Chapter 34
. . .
“We’re all set, Mr. Westin. Mr. Coldwell is handling reception, Ms. Wiley is managing catering, and Mx. Russo has security locked down.”
Evan nodded to the man who’d come to a skidding halt at his side with the evening’s final preparation updates. This wasn’t his first rodeo, but it was his first time being solely responsible for its outcome, and he was feeling the pressure.
“Stop worrying. You’ve done everything right, and you look very handsome,” a husky voice complimented. The striking older woman it belonged to joined him at the balcony railing.
“The last time I wore this tux, my life was crumbling around my ears.”
She moved in front of him and straightened his tie and jacket lapels, brushing her delicate hands across his shoulders and down his chest to remove lint that may or may not have existed.
“Think of this as a cleansing, then. Would be a terrible shame to let this stunning outfit rot because of a terrible memory.”
It was more than one memory. More a landslide, but she knew that already.
He had her to thank for the peace of mind he’d finally found.
She’d helped him pick up the pieces and put them together in an order that brought an end to his years of self-loathing and doubt.
With her, he’d found a sustainable trajectory and an end goal that was worthy of his dedication, instead of feeding into his bitterness.
“Thank you for being here.”
She smiled, running her hand down his back to settle at his waist. Her fingers wrapped around his hip and pulled him tight against her side as she let her head rest against his arm.
“As though I’d want to be anywhere else.
I’ve been as excited about tonight as you have.
This is a big moment for you and the foundation. ”
She meant it to be encouraging, but a heaviness settled into his chest at the thought of what tonight meant for both of them. That included what it would mean if he failed.
“You’re worrying again.”
“If you keep reading my mind, you’re going to learn some things you might prefer not to know, madam.”
Her laugh was as light and silky as the dress clinging to her slender body. “If you think you can shock me, you’re in for a surprise, my darling. Though I welcome you to try.”
“I learned the hard way not to play that game with you. I’m already struggling to recover.”
“If you’d like to try hypnotism at your next appointment, let me know and I’ll pass the info along to Nala.”
“So they can make me squawk like a chicken whenever someone says profit margin? I will pass, thank you.”
Olivia’s laughter echoed through the quiet banquet hall. The doors would open shortly, bringing the usual chaos of banter and bluster that accompanied all gatherings of people whose self-importance outweighed their etiquette.
“Nala would never do such a thing. Were you my patient, however…”
With a pat on his shoulder, she slunk back toward the stairs, intent upon being there to greet Isabella when she arrived. Isabella and her plus one.
Evan swallowed what felt like an avocado pit in his throat. He knew who her date would be. Olivia had offered to ensure it, but he’d declined her influence. He wanted it to be as organic as possible, if only to keep the heat off the lovely women who’d kept him sane over the last eight months.
Leaving Stout Rock had fully untied the few threads still holding him together. He’d stood outside the porch door for damn near twenty minutes trying to convince himself to go in and… he wasn’t even sure. Beg, probably. Whatever it took to change his mind.
In the end, he was glad he hadn’t, because now he knew just how fucked up he really was.
No different from the cancer that had taken over his mother’s body, the unresolved trauma he’d allowed to poison every aspect of his life was eating him alive, but he was incapable of widening the lens.
His focus was stuck on the narrow path he’d been obsessed with for decades.
He’d had no business trying to become part of anyone else’s life. Not before he’d figured his own shit out. That was still a work in progress, and Olivia would remind him it would always be that way, but his patience was at its end. He wanted Heath back in his life, in whatever form he could get.
He ran his fingers through his hair, then cursed when he remembered Olivia had already scolded him for messing it up. She’d accused him of attempting to appear rakish. In his mind, he’d do whatever it took to bring in the money. If donors wanted a striptease, he would happily comply.
The trust he’d founded in his mother’s name had worked tirelessly behind the scenes at hospitals and cancer wards around the country for a decade, but as a small, silent partner.
His epiphany had included realizing he had the ability to do so much more with it, if he’d only cut the shit and direct his obsession toward something besides petty revenge.
