by Monroe, Max
Maybe snorts. “What’s the big deal about that?”
“Well, he’s friends with some of our friends.”
She quirks a brow and lowers her voice conspicuously. “Who is it?”
“Theo Cruz.”
“What? Theo freaking Cruz?” she shrieks, and I jump two feet in the air and throw a hand over her mouth.
I nod and raise an eyebrow to ask if she’s ready to be quiet, and she nods—on a lie.
“Holy Sunday dresses after midnight booty calls, Lena!” she exclaims so loudly, people in the bridal shop start to look.
“Hells bells, calm down.”
“Calm down?” she asks, just barely dropping her voice. “I am officially rocked by this news! Here I thought I was the only brother’s friend-chasing slut, and now I know I’ve got a comrade-in-arms!” I roll my eyes at her ridiculousness, but she doesn’t pause before asking the billion-dollar question. “Does Cap know about this?”
“Fuck no, my brother doesn’t know. Did Evan know about Milo?”
“Point taken,” she says and puts a hand to her mouth.
And since I’ve already told her this much, I proceed to give her the rest of the hairy details. I tell her how we met at one of his clubs, but I didn’t know it was his club, and obviously, I didn’t know he knew my flipping brother.
I tell her about our rendezvous rules and my cowardly goodbye letter.
I even tell her that we almost had sex at her and Milo’s party at Gallow Green.
By the time I’m done telling her every-fucking-thing, the only thing I can seem to feel is relief.
“Hell’s motherflipping wedding bells, I can’t believe you’re sleeping with one of Cap’s best friends,” she says on a laugh. “It’s like déjà vu all over again. Only we’ve Freaky Friday-ed this shit and switched bodies.”
The irony of it all isn’t lost on me. The only real difference between Maybe and me in this situation is that she’d known Evan’s best friend, Milo—her soon-to-be husband—since she was a kid.
“So…you guys are secretly dating each other right now?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I guess you could say that.”
“Do you like him?” she asks, and I answer without hesitation.
“I do.” Truthfully, he makes me happy in a way I’ve never felt.
She searches my eyes for a long moment. “Do you love him?’
“Uh…” I pause, and my breath gets all tangled up in my lungs.
“Oh, man,” she whispers. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
“That look.” She nods her head toward my face. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”
“Slow your roll, honey. No one is falling yet.”
You sure about that? my subconscious questions, but I ignore her completely while Maybe smiles at me like she knows something I don’t.
But that smile quickly morphs into something different, something more serious. “So, I know you’re seeing where it all goes right now,” she states. “But can I suggest that you don’t wait too long before you have an honest conversation with your brother. I felt like a real asshole about the way my brother Evan found out about Milo and me, and honestly, it was better for us all once it was out in the open.”
Deep down, I know she’s right.
No matter if this thing between Theo and me turns into something more, I really should be honest with my brother.
If the roles were reversed, I’d certainly want that from him.
Yeah, but finding the right way to tell him is a whole other story…
By the time Maybe and I leave the bridal shop, it’s a little after eight, and the first thing I do when I’m sitting on the subway, heading in the direction of Harlem, is text Theo.
Me: I broke rule number four. I didn’t want to, but I did. I’m so sorry.
He responds a minute later.
Theo: Mind reminding me which rule that is?
Me: You don’t know all of our fucking rules???
Theo: Calm down. I know the rules, just not necessarily the order. I have them in more of a loose list in my mind.
I roll my eyes. Men.
Me: Rule Number Four: This stays top secret. Just between us.
Theo: I take it Maybe made you break tonight at her fitting?
Me: Yep. She guilted me into it. Brought everyone and everything into it—God, her wedding day luck, my fucking brother—until I broke like the back of that goddamn mountain with Jake Gyllenhaal.
Theo: LOL. Sounds like it was quite the conversation.
Me: You have no idea. And, honestly, the whole thing has me thinking that we probably need to drop all the secrecy. I mean, there is nothing wrong with what we’re doing. And we can still stick to the rest of the rules that you can’t fucking remember.
Theo: HA. I know the rules, sassy. And I’m pro-drop the secrecy.
Me: So, basically, we’re both admitting that we need to tell my brother.
Theo: Yes.
Me: Ugh. So, we’ve done it, right? Saying we need to do it in this message means we’ve done it?
Theo: LOL. No.
Me: Can I suggest that we wait until after Maybe and Milo’s wedding this weekend?
Theo: You afraid he’s going to take it that badly?
Uh, yeah. I’m afraid he’ll behave like a child and make a fucking scene.
Me: You think he’s going to take it well?
Theo: Yeah, you’re right. After their wedding, we’ll tell him.
Me: Now, moving right along to more important things. What are you wearing right now?
Theo: I’m sitting in my apartment. Fresh out of the shower. Completely naked.
Me: Pics or it didn’t happen.
Theo: How about you just come to my place, and I’ll show you?
Me: Deal.
A naked Theo? Count me the fuck in.
