I flinched at the unexpected voice, and turned to see Eve standing next to me. She’d changed into a green-and-white dress—perhaps a nod to both her Irish roots and Samir’s Arab lineage—and was eyeing me closely with a faint smile.
“Sorry for ducking out. I figured Eli could use a break, but he kind of fell asleep.”
“No apology necessary. I was coming out to check on him. I see you’ve got it handled.” She lifted her chin and motioned to Eli, who was still lying on my chest.
“I’m Bryan, by the way,” I said, offering her my left hand, which she shook.
“Aoibheann—but call me Eve, everyone does. I’ve heard a lot about ya. Only good things, but I wanted to see for myself.”
Her tone was friendly yet pointed. It was clear to me that she wasn’t happy having gone these months without knowing who Eli was spending his time with. I loved that she was so concerned over his well-being. “I’ve heard a lot about you too. Do I pass your test?” I asked with a raised eyebrow and a knowing grin.
She hummed and took a few steps to stand in front of Eli. She knelt down and brushed his hair behind his ear then stood up and faced me. “If ya were an arsehole I’d have had you thrown out earlier.”
“Dubhlainn,” I muttered. “You sent a spy.”
“Handsome and smart. My, my.”
We both snickered before she excused herself to head back to her celebration. I remained on the bench with Eli, lightly twitching in his sleep. I’d eventually wake him up so he wouldn’t miss the entire party, but I was content to selfishly enjoy the moment for just a bit longer.
Eli started coming to watch my games regularly in the weeks that followed the wedding. Had I known he’d want to, I’d have asked him long ago, but it was happening now and that was what mattered. I talked to the team and got the go-ahead to schedule our future games closer to Eli so he could bring Prince too. When I told him the good news, he hugged me after half a second’s hesitation. Progress.
Prince was a big hit with the guys and served as a bridge for them to get to know Eli more. He was modest and uncomfortable talking about himself, yet he was a different person when he talked about Prince, and all of the guys could see it. The love he had for that dog was so palpable, I couldn’t for the life of me understand why he thought he was unable to love. Anyone who had ever said such an awful thing to him clearly didn’t understand him or the impact it would have on a person like him. He had a lot of love in him—it just didn’t always manifest in obvious ways, like it might in most people. His love for Prince was pure and unguarded. I was sure he loved Eve and me in some capacity, but that was completely different and, at least in my case, a slow process. We grew closer with every passing day and when I looked at him now, I could clearly see that I mattered to him in some way.
With Prince, it was a lot more obvious. When she saw me at games she went crazy. The way she greeted me at Eli’s apartment was nothing compared to when we were out in open spaces. Eli would unhook her leash and she’d dart toward me and jump into my arms, tail wagging nonstop. She really was the sweetest dog.
On the days Eli brought her, we went to places with patios for our postgame drinks. Axel’s sister had a rottweiler, which he started bringing to games and play dates for Prince after learning how much she liked other people and animals. The two dogs got along extremely well and would run around for hours if left to their own devices—it was absolutely adorable.
Eli still took her for runs every day, even if we had a game near a dog park or she had a play date. I always joined him for evening runs after games and beer, even though I felt like a bag of ass. I did end up hurling once, much to my chagrin. Running with Eli was great—because any time spent with him was—but my favorite thing to do with him was curl up on the couch and watch movies.
A couple of weeks later, Eli asked Mac and me if we wanted to have dinner with Eve and Samir. We decided on Korean barbecue because it seemed like a good way for everyone to get acquainted without the pomp and circumstance of a structured sit-down meal. And Mac had begged.
Mac spent the night away from the apartment, and had arrived ahead of Eli and me. He was pacing when we approached him at the restaurant’s entrance, and I groaned. That bastard only paced when he fucked up.
“What did you do?” I ground out. Eli tilted his head and frowned, probably confused by my sudden sharp and short tone.
“Now, listen. I didn’t know what Eve looked like, and—”
“You did not hit on Eve.” I groaned again. Mac smirked and shrugged while Eli’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open before curving into a grin.
