The Muse's Undoing

I nod. “You, too.”

“I trust everything’s going well? I haven’t heard anything.”

“Just the way you like it, right?”

Her mouth presses into a grim line. “I’m not the bad guy, Matthew.”

“Jury’s still out, mom.”

“I miss my grandson.”

“Then I’m not the one you need to be making nice with.”

My dad is outside keeping an eye on the group of five wild boys. He’s got an easy grin on his bespectacled face, which brightens further when he sees Fischer. They shake hands and pat shoulders, Fischer’s preferred greeting. Dad then spots me and waves. I wave back.

“How are things going between you two?” Mom asks.

“Great. Never better.”

“Have you given any thought to the future?” she asks.

“Meaning what?”

“Marriage. Kids?”

I shake my head. “We can’t get married. We have a secret to keep, remember?” Also…it’s not legal in New York. The fact of which pisses me off to a maddening degree.

“I suppose, but…”

“What?” I ask.

“Is marriage what you want?”

I look out at Fischer, his cheeks and nose reddening from the chill wind. His hair blowing wildly, smile flashing for his son. “Yes.”

There’s nothing I want more than to marry him. Give him my name and my vows. My life. Rewrite our legal relationship. But not only can adopted siblings not get married in this state, marriages are public record. As long as he’s a public figure—as long as Vaughn could in any way be affected by our private life, a wedding isn’t in the cards. It’s the one thing I can’t have that tortures me.

Fischer’s talked about informal vows, doing it on our own, off the books, but I’m not interested in that. It doesn’t mean the same thing. It hurts him that it hurts me, but all I can do is remind him that I chose this with him. I wouldn’t have my life any other way. What’s an artist without something to suffer and starve for?

His unattainability is my muse. And it’s why the need to claim him never quiets down.

“I’m sorry I made such a mess of things,” my mother quietly confesses.

I turn to look down at her, and she’s watching Fischer, too. It’s the first time she’s apologized that sounds genuine, not simply manipulating us to get a hold of Vaughn for a night. Some of my own chill toward her thaws. Especially when she adds, “He’s lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky we have each other.”

“What’s the secret, anyway?” she asks.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“To get him to accept love?”

I smile softly. “Expect nothing, I guess,” I say, but I’m not sure that’s the whole answer. There’s a wall to break through, too. “Or maybe just meet him where he’s at.”

There’s a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Maggie and Stu,” she says.