Sleeping Beauty pointed toward Prince Charming. “Yes. She’s over talking to her brother. We’ve already taken the little kids trick or treating, and they’re all tucked in. The rest of the night belongs to the big kids.”
“Damn, I wanted to be here for that.” Disappointment flooded him at missing his first, and possibly only, Halloween with Pete. And Megan. He couldn’t let that happen. This had to work. It just had to.
“I see the karaoke machine has been set up. Where are my folks?”
Steppie pointed toward a couple dressed in black and white. “They’re adorable this year. Your mom’s in all white with a red choker necklace and your dad’s in all black. A bowling ball and pin. Clever.”
BJ shook his head. “They always manage to come up with something to exaggerate their physical differences. Please, whatever happens you do, do not let my father anywhere near that microphone! After a few bent elbows, he thinks he’s Frank Sinatra.”
“Whoa! Happy Halloween to you, too Mr. Congeniality. Car keys, please.” Steppie held out her hand.
“I’m not drinking tonight. I want to be stone-cold sober. If this works, I want a fast getaway and not have to put up with some cute little torture of you ‘hunting’ for my keys. Are my brothers all here?”
Steppie pointed around the room. “Quinn recycled Count Dracula. I swear the man has no imagination. Knox is the court jester, Riley is the Gangster of Love, and Shane didn’t wear a costume. Again.”
BJ shook his head. “Figures Shane would be difficult. He has the most important part in this. I will kill him if he screws it up.”
“Quit stalling and get in there and do this. Ethan’s not too happy with you right now, so make it good before he thinks of a reason to bounce you out of here.”
BJ made eye contact with Megan’s brother. Ethan’s face turned into a stony mask. He picked up a honing rod and chef’s knife. He worked the blade against the rod without breaking his stare. There was nothing near him that needed cutting.
Yeah, Ethan was itching for a reason to hurt him. If this didn’t work, BJ would probably let him.
Steppie pointed toward Megan. She swatted him on the butt as he passed. Megan deserved to be happy. And if Megan was happy, Ethan would be happy. And if Ethan was happy, Steppie would be happy.
Right now, no one was happy. And it was all on him.
BJ crept up behind Megan and sang into her ear. “Hey, there Little Red Riding Hood, you sure are looking good...” He sank his teeth into his favorite spot, well, his favorite spot when they were in public, the spot where her neck met her shoulder, then let out a loud howl. He felt her stiffen. “C’mon, babe, I said I was sorry. I need another do-over.”
“Not here. Not now,” she hissed. “Is everything okay? Are you alright? I might be angry, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about your safety.”
The ice cracks! “Yeah, nothing major. I set her down so hard, my teeth are still rattling. She’s held together with the proverbial bailing wire and chewing gum, but I flew her home. I’ll check everything out a little better in the morning when it’s light out.” Or the afternoon. Or Monday. It all depends on you, baby.
BJ fixed himself a plate of food and took a bite. “Ethan is almost as good a cook as you are. That’s a good thing because I swear Steppie could burn water. Without Ethan, Kegan would starve to death.” He was going for the time-honored Tobin tradition of humor in the middle of tragedy. It didn’t work this time.
“Thanks. I think I’ll go help Ethan with the... whatever he’s making. It’s his party, he should mingle.” She turned and walked away fast, but not fast enough that he didn’t see the tears well in her eyes.
She was walking away from him. Again. And it was killing him. Would his grand plans be good enough or had he totally blown it this time?
The insecurity and self-doubt that had once been foreign concepts suddenly felt like his constant companions.
Feeling lost and alone, he wandered from cluster to cluster, having the same conversations with the same people he’d been partying with for years. Yeah, the football team sucks this year. Yeah, can’t wait for the next election to finally vote that crappy senator out of office. Can you believe they’re going to start with the non-stop Christmas music in the morning?
The same old small talk with the same old friends wore on BJ’s nerves as the hour grew later. Same old, same old. These people, his friends for years, were boring.
