Page 52 of Fumbling for Perfection

“Why now?”

“It’s not exactlynow. I’ve always been gay.”

“Cut the shit, Jack. Why let Riley go through all the planning for a wedding, spend however the fuck many hours women spend getting ready, and then embarrass her in front of her friends and family.”

Jackson chuckles. “You don’t know her very well, do you bro?”

He’s right, but I hate how smug he sounds. Like he knows her better than I do. Which I’m sure he does to some capacity. But if he’s gay, there’s no way he could have loved and worshiped and memorized every curve on Riley’s body like I have.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He pats my shoulder and squeezes it. “Care to give me a lift?”

“To the country club? Fuck no. I’m not stepping foot in that place.”

“Thought you came to the wedding for me.” He gives me a sly smile.

At first, sure. I came to Rhode Island to congratulate him on his engagement two months ago. And then I met Riley.

And yesterday I came to show my support for his marriage. Until I learned the bride was Riley.

“I’m kidding. There’s a decent bar not far from the club. Buy me a drink?”

Because I need answers, I follow him out and drive us to the outskirts of town. Once we’re seated at a semi-private table and he has a scotch and I have a beer, he starts talking.

“Riley and I met when I attended one of her Pilates classes. We hit it off instantly. A few years later, I told her about Dad’s stipulation on my trust, and she agreed to marry me if I was still single and couldn’t change the contract.”

“Wait. What? Real people don’t do that.”

“Agree to marry or put fucking stupid shit stipulations on trusts?”

“Both.”

“Dad cares about his image. He doesn’t want the next CEO of Bankes to be a single bachelor. Family image is everything to him.”

I loop my pinky around the neck of my bottle and lift it to my lips. “Bull. Fucking. Shit.”

“The company’s image.” Jackson leans forward on his elbows. “I’m sorry as hell for being so self-absorbed and not looking out for you, little brother. I was in my first year at Yale when the ‘rents shipped you off to boarding school. I was so wrapped up in being cool, hiding my identity, and studying my ass off that I never considered what you were going through. After I got my MBA and started interning and eventually working at Bankes Inc., I was so caught up in the business world and pleasing Dad that I...” He lets out a sigh. “That I never gave you much thought. I’m an asshole for that. I hope we can start over.”

Maybe. Do I want a relationship with my brother? Hell yeah. But I still have too many unanswered questions.

“What about Riley? Why would she agree to marry you? Did she know you were gay?”

Jackson takes a sip of his scotch. “Yeah.”

I swallow my beer and digest his response. “So—”

“So why did she agree to marry me? Was it for the money? Partly. But not really.” Jackson runs his finger along the rim of his glass. He picks at the coaster, and I see him struggling to find the right words.

I’m not sure if he’s trying to figure out a way to spin a lie or if he’s struggling with how to tell me the truth.

He hunches his shoulders and rests his elbows on the table. “Everything I said back at the church is true. I love Riley. She’s one of my closest friends.”

I want to ask if Taylor is his otherclosefriend. Not that I care, but it would mean Riley is free. Well, he did just free her from the commitment of marriage. I sit quietly waiting for him to gather his words. The truth, hopefully.

“In short, yeah. She’s known. She’s also known about the stipulation on my trust fund. I need to be married by thirty-five to have total access, and according to Dad, the CEO needs to be married. So, if I want my inheritance and the company, I need to be married.”

“Why can’t you marry Taylor?”

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