Don’t Fall For A Dreamer (Wayward Lane Backstage #3)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

EVERT

THE NEXT DAY

I was confident I’d made the right decision.

Until our plane landed in New York.

Then all the emotions of the past and present collided, whirling inside me like a tornado about to let loose. I was untethered, until Jesse took my hand and refused to let go. I thought about Zachary’s parents and how they might react to Jesse. Fuck them. If they didn’t treat him with respect, I’d let them have it. Press or no press.

We took a rideshare from the airport and it took forever to get to Manhattan. On the way, I texted my agent and told him what was happening. He was pissed that I hadn’t called him yesterday but done was done. I knew what I was going to say when I got to the memorial, and no one was changing my mind.

The event was being held at the Juliet Hotel in SOHO. Zach and I had stayed there several times, and the hotel was one of my favorites. But while I normally looked forward to visiting, today my stomach formed in a knot that even a sailor couldn’t untie.

I turned to Jesse, and it hit me that he hadn’t checked his phone since before we boarded our flight.

“Did you tell Av we were coming to New York?”

He nodded. “I did. I requested a personal day off today. No work interruptions.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he placed our joined hands on my thigh. Finally, I calmed. “I also told him the reason why we were here. He said to call if we need any support, from him, Elias, or the label.”

I bit my lower lip, trying to keep my emotions in check.

“That’s very kind of him.”

“He’s a solid guy. So unlike many of the music industry assholes I’ve had to deal with,” Jesse added.

That was true too.

Finally, an hour later, we arrived at the hotel. Taking the elevator to the twentieth floor, we stepped into the foyer, and were greeted by a life-size portrait of Zachary. It was a photograph of him when he was very young, maybe twenty or so. I’d never seen it before. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure that I was going to get through my speech without breaking down.

“His smile’s something else,” Jesse whispered.

“He was something else.” My nerves jangled as loud as my bracelets. “If you’re not comfortable holding my hand, you don’t?—”

“Ev.”

“Yes?” I turned to face Jesse.

“It’s all good.”

I nodded, feeling foolish about letting my self-doubt take over. “Sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Jesse continued as he pulled me into his arms. “You’re nervous. But the two of us is not something to stress over. I’m here, right by your side, and yes, holding your hand. I’m not going anywhere.”

I leaned in and kissed him, feeling myself finally settle.

“Are you sure you’re new to this relationship stuff?” I teased him.

“Yes.” Jesse nodded. “Was that too much?”

“No, cari?o.” I reached up and cupped his stubbled jaw. “It was everything I needed.”

I gave Jesse one last kiss, and we then headed in the direction of the main salon. The closer we got, the harder my heart pounded. And when I spotted a man who looked like an older version of my Zach, I stopped short.

“Mr. Mahler?” I asked.

The man stepped forward and nodded. He looked down and I realized he was staring at my hand. The one holding Jesse’s. When he looked up again, I met his gaze with a challenge. I could see Zach in the sharp features of his father’s face, but not his eyes. They were cold, flat, and nothing like the man I’d loved and lost.

“Evert. You look exactly as your pictures on social media.” He gave a tight smile. “I’m Henry. We meet in person at last.”

He offered his hand, but I ignored it.

“This is my boyfriend, Jesse Aimes,” I announced.

Henry flinched, glancing at Jesse with a curt nod.

“Mr. Aimes,” Henry said quickly and then stared at me. “Evert, before we begin the ceremony, I demand that?—"

“I’m not here to make small talk, Mr. Mahler,” I bit out. “I’m here to speak on Zachary’s behalf.”

“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” Henry replied, his face expressionless. “I’m the one making a statement about the posthumous prize and Zachary’s artistic legacy. You were only invited as a courtesy.”

“A courtesy? Like the kind you showed your son before he died? Not taking his calls and refusing to see him because he was gay?”

Henry’s face flushed and he motioned to the door. We stalked into the salon where there was a bar set up on one side of the room and a podium and rows of chairs on the other. Most of the seats were already occupied by journalists talking shop and other people I didn’t recognize. Probably Zachary’s extended family. And there were more pictures, mainly of Zach as a kid, and then, a young man. None of him in later years though, which was to be expected given that his parents had cut off contact.

“After the press leaves, you and I will have a discussion about Zachary’s estate,” Henry stated.

The fucking nerve of this man.

“You disowned him, so there’s nothing to discuss,” I snapped back. “He built a life with me and we made this decision together. And his collection is never, ever, ending up in your cold, greedy hands. Now, either you let me speak or I’ll approach every art and entertainment journalist here and give in-depth interviews. And I will not hold back.”

Henry looked like he was about to either hit me or show me the door. But I wasn’t scared of this asshole.