Tonight was the crowning moment of eight months’ work. All the hobnobbing and shmoozing and pushing himself into the circles he’d always avoided because he didn’t want his father to think he was using the Westin name, was about to pay off.
Turned out, he’d worried for nothing. In reminding him that not all members of the posh social classes were tyrants and harbingers of hell—most, but not all—Liv and Izzy had given him the courage to reach out to some of the people he remembered had been kind to him, despite his associations.
Through them, he’d gained a network of entrepreneurs, self-made philanthropes, and the children of old money who weren’t interested in tripling or quadrupling their assets every quarter.
Instead, they wanted their good fortune in the birth lottery to go toward making things better for everyone, not just themselves.
It was a startling discovery, finding these people hiding amidst the groups he’d previously written off. Startling and fortuitous, because he’d caught them right at the beginning of the summer doldrums and the end of the second fiscal quarter.
“Well, aren’t you a stunning couple?”
Olivia wasn’t exactly a wallflower, but he knew she’d raised her voice deliberately to get his attention, and she had it.
Or rather, he did.
Heath looked… Jesus, he looked amazing. Just seeing him again at all was enough to take him out at the knees, but in black tie?
“Spare no expense, but don’t make him uncomfortable,” had been his instructions, and they’d knocked it out of the park with a three-piece from Charles Tyrwhitt, a London shop known for classic quality.
The fit on Heath was perfect, and the midnight navy looked made for him.
So dark you’d think it was black. Evan only knew it wasn’t because they’d shown him pictures, and he’d requested something that would complement Heath’s eyes.
He could only hope to get them to that shade before the evening was out.
He could do this. Everyone attending from the foundation had their assignments.
His entire purpose was to be a figurehead working the floor, so that’s what he would do.
He would walk down there and greet his guests.
Simple and uncomplicated. So there was absolutely no reason to be breathing like a fully grown pachyderm was lying on his ribs.
Except he was, because this was possibly the most nervous he’d ever been.
Heath hadn’t reached out since they’d parted. Not even a third-party check-in with Liv or Izzy, or so they’d assured him.
Had he been waiting for Evan to break the silence? He’d warred with himself over whether to, but he was the one who’d fucked up, so wouldn’t that mean it was up to Heath to decide if he could forgive him? Or was he supposed to ask for forgiveness first?
Shit, he still wasn’t sure.
What if he went down there and Heath turned and walked away? Or threw a drink in his face?
What if he was alone in missing the way they’d fit together, and Heath just treated him like anyone else? Like no one special at all.
“If you’re waiting for a cue, I can ask the string quartet to play you in.”
He shook his head and laughed. An unfairly gorgeous Isabella stood at the top of the stairs, draped in a shimmery cream slip dress that couldn’t possibly be legal, especially in Puritan Massachusetts.
It emphasized her curves, setting off the deep chocolate of her hair and eyes.
She would be the cause of several domestic squabbles that evening, he was certain.
“I’m… having some trouble.”
She looked him over, eyebrow raised, lips pursed, like she’d spent a lot of time in Heath’s presence during the months since they’d parted at the island. “I can’t find anything wrong with you.”
“Thanks, but unfortunately it’s internal.”
“What do you need? Tums? GasX? Pepto?”
He cursed her under his breath. “A friend who won’t taunt me when I’m panicking?”
“I am fresh out of those, I fear.”
Evan turned to the crowd, his attention locked on the man who consumed his thoughts. Olivia was introducing him to various people as they mingled their way toward the bar, and though Evan could read his discomfort, the way he carried himself was outwardly impeccable.
Was that how he’d been at parties with the other men who’d paraded him around? Swallowing his distaste while hoping the guy would be worth it?
He pushed the thought away, not wanting to be lumped in with anyone from before. Not wanting to think about there having been a before at all. Heath wasn’t here because Evan wanted to show him off like some big game trophy. He was there because Evan wanted him—period.
Like you did with Lucy, rolled through his mind, and he studied his shoes while waiting for the anxious shame to process.
