An Author's Post-Work Ramblings- Well, let me first apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update, but this chapter for some reason was really hard to write. I'm thinking it has something to do with the events surrounding the time I last updated, but other than that... sorry, don't hate me. As a thank you for letting me live, I've made this chapter longer than normal.
A big thank you go out to a lot of people who helped me through the writing of this chapter. Amy, as always, you rock, you are awesome. I honestly could go on for several pages touting Amy, (abc79-de) for the awesome beta job. She is so great at catching my mistakes, and she is slowly but surely curing me of my serial comma disease.
Thank you to Sara (Shouhei) for inspiring the one and only part´hat actually survived the reconstruction of this chapter. (It has been changed a lot. And I mean, A LOT!) So everyone has her to thank for the Mollie/Tristan moment near the end. All her idea, I just took it and started running!
Thank yous also got out to M (Season4.5) and my sis, Eri (mangoes2oo5) for being super patient, and giving me great feedback on the parts I let them see. I couldn't have done this without any of these ladies, they are all great friends, as well as writers themselves. So go and read all their stuff if you haven't already!
Just for your information, this chapter has TRANSITIONAL written all over it. For good reason. There is a lot of information that is very important for later. Even stuff that you don't realize right now is important, will be so later on. It's on the heavy side, but I promise, there is lighter stuff just around the corner. The next chapter is way more lighthearted, and I really like where it's going. (Half of it is already written!) So hang in there.
And now, without further ado, the next installment of The Last!
Chapter Ten- I Got You Babe
Graham winced when he heard the front door slam. He did feel bad, and has always hated fighting with Tristan. But that didn't mean that he was going to tell him anything.
It really was none of his business, anyway. What exactly gave Tristan Dugrey the right to pry into his life? Whatever happened that night months ago was better off there, and if he had anything to do with it, that was where it was going to stay.
Graham made his way down the hall to the kitchen, where he pulled out the pitcher of iced tea. Thanks to his mother, the house was never at a loss for freshly brewed iced tea. It was her favorite drink, no matter if it was peach, raspberry, lemon, or plain, she adored the dark liquid and made sure that she always had some on hand.
"That better not be from Long Island." Speak of the Devil. Graham turned around and saw his mother leaning against the doorframe, a perfect eyebrow raised, a small smile playing on her lips. He wasn't sure if she was serious or joking, but then, Cassie might not know the answer to that question herself.
He had always had a good relationship with his mother. They were like two peas in a pod. Graham supposed that this stemmed from spending so much time with Isabelle, Mollie, and Tristan so long ago.
Graham wished that he could go back to those days when Isabelle Calloway was still alive. Life had been so much simpler then, when his biggest worry was whose side to take during The Prank Wars. Nothing had been the same after she died.
They were all different. His mother had lost her best friend of nearly twenty-five years. That wasn't something that you rebound from. Isabelle and Cassie had done everything together: they had gone to school together, grown up together, gone to Europe for the first time together, and they had even gotten married and started families around the same time. Graham knew that his mother had buried a part of herself when she watched her beloved comrade being lowered into the earth.
Tristan had been inconsolable after her passing. He had been a lot closer to his aunt than to his mother. Clara just didn't have it in her to be a parent. When she had found out that she was pregnant with Tristan during her third year at Vassar, she and Gregory had married, but after Tristan was born, she handed him off to nannies, and went right back to school, never looking back.
Her older sister's actions had horrified Isabelle. And after she had Mollie, she left Yale to become a full-time mother to not only Mollie, but Tristan as well. More likely than not, when Cassie toted Graham over to the Calloway's home, you could find Tristan toddling around. Graham, Mollie, and Tristan had been best friends all their lives, the Three Amigos, as Lulu had nicknamed them.
It wasn't surprising, considering they were all relatively close in age, Tristan being the oldest; then Graham, only three months younger; followed by Mollie, who was just three days shy of being exactly five months Graham's junior.
Funny, thinking back, Graham didn't have any memories of Clara Dugrey until after Isabelle was gone. If it wasn't for him calling her 'aunt' all the time, Graham could have sworn that she was Tristan's mother. But then, in all of the important ways, she was. It was Isabelle who had taught Tristan how to play the piano. It was Isabelle who went to each and every tennis match, taking him for ice cream after, whether he won or lost. 'As long as you always lose like a winner, and never win like a loser,' she would say. She always expected them to be good sports, no matter how their opponents behaved. Isabelle had been a class act, and she taught all three of them to behave the same way.
