by Megan Bryce
Christian looked at the expression on Shane’s face and laughed. “You’re talking about the shirt now, aren’t you?”
“If you have to wear those ugly shirts to be happy, then okay. I love you. Not, I’ll still love you. Not, I love you anyway. But, I love you because you wear those ugly shirts. And I will make fun of you for it, absolutely, but I won’t take it as a sign that you don’t love me.”
“Good. Because that’s not what it’s saying.”
Shane grabbed his own shirt, pulling it from his body and saying, “And this fashionably colored shirt doesn’t say I don’t love you.”
The smile started before Christian could call it back, before he could even think what it meant to be smiling stupidly at the man next to him.
He looked this way and that, at the people passing them, and saw that Shane was right. No one here cared.
His family would; he wasn’t wrong about that.
But here in L.A., where the sun shone and the people were busy with their own lives, no one cared.
And here in L.A., where his family didn’t live and couldn’t be hurt, Christian smiled at the man he loved.
Shane held the phone up and snapped a picture of Christian before he even knew what was going on.
“Now I have a picture of both the people that I love. My friend, Christian, and his lovely girlfriend/beard, Cassandra. I need a new phone, these pictures are terrible. And fyi, don’t take it as a sign that I don’t love you if I accidentally burn this shirt. I can find better-looking plaid than this.” His eyes lit up and he pulled Christian from the wall. “I know a store we might be able to find something.”
Shane’s warm hand was on Christian’s arm, pulling him toward another hellish round of shopping and– Christian was pretty sure– neon plaid.
Christian took the phone from Shane as he was pulled along. Looking at the picture that was worth a thousand words, and Christian said, “I’d wear the aquamarine shirt.”
“What?”
“If it was just you and me, forever. I’d wear the aquamarine shirt.”
Shane blew out his breath and said, “I knew it.”
Seven
The shirt wasn’t neon plaid, although it was much brighter and “beachier” than Christian was used to. And while it did feel like a step in some direction he wasn’t sure he was ready for, he did look good.
He looked good and he knew it. And he hated that.
But he could wear it in L.A. and not stick out like a sore thumb.
He could even wear it to a Sunday dinner at Cassandra’s, and Christian almost laughed at calling their gathering a Sunday dinner, almost forgot about the dread that would surely be involved at a Sunday dinner at Cassandra’s.
He’d grown up with Sunday dinners. A night when all the family came home to pot roast, sweet potatoes, pie if his Dad could be talked into it at church in the morning. His mom had always refused to make pie crust, always said just because she hated pie crust didn’t mean she loved her family any less.
Just meant Dad was the one to make it. And Christian had loved that. Had loved how they were a team, had always wanted his own team.
But there had been dread at those family dinners as well. Dread was just a feeling Christian wasn’t ever going to get away from.
It was inside him.
Shane pushed his key into Cassandra’s front door, saying over his shoulder, “She’s going to love it. The color!”
Christian wasn’t sure if Shane was blind where Cassandra was concerned or just insanely optimistic, but Christian wasn’t going to hold his breath waiting for Cassandra to love anything about him.
Just Christian’s lot in life that he’d fallen in love with a man. Who already had his team.
Shane called out, singing, “Cass! We went shopping!”
A soft “in the bedroom” called back, and they followed her voice, Shane jabbering non-stop, and Christian wondered if maybe he wasn’t so blind where she was concerned, after all.
Christian was used to dread and feeling out of place and slightly unwelcome. He was just wondering why dinner was here and not at the penthouse. Did penthouses get old?
When they entered the bedroom, Brady was getting out of the bed.
A naked, clearly-I’m-in-the-middle-of-something Brady was just standing up, and he walked past them, calmly and unconcerned, to the bathroom.
The blood rushed out of Christian’s head and for a second he thought he was going to faint.
Cassandra smirked at them and stretched. “He works out.”
Shane gurgled.
Christian focused his eyes on Cassandra, only slightly less embarrassed at finding the sheet outlining her body, and said, “I’ll wait out in the living room.”
And since he had no delusions about Cassandra, knew that had been her plan all along. Didn’t even need to see the sparkle in her eye to know it.
Shane was still standing there, mouth gaping open, eyes glazed. Christian heard him say to himself, “How can he be a shower and a grower?”
Christian went to pour himself a tall, cold glass of anything.
Shane shook himself and sat down on the bed gently. “You didn’t say he was going to be here. I might have come in a little slower if I’d known.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. You would have been sneaky, trying to get a peek of what you just saw full on. And where else would he be?”
Shane whimpered again. “Working? I just didn’t think Sunday night dinner included him if it wasn’t at his penthouse.”
“It includes him.”
He sighed and Cassandra said, “It includes Christian.”
“Slightly different, don’t you think? And just to let you know, unlimited sex with an outrageously hung man makes you mean.”
Cassandra stretched again, closing her eyes. “Just to let you know, getting interrupted in the middle of unlimited sex with an outrageously hung man is what makes me mean.”
