Question Mark (23 page)

Mark had laughed in response and kissed Rafe’s hand. “Maybe two or three more times…” he’d said.

Mark blinked and practically hollered with irritation. Why would he remember that now? Why would he think of
Rafe
right now? Mark knew he wasn’t in love with him anymore, and sure he was equally aware that there was a part of his heart that was still recovering in the aftermath of their breakup, but come on! That man had filled him to the brim with doubts about himself and the type of partner he could be. Not on purpose, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t matter that Rafe told him in the hospital that Mark deserved so much better—that they just weren’t right for one another. It was much harder to believe the positive stuff when someone nailed him with the negative. Mark’s focus always ended up on the ways he might have failed, or the ways he could’ve saved the relationship if he’d only tried.

But he’d done everything in his power. He
knew
that. So why did those doubts about his own character still harass him? Not only where relationships were concerned, but in all avenues of his life. He could be a great boyfriend. He was great at his job. Mark
knew
this deep down, but knowing wasn’t always the same as
believing
.

Mark had never been the type to immediately make good on a bad situation—to trust in his heart that all was going to work out for the best and greatest. He reluctantly agreed with his family that when push came to shove, he usually settled into a maudlin frame of mind before he worked his way around to attacking a problem and getting over himself. Embarrassing as it was to admit, he excelled at being the martyr. A perfect example was in the way he pursued Rafe like it was his job, delighting in the moments the man would look at him with that old light in his eyes—like when they first got together—and then sinking into the depths of despair when Rafe shucked him off again.

Now Mark had a new example: Losing his job. At the root of these personal problems was this habit of his to steep himself in grief whenever it was called for. When he saw he was losing his ex, he let it take over his life until he was snarling at everyone and generally making himself a walking pissant. If he was serious about manning up, then this job thing was an opportunity to change his circumstances and keep himself from falling back on his usual response: poignant misery.

He was so lame. Mark couldn’t just focus on what he had going for him. Oh no. He had to pull into a parking lot and make preparations for a breakdown.

“You’re such a fag,” he said, glaring at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “If you want something different, go and get it. Don’t be such a pussy.”

Mark gripped the gear shift and knocked his car into reverse. It took him ten minutes to get home where he cranked up his stereo system and let the pulsing bass drive out all the worry that was creeping around his doorstep. He wanted to call Zane but didn’t want to look like he was asking him to solve things. It would wait. He’d still be unemployed in the morning.

He was sprawled out on the couch, staring at the ceiling when his phone started grooving where it was resting on his stomach. Christian’s name lit up the screen. Mark hesitated for a second before he turned down the music and answered, voice steady and calm.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Two years together and in all that time, Christian never thought Kat would notice that folded bit of napkin in his wallet. Not once had it occurred to him when she’d grab some cash to pay for a pizza delivery, or when she’d be cleaning the dresser where he’d leave his wallet, that she’d see that paper peeking out and look at it. But Kat had known Kevin’s name almost since the beginning of their relationship. She’d memorized his number months ago. At first she’d thought it was a girl’s number that Christian accidentally forgot to hide, but it was a guy’s name and digits. And it never left that wallet, she said. Never.

You really screwed the pooch this time, he told himself.

Kat looked so haunted when she spilled that old truth out in front of him. She tried to reason through it as she sat across from him in that uncomfortable chair, her hands clenched around a couple wads of tissue. Why wouldn’t Christian just enter the number into his phone’s memory and be done with it? Or stick it in a desk drawer? Enter it into his email address book? He was chained to that thing anyway and was constantly adding contacts to it. All of the people he needed to stay in touch with were at his finger-tips in one way or another; his job sort of required it. But months passed and that bit of napkin was always there, looking more and more ragged like it was being taken out and unfolded and then put back again.

Then she said she’d seen him one morning when he thought she was getting breakfast in the kitchen. Kat said she must have known the truth in her heart then. She watched Christian take the number out and stare at it with this expression on his face of such
loss
, slowly bringing the ragged paper to his lips.

Hearing Kat confess her guilt over witnessing the private moment made Christian squirm in embarrassment. He didn’t want people seeing him vulnerable and needy. He never wanted Kat to know anything about that part of his life. Too late now.

Much too late.

It was his own fault for being unable to get rid of the number that was the only link he had to that night and that memory. His only link to really living.

Christian pushed his head further into the pillow as the alarm clock ticked past one fifteen in the morning. Of course he was still awake, flopping around restlessly on a friend’s guest bed. After talking to Kat and watching with stunned humiliation as she poured out her knowledge of his secret, he took the rest of the day off and went with her back to the apartment to start packing his things. The place was hers long before he came around and most of what they had in terms of furniture they bought together, but he wanted Kat to keep all of it. She was the one who picked everything out and he was without a place to store it. He concentrated on stuffing the few bags he owned with clothing and filling a couple boxes with random books he’d collected over the years—heavy on the James Patterson and Dean Koontz.

Kat was sweet but silent at the apartment, all the way to the bitter end, helping him gather his things and making room for him to drag the shit downstairs to his H2. It was the worst kind of rebuke because Kat wasn’t trying to rebuke him. She spoke only occasionally, keeping to neutral topics like, did he want some dishes for his next place, or what about the pictures they kept on the walls? He said yes to the dishes and no to the pictures. There were too many memories he wanted to leave behind.