In fact, Graham couldn't remember too many times that he had been in the Dugrey mansion as a young child. It wasn't until they were twelve, when Isabelle was gone, that Tristan spent all that much time there. His parents hadn't cared much either way where their son was even then. Graham couldn't count the number of times that Tristan had showed up at his house, too upset to say anything. Every once in a while, he would let something slip about his aunt, but most of the time, they would sit in silence, playing a video game or watching a movie.
Even though both his mother and Tristan hadn't shared much of their grieving processes with him, they were open books compared to Mollie. She had closed in on herself, never saying anything to anyone about her mother. Mollie could barely even speak her name without having to leave the room. Graham was never one for dealing with tears and uncomfortable emotions, so he had steered clear of all Isabelle- shaped topics, for fear of waterworks and sobbing.
He knew that after her mother's death, Mollie had clung to her father, as Stephen had to her. It was in some of those low moments that Graham had been secretly jealous of Mollie. While he still had a mother, she and her father had an actual relationship. He didn't have that with his father, and most likely never would.
But now, Graham wondered why he was so envious of Mollie. The truth was out, and boy, was it damaging. That closeness that Stephen and Mollie had once held so dear was gone, and Graham wasn't so sure that they would ever be able to get it back.
"Hello?" He came back down from his thoughts when Cassie snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. "Is the alcohol going to your head?" He couldn't blame her for not trusting him. After all, he had lost a lot of her trust at the beginning of the summer with the whole drunk driving thing. Graham just prayed that soon they could get back the closeness that they had once shared. He wasn't a mama's boy by any means, but he had been unusually close to his mom, and the distance that his actions had caused was killing him. All he wanted was for her to trust him again.
"Of course not." Graham replied, deciding to keep the conversation light. Lately their chats had been far too heavy for his taste. He didn't want to fight with her anymore. "You know I hate gin."
"Still…" Cassie trailed off, choosing her words carefully. The last thing she wanted was to start an argument. It was all they had been doing these past few months, and she just wanted her life to go back to normal. "You can never be too careful. The Long Island Iced Tea is a powerful beverage. It has magical powers. It's quite possible that you were conceived after one too many Long Island Iced Teas."
"God, Mom!" Graham made a face, showing his disgust at the direction that the conversation had taken. "I really, really, really don't want to hear about anything related to you and Dad. It hurts the whole Immaculate Conception concept I've got going on in my mind."
"Oh, there was nothing immaculate about your conception, Honey." Cassie laughed, trying to pull his hands away from his ears. He twisted away from her, desperate to make her stop. "Quit your humming, I'm done." She finally relented, going to the refrigerator and removing the pitcher to pour herself a glass of iced tea.
They sat in silence, both in deep in thought and unsure about how to act around each other. So much had changed in the past month and a half. It was still unclear whether or not things would ever return to normal.
"So, I heard Tristan leave." She started, trying to gauge his reaction. Graham tensed, but didn't say anything. "What happened?"
"Nothing." Graham muttered. "He just doesn't know when to quit."
"Okay…"
"Tristan thinks that everything is his business." Graham continued, remembering their argument. "He thinks that something happened between Rory and me last year, and that I'm keeping it from him."
"Rory Gilmore? Emily's granddaughter?" Cassie asked. "Didn't we set you two up not too long ago?"
"If you mean that time that you and Mrs. Gilmore ambushed us and practically forced us together, then yes." Graham reminded her. "Anyway, we went out that night, with my buddies. I got toasted, she didn't. Being the smart person that she is, she decided not to get into a car with a drunk driver, while your very, very stupid son chose to go with them and got his sorry ass arrested."
"Ah, so Tristan likes this girl." Cassie stated, understanding a little more. Of course. It all made sense now.
"Yeah." Graham said, a little dejected. "I get why Tristan wants to know, but that doesn't mean that I should have to tell him. Why should he care if anything happened between us? Nothing relevant happened. We barely even knew each other last year."
"Babe, I don't know what to tell you." She sighed, patting his arm reassuringly. "Sometimes you have to suck it up and talk stuff out. You two have been best friends your entire lives, and I doubt that this one fight is going to change that."
"I don't know about that." He said. "You know how Tristan is about his 'Mary.'"
"Rory is Mary?" Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Well, then you, my son, are screwed."
"Gee thanks, Mom."
"Seriously though, just go over and talk it out. Tell him how you feel."