Yes, Lucy had been a means to an end, but she’d viewed him the same way. They’d entered the relationship knowing it wasn’t destined to be some epic love story, and he’d been fine with that. He wasn’t fine with it anymore.
Anxiety mixed with aching need, winding around his throat and squeezing until he choked. Now he wanted the story, and he wanted it with Heath.
“He looks amazing.”
Isabella’s face softened, and she joined him in peering over the railing. “Yes, he does. It was a goddamn battle getting him to agree to it all, but between myself and his friend Andres, we guilted him into it.”
“You guilted him out of his original guilt?”
She laughed. “Essentially, yes. I told him Liv was so excited to see him and had especially requested we treat him like a king, and that it would devastate her to learn he hadn’t allowed us to pamper him appropriately.”
“He fell for that?”
“Of course not, but it gave him enough of an excuse to give in and enjoy himself. I assure you, that man enjoys some pampering. You just have to break through his low self-esteem first.”
That was a task Evan would take on happily, if Heath allowed him to.
“So, he doesn’t know I’m here?”
“As far as I’m aware, he knows nothing. Even if he did a deep dive on the foundation, he’d find squat, since you’re conveniently absent from any and all information pages.”
That was on purpose, because he didn’t want his father thinking he was benefiting from having a last name he hadn’t even wanted. He wondered if the prick even remembered who Maggie Flanagan was.
“Heath? Good lord, what are you doing here?”
Heath and Olivia had disappeared beneath the balcony overhang, but Evan didn’t need his eyes to know who was speaking to them.
“This was supposed to be invitation only,” he muttered, and Isabella gave him a look of curious confusion.
He’d let the admins handle the invite list, knowing they had a better idea of who would be most sympathetic to the cause. He’d assumed that would rule out anyone affiliated with his family, but apparently he was still capable of being surprised.
“Christian,” Heath’s tone was scathing. “I should have known.”
“It’s so good to see you!”
Heath’s audible scoff made Evan smile. He knew it well.
“Is it? You’ve had plenty of opportunities to see me before this, but somehow we keep missing each other. Like eight or so months ago, when we were supposed to vacation together, but you decided to elope instead.”
“Right. About that. I can explain.”
“Well, I can’t wait to hear it.”
Isabella listened to the exchange happening below them with obvious interest. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing you know who Heath is talking to. Wait, is that—?”
“The guy he was supposed to be on the island with? Yes, apparently.”
“Well, that’s awkward.”
“Oh, it gets worse.”
She looked at him with pinched brows. “Worse?”
He laughed, his thoughts walking a fine line between appreciating the irony and having a full-on breakdown. When would he learn not to celebrate when things were going well? Every time he did, the universe threw a wrench right at his head.
“That is Chris Westin, my older brother, and the guy Heath has apparently been in love with for years.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I wish I wasn’t, but this is exactly the sort of fucked-up luck I’ve had my entire life, so… yeah, it tracks.”
Of all the rich pricks in the world, Heath had fallen for not just his brother, but the brother.
Chris was the golden egg, the one in charge now that their dear father had semi-retired.
That he might also be gay was news to Evan, but it wasn’t like they got together on the regular to chat and catch up.
He limited his personal knowledge of family affairs to business, and even then, his attention span was short.
Which was why Rich had gotten the better of him in the islands.
“Are you okay?”
He realized his hands were in his hair and he’d mussed it beyond fixing. “Yup. I’m great.”
She snorted and tried to fix it anyway. “What are you going to do?”
“Right now, I’m vacillating between hysteria and making popcorn. My gut says I should do everyone a favor and let Heath strangle him.”
She hid a smile behind her hand as she looked back at the escalating scene below. “I think we should intervene, but quietly. You don’t want a scene on your inaugural evening.”
Right, he knew that. He wasn’t sure how to pull it off without one, because every ear in the room was already trained on the conversation, but he’d figure it out.
One thing was certain—no way in fucking hell he was letting his brother con Heath into falling back in love with him.