“I’ll show you where everything is,” Sterling said.
Annaliese didn’t say much in the hour leading up to dinner, busy in the kitchen and not coming out very often, and Sterling spent the time talking to Cricket, Dorian, and Tatum.
“I hear you liked your gift,” Sanyam said to Cricket.
Cricket lit up. “So much. I had no idea he was such an artist! Fox, did you tell Sanyam about Navin?”
Sanyam lifted his eyebrows, turning to Sterling. “Who’s Navin?”
“He’s some guy who runs an art gallery, apparently,” Sterling muttered. “He said he liked my stuff. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is too,” Cricket said. “He could get you so much exposure. Dori, did you even know Fox was an artist?”
Dorian shook his head. “Other than his puzzles, it’s not like he’s ever really shown that side of himself before,” he said, but he was smiling.
“Too interested in partying and telling his friends who to date,” Annaliese said, setting a bowl of chips and salsa on the coffee table and stalking out again.
Sterling stiffened.
“Fox, do you really tell your friends who to date?” Cricket demanded as she leaned forward to grab a chip.
“Not in years,” Sterling said, forcing a smile.
“But you have!” Cricket said. “That’s such a Fox thing to do. Dori, do you remember that time you brought that girl home—sorry, Tatum—and Fox made her cry?”
“Oh yeah,” Dorian said. He patted Tatum’s knee and took a chip. “That was a fun day.”
“Wait, when was this?” Sterling demanded. “When did I make a girl cry?”
“I think I was in ninth grade,” Dorian said. “What was her name, Crick?”
“Tiffany Cooper,” Cricket said, sighing. “She had the most fantastic breasts.”
The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at Cricket, who went red.
“She did! Stop looking at me, this is about Fox and his tendency to make Dorian’s partners cry.”
“What did you say to her?” Sanyam asked. He was next to Sterling on the couch, warm thigh pressed against Sterling’s and his dark eyes alight with curiosity.
“Does it really matter?” Sterling muttered. “I was a dick.”
“Was,” Dorian echoed. “Sure, Fox. We’ll go with that.” He turned to Sanyam. “He asked her if her breasts were real, and when she said they were, he said he could recommend a great plastic surgeon who could, and I quote, ‘perk them right up.’ She ran out in tears.” He snorted a laugh and took another chip.
Sterling squirmed as Sanyam turned and looked at him, a quizzical smile in his eyes.
“Like I said, I was a dick.”
“And it wasn’t even true,” Dorian told Tatum. “Like Cricket said, she had great boobs. Fox was just in a bad mood that day.”
“How was that day different from every other day?” Cricket asked, laughing. “Oh man, Dori, do you remember that play in third grade, the really awful one with the singing elves?”
Dorian chortled and explained to Tatum and Sanyam, “Fox was so bored that he announced at the top of his lungs during the second act that he was going to wait in the car, where everything sucked less.”
“I was thirteen!” Sterling protested. “Everyone’s a jerk at thirteen.” Sanyam was just looking at him, a smile on his lips, but Sterling wanted to crawl into a hole and die of the embarrassment that choked him.
Cricket patted his knee. “Dori, did I tell you that the day I met San here, he’d bumped into Fox and spilled his coffee on him?”
“No!” Dorian exclaimed. “What’d he do?”
“Charged him two hundred dollars for a new T-shirt!” Cricket managed through her giggles.
Sanyam’s lips were twitching, and Sterling’s face felt like it was on fire as Colby came back inside. He was being flayed alive, strip after strip pulled away from his core. Sanyam was going to see him for who he really was, any minute now.
“What are we talking about?” Colby asked, flopping down in the chair at the end of the couch and accepting a beer from Annaliese with a smile of thanks. She sat down on the arm of the chair, and Colby wrapped his arm around her waist.
“My flaws as a human,” Sterling snapped.
Colby perked up. “I can play this game! Did I ever tell you guys about the time in college when he got a professor fired because he didn’t like the grade he’d gotten?”
Heads swiveled, and Sterling flinched.
“He was sleeping with his TA,” he said feebly.
