He was right about Jaden but wrong about me working for him.
Running the shop is what I want. It’s where I grew up. It’s home to me. I love this town, this island. There will never be another place that makes me feel this centered.
I wouldn’t change any of it, not even the shitshow my love life has turned into.
“Speaking of your love life, Thea,” Jonas says, crossing his arms over his massive chest while leaning against the doorframe. “Frankie and I were going over the guest list. Should we pencil you in for a plus-one? Or are you flying solo like usual?”
Like usual?
I’m annoyed by how he says it, as if single is all I’ll ever be.
He’s probably right, but it still stings. Sure, I’d like to find someone to settle down with, but I’m fucking scared of what it could mean for my heart if things don’t pan out.
I can thank Jaden for that.
“I love you, Thea, but you’re just too much work. I need something easier.”
We were together for four years. I thought we would get married. He wasn’t perfect, but I know I’m a bit of a mess too. I thought we could overcome all our differences—and there were a lot—and make it work.
Then he basically told me I wasn’t worth the effort, and it fucking burned. Completely tore my heart from my chest.
I’ll pass on that heartache again.
“We have a special table for the lonely losers,” Jonas teases.
“Being the best man means I get to sit at the fancy bridal party table.”
“Yeah, we’re not doing that whole dog and pony show of a bridal table. We’re just clumping people together in groups we think will cause the least amount of ruckus.”
Great. Because I’m single, I have to endure sitting with a bunch of strangers.
“I have a couple of teammates I’m sure you’d hit it off with, and they come brother-approved. I can put you with them, if you’d like.”
Teammates? Blech. I’ve heard the stories from the locker room. Hard pass.
I don’t miss his “brother-approved” comment either. Since Jaden broke my heart, Jonas has taken to giving (or not giving) the stamp of approval to my suitors. It’s stupid and antiquated, and I want to punch him in the junk any time he makes a remark about it.
“My one buddy, Geoff—I bet you’d like him. He also has this weird thing about food where he doesn’t eat anything red. He’s—”
“Plus-one.” I interrupt because I am not desperate enough to date some dude who won’t eat anything that’s a certain color. What even is that? “Put me down for a plus-one.”
His brows shoot up. “Really?”
“Yep. I already have someone I’m bringing.”
I don’t know why I say it, because I am definitely not dating anyone.
But I don’t want to be set up. I don’t want to sit with strangers. I don’t want to be put at the losers table.
My mom pops up out of nowhere, standing in the doorway with wide, excited eyes. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not.”
Her brows pinch together. “Then…”
“Well, I mean, I am. It’s, uh—it’s new. We haven’t really labeled it yet.”
Like so new it hasn’t even happened yet.
“Oh. Well.” Her eyes light up, and I can already see her planning my wedding too. “I look forward to meeting this boy.”
“What if it’s a girl?”
“Please.” My mother rolls her eyes. “Like I’d give a shit. I just want my children to be happy.”
“And that, Mom, is why you’re my favorite mother.”
My dad snorts. “She’s your only mother.”
“So you say.” I shrug. “I’m still convinced I’m adopted.”
“You too?” Jonas asks. “I thought I was the only one hoping that was the case.”
“Is it illegal to sell your children?” my dad mutters.
“We’re adults now.” Jonas pushes off the wall, striding toward the table and plucking a slice of pizza from the box. “For Frankie,” he explains, though I don’t believe that for a second. “If you wanted to sell us now, I’m sure it’d require a whole slew of paperwork and some understanding of the dark web.”
Our parents lock eyes, frowning.
“Missed our shot when their old babysitter offered…” Mom says.
“Could have made a fortune,” Dad agrees.
“Babysitter?” Jonas stops in his tracks. “What babysitter?” He looks at me wildly. “What are they talking about, Thea? You’re older—do you remember a babysitter?”
“There was our neighbor, Miss Marr…”
His eyes widen more, if that’s even possible at this point, and he rushes from the room. “Frank! Promise we’re never letting any strangers watch our baby, especially if they try to buy it.”
“Who will want to buy our baby?”
“Probably a lot of people. He’s gonna be so cute.”
I look at my parents. “If I wasn’t adopted, at least tell me Jonas was, because I’m not sure I want to share DNA with that moron.”
“We’ll never tell. Right, Harvey?”
My dad zips his lips, tossing away the key, and then they cackle like they just told the best joke ever.
I love how they can make each other laugh like goons over something so silly.
I wish I had something like that, something so sure and lasting.
First, I have to find a date for the wedding.
Slice Four
Sully
Thea.
Despite my mother blabbering on in my ear about some old lady at the nursing home she works at trying to make strip bingo a thing, my mind wanders to the beauty I met last week as I pull open the door of Slice to meet my friends for breakfast. It’s Sunday. We always do breakfast on Sundays.
The night after I met her was one of the few times I’ve settled back with a beer in a while, and I knocked it over straight onto my lap like a total moron, soaking my jeans and her note that was in my pocket.
I don’t want anyone in town all up in my business, so I haven’t asked around about her. Instead, I’ve come to Slice every day since, hoping she’ll be here. I’ve even found myself looking for her on the docks, too. Thea mentioned she works nearby, so I’ve been keeping an eye out for her at every restaurant and shop where she could be employed.
