Jon
The feeling after our mock therapy session was relief. Relief that we had made it through the other side, that we were honest with each other, that there couldn’t be anything between us like that again. We all knew the interview was coming and having that extra blanket of security made us all feel a little better. A lot better, if I was being totally honest.
Patrick made plans with Edward again, this time inviting them to his apartment where he and Lydia would have dinner with them. I declined joining them, not because I didn’t like group sex or anything, just because I had swung with him and I wasn’t interested in a second go. Lydia on the other hand seemed delighted at the prospect of fucking his wife, so at least one of us was actually looking forward to it.
The one major thing I did after the three of us talked things out was withdraw my offer on the townhouse. Patrick wanted something out of the city, he wanted a house with a sprawling yard, and I knew Lydia wasn’t far off from that dream too. We were having a baby, another within two years of the first if everything followed her plan, and leaving the city seemed like the most practical choice for everyone, even if it meant the end of an era. I called up the agent and had him set up a viewing of a house in Glen Cove. Patrick had been partial to it and I had to admit the property was beautiful on screen, so there was no reason not to see it in person. I also noted that the semi-attached guest house would be a great place for Celestyn to stay if he wanted to bring her down for a visit.
After all of that most of our time was spent preparing for the interview and Lydia lamenting every day that her belly needed to stop getting bigger until after both the interview and the wedding. I thought it was great, but my opinion wasn’t solicited.
By the time the dreaded day rolled around, I had memorized my script perfectly. I was a friend of Patrick’s, a mentor to Lydia who had wanted a career in law and might still pursue one, and the photos of me kissing her cheek were nothing more than a misunderstanding. The words felt like bile on my tongue, but I couldn’t go off script and risk hurting them. There was a part of me that was angry, fighting against the restraints of being a friend, demanding that I be allowed my rightful place at their side, and all I could do was push it down, force it back and pray that when this was over, we could stop playing this game.
I’d never felt this jealous before. Christine had spent years fucking other men in front of me and denying me that same pleasure, and even then I’d never felt like I was one bad day away from snapping.
With a deep sigh I smoothed out the front of my jacket for the hundredth time, waiting for someone to bring us onto set and get this shitshow over with. Lydia was getting primped by her glam team; they were taking extra pains with her hair while Prisha rehearsed answers with her. Patrick had never looked calmer in his life, and for once I was the one sweating under the pressure.
Playing the part of Pat’s friend at a party was one thing, doing it on a popular morning show for millions of viewers was a completely different matter. Prisha, bless the poor woman, had gone over my answers with me as well, but I couldn’t remember a single fucking thing from them now. So much for memorizing my answers. There were so many things I could say wrong, implications that would have the media in a frenzy all over again, and somehow, I was the only one worried about it. And angry about it. And just fucking tired of it all.
“Don’t hold your hands like that,” Prisha scolded, pulling Lydia’s arms back. “Holding your belly like that just emphasizes it. Let the dress do its job.”
The peplum dress was black, knee-length and off the shoulder. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck, the sapphire teardrop earrings from Patrick’s grandmother contrasted beautifully with her pink heart-shaped necklace. She looked more professional and put-together than I’d ever seen her and all I wanted to do was tell her that and give her a kiss for good luck. Patrick had to do that for the both of us.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said as his eyes swept over her again. “Are you alright? You look a little nervous.”
Prisha cast him a glare while fiddling with Lydia’s mic.
“I feel like I’m about to throw up,” she mumbled.
My experience with pregnant women saying that was to move out of the way. I grabbed the bin and moved it closer to her just in case before taking refuge on the couch.
“You’re not going to throw up,” Prisha soothed. “You’re gonna go out there and nail this interview and everyone is going to be raving about your book. You’ve got this.”
“No, I’m going to make a complete ass of myself on national television and the entire book industry is going to mock me for life,” Lydia countered. “I’m going to end up the laughingstock of the internet and that shit never goes away.”
