Ben is tuning his guitar. I'm drinking more of the caramel coffee, though it smells good it's not what I expected in terms of flavor. Our grocery store used to sell these tall skinny bottles of English toffee, Caramel and some other flavourings I can't remember. Apparently at Starbucks you can buy coffee flavouring still but I haven't checked because it would be a special trip and probably overpriced and meh, not enough of a big deal. If you ask anyone around me I get too much sugar anyway.
He blocked Caleb's attempts to commandeer last night. I didn't even wake up, having bid my goodnights at probably ten and disappeared because the last few weekends I've been up so late and awake so early.
I had eleven hours of sleep so I'm not even interested in Caleb's sharp rebuke this morning for Ben somehow 'not respecting her wishes'. Ben just points out wearily that if I had wished to see Caleb, I would have gone to see him. That ends their conversation and I resume drinking my coffee, and Ben starts singing Lucky Man, though not the Verve version, this is Emerson, Lake and Palmer. I love it and I purposefully avoid looking in Caleb's direction for the next few minutes while his gaze bores right through my skull.
It's fine. Really. Everything's fine. He's always the same. Give him a moment, he'll take a week. Give him a mile, he'll take you on a trip around the world.
But I have bigger fish to fry, because Matt has finally made an appearance. Up until now he's been ordering food in, slipping in and out in the off hours, and generally making himself scarce. But this morning the boys have come down, freshly showered and shaved, button down flannels and casual cords, almost a matched pair save for the fact that Sam is desperate for Matt's love and Matt is killing time or whatever it is he says he feels but then as soon as the Christmas spirit fades, his presence goes with it.
For fucks sakes. He makes me so angry, and at the same time I am somewhat impressed he's chosen this morning and is finally seeking me out.
Bridget. Can we talk outside for a moment?
Sure. If Sam comes. And Lochlan, because you need accountability.
He nods. It's been two fucking weeks since he arrived. I can't wait to hear this.
We organize outside, while at least five more sets of eyes peer through the glass at random intervals out of sheer curiosity. Sam looks rested and happy but I see caution in his face. Lochlan looks mildly amused. He was more than a little angry at Matt's comparing their relationship to our history and has been waiting on tense limbs to address it if it comes up again. I didn't have the heart to remind him it probably won't.
Matt addresses me. Sam and I would like to formally ask you if I may move back.
For the season?
Forever.
Two weeks and you're going to get remarried? (They were married in 2013. Divorced in 2016. Wow. Has it been that long?)
Down the road, if things work out, then yes.
Things never work out for you two, though.
We're working to change that.
You can't just show up on the coattails of the Christmas spirit and tell him everything's going to be okay, Matt! I am suddenly composureless and far more upset than I thought I was over his arrival. You don't understand what it's like to have someone break your heart and then come back and do it over and over again.
I know I have a lot of work to do to earn Sam's trust, and even his full love back but every time we leave each other-
Every time you leave him, you mean. Get it right.
Every time I leave I die a little inside and I don't want to leave anymore-
So don't.
Let him talk, Peanut.
He's talked himself out of a perfect love. This is on him.
Bridget, do you believe in soulmates?
Of course.
Then let me earn Sam's trust back. I'm asking you because Sam says he wants to try, he wants me to stay, but that I have to clear it with you since this is your house. So I'm opening myself up to you. I'm asking for forgiveness and acceptance and trust. I know I don't deserve it but I want to stay. I don't want Christmas to end and to pack up and hurt him, hurt myself, leaving and living a loveless existence. I've changed companies and work remotely now, I've changed a lot of things. I've done a lot of work and now I'd like to come home.
Do you want him here, Sam? Forever? Do you think this is a good idea?
Hell, yes, Bridget. I do. The look on his face is confident, he doesn't look afraid, he doesn't look hesitant or hopeful. Just sure.
Do you have belongings to move in?
Yes, a few.
Would you like the boathouse back? Gage is fluid. He will switch back, I'll speak with him.
Maybe in the spring. For now we're not going to uproot him.
That's very kind, though I think it would be easier if you had your privacy. We have enough hands to organize this so when you move in you only have to do it once. But Matt, one thing.
Yes, Bridget.