“This other time, he didn’t like his roommate,” Colby continued. “But the dude refused to be reassigned, because he liked the room and where they were on campus. So Fox—” He stopped to laugh. “Fox basically made the guy’s life a living hell. He got up at 5:00 a.m. and made tons of noise every morning—”
“You, an early riser?” Sanyam interrupted, his eyebrows going up.
“When he has to be,” Colby said, grinning. “He had parties every weekend in the room, and when that didn’t work, he resorted to bringing home a different guy every week and having sex with him in front of his roommate.”
Cricket gasped and Annaliese rolled her eyes.
He bragged about hitting his girlfriend when she “stepped out of line,” Sterling thought miserably. He’d tried reporting him, but he’d had no evidence and the girl had refused to testify. Sterling hadn’t been able to stomach looking at him after that and he’d resorted to drastic measures.
Colby had already moved on to another story, and everyone was laughing except for Tatum, who was watching Sterling’s face silently.
He caught their eye and tried for a smile. Nothing more than I deserve.
Tatum said nothing, but there was sympathy on their face.
“That’s our Fox,” Colby said cheerfully. “He’s an asshole, and we wouldn’t have him any other way.”
Sterling forced a lighthearted shrug and popped a chip into his mouth. “Good, because I don’t plan on changing.”
Dinner was more of the same, lighthearted ribbing of Sterling’s failings interspersed with anecdotes from their childhood. Sterling tried to join in, his smile pasted firmly in place. He’d brought this on himself, after all. He had no one else to blame. Better that Sanyam see it now than that he keep trying to make Sterling into a decent person. He was working with flawed material, after all.
Toward the end of the meal, Colby cleared his throat and stood up, tapping on the empty wineglass in front of Annaliese’s plate.
“I’d like to make an announcement,” he said loudly. He beamed around the table. “Thank you all for being here and celebrating my birthday with me. It means the world to us both that you guys could come.” He took Annaliese’s hand. “On that note, we have something to say.” Annaliese ducked her head, a smile blooming, as Colby grinned down at her. “We’re expecting!”
The room exploded with congratulations as Annaliese blushed and Colby preened, and when it finally quieted, Colby looked at Sterling.
“Fox, man. Would you be the godfather?”
Sterling’s mouth fell open. “What?” He snuck a look at Annaliese, who didn’t look pleased but just nodded.
“We’ve talked about it,” Colby said earnestly. “You’re my best friend. I love you like a brother, and I’d just—I’d be so honored if you’d be the godfather of my kid.”
Sterling struggled to remember how to speak. “But—you—doesn’t the godfather raise the child if something happens to the parents?”
“Yeah, but nothing’s happening to us,” Colby said cheerfully. “It’s just a title, man, you’re not going to have to actually adopt my kid. What do you say?”
“I—” Sterling’s head was spinning. “Can I… think about it?”
Colby’s smile slipped, but he nodded. “Sure, dude, take your time.”
“Use your bathroom?” Sterling said.
“’Course,” Colby said. “You know where it is.”
Sterlin
g nodded and rose. The guest bathroom was at the other end of the house, through the kitchen and down the hall. When he was done, he braced his hands on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror.
His reflection gazed back, eyes sullen and mouth downturned.
“You would be the worst father in the world,” Sterling told it.
His reflection didn’t argue.
When he came out of the bathroom, he heard soft voices in the kitchen. Sterling stopped in the doorway at the sight of Colby and Annaliese, her arms around his neck and their foreheads pressed together.
Sterling ached at the tenderness in the way Annaliese cupped the back of Colby’s head, a smile curving her lips. He wanted that. He wanted to let Sanyam touch him like that, to sink into his warmth and never let go. But he didn’t get what he wanted.
Why not? a tiny voice whispered. Why can’t you have that?
Sterling stomped hard on the voice. Because I fuck everything up. Everything I touch breaks.
He faded back into the hall and waited a few seconds before making his footsteps loud and coming back in.
Colby bent and kissed the end of Annaliese’s tilted nose and picked up the apple pie on the counter. “I’ll carry it, babe. Don’t want you straining yourself.”
