Hidden Wishes Read online

  The events of the night before hit me and immediately enveloped me in all the feelings I’d gone to bed to ignore.

  I checked the time. Nine a.m. It was too early to call Tibby and ask what the hell this all meant.

  I almost called Matt, but decided that while he was pretty chill about me coming out, perhaps he wasn’t up for discussing the minutia of dating just yet. Tibby had known forever, and to her, it was no big thing.

  Damn it.

  I was restless, and rather than sit around and stew, I got up and went for a run.

  DC has the reputation of too much traffic, shit parking, and potholes that swallow buses. All of which are true, but Georgetown was something special. I loved running along the canal, and since it was Saturday morning, there weren’t the normal crowds you saw during the day.

  We grew up close to American University, so this wasn’t my childhood neighborhood. But it was my forever home.

  I could feel myself calm as I ran along the canal, following my route that took me up one side and back down the other toward home.

  Away from Declan, and the fact that his eyes and touch were mesmerizing, I could analyze things. Why was I even looking at the guy? My whole goal was to win back Graham.

  Even though he hadn’t called.

  My thoughts wandered to Graham. Why would he make me wait like this? There was only one answer that kept coming to the forefront, and I didn’t like it.

  Because he never planned on calling me back.

  Or was I being fickle, listening to my body, and my racing hormones?

  “Damn it,” I muttered, startling the older woman I passed walking her dog.

  She muttered something herself, but I’d run past her by the time she got it out. Oh, well. Lots of people talked to themselves. I’d heard such people were the smart ones—crazy, too, but smart.

  When I made it back home, I’d come to a decision. I would call Graham. I really enjoyed last night, but I needed to have Graham in a place in my head where things were settled between us. Either we were going to work on it together, or I was going to move on.

  I had no illusions, either. Graham had been the man I loved more than anyone else I’d ever dated. Duh. I’d asked him to marry me. No one else before had inspired me to do such a thing.

  So while Declan was fantastic, I couldn’t hope for more than enjoying time with him. I knew, in the clinical side of my brain, that I needed to process the grief that one of these men would no longer be part of my life.

  In spite of where I found myself at the moment, I’d never even allowed myself to think that way.

  Wait. I stopped as it hit me.

  “Dhameer!” I yelled. “This is some bullshit, man! I need to talk to you!”

  My voice echoed through the house. No one answered.

  “Shit,” I said, kicking off my shoes and heading for the kitchen. I was drinking a glass of water when I heard something, and then a puff of glitter exploded in front of me.

  I nearly dropped the glass when I spit through the glitter cloud.

  When I finished choking, I looked up to see Dhameer using one of my kitchen towels to pat at himself.

  “Hey! That’s not going to be permanently glittered, is it?”

  “You’re worried about the glitter?” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.

  “Among other things, yes.”

  “How can I assist you today, Bryant?” His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic.

  “You told me I needed to change, and then I would get what I wanted, my dearest wish.”

  “Yes?” His eyebrows raised and I could tell that he was not sure what I was complaining about, but being polite.

  “I changed. I did exactly what Graham wanted, and I told my whole family the truth about me.”

  “That is excellent. Truth is far more comfortable to live with than deception.”

  I stared. He was going to make this as difficult as possible.

  “So why haven’t I gotten what I wanted?”

  He sighed, and looked off in the distance for a moment, not speaking. Then he met my eyes, and I was struck by the latent power in his gaze.

  “I cannot just make things happen—”

  “Bullshit. I know what you did for Tibby, and Xavier told me that you put Olivia in his way, made sure they met,” I dismissed the details with a flick of my hand. “So why can’t you make this work for me?”

  “What did I tell you needed to happen first?”

  “That I had to make changes for my dearest wish—”

  Now he cut me off. “And you have indeed made changes. You need to consider, however, why you made them, and whether they were the right ones.”

  “What the…” my voice trailed off. Was he serious?

  But Dhameer wasn’t done. “You also need to consider what it is you wish for—what you think is your dearest wish? Is that, in fact, your dearest wish? The one close to your heart that you don’t often say to yourself? I have set the things in motion that will allow you to realize what it is you wish for—but you must do your part.” Now he shrugged. “If you have not, then the things I have put into place for you will not occur.”

  “You have got to be kidding me. This is your advice? This is even more vague and less of an answer than before!”

  “Well, when people get involved in their own lives, in their destiny,” a smile sent the side of his mouth up, “Things get confusing, and muddled, and vague.”

  I muttered something and turned away towards the sink, because I was mad, and I didn’t want to look at him.

  “You might also want to learn a bit of patience.”

  I whirled around, ready to tell him to fuck off.

  “That’s a gift, a freebie, as you say. There’s nothing involved in that. Merely advice from one who has been watching humans try to sort themselves for a long time.”

  “Were you this way with my friends?”

  “Tabitha, yes. Xavier angered me, and so I made him forget our conversation, and didn’t offer him any help.”

  Knowing X, this was interesting. Since it took my mind off my problems for a minute, I leaned against the sink and crossed my arms. The sun felt good on my back.