For a split second, I thought about setting up my very first social media account so I could find her there, but then I talked myself out of doing something crazy like that.
Besides, it’s a small town. We’re bound to run into each other again, I’m sure.
My only battle then will be convincing her to give me a chance since I haven’t called or texted, and I know we’re way past the social norm on that.
Nice going, dumbass.
“Listen, Ma,” I say as she comes to a natural pause. “I gotta go. My friends are waiting for me.”
“Oh, tell those boys I say hi. And, Sully? Come visit soon,” my mother says. “A mom misses her children. Besides, I’m sure your sisters would love to see you again.”
I miss her too. I just wish I could see her and not have to worry about seeing my father too.
“I know. I’ll try to get some time off soon to come visit.”
“Please do. I love you, Soulful.”
She’s called me that since I told her about my butterflies.
“That’s just your soul speaking to you, Sully. You’re soulful, deep. You feel differently.”
“I love you too, Ma. Talk to you soon, okay?”
We hang up as I arrive at the table, sliding into the booth.
“About time,” Porter says when I relax into the spot next to him. “Thought you were going to ditch us and leave me alone to deal with these two morons.”
I chuckle. “I’d never put you through that torture, man.”
I met Winston a few years back when I came to town on a bit of a bender. My dad had just been released from pri
son and my mom had moved him back into our house. It took all of one week before I broke. I couldn’t do the whole pretending to be a happy family thing. I was twenty-five, working a dead-end job, and going nowhere with my life. I could do that anywhere.
So, I left.
I made my way down the coast one motel and bar at a time. By the time I made it here, I had way too many embarrassing drunken nights under my belt.
I was tired. Worn down.
Then, I found Winston—or he found me.
He offered me understanding, and a place to stay. I lived with him until his now wife started staying there. Guess you can say Winston has a thing for taking in strays.
With Winston came Foster. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and I’d heard all kinds of crazy stories about him before he moved back a couple years ago to shack up with Winston’s twin sister. He’s now running a successful landscaping business and heading a committee to keep the island all gussied up for the tourists.
Just last year, Porter, a friend of Foster’s from when he lived in California, came looking for a slower-paced kind of life for him and his daughter and ended up staying for a whole other reason. I guess this town kind of has a thing for getting people to stay.
I’m not big on letting new people into my life, but I wouldn’t trade bailing on my hometown for anything. Sure, I miss my mom and my sisters, but it led me to some of the best friends I’ve ever had.
“You’re a dad,” I tell Porter. “You could have handled them.”
Porter lifts his brows. “You’re comparing my angelic daughter to these two?”
“Angelic? Ha!” I huff. “She superglued my hand to my stomach less than a month ago.”
He shrugs. “Shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the job, then.”
“You’re like a multimillionaire or some shit—can’t you fork out the money for a real babysitter and not use your poor, unsuspecting friends to cover for you?”
“Billionaire,” he corrects, grinning, quite proud of the fact that his small internet security company finally crossed the billion-dollar-revenue line. “And no. I might be rich, but I’m cheap.”
“Dick,” I mutter, though there’s no real ire behind my words.
Truth is, I’d babysit Kyrie for Porter and his fiancée, Dory, any day. The kid is a trip. A little bit of a shithead for supergluing me to…well, me, but still fun.
“Dude, whatever you do, do not have kids. It’s completely killed our sex life,” Foster says, butting into the conversation. His hair looks wild, like he’s been running his hands through it. “I thought it was bad when Nellie was younger and just slept all the time, but now that she’s walking and destroying everything in her path, it’s killing us. We’re just so damn tired all. The. Time. We have no energy to bang.”
Winston groans. “I thought we discussed you talking about your sex life when I’m around.”
“Newsflash, your sister and I have sex.” Foster grins. “In fact, her favorite position is—”
Thwack!
“What the fuck! Did you just bitch-slap me? In the middle of a fucking restaurant?”
Winston shrugs. “We’re good. I know the owner.”
“I do, too, asswipe—y’know, since he’s my father-in-law.”
“And I bet he wouldn’t want to hear about you banging Wren either. In fact…” Winston slaps Foster again. “That’s for banging my sister.”
“I swear to fucking god…”
Foster shoves Winston, and the two start a war, not giving a shit that we’re sitting in a booth at Slice and people are beginning to stare.
“Should we break them up?” Porter asks.
“I don’t know…I kind of want to see who wins.”
“I’ll toss down fifty bucks on Foster. He’s scrappy. Can confirm.”
“I’ll take that bet because I lived with Winston. I’ve seen how much he can bench-press.”
Porter holds his hand out and we shake on the deal, continuing to watch the two idiots wrestle back and forth, slipping a few stomach punches in when they can.
When an angry Simon barrels through his restaurant toward the two idiots, we still don’t make the move to break them up, knowing full well Simon can handle them on his own.
Thwack! Thwack!
Simon smacks each of them in the back of the head.
“Seriously? This is my place of business,” he seethes, glaring down at his son and son-in-law.
