Meet Me at Midnight

Chapter 38

I move my Escalade through the gate in front of my parents’ house and pull into the driveway, the bright lights of Christmas nearly blinding me. Clearly, my mother and her go-to Christmas décor company went a little overboard this year trying to beat out Martha May Whovier.

I pull to a stop in front of a large inflatable snowman, and Avery and June climb out the passenger’s side while I cut the engine and hop out. The sounds of actual Christmas carols coming from discreet outdoor speakers placed around the yard fill my ears, and I don’t know whether to be amused or horrified that the entire neighborhood has had to listen to “Jingle Bells” on a continuous loop since the day after Thanksgiving.

My grandfather Phil’s Mercedes is already parked in the front of the house, the hood cold to the touch as I walk by, and I glance back one more time to make sure I’ve parked in a way that puts my car in no danger when he goes to leave later.

He’s fine on the road, but for some reason, any situation involving parking causes a real complication for him.

Since moving into Coral Village last year, a senior living neighborhood for the uberwealthy, both sets of our grandparents have taken to carpooling everywhere they go. To the doctor, to the movies, or here for the holidays—it’s all scheduled to be a group activity. And because they’re all completely unhinged, despite his finicky record, my grandpa Phil is the best driver out of the bunch.

And when I say they do everything together, I mean it. We never see them on Thanksgiving because, for the past decade, they’ve been taking the same monthlong cruise on the same cruise line across the Mediterranean. Last Christmas, my grandpa Bill got his knee replacement surgery the same day they docked—which was the day before our Christmas Eve dinner—and they didn’t even think to consider other dates.

Grandpa Bill spent the whole damn night with his leg propped up on pillows and his face pinched in a grimace, pain pills stunting his appetite for dinner.

Avery and June are already inside by the time I make it in the door, and Linda takes my sport coat to hang it up for me before I join the rest of them in the kitchen. The inside of the house matches the outside, and I have to maneuver past what feels like a forest of Christmas trees before I can find everyone.

My mom is dressed to the nines in a red sequined dress, and my dad wears one of his black velvet suits to match the occasion. Both my grandfathers—Bill and Phil—wear bow ties, and my grandmothers—Bev and Judy—showcase ballgown-style dresses. The moment all four of them see what Avery, June, and I are wearing, the looks of disgust are palpable.

“I swear, kids are caring less and less about the way they dress these days,” my grandma Bev chides, whispering to my mom in an anything but quiet voice.

You’d think we’re all schlepping it in sweatpants, but Avery is in designer jeans and some kind of complicated top she probably spent too fucking much money on, and June is wearing a cream- colored sweaterdress. I’m in jeans and a dress shirt, and while it’s not black tie, I wouldn’t say we look disheveled either.

Avery grabs a carrot from the vegetable tray and crunches on it as she jumps directly into the fray of Grandma Bev’s dress code annoyance. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to bestow me with a gift worthy of wearing, Grandma. Versace, Balenciaga, Gucci? What is it? Give it to me now, and I’ll go change.”

Grandma Bev shakes her head, but she also smiles. “Avery, honey, you really need to start sticking with the classics.”

“I can’t even imagine you’d want to wear Balenciaga after their horrid Paris show,” Grandma Judy chimes in with a scoff.

The classics they speak of involve Chanel, Hermès, Ralph Lauren, and Yves Saint Laurent. I shouldn’t know any of this shit, but when your little sister is Avery with a black AMEX, you find your brain being filled with things whether you like it or not.

If it isn’t already clear, both sets of my grandparents come from money. Very old, very WASP-esque kind of money. Frankly, they’re so set in their old-fashioned ways, there was a period of time they weren’t thrilled about my dad’s choice of starting a marketing firm back in the day. They thought it was too edgy, and his dad, my grandpa Phil, was horrified that his son wasn’t going to continue the Banks name in the financial world.

Eventually, though, when they saw how well my dad was doing, they got over it.

My mom just laughs off my grandmothers’ passive-aggressive chatter about proper Christmas Eve dinner attire, and my dad directs us all to the living room for premeal cocktails that are already arranged on a silver tray.

June loiters until I catch up to her, and the two of us walk in together, my hand gently touching the small of her back. It’s not something I never would have done, but it’s not exactly innocent anymore either.

I’m more than ready to have all of this in the open so I can love her out loud.

The thought stalls me for the briefest of seconds as I consider it. Do I love June?

It sure seems like it these days. Any time we’re apart I spend wishing we were together, and I’m happiest when she’s around. She’s even come more into herself, and the new comfort we find together is something to be envied.

