Chapter 19
IZZY
Coming off the elevator, I see them in the restaurant. They look so fucking perfect together. Do I really have the right to step into their relationship?
Before I get too deep in my head again, Jones gives me a push toward the restaurant while he heads towards the concierge desk to check out of his room. The rest of the Tridents left on the bus about an hour ago. The coach stopped by the room to confirm with Eric that he wouldn’t be joining them.
I have almost managed to work up going into the restaurant when I hear Triton Jeffries threatening the staff.
“I don’t give a fuck what your computer says! Call his fucking room. I want to get the fuck out of this shithole city and can’t leave without him signing off on it.”
Eric turns back to look at me with a satisfied smirk on his face before he goes to rescue the poor concierge from the asshole who has plagued most of my existence.
Is it wrong for me to feel smug that the bastard was left behind by his team?
I don’t think so, but then again I know how it feels to be left out so I feel a little bad about it. Just a little bit, though.
“Isaiah?”
Damn, that’s the voice I’ve waited years to hear call my name.
My body is conflicted between running away in shame and dropping to my knees to let him do whatever the fuck he wants to me.
I turn away from the commotion at the desk to the sight of the two most amazing men I’ve ever met in my life holding hands and looking at me expectantly.
Fuck.
Running is not an option at this point.
“Hey, Mr. Kinsey,” I mumble when I sit down across from them in the booth. “Hi, Mr. Talbot.”
I keep my eyes locked on the table in front of me – the text on the menu dancing around while I try to focus enough to figure out if there’s anything weird about the food here that I need to be aware of before ordering.
Most places I go to have photos that I can figure out some things to choose from, but the hotel restaurant just has a typed out list of items.
“He’ll have a Starry for his drink and a bacon cheeseburger, mayo only on the bun, no onion or pickle at all – leave it off the plate completely – with sweet potato fries and steak sauce on the side.”
My head snaps up to look at Mr. Kinsey. How did he know what I would order?
Eric and I went over the menu in the room earlier to figure out what I might want to eat, but even we didn’t think about the sauces and toppings because the room service menu apparently didn’t list everything.
He’s going to get fucking told off for not pointing out that they have sweet potato fries.
He’s such a fucking child when it comes to anything remotely resembling a vegetable.
“I’ll put in the appetizers now and your meals when the apps come out, if that’s alright?”
Mr. Talbot nods to our server and hands over the menus.
A moment later, they return with my drink, and we should be uninterrupted for at least ten minutes.
I snatch up my drink and down almost half of it in one go thanks to my nerves.
Mr. Kinsey’s chuckle makes me jump and start coughing when the drink goes down the wrong way.
“There’s no rush, Izzy. No one is going to take away your sugar.”
My eyes start watering – from the coughing, not at all because Mr. Kinsey used to sneak us sugary snacks behind the other billets’ backs.
I unwrap my silverware to use the napkin to dap at my eyes.
I have fantasized about meeting up with Mr. Kinsey for a meal forever, but I knew it was just that: fantasy. Now, it’s real.
“Isaiah, I’m so sorry about yesterday,” Mr. Talbot breaks into the silence.
“I never should have brought you into what we were doing without talking to both of you beforehand. I made the assumption that you would be interested and disrespected both of you. While I know Chase’s sexuality, I never considered yours, Isaiah. I’m sorry.”
“I’m gay.”
“He’s not straight.”
Mr. Kinsey and I speak at the same time, and all three of us are still laughing when the server drops off some mozzarella sticks and fried cauliflower.
“Can we get some barbecue sauce and an empty condiment bowl as well?” Mr. Kinsey asks before they walk away. I smile at the memory of the guys who lived in his house being grossed out when they talked about Mr. Kinsey mixing ranch and barbecue for his fries.
“Now,” he says when the server leaves again.
“We’re never going to get anywhere if we stay locked in this spiral of self blame.
Personally, I’m tired of playing second fiddle in my life and I’m weeks away from forty.
So, I’m going to be blunt. Isaiah, are you interested in pursuing a relationship with Sam, myself, or even both of us?
There is no wrong answer, so please speak freely.
You know you can always tell me anything. ”
Both?
BOTH?!
My brain short circuits.
I’m absolutely certain that I look like the biggest dumbass on the planet with a string of cheese hanging out of my mouth, but I need to process that question before regular body function can resume. All processing power has been diverted to the WHAT THE FUCK REALITY IS THIS processors...
“I think you broke him, Chase,” Mr. Talbot says with a laugh.
No shit, Sherlock.
I hurriedly slurp the cheese into my mouth and think back on the last month of excessive showering and covert glances and careful timing planned out to catch my landlord without him seeing me. What would it be like to not have to sneak for those glimpses?
What would it be like to get more than just a glimpse?