It doesn’t take me long to get off at the next stop, switch trains, and head in the direction of Theo’s apartment.
And just like that, my night takes a turn for the fantastic.
Theo
“Where the fuck is Harrison?” Cap questions as he takes a seat beside Milo. He glances at his phone. “He’s already ten minutes late.”
“As are you,” Trent kindly points out, but Cap ignores him entirely.
“That fucker better be here.”
Another night in Thatch’s cigar room.
Another book club meeting.
More of Cap’s bitching.
So, basically, nothing is new—other than the fact that I know telling Cap is inevitable, and waiting for the results said revelation feels like waiting to step on a land mine.
“I’m pretty sure he already told you he was going to be in LA,” I remind him, but he flips me off and proceeds to tap the screen of his phone and put it to his ear.
When no one—presumably Harrison—answers his call, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Now he’s ignoring my calls. The fucker.”
“LA is three hours behind us, man,” Kline updates. “He probably can’t answer his phone.”
“Like my calls are even optional.”
All six of us share a look that says—we try to ignore your calls pretty fucking often—while Cap demon-dials Harrison a few more times.
“Well, while he’s busy with that nonsense, I’m going to grab another scotch,” Kline says with a smirk and gets up from the table to make a drink at the small marble bar in the back of the room.
“And I shall enjoy a stogie,” Thatch grins and does just that. The smoke billows around him once he gets his cigar lit, and he takes a few puffs with his lips.
Quince takes out his phone—presumably to order a life-size doll of himself off Amazon—and Trent leans in to say something private in his ear.
I’m just about to follow Kline’s lead and make myself another drink when my phone vibrates inside my suit pocket. While Cap normally tries to instill a bullshit no cell phone policy during book club, I figure all bets are off for the time being.
Milo: I know what you did last summer.
Immediately, I lift my eyes up from my phone and see Milo staring back at me.
“What the fuck?” I mouth, and he responds by looking back down at his phone.
Ten seconds later, my phone buzzes with another message.
Milo: Secret Lover.
I look back up at him and then glance at the book, this week’s book, in front of me.
The title: Secret Lover.
It’s a ridiculous pick by Cap and one that I refused to even tell Carey to read.
The romance where a guy falls for his best friend’s little sister.
When Milo sends me another text that just says Secret Lover, as if I didn’t see the first one he sent, I sigh and type out a response.
Me: What’s happening right now, dude? You wanna text about the book? Or are we playing some weird fucking game of charades?
He reads my message and shakes his head.
Milo: You took a bite out of the forbidden fruit. And if YOU KNOW WHO finds out how many times you’ve eaten apples, he’s going to go apeshit.
Two words grip me by the throat. Forbidden fruit.
Ah shit.
Me: How do you know how much I like apples?
Milo: Because my fiancée spends her free time in an apple orchard. Some might even say she’s best fucking friends with it. She started switching seating charts for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding last night in a panic, and I was concerned. She filled me in.
Me: Am I sitting by an apple tree?
Milo: That’s your biggest concern right now?
Me: I should probably answer no to this, shouldn’t I?
Milo: You fucking think? Dude. Just…be careful. Trust me when I say this, sometimes it’s WAY better to just put shit out in the open rather than trying to keep it under wraps.
Me: We’re gonna shake the tree after the wedding. Tell the apple’s older apple and let him make a nice pie out of my face or whatever.
Milo: Thank fuck for that.
When I think the conversation is done, I slide my phone back into my pocket and pass Kline as I make my way over to the bar.
But ten seconds later, I’m not alone.
Milo is beside me.
“I should probably mention that Maybe felt pretty bad about not keeping her promise, so mind keeping what I just told you to yourself?” he asks, his voice just loud enough for me to hear him over Cap’s shouting voice mail he’s leaving Harrison.
“Lena already suspected Maybe’d accidentally tell you.” I grab a glass and drop a few pieces of ice into it. The cubes clink against the bottom.
Milo smirks. “I should’ve known she, of all people, would know my soon-to-be wife that well.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle lightly.
“So, is this serious?” he asks, and I turn to meet his eyes.
Fuck, I’m really starting to hope so…
“I don’t know.”
He scrutinizes my face. “You sure about that?”
“We’re just seeing how things go, you know. No labels or anything, but we’re not seeing anyone else.”
“You know, Maybe had a few things to say about the way Lena looked when she told her the truth about who was really with her at Jovial Grinds that night.”
It’s my turn to scrutinize his face. “Are you going to expand on that or leave me hanging here?”
“She just thought that…Lena is quite possibly falling for you, but who knows.” He shrugs. “Maybe couldn’t be sure, and you just said you guys aren’t labeling anything so…” Milo pauses and pours himself a glass of bourbon, but I’m too busy trying to understand what he just said to respond.
Lena is falling for me?
Hope blooms inside my chest, and I stare down at the glass of whiskey in my hands.
And my heart pounds rapidly, damn near pushing itself through my ribs.
Could she really be falling for me?