“In my defense, I did not know she was hot. Neither of you bastards told me she was a knock-out redhead. You”—he pointed at me—“especially know I’m weak for redheaded women!” Mac whisper-shouted and flailed his hands for emphasis.
“Where was Sam?” Eli asked, giggling adorably next to me.
“Parking the car apparently. She shut me down before he came inside. Maybe she won’t tell him?” Mac asked Eli hopefully.
Eli shook his head. “No, she definitely will. But don’t worry. Sam won’t care… much.”
Mac sighed and pushed up the sleeves on his lightweight beige sweater. We went inside and were led to a round table with Eve and Samir whispering and snickering. When they caught sight of Mac, the snickers turned into shit-eating grins. For once in his life, Mac had nothing to say and plunked down in a chair next to Samir. Eli sat by Eve, and I took the spot between him and Mac.
A server came by with water for the table, and Mac stood when they left. “All right. Let’s get this shit cleared. Hi.” Mac waved at Samir. “I’m Mac, and I have a thing for beautiful red-haired women. As I’m sure you’ve heard, I hit on your wife—congratulations, by the way—about ten minutes ago. I just wanted to apologize so we can all acknowledge and move past my prior transgression.” He sat back down and downed his water with a frown. “Goddamn, let’s get some drinks going, guys. This is a celebration.”
Mac’s antics were met with laughter, and proper introductions were made. For the first time since we’d been in public together, Eli wasn’t nervous in a crowd. He’d started coming over to my place, with Prince, for some game nights a few weeks ago, and I loved that he and Mac got along so well. Seeing that carry over in an uncontrolled setting caused me to beam with pride for Eli. He’d come a long way from the man he was when I first walked into that boardroom at Red Right Hand, and I was thrilled to be a part of the change in him.
The rest of the dinner went on without any friction. Samir and Eve were good, kind people and weren’t easily offended by Mac’s… Mac-ness. Everyone ate and drank too much, save for Samir, who wasn’t a big drinker. We parted ways with a promise to meet up again soon, and I waved as the silver Camry with Samir, Eve, and Eli pulled away.
“Are you drowning yet?” Mac asked me.
“What?”
“Four months ago, I told you to be careful and not get in over your head. You’ve been doing a pretty shitty job at not falling in love with him,” Mac said after nudging me with his elbow.
I sighed and brushed my hand through my hair, tugging at my nape. “I don’t know what to do. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my life, and that scares me. I can’t stop, but I can never have him.”
Mac slung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. “I know, Bry. Come on. Let’s go home.” We broke apart, though he kept his arm over my shoulders as we walked home on a breezy October evening.
Mac smugly dropped his cards on the table and exclaimed, “Aces up, bitches!”
Eli and I whined and moaned as we handed over the last of our chips for the third game in a row. Eli banged his head on the table while I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. “I swear you have to be cheating. This shit has been going on for years.”
“Years?” Eli asked, lifting his head. “You’ve been losing to him for that long?”
“He sure has. If you hadn’
t noticed, our dear Bryan is a glutton for punishment. Oh yes, he’s quite the masochist,” Mac replied with a wink.
“Fuck you,” I said with a half grin. “I don’t always lose. And I’m not a masochist.”
“That’s debatable,” Mac mumbled before he turned to Eli. “Do you have Halloween plans?”
Eli looked to me then shook his head at Mac.
“Good! My birthday is on the thirty-first, and I’d love to see you there.”
“Okay.” Eli’s smile did nothing to calm the urge I had to lean across the table and kiss him until we both couldn’t breathe. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Mac waved his hand, a blue poker chip wedged between his middle and index finger. “Don’t be silly; of course you’re invited. Unfortunately, you”—Mac looked under the table where Prince was lying—“can’t come to Oasis with us.”
“What’s Oasis?” Eli asked. He took a long pull on his beer, finishing it.