“I don’t think it would be the entire publishing industry,” Patrick offered unhelpfully. “They’ll forget about it in a week. Book bloggers might reference you once in a while if you bomb that badly though.”
“Unless I become an internet meme, then the entire world will laugh at me.”
Prisha groaned and brought a hand to her forehead. “Patrick, I don’t know how you’ve made it this far without learning how to read a room, but please, for the sake of my job and my sanity, stop making my client focus on the worst possible scenario.”
Lydia smirked and looked away while Patrick sat in stunned silence beside me. It took everything in me not to laugh while we waited for one of the crew members to come get Lydia. Prisha continued to bustle around, rhyming off instructions to the constant flow of people in and out of the dressing room.
“What if they ask me something I’m not prepared for?”
“Don’t answer it directly, deflect back to the book for answers to their questions and then ask them a leading question,” Prisha answered as she ran the lint roller over Lydia again. “If they ask you why there are pictures of you and Jon together, you say that the book delves further into your relationships at B and R, then ask them if they’ve been in a position of having people misunderstand your actions. That will shut them up and leads you in for talking more about the questions you raised in the book.”
“Ms. Morrison, we’re ready for you,” a man said as he poked around the doorway. “Please follow me.”
Lydia brushed the front of her dress again and I watched as she wrung her hands together and followed the man to the stage, Prisha close behind. The television on the wall showed the news anchors getting touched up before their guest was brought on. Kelley Armstrong and Kim Weiland didn’t do hard ball interviews, everything about their show was meant to be easy and simple – they would talk the cover design, the parties she’d been to, and what the book meant to her. Patrick and I would be brought on and give our full support later.
I waited until Prisha was out of earshot to lean in and whisper to Pat, “Do you feel properly scolded now?”
“I feel like I’m supposed to apologize and maybe even send some flowers but that might just get me told off for being overly-familiar…”
I snickered quietly to myself. “I think a simple apology might get you further with Prisha than flowers.”
The woman was great at her job, I had to give credit where it was due because Jordan really had picked out the right person for our girl.
One of the crew came back to check our feed of the set and I watched as Lydia came into focus, she was being carefully positioned and her hair being adjusted once more. Two white leather chairs sat across from a matching sofa. Lydia sat on the sofa, standing out in her dark dress, and the hosts sat in each of the chairs. One was a lanky dark-skinned woman with short, twist out styled hair and wearing a bright yellow dress, beside her sat a large-set redhead with extremely pale skin that almost matched the chair she sat on. Their set looked like a bright and airy sitting room with a table strategically placed between the chair and sofa, on the table sat a blank book with the dust jacket done up as her cover. Suddenly the camera angle shifted slightly, and the women turned to the camera all grinning.
“Welcome back to Let’s Talk! My name is Kelley Armstrong,” the dark-skinned woman greeted with a bright smile.
“And I’m Kim Weiland,” the redhead said excitedly. “Today with us we have a young woman who is releasing her debut novel about the struggles of life in the tabloids after growing up in poverty. Lydia, it’s so great to have you here.”
“Thank you so much for having me, Kim.”
Poverty. Already I didn’t particularly enjoy the way this interview was being framed. To Lydia’s credit, she didn’t flinch or visibly react to the woman, just smiled charmingly and crossed her ankles. My gaze went straight to her rings, which she was turning around and around on her finger. I reached into my pocket, feeling the rosary I had bought her in Krakow, feeling the beads in my palm. She didn’t mind me borrowing it, and it helped calm me down as I watched her fidget the same way.
“So, we know nothing,” Kelley said, leaning forward. “Tell us what all this is about, give us all the details.”
Lydia gestured to her book on the side table. “Well, Behind Closed Doors is a memoir I started on my blog this past August. I began writing it as a way to sort of process my feelings about what felt like the entire world speculating on my love life. It focuses mainly on the bias people had against me for my age and background, and the idea that I could have only gotten as far as I did by letting others take advantage of me. Writing it allowed me to take control of my life and my narrative again.”