“Earth to Theo.” Cap’s booming voice grabs my attention, and I look up to find him, Milo, and the rest of the guys sitting at the table looking at me like I’ve gone temporarily insane. “I know that glass of whiskey is real fucking interesting, but mind bringing it over to the table so we can get this meeting going?”
Milo’s eyes meet mine, and I don’t miss the knowing smirk that crests his lips.
Fucking hell. That bastard. No doubt he said what he said for a reason.
“Are we getting this meeting going?” I clear my throat and head back to the table. “It was hard to tell with all the voice mails you were leaving for Harrison.”
“Yeah, well, that fucker isn’t answering my calls, and I think we all know why.”
Wes squints his eyes. “Because he’s on a business trip?”
“No,” Cap snaps. “Because he didn’t want to be here when we talked about this book right here.” He points to his paperback copy of Secret Lover. “Because he’s a guilty fucking sister-chaser.”
Shame settles deep into my gut.
Even though Harrison has mostly brought all of this on himself, I can’t ignore that Cap’s ire being aimed at the wrong man is making me feel like one skeevy bastard.
And I can’t even look at Milo right now.
Surely, it’d only make me feel worse about the situation.
“So, are we talking about the book or not?” Wes asks, glancing around the table in irritation. “And I’m pretty sure we all know that Harrison is just fucking with you Cap. He’s not really trying to get with your sister.”
Cap scowls.
“Besides razzing you about it, he talked to her for all of one minute at Maybe’s and my party,” Milo points out.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I have a sixth sense about these things, and I know something is up.”
“You have a sixth sense for when your friends are trying to get with your sister?” Trent asks on an incredulous laugh. “That’s weird, dude.”
“Maybe if any of you fuckers had a little sister, you’d understand. But you don’t.”
“Theo has a brother,” Thatch states around his cigar.
“Brogan doesn’t count. I mean, it’d be nice if one of you bozos were gay so that I’m not the only one trying to keep you fucks away from my sibling. But none of you are,” Cap retorts. “I’m the only one with a sister.”
“While none of us are gay, most of us are married, dude,” Kline interjects. “Well, everyone but Harrison.”
“And Theo,” Trent adds.
Fuck, don’t bring me into this.
Cap is unimpressed. “Theo doesn’t count. He doesn’t do anything besides work. I’d have to worry about his assistant Carey before I’d have to worry about him.”
Shit. It just keeps getting worse. Milo smirks at me.
“Uh…Cap?” Thatch reaches out to pat him on the back. “I think this conversation is taking some very strange fluffing turns. You feeling okay, buddy?”
“Of course I’m feeling okay. I’m always feeling okay. I’m Caplin motherfucking Hawkins, which means I am always fucking awesome,” he retorts and then proceeds to snag Thatch’s gavel out of his reach. “And, since Whore-i-son couldn’t make it tonight, I think we can all agree we shall reschedule this week’s meeting until he is able to attend. And then, we’ll discuss Secret Lover.”
“Wait…I don’t think—”
Cap bangs the gavel on the table. “Meeting adjourned!”
Wes is up and out of the room before the words even leave Cap’s mouth.
And everyone else sits there, mostly confused, as they wrap up their drinks and conversations.
Well, everyone but me.
I’m feeling like shit just got real, and if I don’t do something soon, I’m going to find myself in deep fucking water. Mostly because Cap’s hands will be holding me there, waiting for the oxygen to run out.
I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have to keep this secret for long…right?
Lena
Petit Boucherie is an ador
able French bistro that’s nestled within a quiet street in the West Village and looks like it was plucked straight from Paris itself. With candle-lit tables surrounded by red-leather chairs and wood panels highlighting the high walls, the restaurant encompasses love and romance and everything a rehearsal dinner should be.
And tonight, we celebrate Milo and Maybe.
Less than twenty-fours before they tie the knot and fresh from their wedding rehearsal at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the bride and groom are locked hand in hand as they practically float around the room, talking to their nearest and dearest.
“Aw, they look so happy,” my future sister-in-law Ruby says with a sweet little sigh, and Cap wraps one big arm around her shoulders and tucks her into his side.
“You know, Rube, that could be us really fucking soon, but…”
She rolls her eyes and slaps his chest. “We’re not moving up the wedding, you idiot.”
He groans and I laugh.
“Poor, Cap. Always a bridesmaid and never a bride.”
Ruby giggles.
“Funny ha-ha,” Cap retorts. “I swear, every damn time you girls get together, you form an alliance and spend most of the night chuckling it up at my expense.”
“We only do it because we love you, baby,” Ruby says and stands on her tippy-toes to press a playful kiss to his cheek.
“Sure you do.”
“And because you’re so much fun to screw with,” I add, and Cap flips me the bird.
“I’ll remember that, sis,” he says it like it’s some kind of threat.
“Good,” I respond with a sugary-sweet smile. “Please remember that so the next time Ruby and I join our alliance, you’ll understand we can’t help ourselves.”