Chapter 17
What’s going on?
Heston
“I need to get home.” I took Devyn’s hand. “Unless you have somewhere to be, come with me, please.” I didn’t want to let him out of my sight again, fearing he’d disappear.
“There’s nowhere I want to be except by your side.” He brought my hand to his cheek and brushed it against his skin before kissing it.
“There’s just one problem.”
His face crumpled. “Whatever it is, we can make it right. I promise, Hess. Heston,” he corrected himself.
A giggle slipped out, and he raised a brow. “Actually, make that two,” I said. I jerked my head toward his car where Dean was regaling everyone about the vehicle and his very good friend who owned it.
“They may want autographs and if you want a friend for life, tell Dean you’ll take him for a ride.” Dean wanted to drive the car, not be a passenger, but that wasn’t my decision to make.
“Not a problem, but does it have to be today? I kinda want to get out of here.”
We sauntered toward the car, and people swarmed toward Devyn.
“Hey everyone. I can tell you all about the car tomorrow. Be here at five in the afternoon and I’ll answer all your questions.” He dangled the keys at Dean. “And for my bestie, Dean, there’ll be a very special treat.”
Everyone cheered, and Dean blushed before racing toward Devyn and hugging him. “All my dreams came true today.” He wiped tears from his cheek.
“Follow me.” My car was in the motel parking lot and I whistled as I swaggered toward it, hoping Devyn was checking out my ass. When I drove out, he wound the window down.
“I’ll be on your ass.” He smirked.
“Not here, and not at my place, but soon.” Slick streamed out of my hole and if it weren’t for Dad, I’d have told him to drive to his place so we could fuck.
He swiveled his head toward the motel. “Maybe Dean will let us have our old room back.”
Our old room. That was so sweet. My insides were warm and melty. I placed a hand over my chest, the rhythmic beating of my heart reassuring me I was awake and not dreaming.
I left my car on the street while I directed Devyn into our apartment’s parking space. I didn’t want anything happening to the car while he was visiting. He grabbed my hand as we took the stairs two at a time.
“I’m home and I’ve brought someone I’d like you to meet,” I yelled as we walked in the door.
The walker trundled over the floor but before he appeared, Dad said, “I knew it. I knew you and Dean were more than just friends.”
Devyn drew back and mouthed, “Dean?”
“It’s a huge misunderstanding.” Much like the beginning of Devyn’s and my relationship.
“Dean, I’m Clyde. It’s lovely to meet you.”
I helped Dad sit. “Devyn, Dad. This is Devyn, not Dean.” Oh wow, so many Ds.
“Devyn not Dean. Got it.” His face registered confusion.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Devyn sat beside my dad while I poked my head in the fridge. “Sausages, mashed potato and a salad, okay?”
My dad and Devyn shared a glance and grinned. “A meal fit for a prince,” Devyn announced.
After washing the potatoes, Devyn yanked out a drawer and then another. “Where do you keep the potato peeler?”
I insisted he sit and get to know Dad, but he said he could do both.
“Do you work together? Is that how you met?” Dad asked.
I gave Devyn a look, hoping he would let me speak.
He tilted his head, and I charged on. If he mentioned the country club, Dad would know something was up, and the only person on the periphery of our lives who could afford the membership fees was Sebastian.
And that would lead to questions about why I was with him. Not a path I wanted to go down.
Not yet anyway.
I couldn’t lie forever regarding the hospital fee—right now Dad assumed I was trying to find a solution—but I would put off the conversation as long as I had to.
“We met through Dean.” A small white lie. “Dean knows everything about cars and Devyn has a pretty one.”
Devyn guffawed, and I froze, my hand gripping a fork I was about to plunge into a sausage.
“Pretty?” He swatted my butt with a dish towel. “Car buffs rarely use that word. Sleek. High powered. Sporty.”
“Well-balanced,” Dad chimed in.
“What? Dad, you never let on you knew anything about cars.”
He shrugged. “I was young once, and so was your father.”