Good job, baby. She was so composed, her word choice strong and deliberate. The women fawned over the book gushing over the cover design – a desk with a laptop and pink wall with Behind Closed Doors written in glowing pink in the blank space. That wasn’t the cover Lydia had liked, she preferred the one with a sign on the door, but it was clear Jordan had taken charge of the final outcome. If Lydia didn’t like it, she didn’t show it, instead she laughed at the fact that her light pink lipstick matched the kiss mark on the corner.
Pat leaned forward next to me, watching the screen intently with a lopsided smile. I rubbed small circles over his back while the interview went on.
“Well and of course people had to compare you to that poor woman working at that other company. Kim and I did a lot of coverage when that story broke.”
“Goldberg and Wesson,” the other woman chimed in. “I think that was the concern for most of us really, that you were potentially in a similar situation.”
My hand froze on the rosary and Patrick stiffened.
Lydia nodded sagely. “That was definitely part of the narrative, I saw several outlets comparing us when the story dropped, but the truth is that she was abused and taken advantage of. I’ve never applied that same label to myself because that’s just never been the case. I also think it actually harms women in that position to always label them a victim when they don’t see themselves that way.” She leaned back and folded her hands into her lap. “And as I said, my novel makes my narrative mine again, it allowed me to say ‘I’m not a victim’ on a platform that gave me complete control. I know so many women that could only wish for that sort of power and my hope is that I can help them broadcast their voices to a larger audience.”
“That question wasn’t on the list,” I said quietly.
“She did well though,” Pat replied. “That was a very controlled answer.”
And it flipped the script, there was no way for the anchors to hit back without changing the subject.
The women steered the conversation back to safer territory, remarking on Lydia’s relationship with Patrick and how that narrative would be corrected in her book.
“I think a lot of people just decided that I wasn’t allowed to be in a relationship with either of them,” she said. “And to an extent, I agreed. There’s obviously a huge power imbalance in my situation, but I wasn’t backed into a corner and I do touch on the fact that I wasn’t scared to leave when I wanted to. I left the law firm before the story even dropped and that was my choice.”
“Not a lot of women are lucky to be in that position,” Kelley remarked.
“No, I was extremely lucky because I had people that could support me.”
“Was Patrick Rosing one of those people?” Kim asked. “Was he supporting you leaving the company to continue your relationship instead?”
“Jesus Christ they’re out for blood,” Pat muttered. “I’m going to need a restraining order against Jordan after this.”
He wasn’t the only one, I was glaring so hard at the TV that I half expected it to burst into flames.
“Actually, he and I weren’t really on the best terms when I left,” Lydia answered a dainty shrug. “He didn’t even know that I was penning my resignation, Jon was the first to know because I came into the office to hand deliver it.”
The hosts liked that answer and as they went to break again and Prisha stepped up to give Lydia a brief pep talk, we could see she also liked the answer based on the high five she gave her.
When they came back from the break they returned to lighter topics, remarking on the engagement party, Lydia being seen with socialites and at Swan Society parties, including being on the guest list to an upcoming one later this month. It set me at ease right up until a man came back to the room to retrieve us, saying we were coming on after the next break.
“I don’t know why this is stressing you out more than me,” Pat whispered as we stood there waiting to follow the crew member. “Are you going to be alright?”
“Of course I’ll be alright,” I snapped. “I’ve been through worse than a TV interview.”
“Neither of us has been in a courtroom for at least five years now,” he remarked dryly. “I’m just trying to be nice and supportive here.”
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to be a little nicer. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole.”
“It just comes naturally?” he retorted, stealing Lydia’s line.
I spun around, ready to give him an earful about how much of an asshole I was willing to be if he wanted to push my buttons today. The crewman had other ideas and barked out orders to follow him because they were ready for us. Pat smirked and gestured to the door with a sweeping flourish that made me scowl.
The man dragged us up to the set and we were strategically positioned on either side of Lydia who looked absolutely thrilled about it all. The two of them were instructed to hold hands so that Lydia’s engagement ring was prominently on display for the cameras and our hosts to gawk at. I was told just to sit there and look happy for the couple. This did not improve my mood.
