Page 55 of Angels Fall

“Evan’s married?” Mom asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Tyler says. “His husband is the biggest real estate developer in town. And he’s working exclusively with Maddie.” He smiles a wide smile.

“Honey!” Dad barks out. “That’s great! This might be the one then, huh?”

The looks on Mom’s and Dad’s faces are so hopeful that I want to punch Tyler in the stomach for offering it all up. Because the greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment when they discover the truth. But to hell with it. Right now, here, today, we can all pretend that everything’s OK. So I do.

“Fingers crossed!” I say with a tight smile.

“Fantastic!” beams Mom. “And is Evan well? Still fighting fires?”

For the tiniest of moments there is a thick cloud in the air. Because I know every one of us thinks of Scotty. But then the cloud quickly rolls off.

“Yep,” Tyler answers. “He’s great. Never seen him happier. He’s really in love. They’re funny to watch in the morning. They have a chef who comes in, but Robert insists on making Evan’s smoothies personally, because he knows how he likes them. It’s sweet.”

“Oh,” Dad starts, “is that where you’re living?” Which is a good question. Why the hell is Tyler at Evan’s in the morning?

“Oh, yeah,” Tyler says. “Just for a while. I had an apartment in The Mandarin, but it… Um. I’m... Moving on from there. Time to make a change. So I’m staying with Evan and Robert for a while. That’s all. That’s why we’re here and not there!” He puts on something like a forced smile and I’m not sure what the hell’s going on. We fucked in his apartment in the Mandarin like a month ago. I even joked that it looked like he had just moved in because there was virtually no furniture. Something’s weird here.

Then he claps his hands and says, “So! Shall we?” He stands quickly, and as he does, he bumps into my mom’s hand, the one holding her gin and tonic, and the drink splashes out of her tumbler and all over me. All over my ruffled blouse and my pretty tan trousers. Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I stand, and Tyler yelps, “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” as he fumbles to try to help wipe me off, knocking over the glass of whiskey I have sitting on the arm of my chair and onto the ass of my pants in the attempt. “Jesus!” he shouts. “Fuck! I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, Georgina. Didn’t mean to say fuck. Fuck.”

Tyler Morgan, ladies and gentlemen.

“It’s fine,” Mom says. “Just… Oh, honey. Your pants.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” I pretty much growl.

“You need to get some soda water onto those before it sets,” offers Dad.

And suddenly everyone has their hands all over me, trying to be helpful.

“Guys!” I shout, and they all back off. “It’s fine. Just… Just, why don’t you all go downstairs and just like, give me a minute. K? I’ll clean off and, Mom, do you have anything I can put on?”

“Of course, dear. Take anything from the closet you want. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

The look on Mom’s face is way more upset than it needs to be. Except that it’s not. Because the fact that some shit got accidentally spilled on me is not what she’s apologizing for. She’s apologizing for so much more.

“It’s OK, Mom. It’s OK.” I give her a hug, keeping enough distance so that I don’t get booze all over her. “I am too,” I whisper into her cheek.

She pulls back, tears in her eyes, and smiles. I smile too.

“OK!” Dad merrily intones. “Well, then we’ll head down to the restaurant and get a table, and you just come on down whenever you’re ready.”

“OK, Dad.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek and heads off. Mom gives me one last, brief hug, and heads toward the door as well, leaving Tyler standing there.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t—Fuck. I was just trying to—”

I cut him off before he can say more. “It’s OK. I know what you were trying to do. So…”

I pause because I’m still not ready to just fucking forgive Tyler Hudson Morgan for everything he’s done. Or hasn’t done, more accurately. But I think about what Pete said to me. “You don’t always get a second chance to make things right.”

Tyler’s trying. Like, he’s really fucking trying. And even though I’m still not sure that it’s all gonna work out, and we’re gonna live happily ever after or whatever weird fantasy it is that Tyler and Annie and whoever else are all thinking is going to happen… Right here, right now, on Thanksgiving, I can at the least offer him this act of generosity. Because he’s offered me one.

“So… Thanks,” I say and nod to him. “I’ll be down in a minute,”

He smiles and nods back, then heads to the door. I watch it close behind the three of them as they make their way out, then I head up the stairs to the bedroom.