Megan wasn’t boring. Football? Sure, they could talk football. The defensive line was looking better, but the offense needed help. Can you believe they passed up offensive tackle Jonathan Nathaniel in the first round for another injury-prone running back? What idiots.
They mostly stayed away from politics, for obvious reasons, but they both hated the dipshit senator, and she could discuss specifically why she hated him, not because he was a Democrat and don’t-we-hate-all-Democrats. She might hate him for different reasons, but they could talk about it.
Christmas music? They both loved Christmas music, and he had big plans for their first Christmas together. If he got the chance to put them into motion.
He talked to his mom and shrugged when his father asked a silent question with the raise of an eyebrow. The Tobin men could carry on entire conversations without saying a word, but his dad decided to speak this time. “Quinn’s the procrastinator. Get out there and do it, Junior.”
Nerves danced up and down his spine. Being called Junior didn’t faze him. He needed more time.
Then, a few overheard words from some of his old high school gang forced him into action.
“Can you believe BJ is dating that Megan woman? I mean, what is he thinking?”
“Well,” one of the men in the group offered, “she is kind of pretty, but you know BJ. He’ll be solo soon. I’m surprised he brought a date at all this year. He never has before.”
“That little boy in the astronaut costume is her son. That costume wasn’t cheap. Do you suppose she’s leaching off his money?”
“Nah, she’s Ethan Webb’s sister, she’s probably leaching off his money.”
“Or both, the kid could be BJ’s.”
“No, she’s the little gold digger who sued the estate of Stephanie’s late husband. That Smitty dude was the kid’s father.”
“Yeah, besides, BJ is so obsessive about using a condom every time, there’s no way the kid is his.”
The group turned to look at her. “What, like you all haven’t had him too?”
The woman looked away as their men grunted.
Another voice chimed in. “And in matching costumes, no less. Do you think it’s serious?”
“I thought I heard they’d broken up. And she’s the one who called it quits.”
“Somebody dumped BJ? That’s a first.”
It was always going to be like this. There would always be those who assumed Megan was with him for his money. They would always look down on her because her mother never married her biological father. There would always be questions about who Pete’s “real” father was.
These were the people he’d thought were his friends. The people whose approval he’d sought. To whom he’d granted approval and friendship. They weren’t anything more than a group of acquaintances who had grouped together because they’d shared money and social status. And a winning ticket in the sperm lottery.
For BJ, that wasn’t enough anymore. Only Megan and Pete were enough. More than enough. They were all he needed, all he wanted. The rest of them could all go to hell and take everything they owned with them. They could take everything he owned with them too. He wouldn’t miss a bit of it. He wouldn’t miss them. As long as he had his woman and his son, everything would be fine.
BJ didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. He’d heard what he needed to hear, and what he’d heard proved he was right. Megan was right, and they were right together. He caught his brothers’ attention and pulled them into the dining room. “You guys ready to roll?”
“Then take your places; it’s showtime.”
Before he could lose his nerve, BJ strode into the family room and grabbed the microphone away from his father. “I heartily apologize for that torture. I was in charge of keeping him away from the mic, and I blew it.”
“Now you have to sing for us,” Steppie called from the back of the room.
That started a chant from the crowd. “BJ! BJ! BJ!”
BJ held up his hand. “I’ve been looking over the playlist, nothing there is hitting me tonight. I had a little number in mind, but I don’t see it here. I can’t believe tonight, of all nights, this particular tune is missing. There are a lot of great songs here, but I’m not feeling any of them.”
“That’s because you’ve been drinking diet soda all night. Are you sick?” Steppie had moved closer to the front. Obviously, she didn’t want to miss a single thing. She signaled for Ethan to join her.
BJ shot her a withering look. Damn her! She’s going to make sure I don’t have the ‘I was drunk’ excuse. “I’m very sick, but you didn’t let me finish. I downloaded my own song, give me a minute.” He turned and disconnected an audio cable and reconnected a few wires. He held out his hand to Megan. She looked away. “Please?”