An awkward pause followed as Devyn flashed me a what-do-I-say glance.
He was aware my parents had divorced and Father was dead, but we’d both absorbed a huge amount of information after he turned up at the motel.
My head was still reeling at me not having to marry his brother, Roy.
And Devyn, the guy I fell for in an instant, being the one Sebastian was forcing me to marry.
Emotion welled up inside me at Dad’s nostalgic expression.
He didn’t often talk about the days before I was born, though I sometimes found him flipping through old photo albums, the kind with a clear plastic film over the photos on sticky pages.
Sensing he was lost in memories while staring at the yellowing pics, some so faded they were a blur, I always tiptoed away.
“Would you like a ride in my car?” Dev whipped out his phone, showing Dad a photo.
My dad stoked the screen, a reverence he’d never displayed for the hunk of junk I drove. Not surprising though.
“Love to.” They clasped hands.
“You’ll have to fight Dean for a seat.”
I returned my attention to the sausages I was about to prick, but Devyn yelled, “Don’t.” Once again, my hand froze.
“Now what?”
“By doing that, you’ll lose the juices and the meat will be tough.”
Devyn obviously hadn’t been around sausages much—at least not the ones I bought.
“They’ll explode if I don’t.” I’d learned from experience.
“No. Good quality sausages won’t burst.”
There was another awkward silence, this one long and drawn out. I glanced at Dad, who didn’t seem bothered. Being poor was nothing to be ashamed of. Poor Devyn looked as though he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.
“I’m so sorry. That was—”
“Don’t apologize. You’re right about the sausages, but we can’t afford those.” I held the fork like a dagger and stabbed the sausages. Prick. Prick. Prick. Prick.
“What a prick!” Dad chortled, the first genuine laugh from him in months. Devyn and I joined in and he returned to potato peeling.
The three of us sitting around the table, laughing and chatting as we ate reminded me of long ago nights before the divorce when we were a family.
After Dad went to bed, I washed the dishes and Devyn wiped because we couldn’t afford a dishwasher. I’d complained so many times about having to wash dishes, but today I was glad because Devyn was at my side, occasionally brushing against me.
“Why are my father and your step-father insisting we get married when both of them are filthy rich?” Devyn put his back against the kitchen counter. “I’ll go first.”
He hinted that my father’s former company might not be as healthy as everyone assumed. That infuriated me, thinking Sebastian might have fucked up. But it didn’t seem logical, and I poo pooed that suggestion.
My hands were submerged in warm, soapy water as Devyn reeled off a list of possibilities, some feasible, others unlikely and still more that I’d categorize as conspiracy theories.
“Why don’t they just merge if that’s the outcome both of them desire?” He flung the dish towel over his shoulder, the dishes forgotten. “Most people in the twenty-first century don’t insist on marriage to consolidate their power.”
I had little knowledge of the inner workings of my late father’s business, and Devyn had hinted he was the black sheep of the family and didn’t work for his dad, unlike his half brothers.
Sebastian and Devyn’s dad had played and were continuing to play us. They’d made up the rules and hadn’t shared them. But what if we didn’t let on that we’d met and conducted research in the intervening weeks between now and the wedding?
I shared my idea with Devyn, and he agreed.
“But we can’t derail Sebastian’s agreement to pay for Dad’s operation.”
His brow furrowed. “I guarantee he’ll get his surgery.” He explained he had little cash, having been cut off by his father. “But I can sell the car.”
I didn’t point out it was in his half-brother’s name because it was a generous gesture and now I had no objection to getting married, there was no obstacle to Sebastian paying for the surgery.
Forgetting about my soapy hands, I hugged him.
“Is this the definition of love?” He tilted my chin, so we were staring at one another. “Wet hands on my butt?”
I squeezed his ass cheeks and slapped him. This was the second time we’d met; the first one at the country club didn’t count. Could I call what was in my heart love?
Yes, I could.
“I think so.” I snuggled against his chest.