"Mom, this isn't Dr. Phil. I'm not going to go into all that emotional crap."
"Oh, what was I thinking?" Cassie slapped a hand to her forehead dramatically. "I'm so sorry for trying to get you to admit your feelings."
"Sometimes I think that you wish that you had a daughter." Graham laughed, happy at the turn of events. This conversation didn't seem as strained as others had recently. It felt good to laugh with his mother.
"Well, if you were a girl, it would have been much more fun to dress you up as a baby." She chuckled heartily. "Plus, you wouldn't have been able to get me while changing your diapers!"
"Okay, ew." Graham made a face. "That's just wrong."
"But true."
"Maybe it'll be better in the morning, after everyone has a chance to cool down from what happened." Graham thought out loud. "It's been a pretty stressful day."
"How can playing tennis and swimming be stressful?" She asked. "I thought that keeping you in the lap of luxury all summer long would be relaxing."
"You would think that, but you know how quickly things can change."
&
Rory had been wandering around the grounds of Chateau du Sable for hours now. It wasn't too hard to get lost in the beauty that surrounded her, and she welcomed the solitude. Since her arrival, she hadn't had very much time to herself, with Mollie and Tristan pulling her in one direction, or Emily attempting to drag her off to meet another 'dear friend.'
She had tried to call her mother, but Lorelai hadn't answered the house phone and Michel couldn't find her at the inn. What was the point of having a cell phone if she wasn't going to answer it? It had to be some sort of conspiracy.
Rory just wanted to talk to her mother. Lorelai was so good with things like this. Rory hated the feeling in her stomach, the gnawing guilt that was slowly eating her alive, but it just wouldn't go away.
It was kind of ironic that she had run away from Stars Hollow to escape that guilt only to have it come back upon her full force in Newport. But then, she wasn't sure if it had ever really left. The past month had been so horrible. She felt different, and not in a good way. When she had imagined her first time, it was supposed to be with someone that she loved. It was supposed to be with someone who loved her. It was supposed to be exciting and special, and she and her mother were supposed to have a completely inappropriate conversation about how it had gone afterward that would make even the most immodest person blush.
But that wasn't what had happened.
She wasn't in love. Hell, she wasn't even in like. It was stupid and immoral, and it wasn't the way that it was supposed to be.
And the look on her mother's face… that had to be the worst part of the whole ordeal. Rory had let her down in the worst way possible. She had slept with a married man. She had spit on every moral and value that Lorelai had instilled in her for a few moments of awkward, fumbling, uncomfortable, and even at times painful lust.
That was all that it was.
Lust.
Today, looking into that man's eyes today as his entire world came crashing down around his feet had been jarring. Whatever she had felt at the time, whatever she had been thinking, it definitely wasn't worth losing everything. And that was what Stephen Calloway had lost today. Everything.
Rory feared that the most. All her life, she had been the angel child, the bright spot in the dark times. What would everyone think of her if they knew the truth? She didn't want to know. She didn't want to lose their respect like she had lost Lorelai's. It would be too much to bear.
She was reaching the end of a path near the center of the extensive property. From what she could tell, she was to the left of The Rose Garden and just south of the pool. Which meant that if she turned right, she would be near the tennis courts, and she could just follow the low wall to the patio. It was a good thing that Mollie had drawn that map for her when she first came, or else Rory wouldn't have known how to get anywhere on the immense property.
"Oh!" Rory squeaked when she turned the corner, running directly into someone standing at the edge of the path. Quickly, she stood, getting her bearings back.
"Well, hello Dear." Lulu said, holding onto Rory's elbow until she regained her balance. "Fancy running into you here."
"I am so sorry!" Rory exclaimed, feeling guilty for nearly body checking the woman. "I was walking, and I guess I just got a bit lost in my thoughts or something. I didn't mean to-,"
"It's fine. No harm, no foul." Lulu smiled warmly. "I probably shouldn't have been lurking in the shadows anyway. It's just as much my fault as it is yours."
"I guess." Rory was a little unsure. She looked around, happy that at least she knew where she was. There was the wall she was supposed to follow, and the path to the pool, and the tennis court…
And on that tennis court, were Mollie and Tristan. The looked to be deep in conversation, but she couldn't hear either of them speaking. Rory turned away, feeling a little like a voyeur, watching something that wasn't meant to be seen.
"I know, I know." Lulu admitted, sounding regretful. "I shouldn't be spying on them. I didn't intend to, honestly, I just couldn't leave without knowing that my Mollie was alright."
