Chapter Eight
Freddie
“He seems like a nice young man.” Rocco flipped the smallest steak. “I’m cooking up a veggie burger as well as the steaks and some chicken. I forgot to ask what your friend likes.”
“Uh…last I heard, he ate meat. His family farms corn.”
“Hopefully the peaches’n’cream corn on the cob we picked up will be good enough.” He grinned. “I’ve never met a corn farmer.”
“Rocco?”
His grin slipped. “What’s up? You look like I kicked your puppy.”
“Ouch. Horrible imagery.”
“Because that’s how you look.”
“I just…I didn’t ever think I’d see him again. And moving to this security gig had been a whim. Just wanting something different.”
“And you’re wondering if this is some hand of God thing.”
“Well, I’m an atheist. So more weird coincidence or the universe conspiring against me.”
He flipped the chicken. “So you’re not happy?”
“Well, I’m not miserable…” Which didn’t really answer his question.
He smiled and pinched my shoulder. “I’d nearly forgotten about Troy. He and Marco had lost touch. I’d sold the house I shared with my wife and had moved here.” He blinked. “Then one day the hospital calls. I panic, thinking it’s Marco. But no, it’s Troy. He needed me. I was there for him.”
“Which I appreciate.”
Rocco cocked his head. “You’ve said. You’re a good friend, Freddie. Taking care of him in your own way. Well, then it became my turn. He came to stay with me, and he never left. I gave him chances to go. I offered to get him set up. Whatever he needed, I’d have given it to him.”
“He loves you.”
My friend blinked. “And I love him.” He glanced over his shoulder. Apparently satisfied, he yanked something from his pocket.
“Holy shit.”
“Shush.” He glanced around again. “You think it’s too soon?”
I considered. “Nope, it’s perfect.”
“Do you think asking in front of you guys is wrong?”
“It’s perfect. Especially Marco. But Andreas and I can sneak out.”
“Don’t you dare. You’re family. And I might chicken out.”
I glanced over my shoulder as Rocco shoved the ring back into his pocket.
Andreas had his hand on Marco’s shoulder, and the three guys were laughing uproariously.
This wasn’t the first time Marco and Andreas had touched. In fact…yep, they’d moved their stools closer together. And—
Shit.
Troy opened the sliding glass door. “Hey, I’ve got the kebobs ready.” He winked. “Good thing you’re not on a date because I did extra onions.”
“Yum.” Rocco took the tray. “I love onions.”
“Good thing I do, too.” Troy nodded. More smiles from my friend to his…future husband? Well, if he said yes. And I was one-hundred-and-twenty-five percent certain he would. Otherwise yes, I’d have insisted Andreas and I leave. Instead, I was touched to be included in this happy moment.
More laughter came through the open screen door.
I shot a look back to the kitchen.
Troy placed a hand on my shoulder. “Cool the jealousy—”
“I’m not—”
“Oh, you so are.” Rocco grinned. “Marco’s harmless. And straight. And not hitting on your, uh, ex.”
I wasn’t persuaded Marco was harmless—or straight—but his dad and his best friend seemed convinced, so who was I to argue? “Definitely my ex.”
Troy accepted the plate of meat that Rocco handed him. He regarded me. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
His words trailed me as Andreas and I walked down the hill several hours later. Well, I trudged, and he practically flew.
“That was so cool.”
“Uh-huh.” Because what else could I say?
“To watch the proposal. Did you see Troy? I thought he was going to cry. And then Marco did—insisting he was so happy that his dad and his best friend were going to make the most perfect couple.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And the fact Rocco bought matching rings. So he could show the world that he was paired up as well.”
“Uh-huh.”
Finally, Andreas stopped. “Who shit in your Corn Flakes?”
“Hey, I like Corn Flakes.”
“I know you do—which is why I’m asking who took a dump in them.”
“No one. If we hustle, we can catch the next sailing.”
“They sail every half hour. It’s okay if we miss one.”
I scowled. “You need to be in bed and asleep.” I eyed the moonless night. “The forecast is for rain tomorrow. They might not shoot outside.”
“There’s a dramatic scene in the rain—”
“Yes, but that’s the one being shot up north.”
He bit his lower lip. “How is it that you know the script better than I do?”
“Because I pay attention. You would too, if you weren’t so busy flirting with everyone.”
He stopped short, forcing me to pivot to face him. “What?”
“I do not flirt with everyone. Hell, I don’t flirt with anyone. What the fuck is your problem?”
“So you didn’t get Marco’s number?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Marco wants to meet Norah. I don’t know if I can arrange that, but I can at least get him access to one of the days we’re shooting outside. I mean, the guy’s an environmental scientist who does all this amazing stuff. A day off of that is more than fair.”
“As opposed to a guy studying literature.”
He gestured with his hand, slashing it through the air. “Christ, Freddie, what are you going on about?” He blinked. “Are you jealous?”
I sputtered. “Of course not.”
“Right…you say that, but I’m not convinced.” Suddenly, he started marching.
I followed, watching my step as we headed down the hill. Life was so much simpler when he wasn’t around.
Or so you tell yourself.
On that note, we entered Waterfront Station and headed to the SeaBus waiting area.
We’d missed the ride, so we’d have to wait.
I sighed.
So this is my life now. What a clusterfuck.