Annaliese rolled her eyes and gathered the plates. “It’s a pie, Colby, not an anvil.”
Sterling followed them back into the dining room as Annaliese handed out plates around the table.
Cricket leaned forward. “When are you due?”
“February,” Annaliese said.
The talk turned to pregnancy symptoms and woes, and Sterling sat silently, his shoulders hunched, feeling sick.
“What about you?” Cricket said, turning to Sanyam. “Do you want kids?”
Sanyam smiled at her and took a sip of wine. “Oh yes. Very much so. At least one, but possibly two, I think.”
Cricket clasped her hands and sighed. “I love babies, especially if I can give them back after I’m done holding them.”
“Do you want children?” Sanyam asked.
“I don’t know,” Cricket admitted. “I don’t think so, but I think they’re adorable.” She nudged Dorian with an elbow. “Can you imagine Fox as a father?”
Dorian shuddered dramatically, and everyone but Sanyam and Tatum laughed.
Sterling had abruptly had enough. The constant jibes, no matter how laughing the tone, had worn him to the bone. He was an exposed nerve, raw and sensitive, and he couldn’t take another second of it.
He dropped his napkin on the table and stood. “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well. I have to… go. Col, happy birthday. I’m—I’ll catch you later.” He turned to Annaliese and forced a smile. “Congratulations, I’m sure you’ll be a great mother.”
He bolted before anyone could say anything, away from the table and out the front door as he pulled his phone from his pocket and called a cab.
“Fox!” Sanyam sounded out of breath and alarmed as he pounded up behind him. “What happened, Fox, what’s wrong?”
Sterling swung to face him. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. Go back inside and trash me to my friends and family some more.”
Sanyam’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you think we were doing? Jaanam, it wasn’t like that.”
“No? Because it sure as shit felt like that from where I was sitting,” Sterling snapped. The cab pulled up and he yanked the door open. “Get your own ride home.”
He couldn’t do it. Why had he ever thought he could? You ruin everything.
WHEN SANYAM arrived home, Sterling was already half packed, throwing clothes into his suitcases and stalking around the apartment to gather his personal items.
“Fox,” Sanyam said. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Sterling said, not looking at him as he packed his mosaic supplies into the box. Polly squeaked, clearly bewildered, from the couch beside him, but Sterling couldn’t bring himself to touch her.
“Stop,” Sanyam said as Sterling stood.
Sterling froze in place and then snarled and spun. “You stop. You don’t get to do that anymore. You don’t get to boss me around. You get off on it, on telling me what to do. Well, I’m done. I’ve had enough.”
“I thought you liked it when I bossed you around,” Sanyam said.
“In the bedroom, sure!” Sterling said. He headed down the hall to pack his other suitcase as Sanyam followed him. “But you’re always doing it. You’re telling me to eat. To exercise. Take care of myself. ‘Go to bed, Fox. Eat your breakfast, Fox. Come running with me, Fox.’ I need a minder, remember? You can’t stand not being in control of every little detail of my life, can you?”
Sanyam stood in the doorway, eyes full of shock and hurt. “I didn’t—Fox, it wasn’t like that.”
Sterling sneered. “It was for my own good, is that it?”
“It was!” Sanyam exclaimed, clutching at his hair. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself, Fox. You need someone to look out for you. Well, I like looking out for you, so why won’t you let me do it?”
“Because I’m not a child!” Sterling shouted as he whirled. “I’m a grown man, and I can take care of myself!”
Sanyam nodded, standing his ground and holding out his hand. “Okay, Fox. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. Can you forgive me?”
Sterling shrugged and turned away again. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m done. I’m done freeloading off you. I’m done experimenting with BDSM. I’m done.”
“No,” Sanyam said, his voice low. “Don’t say that, Fox.”
“I told you when I met you,” Sterling continued as he shoved the last of his shirts into the suitcase and zipped it up. “I’m not a sub. I was just having some fun, okay?”