* * *
He gave her his best wounded puppy face.
She hesitated. These were his friends and family. She watched Ethan put his arm around Stephanie. She made eye contact with her brother and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. He shook his head and shrugged. Translation, you’re on your own, Baby Sister.
He’d picked one hell of a time to take her “I’m an adult and I can take care of myself.” speech seriously. She couldn’t embarrass BJ. Not like this. Reluctantly, she took his hand and let him pull her closer.
Oh my God, I’ve missed his touch. It could still send thrills through her, no matter how much she wished it didn’t. She had to stay strong. For Pete. She looked down at the floor.
BJ placed his finger under her chin and pushed it up to force her gaze to meet his. He stepped in until they were the width of the microphone apart. “I did a careless, stupid thing that could have hurt, or worse, a certain little guy I love almost as much as I love his mother. I haven’t slept well since that horrible day. The nightmare about what could have happened plays endlessly in my head. And it’s worse than any of my other nightmares. Far worse. You know the ones I’m talking about.”
Megan nodded.
“I am so sorry I hurt you, that I let you down. It won’t ever happen again. I swear. I know this is going to shock the hell out of my family and friends, but I’ve turned in my guns. I don’t own one anymore, and if you forgive me, I’ll never own one again. I promise you. I love you. I love Pete. You are more important to me than anything. I’m miserable without you, both of you. Please, forgive me?”
Wow, talk about being put on the spot. She could stand and argue, or she could walk away. Neither of which she had the heart for right now. Or she could stand there. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“At least it isn’t a no. I can work with that. But we’ll talk?”
“I won’t promise you anything, but yes, we’ll talk.”
“A yes. Now we’re getting somewhere. Will you forgive me?”
“Yes, I forgive you, but that doesn’t mean...”
He stopped her midsentence with a quick kiss. “Later, right now, let me start making it up to you.”
“You can try.”
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.”
“That’s true. For starters, I’d like to ask you on a date tomorrow. It’s All Saint’s Day, and if memory serves me, it’s a Holy Day of Obligation. I mean a holy day of joy. I thought we could take Pete to St. Al’s and stop somewhere for dinner after.”
Her mouth dropped open. Was he serious? She closed her mouth and shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll consider it. What else do you have?”
“Oh, you’re going to like this.” He drew a heart-shaped key ring out of his pocket and dangled it in front of her. The single key caught the orange glow from Halloween decorations. “Do you remember a few months back when that cable TV home renovation show was in town?”
“You mean the one you wanted to take me to tour but Pete got sick and we had to stay home?”
“That’s the one.” He took her hand and pressed the key into her palm, gently closing her fingers around it.
“This is the key to that house. Foster Buddies is now the proud owner of the five-bedroom, fully renovated, and up-to-code house. And it’s three blocks from Murrell Dobbins Technical High School. You know, the school with the fashion design program? Jasmine and her brothers can each have their own bedroom.”
She remembered their conversation from the Clausen Charity renovation project. “The right donation to the right people. But what about foster parents?”
“Mom is interviewing candidates. Any foster parents will have to meet her standard of care.”
“God help them if they fall short.”
BJ shook his head. “I’m not sure even God could help them. But wait, there’s more!”
How could he possibly top this? “I’m listening.”
“When the producers were in town, my brothers and I took them out for drinks and dinner. Long story short, my middle brothers’ internet news service now has its first reality show dedicated to renovating homes all over town. Turns out the five of us have been donating millions to the Catholic Church every year. That money will now go to Foster Buddies to fund renovation projects for homes to help keep siblings together in a safe, clean, nurturing environment.”
She couldn’t hold back her tears. Her deepest dream was coming true. How had he figured it out? It had seemed so far out of reach, she rarely dared to contemplate it.
He wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “I’m not done. You know me, go big or go home.”
He fiddled with a few things on his phone. “Halloween is a spooky night, so I think a little spooky music might be appropriate.” He hit play and waited for the right time to start. His gaze never left her face. He sang directly to her as if there wasn’t another soul in the room.