Shane patted her leg and stood. “And you’re forgiven. That would make anyone slightly cranky. Next time I’ll text so you know we’re on our way. Now get dressed. We’re doing barbecue tonight.”
“You know how to barbecue? Since when?”
“Christian knows how.”
“He would.”
Shane walked to the door, pulling the door shut behind him as he said, “You just finish up in here so you can come out and be pleasant. Pleasanter, at least.”
She didn’t want to be more pleasant, wasn’t going to finish, and then Brady came back in before she got her pants on and helped with that anyway.
But damned if she’d admit it made her any less mean.
Christian knew how to barbecue.
Shrimp that melted in the mouth when Cassandra hadn’t even known you could barbecue shrimp. Corn, seared and sweet, and she groaned as the kernels popped as her teeth bit into them.
She nearly kissed Christian right on the mouth, that’s how good the barbecue was.
He said, “Your barbecue looks like it’s never been used before.”
Her mouth was too full to answer, so she just grunted. She lived in California, she had a barbecue. It had just never been inaugurated.
Shane said, “All you need to do is keep her mouth full of barbecue and no one will question whether she’s your real girlfriend. Beards don’t look like they want to eat you up.”
Cassandra choked on her corn and Christian cried, “No, don’t tell her–”
“You want me to be his what?”
“Just for his family, Cass. I thought you could be my girlfriend but realized, hah, no one would believe that.”
Brady looked at the murderous glint in Cassandra’s eyes and held up a finger. “Problem.”
Cassandra said, “Lots of problems.”
“She’s already taken.”
Shane turned to him. “She is?”
Cassandra folded her arms. “I am?”
Brady nodded. “Jefe’s woman,” he said, making Cassandra chuckle, and she forgot a
bout Christian long enough for him to get on the other side of the dining room table.
Christian, safe with some distance between them, said, “It was a joke. Shane showed me your picture on his phone and it just popped out. That you were his beard. Not mine.”
All the warm fuzzy from the barbecue disappeared from Cassandra’s veins. “It’s not a joke to be ashamed of who you are.”
Christian shook his head, “No,” and no one said anything. Not even Cassandra could say anything to that.
He said, “I’m sorr–”
“Don’t apologize!”
Shane said softly, “Cass.”
She pushed her chair back. “I tried, Shane. I tried, but I can’t like him. I can’t let him bring this into your life. This apologetic shame.” She jabbed her finger in Christian’s direction. “He goes; I’m using my veto.”
Shane sucked in a breath and Christian just stood there.
Brady speared another piece of shrimp and ate it.
The longer the silence lengthened, the more the knot in Cassandra’s stomach tightened.
Mean. She was mean.
It wasn’t interrupted sex that made her mean. It was seeing what Shane had fallen in love with. It was knowing she wasn’t anything like that, and she’d never had a chance.
Not even if the fates had been kind. Not even if all their stars had aligned.
Shane would never have chosen her.
She was best friend. Not love.
She said, “Get out. Everyone.”
“Cass–”
“Get out!”
“Cass, let’s just talk–”
She grabbed the edge of the table, shrieking as she flipped it on its side. The dishes and food went spilling, Shane and Christian jumping out of the way.
Brady looked at the corn sitting in his lap and said, “Man.”
She huffed and puffed and stared at Shane. “I’m using my veto.”
“Cass–”
Before he could finish, before he could tell her that her veto was worthless, she said, “Get. Out.”
Christian headed for the door and she sneered at his back. Then turned back to Shane and waited. Waited for him to choose.
He said softly, “I’ll call you. We’ll talk.”
He followed Christian and when he closed the door behind them, all she saw was Christian. All she saw was the sorry in his eyes. Not triumph, not glory. He felt sorry for her. Sorry that she’d lost when he hadn’t even been playing.
Brady stood up, blocking her way before she’d taken even one step.
The rage and hurt was swallowing her and she said through tight lips, “Get out, Brady.”
“No.”
He wrapped his arms around her, absorbing her blows as if he didn’t even feel them.
He held her tight and she wanted to scream at him. She wanted to be alone. She was alone, why couldn’t he just leave her alone.
He said softly, “Life’s a bitch.”
It was. Just one gigantic bitch.
When her punches slowed, he trapped her arms to her side, squeezing and lifting her.
She groaned. “I don’t want sex right now.”
But he didn’t carry her to the bedroom, he carried her to the front door. She stiffened because she knew they were still here. Still outside.
She struggled against him and he squeezed tighter. He whispered into her ear, “Listen,” and she shook her head.
She wouldn’t listen to them. She couldn’t listen over the hurt of her heart and the anger in her blood. But he squeezed her, tighter and tighter, until she wasn’t fighting her ears. She just wanted to breathe.
Their voices floated through the open window, their bodies just out of sight.
“I don’t want to come between you two.”
“You’re not. She’s my Cassandra and I love her. But not more than you. She’ll come around; she’s just having a hard time accepting what is.”
Cassandra would have gasped if she’d had breath to spare. She couldn’t accept what was?
