bigger guy, so I doubt she expected me to touch the clothes. She thought I'd want books, old news clippings, random stuff. Mementos, you know?"
He nodded and edged closer to hear me over the music and conversation. Parties were the worst places to talk but people were always hell-bent on doing it anyway. "Of course," he said. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Were you close?"
"Not when I was a kid but more toward the end." I ran a hand down my chest, feeling the outline of the tie under my sweater. "I visited him on the weekends. His home health aides only came for an hour on Saturdays and Sundays, so he was mostly on his own. My mom needed help because she couldn't afford the extra coverage and it wasn't like he'd let a babysitter come in to make his lunch or fix the television when it blitzed out. So, I'd drive up from college and watch football games with him. I'm not a huge football fan but that wasn't the point. I got to know him. The person, not the grandfather. I hadn't realized until then he had an existence completely separate from my experiences with him. That everyone has experiences completely separate from the role they play in your life." I traced the outline of the tie again. "He didn't really need me to stay the whole day. He fell asleep before the first half of every game."
"And now you have all his swanky ties as a reminder of that man and his existence," Tom said. "I love that story."
I bobbed my head in agreement. It wasn't like me to reveal so many truths at once, though there was something gentle and accepting about Tom, like he knew how to draw out and care for even the most broken and battered among us.
"I'm happy you're here," he said with a quick glance at Max and Wes in the hall. "You're good for him. I like the look of you two together."
I had an effusive response at the ready, some "that's so kind of you to say" and "thank you for having me" and a bit of "your home is lovely" and a final dash of "merry everything" but another of Max's friends swooped in, effectively bursting that gentle, accepting bubble Tom had built around us.
"Hello, hello," Pawl sang, looping his elbow with mine. His long, dark hair hung loose around his shoulders tonight and he wore a headband embellished with a small, glittering Santa hat. It was gorgeous against his porcelain skin. Pawl was a corporate attorney by day but that didn't interfere with his headband collection or the skirts he paired with his suit coats and ties. "It's a delight to see your gorgeous face again, Jory. Come along, let's get you a drink. It's the holidays after all. Must be jolly."
I gave Tom save me eyes, but Pawl caught his elbow too. "Oh—but—we were just—"
"Let's leave the daddies to talk," Pawl interrupted with a wink in Wes and Max's direction. "It's important business, being beastly and all. They're probably comparing their body-hair grooming routines and comparing beard oil products. Very important business. They'll know where to find you when they've exhausted those topics or they realize they haven't pawed at you in five minutes. Whichever comes first."
Pawl led us into the white marble kitchen and started mixing several cocktails while Tom restocked the charcuterie board. In the time it took Pawl to rub a lime wedge around the rims of five highball glasses, the group swelled to include Joseph, Flinn, and Bryce.
I'd only met Bryce once before this evening and it'd been shortly after his mother's death. At the time, he'd barely managed a weary smile, a handshake, and a promise that he was usually much more fun. He was dark skinned, slim, and very tall, the version of tall that required him to duck when walking through most doorways. He practiced law at the same firm as Pawl.
Joseph, Pawl's partner, was a wide-shouldered dental hygienist who routinely asked me which part of Vermont I was from and whether I was vegan. I couldn't tell if the Vermont thing was a passive-aggressive move or I wasn't adequately memorable to make all my previous responses stick. I refused to believe he'd forgotten.
Flinn worked in pro sports publicity, always seemed genuinely interested in talking about whichever science topic was in the news that week, and was currently in a relationship with a woman. I wasn't sure whether he was pan or bi and didn't know him well enough to open that conversation.
Save for Max and Wes, who now seemed strategically absent, the core of Max's friend group was all here. Gathered around me.
My stomach dropped. Oh, hell. Fuck. This was an ambush. An interrogation with liquor and fancy cheeses as implements. Fuck. They'd planned this. Oh my god, they'd planned this. I gulped down a breath of sand and scrap metal.
Pawl handed me a drink and motioned for everyone to join him in raising their glasses. "To new friends," he drawled. "And old ones too. It's not like I'm going anywhere."
"I'd like to see you try to get rid of me," Flinn