  “What did he do to piss you off?”

  Dhameer breathed deeply through his nose. “He told me that he was far more observant than I gave him credit for, and that he hadn’t found the right woman because he just hadn’t seen her. Then he demanded I drop her on him, essentially. Insisting one is intelligent and demanding work from others is not the way to endear oneself.”

  I burst out laughing. “He’s maddening at times, I know. But he’s a good guy. Loyal to a fault and does anything for those he loves.”

  “I watched him with Olivia. You are correct. However, he does not put forth that effort unless it is a very specific group of people. Which is what landed him in the situation he found himself in.”

  The small smile made an appearance again.

  “They are a great couple.”

  “As are Tabitha and Seth. I would think, Bryant, that you might have a little faith.”

  “Well, djinn don’t do anything for free—there’s always a catch. So what am I missing?”

  Now he smiled widely, and I could tell he was enjoying himself. “That is for you to discover. I am a djinn, not a road map!” And with a whoosh, and of course, a shower of that damn glitter, he was gone.

  “Well, that was just great,” I said, going to get my vacuum. “Totally helpful. Thanks, guy!” I yelled at the ceiling. Since he was such a lurker, I’m sure he heard me.

  But he didn’t answer. What was it he’d said? That people needed to get involved?

  “OK,” I muttered. “Then I’ll be in charge of my own destiny.”

  11

  Forty minutes later, I sat on the couch, with my phone on the table in front of me. I had picked up the phone to dial Graham seventy-gazillion times and always chickened out before I hit the green ‘Call’ button.

  Why was this s
o hard?

  Fuck it. I needed to make this happen. I needed to be in charge. Without thinking, I hit his contact info, and then the green button, and held the phone to my ear, not giving myself time to hang up again.

  One ring.

  Two.

  Three.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said.

  “Oh, hey, Bryant,” Graham said.

  Why was he sounding surprised at all? Was I off his contact list?

  I didn’t let myself get distracted. I was on a mission.

  “How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while,” I said.

  I could hear someone—the TV, maybe—in the background.

  There was a muffled sound as Graham said something away from the phone, and then he came back.

  Someone, then.

  “Yes, I know. I told you I needed time.”

  “I think that a heads up would have been nice,” I said. Easy, I told myself.

  “Well, you’re right. I haven’t wanted to call, but I’m glad you did,” Graham said.

  He was so blunt and honest. Even when it was uncomfortable, it was one of the things I appreciated and loved about him.

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  The noises in the background faded as though he’d walked into another room. I wondered, again, because I’d lost track of how many times I’d wondered this, where he was staying. And with whom.

  “Because I have been thinking about us, a lot. Even though I haven’t shared that with you, I haven’t been ignoring your request.”

  I couldn’t tell where this was going. “I’m glad you have,” I said. “Have you come to any decisions?”

  He sighed. “Yes, I have. I love you, and part of me will always love you. I can’t marry you, though.”

  “Why not? You said yes before!” Now I was angry.

  “Because I thought you’d finally seen the light.” Graham was no slouch in the taking up for himself department, and he fired back at me. “You didn’t see the light, Bry. You let me, once again, shine the light on you, and on us, and then lead you, practically by the hand, to the way to get through it all. You don’t do any of the emotional work on your own. I have to do it all. If we married, it would be the same as it’s always been. Me nagging, you finally giving in, and then expecting to be the hero for succumbing to the nagging spouse.”

  He stopped and took a breath. When he spoke again, he was calmer.

  “I don’t want that. I don’t want that for you, and I sure as hell don’t want that for me. Whatever is going on with you, I deserve better. And that’s the direction I’m heading now.”

  “You had this all lined up,” I said before I could stop myself.

  “Does it matter?” He was cool.

  Which meant I was right.

  “No, you’re right. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry to have bothered you, but I’m glad this is out in the open,” I retreated to my professional mien.

  “I’m glad you called. I wasn’t comfortable with this hanging around, and I… well, I hadn’t worked up the courage to call you.”

  My heart nearly broke. This was the Graham I knew, the one I loved.

  “I understand,” I said quietly. I was afraid to say more. I might burst into tears.

  There was a noise in the background again, a voice. One voice.

  I heard Graham whisper something.

  But not to me.

  “Listen, this is awkward as hell, and I am really sorry. But I’m glad you called. I have always been honest with you.”

  “Thank you. I won’t call again,” I said.

  “Okay. But you can call if you want. Take care of yourself, Bry.”

  As he put down the phone, I could hear the voice more clearly, and it was a man’s voice.

  I hit the red button, letting the phone fall to the couch, and letting the tears finally come.

  I lay awake all night, replaying the conversation in my head.

  He’d dumped me by phone. Using my nickname, like we were still… something. With another guy hanging around, like a fly near the flypaper.

  It was over.

  It was totally, completely over.

  What the hell had happened?

  12

  The damned sun hurt when it hit my eyes. That must be the result of all the salt water. My head hurt, and the ringing phone wasn’t helping.