“Ah, it’s the new gay club that opened on Halstead a couple months ago.” Mac got up and ran to fetch three more bottles for us.
“Thanks. Um, why would you want to celebrate at a gay bar?” I didn’t miss the flush coloring the tips of Eli’s ears.
Mac snorted. “Oh, easy. Do you have any idea how many straight women go to gay bars? I always score when we go out.” Mac nodded to me. “Bry really is the best wingman.”
Eli opened his new beer with unsteady hands and rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I ever thought you two were a couple.”
“Wait, what?” I blurted out. Eli thought Mac and I were together? When? Why didn’t he ask me? Mac’s wandering eyes told me he already knew and then it clicked. This was what they were both keeping from me—what they discussed at the launch.
“Um, yeah. I mistakenly assumed Mac was your… It was an assumption I shouldn’t have made.”
I didn’t know how to take that. I sat there, blinking stupidly at Eli with nothing to say. Mac must have noticed my lack of brain function and intervened.
“‘’Twas a good time. Awkward. Endearing. Anyway, my birthday is on Halloween, so—and this goes for both of you—don’t even think about showing up without costumes. Bry, it’s your turn to deal.”
Thirteen
Eli
Bryan helped me pick a costume a week before Halloween, which was quite the affair. I hadn’t gone out for Halloween since I was young enough to trick or treat holding my mom’s hand; costumes had evolved so much since then. We spent an hour browsing with no luck when Bryan asked if I wanted to pick his costume.
Bryan was easy to shop for. I thought about what would look good on him and nearly everything applied. Then I thought about what would be special for us—er, for him—and the answer became clear. I picked out a Han Solo costume for him and flushed when he tried it on. I couldn’t explain why, but seeing him model the costume with a tentative smile on his face made me feel… warm in a way I hadn’t felt before. My body prickled, and every inch of my skin felt like it was on fire. Perhaps it was the crowd and my desire to take Bryan and go home to my quiet, familiar space.
Bryan asked me how he looked, and I gave him an honest answer and said he was more handsome than young Harrison Ford, which made him blush. He changed, and we continued searching for me with no luck. I had no idea what I wanted and the idea of wearing anything other than my normal clothes made me sweat.
Bryan finally stopped me and asked if I trusted him to choose for me. I thought about it for a moment and nodded, then he led me over to the changing rooms and sat me down on a stool inside one. He told me to take a few moments to myself and wait for him to come back with my costume. So I did just that.
I could still hear the voices of other people around me, but being isolated from the crowd did wonders for calming me down. Leave it to Bryan to know I needed a break and take over. It astounded me that he knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. He never missed any of my shifting moods or quirks and found them all to be perfectly acceptable, never making me feel like I was abnormal for needing… anything. It didn’t matter what the circumstance was, Bryan was always patient and supportive, but also knew when I could be pushed to try new things. He was simply incredible.
A light knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts and I called out, asking who was there.
“It’s just me,” Bryan’s voice returned.
I got up and unlocked the door for him, and he stepped into the tight space, closing the door behind him. One of his arms was behind his back and he looked so eager to show me what he was hiding.
“Feeling better now?” he asked.
“Yes, much better. Thanks,” I said quietly.
“You can tell me when you need a break—always. I won’t ever get mad or anything.” I nodded, unable to speak around my constricting throat. It made me squirrelly when he was so sweet to me. Having such kind things be said to me regularly was still so new. I imagined it might make me uncomfortable had the words come from anyone else, but I loved hearing them from Bryan.
“If you absolutely hate what I picked, I won’t make you wear it.” He pulled his arm out from behind his back, revealing a baseball uniform in a bag.
“Baseball?” I asked.
“Indeed. Chicago Cubs—they’re my team.”
“You mean they’re your favorite?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“I’ll buy it.” The idea of wearing something that would make Bryan happy made me feel warm again. I wanted to make him happy more than I realized, and if wearing this costume was a start, I’d do it.