The set went quiet again and this time Kim introduced us. “Welcome back everyone, joining us now we have Patrick Rosing and Jonathan Harris. Gentlemen, it’s so good to have you here today.”
“Thank you, we’re happy be here,” Patrick greeted.
“And you, Jon?” Kelley pressed with a disarming smile.
I wondered if she remembered Christine fucking her at our L.A. condo. I certainly hadn’t forgotten. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I offered with a chuckle.
The women forced out some fake laughter for the cameras before quickly steering back over to Lydia, asking her to break down the relationship between the three of us. I shifted subtly in my spot, letting my knee knock against hers while she carefully explained her romantic relationship with her fiancé, and her platonic working relationship with me.
“He’s almost like a dad to me,” she said, turning to cast me a mischievous look. “He’s helped keep me on track.”
I bit my tongue as I smirked at her. The little flirt was exactly where she wanted to be, between us as the center of attention, running the show. She was born for it, her confidence was stunning and I couldn’t help but think of how well she would have done as a lawyer.
Kelley turned and focused her attention on Pat. “And how do you feel about that, Patrick? You’ve never spoken publicly about your relationships.”
“I’ve never felt the need to,” he answered. “Jon has always been a close friend and we built Bower and Rosing’s up together. Not entirely from the ground, mind you, but we still turned it into the empire it is now together.”
“And to be fair, we’ve never actually been asked about any relationship,” I said. “We’ve both led relatively private lives.”
“Well, not me so much,” Pat replied. “But my press has never been like this, it’s only ever been photos of me at parties and vague references. This was the first time we’ve ever had to put out statements.”
Kim laughed and pushed her hair back. “Of course, you’ve found your way into the tabloids now and then, your mother never seems to keep herself out of them.”
“Yes, she’s very socially involved.”
His tone said he was done with any other comments regarding his mother’s and I had to cough to hide my laugh.
“Is that the direction you see yourself going, Lydia?” the woman pressed. “With this novel and the recent events, people are wondering if this is a debut of yourself before really entering into society as it were.”
Lydia shifted, knocking her knee gently against mine this time. “In a way, I guess that would be the best way of putting it. I’m a public figure now whether I want to be or not, and that is a platform I’d like to utilize. I mean, I’d also really appreciate getting some better photos out there so that people don’t just see me as whatever TMZ wants me to look like.” She laughed self-consciously and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arm around her shoulders.
“There really were so many pictures,” Kim said with a dramatic eye-roll. “I think every story I read had a different caption for each one, some of them even had your names mixed up.”
“Dozens of them,” Kelley agreed with a lilting laugh. “But, Jon, you’re the one with the longest law practicing history, don’t photos speak a thousand words? Especially in the court of public opinion?”
“They hold far more sway with public perception, but pictures never tell a full story,” I replied evenly. “Photos and videos are always biased in some way because you can’t see the full scope, you’re only seeing a snippet of what actually happened.”
“That’s actually a good point too because those photos were taken by people who were intentionally trying to make us look bad,” Lydia interjected. “The people behind the camera had a motive to sell a specific story.”
“So, what was the story behind the kiss photo?” Kim asked. “I can honestly say I’ve never had a man kiss me on the cheek while getting out of the car, certainly not for a platonic date with someone I think of as a father-figure anyway.”
I so badly wanted to scream that it wasn’t platonic, it was never platonic, the anger was clawing up my throat and I couldn’t open my mouth, if I did I would tell them the truth. Patrick, thank god, jumped in.
“You’re not going on the right platonic dates then,” Patrick told the anchor with a wink. “If you don’t get at least one kiss on the cheek, how can you even be certain they enjoy your company?”
Lydia laughed and touched my knee briefly, the other women laughed too, and I could see the distinct blush colouring Kelley’s cheeks. Leave it to Patrick to know how to charm any woman he met.