When he made the trek to the parking lot the final time, he slipped his key off his key ring and handed it to her. She waited stoically on the curb in front of the Hummer, a muted participant of the breakup.

Christian approached Kat carefully, still waiting for the moment when she’d go wild on him. Slap him. Pummel him. Sob and cry. He should’ve realized by now that wasn’t her style.

Slowly—apologetically even—he opened his arms and she shocked him again by moving into his embrace and holding him tightly. His admissions today hadn’t erased the love she felt for him, though it was greatly tempered by hurt now. Christian knew that the anger would rise up later. She was a kind soul who didn’t have a straight circuit to bitterness even though he always expected her to get mad first like the way his mom and sister did. Kat’s feelings had to travel over a lot of ground before they ever reached bitterness. It was one of those very rare characteristics he knew he didn’t deserve to benefit from. When she shuddered against him, the guilt hit him center-chest, rocking him.

“Don’t do this to another person, Christian.
Don’t
,” she pleaded.

He didn’t know if he could make that promise, so after a weighted pause he made a noise that he hoped sounded like an affirmation.

“I’m not kidding,” she said, pushing away to look up into his face. He was oddly struck by how much shorter than him she was. Mark would come up to his chin. Kevin could look him in the eye.

Kat shook him, sensing his distraction. “Figure out what you need to do and do it. Don’t hurt other people with your complacency. It’s worse.”

Christian felt a weird sensation building in his body; a flicker of emotion that made him want to escape. It was honest to admit that he’d never been in love with Kat, but he cared about her and didn’t like the fact that he was witnessing the aftermath of his choices in full swing. No matter that it wasn’t the case, he preferred thinking his actions happened inside a vacuum, harming no one but himself.

“It’s not that I don’t care about you, Kat” he murmured, dropping his eyes.

“And I fell in love with you a long time ago.
So what?
Does it matter for anything now? I’m not ready to be your pal, Christian. You have to wrap your mind around the way this
kills
me. I don’t want to spend my life with someone who likes my company but is forever wishing to be with someone else…someone you’ve actually met. What you’ve done—besides being totally unfair and dishonest—is heartbreaking.”

Christian could only think to apologize again, so he did and Kat shook her head.

“I know that. I know you’re sorry. I get it. But that doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t make me feel better, like I can go back inside and be normal, or get the last two years of my life back. You still need to get your life together and I need… Well, what I need isn’t really any of your business anymore.”

He wanted to argue with her; tell her what they had wasn’t a
lie
, but that was a knee-jerk reaction that he had to stop right away. Kat wasn’t dumb and she wouldn’t accept any excuses from him. She’d figured out about Kevin, hadn’t she? So why was he still trying to hide right there in front of her?

Christian had led her to believe he was in love with her and that maybe someday they’d make it official. He’d met her family and got along with all of them. Their relationship had all the trappings of forever and yet, the entire time he was never truly
with
her. She was convenient. She completed his story.
She
deserved better.

“Kat,” he breathed, “I wish…”

“I think it’s time you stop wishing and decide what’s really important to you. I can’t even begin to imagine why you would subject yourself to an existence that satisfies only a
single
aspect of what you want in life.” She sniffed and swiped at the tears on her face with her fingers in that way that made his own eyes hurt.

“You say you don’t have feelings for this Kevin guy anymore, but that’s just another lie. If you didn’t care, if you were really happy knowing you’re gay and pretending you’re not because it affects your
bottom line
, you wouldn’t carry Kevin’s number around in your pocket. And meeting men like this Mark, who call you on your bullshit, wouldn’t matter.”

Christian’s jaw tightened and he could only manage a nod as he hoped the “gay” word wasn’t winging its way through the complex after it left her lips. Hearing him out
one time
a few hours ago didn’t make Kat an expert on what this was like for him. Christian could admit that his day-to-day wasn’t really steeped in self-exploration and revelation. Having Kat know his asinine secret wasn’t at all liberating like people might think.
It was his business
. He liked it that way. Breaking off their relationship because it was going nowhere was a foregone conclusion. Telling her
why
it had stalled out was never the plan. Her way of dealing with this was too much of a
let’s-take-a-moment-to-discover-ourselves
thing. He didn’t dwell there. He wanted away from it. Immediately, if possible.

“I should get going…” Christian said. “If you ever need anything, you can always call me. I mean that.”

Kat looked more than doubtful but eventually nodded. He was about to shut his door when she called his name.
Oh hell, what else?

“I’m not going to talk to anybody about our business—
your
business—especially Kyle and Trina. Kyle would tear your life apart. You know that don’t you?”

He nodded as the tension he hadn’t realized was balled up in his chest abruptly eased. Christian hadn’t asked her to keep quiet—he hoped she would—but figured he didn’t have the right to ask
anything
of her. Whispering his thanks, he started his engine and backed out of his spot. Driving away was strange; daunting even. Maybe because the feeling reminded him he could do anything now. Maybe because it reminded him of freedom.

***

The white noise buzzing from Mark’s speakers drifted into his consciousness and he opened his eyes to find he’d never made it to bed but crashed out on the couch instead. His iPod was still sitting in its dock and beyond the fizzling speakers, he couldn’t hear anything. Mark glanced at the clock and rubbed at his eyes, waking up all the way when he remembered what happened the day before. It was barely five in the morning.