And Shane was either dismissing her completely or knew her really well. Would she give up Shane if he wouldn’t give up Christian?”
Christian paused. “Why did you choose me?”
“I love you.”
Cassandra screamed inside her head. Why? Why do you love him?
And Christian said, “Why? Why do you love me?”
Cassandra closed her eyes, stopped fighting. Stopped fighting Brady’s arms around her. Just stopped.
She knew without seeing that Shane had wrapped his arms tight around Christian. Had heard in Christian’s voice that he didn’t think there was anything to love.
And Shane would be whispering every little thing that he loved about Christian into his ear. Christian would be stiff in his arms, pushing at the contact, pushing at the words. Because he wouldn’t believe them.
But he would someday.
Someday he would wear a bright shirt without being self-conscious about it. Someday he wouldn’t flinch when anyone touched him accidentally. Someday he wouldn’t be ashamed. Shane would give that to him with his love.
Brady’s arms loosened enough for her to take a deep breath but she didn’t move away. Just let his heat warm that cold place inside her.
She didn’t stop the tears, just let them flow. Silent and hot down her cheeks.
Christian said, “It’s not going to be much better when you meet my family.”
Shane laughed. “I really, really doubt that.”
“I make them uncomfortable, so I don’t go home often.”
“And what are you going to tell them about me?”
Christian didn’t answer and Cassandra turned away from the window, pushing at Brady. She didn’t want to hear anymore. Didn’t want to hear Shane getting hurt again and again.
Christian finally said, “You’re asking me to choose between you or my family.”
“I want you to choose between a painful truth or an unhappy lie.”
A painful truth or an unhappy lie. Why were those the only options in life?
Shane said, “This love is true. I don’t understand why but I know that choosing us, choosing love, will hurt you. It will hurt others that you love. And I know that if you deny who you are, deny us, that you will never be happy. You can’t be happy lying to yourself.”
“I don’t think happy is possible for me.”
Cassandra wasn’t sure happy was possible for her, either.
Brady wiped a tear from Cassandra’s cheek and Cassandra looked into Brady’s dark eyes.
Shane said, “I would take all your hurt if I could. I would share it if you’d let me.”
Cassandra whispered, “Can’t it be a happy lie?”
Brady’s chest rumbled against her and he took a step backwards. “Might as well be.”
Might as well be.
She just would have to come up with a lie that was happy. What had Brady said? Half of him plus half of Shane was as close as she was going to get?
Half of him plus half of Shane was almost enough.
Half of him plus half of Shane plus a smidgeon of Christian?
She said, “Ugh.”
Brady took another step backwards and said, “Stop thinking about him.”
“And what should I think about?”
“His shrimp. Do you think if we rinse it off, we can still eat it?”
Cassandra thought about it, then nodded. “It was good shrimp.”
Shane pulled up to the house early the next morning as Brady was leaving for work. Cassandra stood in the doorway, watching as Brady nodded at Shane, watching as Brady got in his car and left without pause.
Cassandra knew that if Christian had come too, Brady would’ve stayed. She was pretty sure he was protecting Christian when he got between the two of them.
But he didn’t need to protect Shane.
Cassandra folded her arms and said, “I’m going to be late for work.”
“I’ll talk while you get ready.
You’ll just listen.”
She’d listened plenty yesterday; she didn’t want to listen anymore.
“I’m not ready, Shane. Not ready to listen, not ready to like him. Not ready to be replaced.”
“He’s not replacing you; he’s not taking over any part you hold sway over. He’s joining you. Between the two of you, my life is perfect. If you’d stop trying to chase him off.”
“He’s the kind of person who can be chased off. That’s why I’m trying.”
“Then why is he still here? He’s stronger than you think. He’s more than you think.”
She was pretty sure he wasn’t.
“I love him, Cassandra. I love Christian. The end.”
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“No, I’m trying to get you to accept it.”
She couldn’t accept what was. Exactly what she hated about Christian.
“He’s good people, Cass. Every bone in his body is good. He makes me want to be good.”
She said, “Ugh.”
He laughed. “He’s the angel on my right shoulder, you’re the devil on my left. He whispers to me to be good, you whisper to me to live. I need you both.”
“He’s going to hurt you.”
Shane shook his head. “He’s good people. He won’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me for a different reason. You love me and that means everything to you.”
She did, and it did.
He said, “I love you, Cass. The end.”
And that meant everything to her. She’d do anything for those she loved; do anything for those who loved her back.
“What do you want from me, Shane? I just can’t start liking him.”
“You don’t have to like him. You just have to accept him.”
She could see Shane turning into good people. Could see something different in him, now that there was Christian. She’d liked him just fine before.
She was afraid that she wouldn’t like him if he changed too much.
And she wasn’t afraid of that at all. It wouldn’t happen.
She sat down on her front stoop and watched cars drive off to work. She was going to be late and she just didn’t care.
Shane sat down next to her, looking at his flowers. They’d suffered these last few weeks and looked it.