Final Play (Fake Boyfriend 6)

“I’m with you, no matter what.” But I take the drink anyway.

“I know a fifteen-year-old isn’t a baby, but—”

“It’s better,” I say. “If I fuck it up, we can blame his childhood.”

“Hey, I practically raised that kid for the first few years of his life.”

I reach for him and pull him close. “And you did a good job. I only had a ten-minute conversation with him, but he seems like a good guy.”

“Are you ready for this?”

“No sweat. It’ll be like Jet 2.0.”

“This is at least a three-year commitment … you know, in the one city.”

Ah, shit. I hadn’t thought of that.

Matt chuckles as if the realization is written all over my face. “How do you feel about living in Chicago at least ten months of the year?”

Moving from New York … It won’t be a big change—we’re already in Chicago half the time—but it’s a big step.

I love my city, but I love Matt more.

“Let’s do it. We’ll move to Chicago permanently.”

“I totally expected a bigger fight than this. Or maybe an explosion or freak-out.”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m mature and shit now.”

Matt breaks into a full-on laugh this time. “Sure you are.”

“Okay, fine. I’m excited to get our cleaning lady back, okay?”

“There’s the Noah I know and love.”

Damn right.

Chapter Seven

MATT

Last week, a phone call from my parents would’ve made my stomach clench. Not today. If they’d said a week ago they needed to discuss things with me, I would’ve already had my checkbook out. Not this time.

All these years of wondering if Noah and I did the right thing, the waffling, the convincing ourselves that disrupting my siblings’ lives would’ve been detrimental … all that doubt is gone. Completely.

I got the call this morning that they were willing to negotiate. They said negotiate like Wade’s future is something they can barter with, and I didn’t hesitate to say yes. Because I’m done. So fucking done.

Last night when Mom told me how deep they’ve gotten themselves, it was as if the last hold they had on me let go. The cord tying us together severed and the doormat—door-Matt if you will—is no more.

That’s how I find myself sitting in my childhood home, a place I haven’t stepped foot in for almost a decade. Everything is run-down. The kitchen tiles are coming loose, the carpet’s still the same old stained shag, and the whole place smells like cat piss even though they don’t have a cat.

It’s exactly the way it was when I left.

I don’t give them a chance to talk before I’m telling them what the deal is. “You need help. Both of you. I’ve enabled you for too long, and it’s going to stop. I thought I was doing the right thing by supporting you to help my brothers and sisters, but all I’ve been doing is lining your pockets with more gambling money. And when I cut your allowance by half four years ago, you went and remortgaged a house I’d already paid off. Wade is more responsible than you two, and he’s fifteen years old for fuck’s sake.”

Dad scowls. “You don’t get to come in here and—”

“Oh, yes I fucking do. If you want out of this mess, you will listen to what I have to say, and you won’t interject or whine about it. Because not only will I drag your asses through the courts, I’ll make you pay for you own damn lawyer to fight me.”

“What do you want?” Dad says through gritted teeth.

“This is what’s going to happen: You’re giving up custody of Wade, and he’ll come to live with Noah and me in Chicago.”

“Wade won’t want to live with guys who are … you.”

“Maybe you’ve done a shittier job at spreading hate than you’d hoped, or maybe because Wade is so smart he sees through your homophobic bullshit, but we’ve already spoken to him. He wants to do something great with his life, and Noah and I can provide him with the best education money can buy.”

“We won’t allow it,” Dad says.

“Then I’ll sue you for custody, and I will win. Two addicts who spend all their time and money at the track instead of on their kids? Run-down house versus a spacious penthouse? Two people who care about Wade’s future instead of people who only want a way to exploit his future? No contest.”

Dad shrugs. “Sue us, then.”

I stand. “Good luck paying off the house when your only source of income walks away.”

I almost get to the door when Mom finally says something.

“Stop.”

I pause.

She turns to Dad. “Wade wants to live with them, and we’re gonna lose the house. We ain’t got a choice.”

Dad glances between me and my mother. “Wade!”

My brother appears, because even though they sent him to his room when I arrived, I have no doubt he’s been listening this whole time from the hallway.