“There is one rumor that we just have to bring up because it’s something everyone who’s following you is dying to know,” Kelley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Are you actually pregnant right now?”
“Oh!” Lydia laughed nervously and looked first to me, realized her mistake and looked quickly to Pat. “Uh, wow…”
Kim grinned and leaned forward on her crossed knees. “Can we take that as a yes?”
“Well—”
Kim cut her off. “And can we put a rest to the rumour that Patrick might not be the father?”
I saw red. Bloody, murderous red. I tried to find the words, a way to deflect from this topic back to another, but nothing came to me. Don’t do this to me, dove. That was my baby. To an extent, I could accept Pat being seen as the father, but I couldn’t accept someone asking point blank if he was and having to lie. We’d already agreed that wouldn’t be the case. But this was TV, this broadcast was being watched by millions, and none of us were prepared for any backlash we could get
Our lack of prep made us silent, drowning in the reality of our situation. We couldn’t pretend that this was working anymore, there was nowhere for us to hide.
“I think that’s between me and the father,” Lydia said finally. Then she laughed again and said, “Unless this is Maury.”
Thank fuck. And God. No wonder I had the urge to bring the rosary today, I knew I was going to need it.
“Now that would be an interesting marketing campaign!” Kelley cried. “Lydia Morrison, her fiancé Patrick Rosing, and her boyfriend Jonathan Harris, all finding out who the father is the same day the book releases. I can just imagine Maury’s ratings.”
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word left her mouth and the entire set went deathly silent again. Both the hosts had a self-satisfied smile and neither rushed to fill the dead air, just letting her words sink in. I couldn’t look at Lydia, I couldn’t look anywhere but straight ahead at the women who were proud of themselves for making us into this spectacle.
“What makes everyone think he’s Lydia’s boyfriend?” Patrick asked suddenly. “No one is never doing any hand-wringing about him being my boyfriend, and we’ve had far more inappropriate photos taken together.”
“It’s the homophobia in media,” I offered instantaneously. “They just aren’t comfortable recognizing that we’ve had a relationship longer than anything with Lydia.”
If the silence had been deathly when Kelley called me Lydia’s boyfriend, then it was downright mass murder when our replies finally sunk in. Suddenly Lydia burst out laughing and we were quickly rushed into a commercial break. The weight of my words hadn’t quite set in yet, even when Patrick and I were pushed off stage to the dressing room again, I still didn’t understand what we had done. What would people think? Would they think we were joking or would they recognize the truth?
Once in the privacy of the dressing room, I was in hysterics, I couldn’t stop laughing as I pulled Patrick to me, kissing his cheek and holding him in a tight hug. He hugged me just as tightly, his hand rubbing my back for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to him. “I know you didn’t want to come out—”
“No, don’t be sorry, I did that without talking it over with you first.” He pulled back and ran his hand through his hair. “Holy shit, I really just outed us to the country, didn’t I?”
“Maybe they’ll take it as a joke,” I offered unconvincingly. “Lydia did laugh.”
“Fuck me.”
We grabbed each other again and every bit of annoyance and anger and resentment melted off of me like snow. Patrick had just implied to millions of viewers that we had a relationship, I inadvertently called our hosts homophobic, and poor Lydia was left out there to finish the interview without us. And still, I couldn’t help but think of how badly I wanted this.
“We’re out,” Pat mumbled against my shoulder. “Not just you and me, Lydia is complicit. We’re all out.”
“It’ll be alright,” I whispered back. “We made it through the first round, there’s nothing left for them to take from us now.”
The door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall, making us jump back from each other just in time for a flying ball of blonde hair to come barrelling into Patrick’s arms. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around them, sandwiching her in. We stood in the center of the room holding each other for as long as we could, just letting the love and acceptance bathe us.
Patrick’s fingers laced with mine and I glanced over to see him smile at me. His hair was mused now, his eyes wide and excited, and I could feel the support pouring off of him. We were going to be okay, we wouldn’t run away this time, and I refused to hide myself anymore. I could lead our family through this, we all could.