“Fine. But afterwards?—”

“You don’t listen very well, do you?” I hissed. “I’ll make my statement and then Jesse and I are leaving. Any further contact with me will be done via my lawyer, Elias Kain.”

“Zachary’s photographs belong to his family.” Henry insisted.

“That’s me,” I spat out. “Not you.”

“Mr. Mahler,” a voice interrupted. It was one of the hotel staff. “We’re ready for you now.”

Thankfully, Henry turned away and I turned to Jesse.

“Baby.” Jesse looked at me with concern in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” I nodded, willing myself to stay calm. “I’m okay. I just need to say what I came to say and then we can get the hell out of here.”

Henry finished his discussion and motioned at us.

“I’ll go grab a seat,” Jesse whispered, and squeezed my hand one last time.

I let him go and watched as he headed for the front row. Jesse began to converse with several reporters, his confident manner drawing them in. His support today gave me the strength I needed.

I followed Henry, stalking up to the podium, determined not to cause a scene. Unless, of course, push came to shove.

“I’ll do the initial introduction, and you may speak after,” Henry grumbled.

“Where’s your wife?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t seen any sign of Zachary’s mother.

Henry didn’t answer right away. The clench of his jaw and the glare in his eyes spoke for him.

“She wasn’t able to join us.”

“That’s a shame,” I snarked.

“You know nothing about me or my wife, or how Zach’s lifestyle affected us.”

Lifestyle? I couldn’t with this man.

“Enough,” I bit back.

Henry turned away from me, adjusted the microphone, and did the introduction. When he referred to me as Zachary’s ‘close friend and colleague’ I knew that coming here was the right decision. Zachary was proud of who he was, and he believed in representation. Even if it cost him relationships, there was no hiding. And the fact that his parents still couldn’t accept reality was telling. It didn’t make me angry, though. It was pitiful and sad. They’d missed out on the incredible human being that was my Zachary.

When Henry stepped aside, I took his place behind the mic.

Looking out at the crowd of fifty or so people, I had a moment of panic. Until I spotted Jesse. He held my gaze and when his smile appeared, and that teasing dimple, my nerves settled.

He’s crazy about you.

Zach?

I told you, didn’t I?

You did. It happened so fast, but it feels right. Like a beautiful dream.

It’s real. And I’m so happy for you.

“My name is Evert Jackson and I’m honored to be here today to celebrate the memory of Zachary Mahler. Some of you may know me as a professional photographer and it’s true that Zach and I met through work. But he was more than a close friend and colleague. Zach and I fell in love with each other and built a life in Nashville that lasted two precious years. We dreamed together, worked together, and lived together. He was my partner, my best friend, and the man I loved with all my heart,” I paused, my voice cracking. “He was proud of the life we created, and proud to be a part of the LGBTQ+ community. And because of that, I’m pleased to announce that Zachary’s collection of photographs will be auctioned off and the proceeds will be donated to several LGBTQ+ charities in Nashville and here in his hometown of New York. This is Zach’s legacy; one of caring, acceptance, and love. Thank you.”

I managed to get the final words out, while tears blurred my vision.

My hands were shaking hard as I stepped away from the podium. There were questions being asked but I didn’t pay attention. I ignored the angry glare of Zach’s father, and headed for Jesse. My boyfriend stood up and met me halfway. It wasn’t only my hands trembling at this point, I was shaking all over. Until Jesse pulled me into his arms.

“Ev, that was beautiful.”

The tears let loose, and I buried my face in his shoulder. Jesse ran a soothing hand over my back until I calmed.

“Evert!” Henry called out.

“No,” Jesse bit back. “We’re leaving.”

“What kind of stunt was that?” Henry continued. “An auction? You’re going to hear from my lawyer.”

I finally leaned back, wiped my eyes, and turned to face Zachary’s father. “Do what you want. But the decision is made and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Henry stalked off and I clutched tightly to Jesse’s arms.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered.

I nodded, relieved and grateful. Several reporters stopped us on the way out and asked me for my contact details. One wanted to write an in-depth piece about Zachary’s work and life. Another one wanted to talk about which foundations would be receiving the donations. I was too upset to have those discussions now, so I handed out my business cards with a numb hand. Jesse intervened and assured them that we would be in touch.

“And you are?” One of the journalists asked Jesse.

“Jesse Aimes. I’m Evert’s boyfriend.”

“You look familiar. Are you also an artist?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

Jesse thanked the reporters and steered me out of the room and over to the elevator. When we got to the lobby, I could breathe again.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re here. That means everything,” I replied and leaned over to kiss him. “I love you.”

“Every time you say that, I wonder if I’m dreaming,” Jesse admitted.

“You and me?” I tasted his smile. “It’s very real.”

“Kiss me again, to be sure,” he teased.

So, I did.