Rory nodded, unsure what to say. She hadn't spent much time with Lulu so far. Even though she seemed like a pretty neat lady, Rory still felt a bit uncomfortable around her.
"Come on, walk an old woman back to the house." Lulu flashed another smile, setting Rory slightly at ease.
"But, don't you want to talk to Mollie?" Rory asked.
"Tristan's with her." Lulu explained, linking arms with the younger woman, turning back the way that Rory had come. "He'll take good care of her." The walked in silence down the trail, but instead of turning left, Lulu turned to the right, heading down a path that Rory hadn't noticed before.
"I suppose that you are wondering why I was hovering in the shadows, watching them." Lulu stated in a tone that Rory couldn't quite place. However, what she said was true. It was strange that this woman who was known for getting involved and speaking her mind would hold back.
"Well, it does seem a bit odd, I guess."
"I did it for her own good." Lulu took a deep breath, trying to loosen the words that seemed caught in her throat. "The last thing that she needs right now is me."
Rory stopped abruptly, surprised by her words. Mollie and Lulu were unbelievably close. The seemed to have the best Grandmother/Granddaughter relationship possible. How in the world could Lulu be the last thing that Mollie needed?
"I know what you're thinking. I must be wrong. But I'm not." Lulu continued, and resumed their trek into the unknown, pulling Rory along. "Mollie has a lot of me in her. She says what she is thinking without apology;, she's strong, smart, and independent." Lulu swallowed, and forged on. "But Mollie is also a lot like her mother. I'm sure you've seen a picture of her by now. The resemblance is uncanny. The same hair, the same cheekbones, the same nose. But the similarities don't end there. Mollie and Isabelle share one fatal flaw. When faced with something that could hurt them, or something that they don't want to do, say, or think about, they flee. Mollie copes with pain and heartache by running away, or pretending that everything is fine, even when it's not."
"I on the other hand, like a good confrontation. I thrive on arguing. Much like Tristan does. I'm sure that you've noticed that trait in him already." Lulu smirked slightly when she noticed the way that Rory's cheeks flushed pink at the sound of her grandson's name. "I don't hide from anything, and I don't let anyone hide either."
"I know my granddaughter. She is already building a wall around this issue. She's not going to talk about it until she's ready to take a sledgehammer to that wall herself." Lulu closed her eyes for a moment. "And if I get near her right now, I'll push her into something that she isn't ready for, and I don't want her to self-destruct again."
Rory wondered if those words meant that Mollie had fallen apart before. It must have been a bad time, or else Lulu probably wouldn't be here talking to her.
"This house seems to be full of people who are hiding this summer." Lulu acknowledged, changing the subject slightly. "Mollie, Tristan, your grandmother, even you."
"What?" Rory was surprised. The only people that knew why she was on the run were back in Stars Hollow. But sure enough, standing before her was someone else who seemed to know. Rory could see it in her eyes. It was more than obvious that the cat had been let out of the bag.
"Oh, don't look so shocked." Lulu waved her hand. "I knew about your little transgression before you were even in Rhode Island."
"But how?" Rory could barely believe it. How was it possible?
"I have known your grandmother for nearly forty-five years, and in all that time, I have never known her to be able to keep a secret that wasn't her own."
"But how?" Rory repeated. She hadn't told Emily about Dean, and Lorelai would rather gouge out her own eyes than have a conversation with her mother on most days. Who else knew?
"It seems that my very best friend is as skilled an eavesdropper as my granddaughter is." Lulu said, patting her arm. "She's good, you didn't stand a chance."
"Great." Rory muttered, her mood dropping even lower than it already was. "So I suppose that you hate me too?"
"Oh, Dear, it takes a lot more than one stupid mistake to make me hate someone. And that's all that it was. A mistake." Lulu assured her, making a sharp turn, stopping abruptly.
Rory gasped, taking in the sight around her. It was breathtaking. They were surrounded by white flowers, cascading down trellises that reached up toward the sky, and the long path seemed to go on forever. Rory couldn't remember seeing anything so beautiful before. It seemed like a white floral fantasy world.
"I call this The White Way of Delight." Lulu looked proud, smiling widely at Rory's reaction. She never tired of watching people take this particular spot in.
"Like in Anne of Green Gables?" Rory asked, turning back to her. There were so many flowers. There had to be millions of them.
