When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)
“Who told you that? Bernie?” I practically shout.
“Easy,” River says quietly.
“Can we go in and talk?” Reg asks. “Do a little catching up?”
River checks in with me. I nod.
“Sure,” he says.
Reg chuckles with nervous relief. “Great. This is starting to get heavy.”
River rushes forward and takes the gift from him, and they walk ahead of Mags and me.
“You look wonderful, Holden,” she says. “So healthy and happy.”
I nod at River. “Thanks to him. And a lot of fucking hard work on my part.”
She doesn’t flinch at my biting tone. “I’m so glad. He seems like a lovely young man. The Sridhars were telling us all about what he’s done to the Whitmore auto shop downtown. Just wonderful.”
“When did you get back in town?”
“Just last week. We’re only here for the month and then we’re taking a cruise—”
“With my parents?”
“No.” Mags’s hand rises as if she wants to touch me but thinks twice. “We’ll talk about it inside.”
River leads us into our new house, to the living room. It has comfortable, inviting furniture—him. And colorful paintings on the walls and eclectic art pieces—me. Built-in bookshelves flank the fireplace, filled to the top with our combined libraries, except for one shelf in the middle. It has only Gods of Midnight. River says it’s my shelf and that only the books I write will ever live on it.
He sets the gift down on the coffee table and pulls me aside. “You okay? You need me to stay?”
Fuck, I love him. I love him so much; my heart can’t contain it. “I’ll be okay.”
“I love you,” he says, loud enough for Mags and Reg to hear and kisses me full on the lips. “Call me if you need me.”
He waves at my aunt and uncle. “Nice to meet you both,” he says politely, but I can hear the warning underneath: If you hurt him…
Reg and Mags are on the couch. I sit down across from them in a tall wing-back chair. My fingers drum the armrests.
“Well,” Mags says with a bright smile. “It’s been quite a long time.”
“Indeed,” Reg says. “But we’ve been following your career. Marvelous, what with all the awards for your book.”
“Did you read it?” I ask rudely.
“We did, both of us have.”
My mind immediately flips through a catalogue of explicit scenes, specifically the chapter in which Jules attends—and then participates in—a seedy sex show in an underground club in New York City.
“We both thought it was incredible,” Reg says and chuckles. “A little more risqué than my usual James Patterson, but you’re very talented, Holden.”
Mags nods. “So very talented. We’re proud of you.”
I don’t know what to say to that except part of me leans toward them as if warming myself in front of a fire.
“Thanks.”
Reg rests his arms on his thighs, his lips pursed. “Holden, Margaret and I have been doing a lot of thinking in the last year. When we heard from Albert Bernard that you had contacted us, I admit we…hesitated.”