“Is this about dinner?” Sanyam asked. “I didn’t realize—I should have put a stop to it. Of course it hurt you. But you were laughing—I thought you were okay with it.”
Sterling scoffed. “I wasn’t hurt. But it did make one thing perfectly clear. We want different things. You want kids. I don’t, in a big way. Like, a deal-breaker way. So I’m doing you a favor and I’m getting out now, before this goes any further and we both end up doing something we regret.”
“No.” Sanyam’s eyes were wet, and Sterling fought the stab of pain at the sight. “Fox, we can talk about this.”
“We’re done talking.” Sterling carried his suitcase down the hall and set it by the front door, then went back for the other one.
Sanyam was standing in the kitchen, grief and frustration on his face. “Sterling.”
Sterling stopped, his back to him.
“Mein tumse pyaar karta huun,” Sanyam said. There were tears in his voice.
“I don’t know what that means,” Sterling said without turning.
“Look it up,” Sanyam managed. “I’m not going to stop you if you feel you have to go, but I needed to say that.”
Polly rubbed against Sterling’s ankles, and he fought the tears that blinded him suddenly. He stooped and ran a hand down her back.
“Bye, baby,” he whispered, and fled.
Chapter Twenty-eight
STERLING ENDED up at a hotel halfway across town, a step down from his preferred tastes, but the room was clean and the door locked.
He dropped his bags, closed the curtains, and crawled into the bed, hugging a pillow to his stomach as he stared at the wall. Tears prickled his eyes, and he blinked them away.
His father’s voice echoed in his head. Boys don’t cry. Be a man. Crying is weakness.
“Fuck you, Dad,” Sterling said out loud, buried his face in the pillow, and let the tears flow.
He wept until he was exhausted, frame limp from the sobs that wracked him, and finally, wrung out and hiccupping, he rolled off the bed and stumbled to the shower.
He stood under the spray until it ran cold, eyes closed.
“Mein tumse pyaar karta huun. Look it up.”
Sterling had a f
eeling he knew what Sanyam had said, but when he was done, he dragged on clean clothes and picked up his phone. Google Translate confirmed his fears, and he put the phone down and drew his knees to his chest.
You can’t love me, San. There’s nothing here to love.
His phone rang, and he jerked his head up, wiping his face. It was Cricket, he realized, his heart sinking, but he answered anyway.
She sounded like she’d been crying. “Fox—”
Sterling sat up straight. “What is it, Cricky, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Cricket took a gulping breath. “Sanyam called. He—”
Sterling’s chest seized. “Is he okay?”
“He was angry,” Cricket said, hiccupping. “He—he said we should be ashamed of ourselves, that he was ashamed of himself, that we treated you terribly at dinner. I’m sorry, Fox, I’m so sorry. That’s just how we always talk, and I didn’t think—did we hurt you? We shouldn’t have said those things, I’m sorry—”
Sterling sank back to the bed, stunned.
“Are you still there?” Cricket asked.
“I’m here,” Sterling said.
“Tatum agreed with him. Said they could tell you were hurt, even though you tried not to show it. Fox—”
“It’s okay, Crick,” Sterling said. It was hard to breathe. No one had ever done that for him, and he had no idea how to process it. “I’m—it’s okay. Thank you.”
Cricket sniffled. “I know we don’t say it, but I love you, Fox.”
Sterling closed his eyes. “I—I love you too, Cricky. I have to go.”
He hung up and rolled onto his stomach, pushing his face into the pillow. He needed… advice, someone to tell him what he should do. The notion of talking to his mother was discarded before it fully formed.
Amparo.
Sterling sat up again.
Maybe she wouldn’t even want to see him. She probably blamed him for getting her fired, all those years ago.
Sterling set his jaw. If she did, he’d just have to keep apologizing until she forgave him. He slid off the bed and stepped into his shoes, dialing for a taxi as he left the room.
A quick Google search confirmed that, by some miracle, Amparo still lived in the same house she’d been in when she’d worked for the Reynards. Sterling gave the driver the address and sat tensely on the edge of the seat as they rolled through town and fetched up in front of the house.
Broken Rules Page 20