I grab a glass of champagne from my dad’s tray and hand it to June before grabbing a glass of neat whiskey for myself. My fingers itch to pull her closer to me, to feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, but I take a seat in one of the chairs beside the fireplace to keep myself from misbehaving. If I sit on the couch with June, I’ll be running my hands all over her legs without even realizing it, trying to find the skin under her sexy, thigh-high boots.

Avery takes the seat next to June, and I focus on my dad as he stands in front of the mantel to make his traditional Christmas Eve toast. Our stockings hang behind him, the glow from the fireplace casting warm shadows over them, and I spot the one with Juniper written on it directly beside the one with Beau .

Internally, I smile, thinking back to the first Christmas my mom added a stocking for June. She was ten and I was fifteen, and the way her eyes brightened when she spotted her name on the mantel lit up the whole damn room.

My eyes move back to June, taking in the way her long red hair hangs down her shoulders and the way her mouth turns up into an adorable grin when Avery whispers something to her.

She looks happy and carefree, but I know today, just like every other holiday, is hard for her. Knowing her parents’ house is just down the street from here, empty while her dad travels the world without her, wouldn’t be easy on anyone.

“Welcome, everyone,” my dad announces, his face curling up in a genuine smile. “Diane and I, as always, are so grateful to have all of you to call family and love spending this special day with you. Chef Stone has prepared a special Christmas Eve feast for us tonight,” he says, extending a hand toward the kitchen and prompting all of us to turn in that direction and raise our glasses toward the chef, “and we can’t wait to share it with you. You…all of you…make our lives so much better, and we don’t know what we’d do without you.” He lifts his glass, and we do the same, taking a drink before he turns to each of us individually. “Mom, Dad, I appreciate the sacrifices you made to put me in the position I am now.” My grandma Bev and grandpa Phil smile, and he turns to my mom’s parents then.

“Bill, Judy…I want to thank you for this amazing woman you raised. She’s my better half in every way, and without her, I would be lost. She keeps our lives running and gave me two beautiful children. I love you, Diane, with my whole heart, whole soul, whole being.”

My dad takes a moment to step over to my mom and press a little kiss to her lips. But their sweet moment is popped like a needle to a balloon when my sister chimes in.

“Ooh, do me now!” Avery demands, making us all laugh.

My dad’s smile only grows as he walks back over to the mantel, his eyes on Avery now. “My dearest daughter…you’re unequivocally you, and I pride myself on giving you the opportunity to be just that. I hope you don’t change and that people will give you the chance to show your kind spirit and giving heart like you show to me. I’m also unbelievably grateful for the shy little girl you brought home with you from Hollis Academy on that first September day, and for the opportunity to love her now.”

“Gosh, you guys are so lucky to have me,” Avery says, lifting her glass in the air for herself. “Cheers to me!”

My dad just chuckles as he turns to June, and I can’t help but turn to face her too, knowing this moment right here from my dad is all she’s ever wanted in this world from her own mother and father. “June, our little angel. God sure did bless us by bringing you into our lives. I’m proud of your sweet nature and your giving soul and your undeniable work ethic you’ve shown since joining the firm this fall. I’m so proud of you, if I could, I’d call you my daughter too.”

June licks her lips and nods, and I know when she looks down to her lap, she’s crying real tears.

One day, she’s going to have all the things she’s ever dreamed of. I’m going to make sure of it.

He turns to me then, and I have to sit up straighter in my seat to refocus myself on him. These days, I swear, I feel like I’m particles of myself, constantly scattered throughout the room and always hoping to get closer to June.

“Beau. Son. I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming and the care and attention you put into the business I built on my back,” my dad says, his smile big. “I know you’re dedicated to continuing the firm’s legacy long after I’m retired and gone, and the thought makes me incredibly proud. But more than all those things, I’m proud of who you are as a person. The integrity. The honesty. The unwavering dedication to doing the right thing.” My ears burn with a sudden wave of guilt over hiding what June and I are from not only my dad, but everyone in this room. My mom. My grandparents. Even my sister. She’s a pain in the ass on even the best of days, but she’d do anything for me or June at the drop of a hat. I don’t like that we’re still lying to them—in this moment, I’m starting to hate it, actually—and I hope beyond hope we figure out a way to break the news soon. “Beau, I know it hasn’t always been a smooth road for you, but you’ve risen above and come out on top.”

When the speech finally breaks and everyone disperses toward the dining room table where Chef Stone is bringing out appetizers, I shake my dad’s hand and give him a hug, and then promptly start searching for June.

She’s nowhere to be found, and I have a feeling it’s because she’s feeling just as guilty as I am about the secret we’re hiding. We’ve had what feels like a hundred conversations about this, and if my father’s words tonight affected her in the same way they affected me, the shame of hiding our relationship from everyone is feeling like a path that’s more than run its course.