"Exactly." Lulu smiled. "It is my very favorite book. I always thought of my husband and myself as Gilbert and Anne come to life."
"This is amazing." Rory breathed, still looking around at the beauty surrounding her. "I think that this might be my favorite place here. I mean, this is even better than the library."
"There are a few special places tucked away here." Lulu said, linking arms with Rory again. Rory followed her lead, still in awe. "I have a habit of creating special places out of my favorite books."
"That's really cool." Rory said, less in shock now.
"I took you here for a reason." Lulu explained. "I know that you have been feeling badly about your actions a few months ago, and I'm sure that you have been making comparisons of your mistake and the gross misjudgment that my son-in-law made years ago." Her eyes went cold, and Rory felt her tense next to her, but still Lulu continued to speak. "There is no similarity to the situations. He was unfaithful to my daughter countless times. He was older. He knew better, and still, he did it. He hurt my daughter, and my granddaughter."
"You, Rory, have been punishing yourself for one night. You are young, and you have already acknowledged that you made a horrible error. He didn't do that. He continued on with his life, and I am certain that if Mollie hadn't found out the truth, it would have remained a secret."
"I just want you to remember something that a wise woman once taught me." Lulu stopped when they reached the end of the path. "Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it."
"Anne Shirley said that." Rory smiled, remembering the books she enjoyed as a young child.
"You can learn a lot from the characters in stories." Lulu chuckled. Rory was smart. Tristan needed someone smart. What a good match they'll make. "After all, L.M. Montgomery wouldn't have named all of those books after Josie Pye, now would she? Anne may have been a little slow on the uptake, but was nonetheless a wise woman, because while she made plenty of mistakes, she almost always learned from them, and didn't let them run her life. Maybe you should try it sometime."
"Maybe I will." Rory smiled, feeling better than she had in a long time. Who would have known that she would be glad to have someone know her deepest, darkest secret? It felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. After all, if Lulu was this understanding, maybe everyone else would be too.
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Why did everything have to be so complicated?
&
He found her on the tennis court.
That wasn't very surprising. Mollie could often be found there, brushing up on her backhand, or perfecting her killer serve. But the scene before him was anything but usual.
Mollie was always a whirlwind of activity. No matter what, she was running, jumping, skipping, and on the rare occasion, he had seen her prance about while causing mischief, or meddling in other people's lives. Her constant state of movement was reassuring. It was her way, and her loved ones accepted it as her nature.
So when Tristan arrived to find her lying on a bench, staring up at the sky, he was worried. More than worried. This wasn't going to just go away with a joke and an ice cream sundae.
"Hey." He approached her cautiously, almost unsure whether or not he should disturb her. Mollie turned her head slowly, acknowledging his presence before turning back toward the heavens.
"Hey."
Tristan sat down across from her, placing a bag on her stomach. "What's this?" She asked, opening one eye to examine the chilly contents. "Cold Stone. Nice."
"Only the best for you." Tristan smiled, slightly encouraged as she sat up and opened the bag. "One Mud Pie Mojo to cure what ails you." He was even more relieved when she dug into the sundae filled with Oreos, peanut butter, almonds, fudge, and fluff with a vengeance. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she hadn't eaten in a month. For someone so skinny, Mollie could certainly finish her share of desserts.
"Where's Graham?" Mollie asked, her voice slightly muffled by a mouthful of ice cream. He must have gone home; otherwise, he would be sitting across from her, right next to Tristan on the bench. The Three Amigos always stuck together, through thick and thin, and sick and sin.
"I just brought him back to Orchard Hill. He couldn't stay any longer. Part of his punishment." Tristan told her, wondering how she was able to polish off so much of the sweet confection so quickly. Sure, ice cream melts, but still… he would be shocked if she wasn't sick in a few hours.
"Oh."
"He wanted to stay, but you know how his mom is about this." Tristan added quickly, not wanting Mollie to think that Graham would abandon her in her time of need.
"It's okay, Tristan." Mollie held up a hand to stop him. And he said that she had a problem with rambling. "I'm not mad at Graham for leaving."
"Oh, okay." Tristan breathed a small sigh of relief.
"You know, it's kind of funny how one mistake can royally screw up your life." Mollie pondered, picking up a wayward tennis ball that had found its way under the bench.
"Yeah," Tristan agreed, unsure of which way she was going to go with her statement. He decided to keep his answer ambiguous, so he wouldn't force her into any conversation she wasn't ready for. "He's going to be paying for this one for a long time."