The boys have the decency to look remorseful, unwinding their arms from around one another and muttering their apologies.
He leans down, eyes ablaze. “If you two so much as breathe too loudly, I will personally escort you from the premises and then beat your asses myself. We clear?”
“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again, sir,” Foster mumbles.
“Got it, Dad,” Winston says, looking everywhere but at his father.
“Good.” Simon straightens up, then looks at me and Porter, holding his hand out. “Cough it up.”
“What?” Porter asks.
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you two placed bets on this little tiff, and you both bet wrong. I win. Cough it up.”
I tuck my lips together, trying not to laugh as I retrieve my money, handing it over to the guy who’s been more like a father to me than my own.
“Son of a…” Porter says as he stares into his wallet. He pulls out a hundred-dollar bill. “Can I get change?”
“No.” Simon snatches up the money. “I’ll be back in five to take your order. Try not to kill each other between now and then.”
He marches away, muttering. I can’t quite make out what he says, but I’m pretty sure he tosses around the words concrete shoes.
“You could have warned us he was coming.” Winston glares at us.
“Yeah, assholes.” Foster crosses his arms over his chest.
“And miss out on the show? Not likely.”
“Well,” I say to Porter. “We did just lose a hundred and fifty bucks between the two of us.”
“Please, you two rich pricks can afford it. Porter’s richer than sin, and now you have that fancy programming gig. How’s the new job going anyway, Sully?” Winston asks.
“Not bad so far. I’m only two weeks into it, so I don’t have much to complain about. The ‘working remotely’ part is nice.”
“I still can’t believe you were taking online courses the whole time you lived with me and didn’t bother telling me about it.”
“You didn’t ask, so—”
“So you didn’t offer.” He rolls his eyes, finishing my sentence like he’s heard it all before.
He probably has. I’m a quiet person, one who doesn’t offer up information unless directly asked about it. I keep all my cards close to my chest. After being fucked over by your father, it’s only natural to be wary of everyone.
“You know you only have to play that mysterious card with the ladies, right?” he continues. “I’m married—I don’t want your dick. Just let me in, Sully.”
“You sure you don’t want my dick? You sound like a girl right now.”
“Please. If I wanted your dick, I could have it like”—he snaps his fingers—“that. I’m charismatic as fuck.”
I snort. “Poor Drew.”
I’m only kidding. If there’s anyone on this planet who’s built to handle Winston and all his shit, it’s Drew. When the pair met, it was hatred at first sight—or at least that’s what they told themselves. I knew better. I could feel it.
Turns out I was right about that too.
“Poor Drew? Don’t you mean, Damn, how’d she get so lucky?”
“Nope. He had it right,” Foster agrees. “Your wife probably regrets marrying you daily.”
Winston glares at him. “I don’t want to hear shit from you, assmunch.”
“My daughter behaves better than the two of you, and she’s eight.”
They both flip Porter off. He kicks them both under the table, and I shake my head.
“It terrifi
es me that any of you are parents,” I say. “You’re all immature idiots.”
Winston scoffs. “Growing up is dumb.”
“Yeah, you can’t be serious all the time,” Foster asserts. “It’s boring.”
“What’s that saying? Live, laugh, love?”
“No.” Foster shakes his head. “Pretty sure it’s beer, bacon, and butt stuff.”
“It’s definitely tacos, tequila, and titties,” Porter declares.
“You’re all wrong.” Simon stands at the end of the table, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s order, pay, leave. Now, what can I get for you?”
“Some better customer service would be nice,” Winston smarts off.
“You’re right. My bad.” Simon grins. “What can I get for you, you little shit-for-brains?”
“Damn.” I whistle. “Got ’im.”
He pins me with a hard stare. “You’re on my hit list too. And you, Porter.”
“Us? What’d we do?”
“Guilty by association.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
We place our order: one large biscuits and gravy pie and one large French toast stick pie. When we try to place a drink order, Simon just tells us we’ll get what we get, then leaves us be.
“So, have you met your new boss yet?” Porter asks.
He’s the one who referred me to the company I’m now working for, and I have to say, he’s kind of my favorite person right now.
Not only did my job come with some sweet financial benefits, what I love most is the flexibility of my schedule.
My boss is some guy who started the company, then decided he hated working constantly and sold it but still has a prominent role and his hand in everything. Because of that, he’s cool with me keeping whatever hours I want, so long as projects are turned in on time. I’m not stuck in an office or chained to my computer all day, which is awesome.
His leniency allows more time for the waves, and that’s how I’d rather spend my time, out on the water.
When I realized I needed to move out of Winston’s, I knew the first place I wanted to look for housing: the docks.
I found this small houseboat that had been sitting empty for far too long. After tracking down the owner, I learned the boat had belonged to his deceased father and he had no idea what to do with it because boats had never been his thing. I told him I could fix it up and help him sell it if he’d let me live there while I did the repairs, but he didn’t want the liability. Instead, he signed the title over to me for a stupid low price, and I’ve been living there since, slowly making her sparkle again.
Cheesy on the Eyes: Fake Dating Romcom (Slice Book 5) Page 4