She wasn’t quite sure what cool evenings and last-minute movie dates or winking at other fellows had to do with anything, but this was BJ. As the song said, you never knew for sure what he was thinking.
And isn’t that what she loved best about him? Hot and sexy, tender and sweet. Yeah, she still loved him. And she always would.
Megan let BJ’s mellow voice weave its spell, losing herself in the deepest, darkest pools of blue eyes she’d ever seen. Watching the lips that had given her so much pleasure wrap themselves around the words to a song she would always associate with him.
BJ crooned, “Just like a ghost, you’ve been haunting my dreams.” He tightened his grip on her hand, got down on one knee, and accepted an open ring box from Shane. “So I’ll propose, on Halloween.”
The rest of the song played on. Or it didn’t.
The background noise faded. Megan couldn’t form words. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Her right hand flew to her mouth as he pulled her left hand to him.
BJ slipped the ring on her finger and stood to claim her mouth with a soft, delicate kiss. She knew he had passion for her, the same way she had passion for him. But this kiss was special. It was the first kiss of commitment, the kiss that promised her all of his love for the rest of his life. Later, when they were alone, he would show her the fire of his passion. And she would show him the fire of hers, but for now, surrounded by friends and family, they showed the world the G-rated version of their forever.
EPILOGUE – LATER HALLOWEEN NIGHT
Knox finished stowing the camera equipment and set the cases next to the door to grab on the way out. He was looking forward to editing the video together. He was the romantic, the family poet, and the guys were depending on him to make it al
l hearts and flowers. Some slow, lush music, an original love poem or two, he’d make it nice for Megan and BJ.
He liked Megan. She was good for his brother, and they were going to get their happily ever after. Good for them. Maybe there’s still hope for me. He looked out the window, for us.
Yeah, he knew the others joked about commitment and love, but he missed it. He’d been the first to fall, all the way back in high school. They’d been so close, then... Damn it, don’t do this to yourself again, man.
He stood too quickly, jangling the bells on his jester’s cap.
“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets her wings,” someone passing by on the way back from the upstairs bathroom reminded him.
Knox forced a smile. “Two shot penalty for a Christmas reference on Halloween! See the bartender to accept your punishment!”
They shared a laugh, but Knox’s smile faded as he watched the man stagger toward the bar. Did you get your wings, Angel? Is that what happened to you?
He wasn’t sure if he wanted that to be true or not. If she was still alive, that would mean there was some hope, right? But if something had happened to her, it would explain why he’d never heard from her again.
It was all too much. He ran his hands over his face and pushed his eyes gently back in their sockets to staunch the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. No one wants to see the tears of a clown.
He picked up the cases and headed out the door without saying goodbye.
***
Quinn poured himself a shot of single malt and leaned against the door jamb between the dining room and the kitchen. He was glad that was over with. BJ had turned into such a wimp, it was painful to watch Big Brother make such a fool of himself in front of everyone, but truth be told, he’d rather enjoyed it.
And in matching costumes. BJ had never given him much of an opportunity to feel superior, but if this is how he chose to do it, who was he to argue? To each his own.
He took a sip of his scotch and glanced around the room. Prince Charming and Sleeping Beauty. More matching costumes. He shook his head. Couple’s costumes were stupid. That was one of the reasons he usually dressed as Count Dracula. The dude always ran solo, like him. Yeah, sure, vampires were hot right now, but the campy Vampira or sexy Elvira costumes were no match for the pure evil of the Count. There would never be a yin to the Count’s yang. Or to Quinn’s. No normal guy willingly made the sappy public statement that a couple’s costume made. It was always the woman’s idea, which made couple’s costumes the ultimate in pussy whipping. Not that he minded whipping a pussy now and then. If that’s what she wanted, he’d gladly return the favor, as long as he got his. He didn’t judge, and he didn’t like to be judged. Especially in the bedroom.
Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2) Page 23