  I scrabbled around for my phone and answered it without looking to see who was calling. “Yes?”

  “Bryant! Are you dead? Because if not, you need to tell me what is going on! I’ve been calling you all morning!” Tibby was pissed.

  I glanced at the clock. Holy shit. It was after ten in the morning.

  “I am sorry, Tib. Fuck, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m getting up now,” I tossed the bedclothes aside, feeling the adrenaline rush through me.

  “No, wait!” She almost yelled. “Stop and tell me what’s going on. It’s Sunday, goofball. You’re not late for anything. I’m just not used to you not answering. I wanted to hear what happened on Friday. Somehow, you forgot to update me!”

  “Oh, Christ,” I said. The enormity of what had happened yesterday hit me again. Just when I’d managed to put it out of the front of my thoughts.

  “Forget it.” Tibby changed tack. “You sound horrible. I’m grabbing stuff for bloody Marys and I’ll be there soon. By myself,” she added. “Do you have food I can cook?”

  “I guess,” I said. Why did it matter?

  “Never mind. I’ll be there in an hour. An hour-ish,” she added. “I’ll grab some food.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Hey, Bry?”

  Hearing my nickname made the tears leak again.

  “I love you,” she said, and then she hung up.

  I crawled back into bed. Tibby had a key.

  I didn’t hear her knock, or even come in. But I felt someone shaking my foot, and when I opened my eyes again, the shade had been lowered, and Tibby stood next to the bed.

  “Get up. I have a bloody Mary with your name on it, and some toast, and if you want it, eggs and potatoes.”

  Food sounded both great and horrible. Tibby didn’t wait for an answer, sailing out of the room.

  For once, I was glad she was so bossy.

  When I made it down to the kitchen, she shoved a coffee cup, as well as a glass filled with a bloody Mary, at me.

  “Sit,” she commanded. “And once you’ve had a few sips, tell me what you want that won’t make you throw up.”

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I know,” her back was to me as she spooned potatoes off the stove. “I love you, too. Spill.”

  Sighing, I wondered where to start.

  “I called Graham last night,” I said.

  “He hasn’t called you since you guys talked?” Her back was still to me, her tone noncommittal and light.

  “No. I went for a run and decided that after a month, I deserved to hear something. I mean, there’s a proposal sitting there, waiting for a response. Well,” I amended, “There was.”

  “Go on,” Tibby turned and leaned against the island, eating. Her face was carefully neutral.

  Normally I’d be annoyed she was using work face on me, but today, I was glad. It made it easier without her comments as my best friend.

  “I called him. I mean, for God’s sake. He hadn’t called me in a month! And he said, when I did talk with him, that he had been avoiding it.”

  The weight of all that Graham had said hit me, and I dropped my head. I didn’t want Tib to see me fall apart.

  “What else did he say?” Her voice was quiet.

  Without looking up, I replied, “That he felt he did all the work for the emotional side of things in our relationship, and that if we got back together, he’d still be doing it. He said that I only moved forward because he forced my hand.”

  At that point, I ventured a glance at her. “What?” I could see that she wanted to say something, but was holding back.
>
  “How honest do you want me to be?”

  “Honest, but can you go gentle? I’m already feeling like shit.”

  Tibby nodded. She knew what I meant. “Listen, Bry, I liked Graham. But he always went on about how much he did, and how you never did enough. I know there’s give and take in every relationship, but he made it all one way for him, and all the other, less-than great way for you.”

  “That’s what you say about someone you like?”

  “No, that’s what I say to my BFF who is hurting from being rejected by someone who wasn’t ever good enough for him.” Her tone brooked no argument.

  “How can you say that?” I asked.

  She inhaled and crossed her arms. “How far do you want this to go?”

  “What else is there, Tib?” I was suspicious now.

  “When you told me what happened, how he had a bag packed, even though he’d said yes, I… Well,” she looked away, and looked uncomfortable.

  “You what?”

  “I had him followed,” Tibby got out in a rush.

  “You what?” I asked slowly, not sure I’d heard right.

  “I had him followed. Even had my guy sit close to him and his friend when they were out a couple of times. He was seeing the guy, or had something going with him before he moved out, Bry. He wasn’t being honest with you, for all that shit he spouts.”

  “You really do hate him, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Right now? Yes, I do. You’re tying yourself into a damn knot because you are trying to be something he says you need to, and he’s been lying to you. The whole time he’s been stringing you along!” Her hesitation was gone, and now she was mad.

  I wanted to yell at her, tell her that her bossy britches shit had just gone too far—but I knew it hadn’t. I was the guy who had told her I got to vet her dates. And she’d let me. We looked out for one another.

  “When did you have him followed?” I found that asking made me feel tired, and about a hundred years old.

  “Not until after he moved out. He’s living with the guy,” she added.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Tibby shrugged. “Why, if you weren’t going to get back together? I thought you going out with that other guy—the one you still haven’t told me much about—meant that you were starting to move on.”