"I still can't believe that he would do something so stupid." Mollie threw the ball up in the air, catching it in the other hand. She repeated the action again, picking up speed with each toss.
"Definitely."
"I mean, getting into a car with a drunk driver? What was he thinking?" She threw the ball a little too hard, sending it over to Tristan, who caught it easily and chucked it back to her.
"I think that was the problem, Mollie. He wasn't thinking."
"I hope that he learned his lesson." Mollie said, continuing their rally.
"I think Cassie is making sure of that." Tristan assured her, remembering what Graham was going to be forced to do.
"Yeah. She told me that he's got to talk to kids about his experience for the next two years."
"Well, considering that Graham is petrified of speaking in public, it's a sufficiently evil punishment." Tristan shuddered at the though of having to face his worst fear over and over again. It was too much.
"When's his first gig?"
"In the fall, when school starts." Tristan told her.
"Nothing this summer?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"I think she wanted to give him plenty of time to think about what awaits him."
"Wow. That's pretty good." Mollie was surprised by the level of torture that Cassie Sullivan was operating on. Graham's crime was a major one, sure, but did it really warrant this level of evilness?
But then, her father hadn't been punished for his sins against her mother, and look at where it got him. Disinherited and disowned by his father and only daughter. The increasingly familiar stab of pain shot through her again, and she lie back down on the bench, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the dimming rays of light from the setting sun.
Would this ever get easier? Would this pain ever go away? Or would she have to live with it, and the questions that were swimming around inside her head for the rest of her life?
Tristan didn't know what to say. He knew that Mollie needed to talk. He could feel the pain radiating off of her in waves, and all he wanted to do was to make it better. If only he knew how.
"Molls…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say, and exactly how to say it.
"Stop." Came the small, yet firm voice of his cousin.
"But-," he attempted to start again, only to meet her opposition to the conversation again.
"Tristan, I can't do this." Mollie sat up again, looking into his eyes. His level of concern for her touched her, though she wasn't surprised. They always were more like siblings than cousins. He was, in many ways, the older brother that she always wished he was. Mollie knew that more than anything, he wanted to make this better for her, like it was some boo-boo he could kiss and magically heal. But it wasn't. He couldn't help her with this, not yet anyway. "I've had all of those thoughts inside of me for so long, that now that they are out, I don't know what to say anymore. I need time to think. I just want everything to be normal again, the way that it used to be."
On some level, she knew that things would never really be normal again. At least, not the 'normal' that she had known before. But maybe, just maybe, if Mollie pretended that everything was okay, it really would be.
"Mollie'll talk to someone when she's ready to talk to someone. She'll do what she wants, when she wants." Graham's words were never truer than in that moment. Tristan knew that Mollie couldn't be made to do anything, ever. No matter how much she might need to, if she didn't want to do something, the girl would not budge. He also knew that if he pushed her, she would rebel the only way she knew how, and he wanted to keep her from self-destruction.
"Okay, but just for now. Remember, you're not alone." Tristan reminded her, enveloping her in a tight, reassuring embrace. "I've always got your back."
"I know." She giggled. "I got you, Babe."
"Damn straight." Tristan chuckled, pausing for a beat. "Wait. Does that make me Sonny or Cher?"
"What does that matter?" Mollie asked, wondering where he was going to go with this.
"Well, one of them kicked the bucket a few years ago."
"So you would rather be a gay icon?"
"Am I not pretty enough to be a gay icon?" Tristan asked, in complete seriousness. Mollie stared at him for a second, as if he were growing a second head out of his shoulder.
"Oh brother." She said finally, getting up from the bench, heading for the gate.
"That hurts." Tristan called, chasing after her. "What is it? My nose? My hair? It must be my hair. It's too messy. Gay men like to be more kempt. Am I right?"
"Sure Tris, you have heterosexual hair." Mollie rolled her eyes at him. "Are we seriously having this conversation?"
"At least we're not having this conversation seriously." Tristan smirked, opening the latch and holding the door to the tennis courts open for her to pass through.
"There is that."
"Come on. Let's go back home before Gran sends out a search party." Tristan suggested, slipping an arm around her shoulders before leading the way back to the house.
&
She didn't know what to do.
All those years ago, she had been entrusted with a secret.
Seven long years.
She thought that she was home free.
She thought that it would remain a secret.
She didn't want to do it.
But she had to.
She made a promise.
And she always kept her promises.
Always.
I'll let you in on a little secret...
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