I tried on the uniform, and Bryan seemed to like it. He made a kind of strangled noise in his throat when I stepped out of the changing room, which I guess was a good thing. We rang up our costumes then went for lunch before going shopping for shoes and the finishing touches to complete the looks.
We left from Mac and Bryan’s apartment with another of their friends I hadn’t met before. Her name was Blake and she was very friendly and intrigued by me, or so she said. She mistook me for Bryan’s boyfriend when we were first introduced, but he was quick to correct her. I wondered if Bryan had a boyfriend—no, he couldn’t. He spent all of his time at work, with Mac, or with me.
It was selfish of me, but I was glad he didn’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t consider myself a jealous person by nature—and I wasn’t remotely jealous of the deep friendship Bryan and Mac had—yet the thought of a nonexistent boyfriend had me wanting to lay a claim on him that I didn’t have any right to lay. Those feelings intensified when he came out of his room in his full costume and some eyeliner Blake had insisted would “add some drama.” I couldn’t deny that it looked great on him.
Mac had booked a booth at Oasis with bottle service, and thank God for it. I probably would have died if not for the semi-private space to essentially hide in. The mostly familiar faces of Bryan and Mac’s friends also helped with my anxiety, plus a lot of liquid courage. Although he engaged with everyone, Bryan stayed close to me, being a constant presence that helped keep me relatively calm. My pulse pounded, and I was hyperaware of my busy surroundings—including Bryan’s knee resting against mine, and how I wanted more contact from him. Leaning my weight on his shoulder and watching A New Hope sounded like a wonderful way to spend the night, but we could do that any time. Mac only turned—um… I actually had no idea how old Mac was. Likely thirty or thirty-one.
One bass-heavy song morphed into another, and everyone in our booth got keyed up. Mac and Blake shot up first, leading the way to the dance floor. Only Bryan and I remained seated.
“You don’t want to go with them?” I spoke directly into his ear to be heard over the music.
“I want to keep you company.”
“Go dance. I’ll still be here when you guys get back.” Bryan cast concerned eyes over me then nodded and followed after his friends.
If I thought Bryan looked good playing baseball, he looked like a god dancing. Dancing in public for fun as a concept never made sense to m
e until I laid eyes on Bryan and his friends. Everyone smiled and moved to the music—sometimes alone, sometimes with each other, and sometimes with strangers. Maxim stood off on the periphery watching, all stoic and serious, but everyone else looked like they were having the best time. As I watched them, nothing else seemed to exist, and I wondered if that was how they felt while engaging in the act.
Everyone, to me, looked like they were good dancers, though my eyes kept tracking back to Bryan. He had his hands on Blake’s hips and was between her and a guy I didn’t recognize—a stranger.
The newcomer stepped in closer—and grabbed Bryan’s ass. Bryan spun around, and the new guy worked himself flush against Bryan, grinding and writhing to the music. Irrational anger surged through me, and I saw red. I moved to stand, but Bryan stepped back from the cling-on, smiled, and said something in his ear, then resumed dancing with Blake and Axel.
I leaned back against the booth, though relaxation didn’t come. I was glad he didn’t go for that guy’s advances, but I was still angry that that guy thought he had the right to touch Bryan like that. Not wanting to think about it any longer, I poured myself a new drink, forgoing the mix, and tossed it back in one gulp. Rinse and repeat.
When I finished pouring my third drink, Maxim returned to the booth and nodded to me as he sat down and nursed his own cocktail. I enjoyed that he was a man of few words, but his silence could be intense. I didn’t mind it that night. I didn’t mind much of anything after the tequila hit me with the force of a charging bull.
The bench next to me dipped, and I turned to see Bryan, skin moistened with sweat. “Hey,” he said.
I held my glass up between us before I leaned in and replied, “I’m a little drunk. Maybe a lot.”
He smirked and pulled my hand with the glass up toward his nose then reached for the tequila bottle and added a generous shot to both of our glasses. I missed the warmth and contact when his hand left mine, but new warmth spread through me when I tossed back the clear alcohol.
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