Coming Swoon (Brunch Bros #4)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

“Peter? What are you doing here?” Graham asked when he opened his front door. Concern creased his forehead, and he stepped out of the doorway to let Peter in.

Peter didn’t feel entirely attached to his body. He floated through the door, his brain humming with white noise. He was vaguely aware that he’d walked from Sybil’s house to Graham’s house, but he had no idea how to retrace his steps. And he didn’t exactly remember ringing the doorbell, but he must have because Graham had answered it.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he answered.

“Why?” It was an abrupt question, but Graham recovered quickly. “I mean, don’t you have rehearsals or work? I thought you were always super busy on set.”

“I just had random stuff today.” Peter looked at his feet. Should he take off his shoes? Was he staying? “I got done and decided to go for a run.”

“Where’s your reflective gear? You’re going to get hit by a car.”

It wasn’t menacing when Graham said it. It had been menacing when Connor said it. But why? He and Sybil weren’t together. Peter had asked. A lot. In soft, subtle ways he’d made sure that there wasn’t anything going on between the two. But maybe something had changed in the last year and…

His stomach pitched and twisted, and nausea rolled through him like a wave.

Sybil would have said something if she was seeing Connor. It would have been blunt so he couldn’t misinterpret it, willfully or otherwise. Plenty of people thought Sybil was mean, but she wasn’t cruel. She wouldn’t have strung him along, allowing him to have a glimmer of hope, for a year if her relationship status had changed.

Graham put a hand on his shoulder, and Peter nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” he admitted. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

The frown returned. “Is something wrong with your room? Is it a problem with the hotel?”

Peter put a shallow smile on his face. “No, the room is great. The bed is fantastic. I’m just…” He wiggled his fingers near his temple because the words weren’t coming to him. “In my head, I guess.”

“Do you want a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please.”

Peter followed Graham to the kitchen, where his best friend presented him with a bottle of red and a bottle of white to choose from. He picked the red because it felt more melancholy.

“Where’s Eloise?” he asked, opening the fridge to look for a snack.

Graham twisted the corkscrew into the bottle. “Tree lighting committee meeting.”

“Like a Christmas tree?” Peter located a cheese stick. Wine and cheese went together, didn’t they ?

“Yes, the town Christmas tree. It’s a big deal and she’s thrilled to have been asked to join the committee, so if she brings it up, please feel free to ask her a million questions.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Does it?” Graham shook his head, utterly bewildered. He poured two glasses of wine and picked his up. “I don’t think you could pay me to be in that room.”

Peter unwrapped his pilfered cheese stick. “But without the people in that room, a beautiful community tradition dies. Community is such an important thing, but it’s also so fragile. You’re so lucky to live in a place where people still care. Apathy is everywhere.”

Graham grunted into his wine glass. “Well, now I feel guilty for not being more excited.”

“After I die, I’m going to submit my résumé to be a Ghost of Christmas Past. Or Christmas Present. Don’t think I could hack the future bit.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re an excellent warning.”

That made Peter smile. “What else is new?”

“Well.” Graham took another large sip of his wine. “We’re trying to have a baby.”

That was exactly the news he needed to hear. Joy and hope warmed him from the inside out, like his veins were filled with sunshine.

“That’s amazing!” He threw his hands into the air and his cheese stick flew out of his hand and hit the ceiling. “Oops. Sorry. You’re going to be a dad! Which means I get to be an uncle. That’s not too presumptuous, is it? Because I don’t have any siblings so you’re kind of the closest thing to a brother that I have and?—”

“Don’t get too excited,” Graham warned. “It’s taking a lot longer than we planned on. If we haven’t gotten pregnant by Christmas, we’re going to talk to a fertility specialist again.”

“Again?” Peter frowned. “You already talked to one?”

Graham sighed. “Yeah. We did a few months ago. They ran tests, and nothing is wrong. Did you know you only have a twenty-five percent chance of getting pregnant each month? And then we watched a video and holy shit, how does anyone get pregnant?”

“So what are you supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Relax. Have fun with it. Track Eloise’s cycles and temperature.”

“Ah yes. Relaxing and having fun. Two things you two are famous for doing.” Peter sipped his wine. It was smooth and had a buttery finish. “Wait, is that why you’re still fucking in your hotel office?”

A pink blush rose on Graham’s cheeks, but he seemed more smug than embarrassed. “Yeah. We’re trying to keep it interesting. Baby-making sex can get a little…” He searched for the word. “I don’t want to say monotonous, but the pressure takes some of the fun out of it.”

“Is there a spreadsheet?”

“Of course there’s a spreadsheet.”

Peter chuckled and threw away his projectile cheese stick. “I only have one request for my little niece or nephew. I don’t want to be called Uncle Pete or PeePee.”

“Why not, PeePee?”

“Oh, shut up.” Peter rolled his eyes and took another deep drink of his wine. “So, I stopped by Sybil’s house earlier to talk to her about doing a coffee cart for the movie, and Connor was there. Did they start dating?”

Graham’s laugh filled the room.

“So that’s a no?”

“Unless you caught them in the act of doing something obviously couple-y, no, they’re not dating. Why? What was going on? ”

“He was helping her put up her Halloween decorations.”

“The scandal . And in broad daylight too?” Graham tsk ed several times like a disapproving Southern grandmother. “Any particular reason you wanted to know?”

Peter shrugged, adopting an air of nonchalance. “I was curious. You know me, nosey as can be.” He paused, then added, “He did ask to sleep over at her house while we’re using his house for filming.”

“Are you protecting Sybil’s virtue now?” Graham added more wine to his glass.

“Sybil doesn’t need anyone’s protection, but it is one of the oldest romantic plots in the book. Boy meets girl, boy and girl become friends, years later boy and girl become lovers.”

Graham shuddered. “I hate that word. Lovers.”

“But what if you’ve missed this love story brewing right under your nose?”

“I will have Eloise do some snooping if you’re this invested,” Graham promised. “Have you had dinner yet? We could order a pizza.”

“Pizza sounds great.”

Peter nursed his glass of wine and hoped the alcohol would slow down his brain. Visions of Connor and Sybil doing couple things swirled in his head, and it was making him motion sick.