I start at the half bath and then go out back to the pool and even down to look for her at our spot on the beach, but I come up empty-handed at all of them.

When I go back inside, I climb the steps to the second floor and start peeking inside bedrooms as I make my way down the hall.

Most are empty, with made beds and untouched knickknacks, including the one she used to sleep in every night she was here growing up, but when I get to mine at the end of the long second-floor hallway, she’s lurking in front of my bookshelf.

“Hey,” I say softly, hoping not to startle her as I step inside and shut the door behind me.

“Hi,” she replies, her teeth worrying the skin of her bottom lip.

“What are you doing in here?”

She laughs, shrugging. “Hiding from my culpability, I guess.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m feeling pretty guilty too.”

“How are we going to tell everyone, Beau?” She sinks her face into her hands. “Listening to your dad down there, I felt so bad. I love your family so much. Just as much as I’ve always loved you. I just… I feel like we’ve backed ourselves into a corner. And trust me, I know this is more my doing than yours.”

“Hey, don’t do that. We’re a team, okay?” Stepping forward and pulling her into my arms, I hug her tight. “And we’ll figure out a way to tell them. Everything is going to be fine, I promise. They love both of us, right? Why wouldn’t they want us to be happy and together?”

“Maybe they would have been okay a few months ago, but Beau, we’ve been lying ,” she whispers into my chest. “We’re lying right now!”

I put my hands to the side of her face, lifting her gaze to mine and studying the cornflower blue of her irises. “I’m going to figure out how to fix it. I promise.”

She nods, and I press my lips to hers. The kiss starts out soft and gentle, but it only takes a few beats before it turns altogether heated. Her hands pull at the back of my dress shirt, and I lift the hem of her cream dress. The skin of her thigh feels warm and inviting, and I move my tongue deeper into her mouth to get more.

God, she tastes so good. Feels so good. I’ll never have enough. I could touch and kiss June every second of every hour of every day for the rest of forever and I don’t think I’d ever have my fill.

A little moan escapes her throat, and I swallow it down as passion and heat and white-hot need release themselves inside our kiss.

“I’ve been looking all over for— oh my God! ” Avery screams at the top of her lungs, and both June and I startle apart as the door to my bedroom swings open so hard it bangs against the wall.

Fuck.

I thought I locked it.

But I thought wrong.

“What in the holy hell is going on here?” Avery questions, her eyes wide as they dart back and forth between us.

“Avery, I can explain,” June says immediately, stepping around me and all but pushing me out of the way.

“No need, June. I’ve got eyes,” Avery snaps. “And my eyes just saw your tongue down my brother’s throat! Why was your tongue down my brother’s throat, June?” Her voice rises in irritation.

“Avery—” I start to interrupt, but she’s on a warpath now.

“My God, are you two a thing?” Avery shouts. “Are you two, like, together ?”

“We were going to tell you,” June says, her voice shaky. “I just—”

“How long?” Avery cuts her off to ask. “How the hell long has this been going on?”

June’s face is red with distress as she glances back at me. “A few months,” I respond, knowing she needs me to say the words for her.

“Months? Months?” Avery screams. “You’re telling me you’ve been lying to me for months?” she says directly to June, her voice trembling with hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Avery,” June apologizes. “So, so sorry.”

“Oh my god! All that shit with Bethany?” Avery questions, anger and pain lacing the edges of her voice. “She was right, wasn’t she? It wasn’t bullshit. All this time and you’ve had a thing for my brother?”

June stares down at her hands for a brief moment, her fingers fidgeting nervously, before she finds the strength to meet Avery’s eyes. “Yes. I…I’ve always had a thing for Beau.”

“And what was I?” Avery tosses both of her hands out in front of her. “Just a way to get to him?!”

“No!” June yells, upset, and tears now stream down her cheeks. “Of course not! I love you like a sister, you know that!”

“I don’t know anything, Juniper. Not one single thing. Because ten minutes ago, I knew my best friend in the world would never, ever lie to my face or do something this big behind my back on purpose. I knew that with my heart and soul. And yet…look where I am now.”

“Avery,” I chide, my voice rough.

“No.” She points an angry finger at me. “Don’t even fucking bother, Beau.” She snaps a glare at June. “Don’t either of you bother.”

Avery takes off at a run, and June chases after her.

And I, almost comically, run after both of them. It’s a full-on My Best Friend’s Wedding moment, and I’m playing the scumbag role of Julia Roberts.

I’ve hurt the two women I care about most in this world. The two women who are the reason I’m able to make this stupid movie reference at all, and I have to find a way to make it right.

Fuuuuuuck.