Look at what you've got in front of you and be so thankful for him.
Oh God, Bridget, I am. You have no idea. I've fucked up and I need to fix this with him.
Yes, you do.
I want to earn his love back.
Then do it. And let us know if you need help this time.
He blocked Caleb's attempts to commandeer last night. I didn't even wake up, having bid my goodnights at probably ten and disappeared because the last few weekends I've been up so late and awake so early.
I had eleven hours of sleep so I'm not even interested in Caleb's sharp rebuke this morning for Ben somehow 'not respecting her wishes'. Ben just points out wearily that if I had wished to see Caleb, I would have gone to see him. That ends their conversation and I resume drinking my coffee, and Ben starts singing Lucky Man, though not the Verve version, this is Emerson, Lake and Palmer. I love it and I purposefully avoid looking in Caleb's direction for the next few minutes while his gaze bores right through my skull.
It's fine. Really. Everything's fine. He's always the same. Give him a moment, he'll take a week. Give him a mile, he'll take you on a trip around the world.
But I have bigger fish to fry, because Matt has finally made an appearance. Up until now he's been ordering food in, slipping in and out in the off hours, and generally making himself scarce. But this morning the boys have come down, freshly showered and shaved, button down flannels and casual cords, almost a matched pair save for the fact that Sam is desperate for Matt's love and Matt is killing time or whatever it is he says he feels but then as soon as the Christmas spirit fades, his presence goes with it.
For fucks sakes. He makes me so angry, and at the same time I am somewhat impressed he's chosen this morning and is finally seeking me out.
Bridget. Can we talk outside for a moment?
Sure. If Sam comes. And Lochlan, because you need accountability.
He nods. It's been two fucking weeks since he arrived. I can't wait to hear this.
We organize outside, while at least five more sets of eyes peer through the glass at random intervals out of sheer curiosity. Sam looks rested and happy but I see caution in his face. Lochlan looks mildly amused. He was more than a little angry at Matt's comparing their relationship to our history and has been waiting on tense limbs to address it if it comes up again. I didn't have the heart to remind him it probably won't.
Matt addresses me. Sam and I would like to formally ask you if I may move back.
For the season?
Forever.
Two weeks and you're going to get remarried? (They were married in 2013. Divorced in 2016. Wow. Has it been that long?)
Down the road, if things work out, then yes.
Things never work out for you two, though.
We're working to change that.
You can't just show up on the coattails of the Christmas spirit and tell him everything's going to be okay, Matt! I am suddenly composureless and far more upset than I thought I was over his arrival. You don't understand what it's like to have someone break your heart and then come back and do it over and over again.
I know I have a lot of work to do to earn Sam's trust, and even his full love back but every time we leave each other-
Every time you leave him, you mean. Get it right.
Every time I leave I die a little inside and I don't want to leave anymore-
So don't.
Let him talk, Peanut.
He's talked himself out of a perfect love. This is on him.
Bridget, do you believe in soulmates?
Of course.
Then let me earn Sam's trust back. I'm asking you because Sam says he wants to try, he wants me to stay, but that I have to clear it with you since this is your house. So I'm opening myself up to you. I'm asking for forgiveness and acceptance and trust. I know I don't deserve it but I want to stay. I don't want Christmas to end and to pack up and hurt him, hurt myself, leaving and living a loveless existence. I've changed companies and work remotely now, I've changed a lot of things. I've done a lot of work and now I'd like to come home.
Do you want him here, Sam? Forever? Do you think this is a good idea?
Hell, yes, Bridget. I do. The look on his face is confident, he doesn't look afraid, he doesn't look hesitant or hopeful. Just sure.
Do you have belongings to move in?
Yes, a few.
Would you like the boathouse back? Gage is fluid. He will switch back, I'll speak with him.
Maybe in the spring. For now we're not going to uproot him.
That's very kind, though I think it would be easier if you had your privacy. We have enough hands to organize this so when you move in you only have to do it once. But Matt, one thing.
Yes, Bridget.
Look at what you've got in front of you and be so thankful for him.
Oh God, Bridget, I am. You have no idea. I've fucked up and I need to fix this with him.
Yes, you do.
I want to earn his love back.
Then do it. And let us know if you need help this time.