Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
MARCUS
DECEMBER
Ienter the restaurant, smoothing out my suit even though it’s not even remotely wrinkled. The hostess looks up as I approach, a saccharine smile on her face.
“I have a reservation under Conner,” I tell her, trying to fight the nerves in my stomach. Everything about this stupid date feels wrong.
The hostess leads me to a table where Sabrina is already browsing a menu. She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in a form-fitting black dress, her black curls barely tickling the bronze skin of her shoulders. I give her a tight smile, hoping it doesn’t look too fake.
She eyes me as I sit. “Before we talk, let’s order. I like to make sure there’s food coming so I have something to look forward to.”
Should I be offended?
“Uh, sure, okay.” I pick up the menu, and after a few minutes, a waiter comes by and takes our food and drink orders. “So—”
“I want to be very transparent, Marcus. I’m not interested in any sort of outdated, misogynistic, arranged-marriage bullshit.
” Self-righteous anger flushes her cheeks, and if I weren’t fully obsessed with someone else, her tirade might actually turn me on.
“I only agreed to all these ridiculous shenanigans to get my dad off my back.” I smirk, and she stops, eyeing me suspiciously. “What?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
She shakes her head. “You have something to say. Spit it out, Roy Kent.”
“Roy Kent?”
“From Ted Lasso,” she clarifies.
“Yeah, I know who he is. That’s a new one for me, but I’ll take it.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
I lean back in my chair just as our wine arrives. “Let’s just say we seem to have similar motives.” I pour some wine for her and then move on to my glass before taking a sip.
“You’re trying to convince your father that you’re straight so that you can become the CEO of your family business but also marry your lesbian lover?”
I almost spit my wine across the table. “What?”
Sabrina giggles, and it’s the first time she’s come off as somewhat friendly.
I clear my throat. “Okay, the part about our fathers is the same, though we may have different reasons for doing it.”
“Yeah, you didn’t strike me as a lesbian.”
I grin because this woman is growing on me. “Tell me about your girlfriend. Is she worth it?”
“Worth losing my inheritance? Absolutely. Laura is . . .” When she looks at me, her eyes may as well have hearts in them.
“Everything. She’s beautiful and kind and so fucking hot.
” She frowns in frustration. “But I have lofty business goals, and my father would never let me take over for him if he knew.” I cock my head, and she raises an eyebrow.
“What? You thought I was on board with all this arranged marriage nonsense?”
I clear my throat. “Well . . .”
“Spit it out, sweetheart.”
“Okay, fine. I figured you were probably on par with Regina—just another stuck-up socialite businesswoman with the personality of a wet paper bag.”
She gives me an amused look. “You nailed it. I’m good at masking.” Sabrina snorts a laugh. “But you’re not wrong about the business part. I’m destined to be the first queer female CEO in company history. It’s in my cards.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You sound like my friend Norah. She’s into that tarot card stuff.”
“She must be lovely.”
I smile. “She is lovely. She taught me to read palms.”
Sabrina sits forward. “Really? I thought that was a scam.”
I laugh. “So tarot cards are legit, but palm reading is a scam?”
She sips her wine, then puts her palm face-up on the table. “Okay, read my palm, Roy.”
“Really?”
When she gives me an enthusiastic nod, I lean forward and run my finger over the creases on her skin.
She laughs and her hand twitches. “That tickles.”
I smile at her. “This only works if you keep still.”
“Sorry.”
I study her palm, trying to remember the terms Norah taught me.
“So this is your heartline.” I drag my pointer along the line in the center of her palm.
“Yours is curved, so I believe that means you’re a very empathic person.
” She stares at me doubtfully, and I continue.
“Your palm is square and you have long fingers, which means you’re very smart.
I think.” I grin and lean back, bringing my glass to my lips.
“Impressive . . .”
I don’t hear the rest of Sabrina’s sentence because the back of my neck prickles like eyes are on me.
Familiar eyes. And when I look out the window, Jeremy is staring at me, his face a mix of shock and hurt.
Snow falls from the sky in fat flakes, stark against his jacket.
His cheeks glisten in the streetlights, and his pink lips are parted.
He turns and runs, and I can’t stop myself. I stand, almost knocking my chair over. Sabrina looks startled, and I mumble an apology as I bolt from the table.
“Jeremy!” I yell once I’m outside. I dart around people as I keep an eye on his silver hair bobbing through the crowd. “Jeremy, wait!”
I have no idea what I’m doing, but please say I didn’t fuck this up.
JEREMY
It’s barely December, but Seattle is already draped in holiday cheer.
Lights and garlands adorn windows and spiral around street lamps.
The infamous hundred-and-sixty-foot Seattle star is mounted on the old Macy’s building on Pine Street, glittering over the bustle of traffic.
Even though Macy’s closed a while ago, stepped up to keep the star lit.
And even though I love that star, I can’t help feeling like it was part of the evil conglomerate’s plan to take over the whole damn city.
Bah, humbug.
Okay, so Christmas isn’t really my favorite holiday.
I guess I’m not a holiday person—except Halloween, of course.
But for once, this season I’m cautiously optimistic because Marcus and I have been good for the couple weeks.
Really good. To the point where I feel like we’re on the cusp of something bigger.
Like maybe he could actually be my boyfriend.
Maybe.
Either way, I had a key to my apartment made for him yesterday, which seems like a big step for us. Giving him unfettered access to my personal space is both heady and scary as shit.
Someone honks, and I realize I’ve been standing at a crosswalk with one foot in the street.
I shake my head to get my head back into the present.
Today, I told Marion that I’d help her find something for Elsie.
She’s notoriously bad at giving gifts—think Joey-from-Friends-trying-to-give-his-girlfriend-a-pen-that’s-also-a-clock bad.
I cross the road and then turn up the street, where my gaze catches on a brightly lit, very overpriced restaurant.
I pause, considering that maybe Marion should try to take Elsie on a fancy date as her gift.
I step back and note the name of the Italian place, and that’s when a well-dressed man catches my eye. Well, not just any man. Marcus.
He’s wearing an expensive-looking charcoal suit, his dark beard neatly trimmed and his hair styled back away from his face. It’s jarring to see him looking more like Bruce Wayne and less like the Brawny Man. The only time I’ve seen him wear a suit was the day he had his meeting at Skynet.
But that’s not really the part that gives me pause.
He’s sitting across from a stunning woman with curly black hair in an equally expensive-looking black dress.
I glance around and then stare at him in shock and confusion.
What the fuck is this? Are they on a date?
The scene makes me sick to my stomach, but I can’t seem to move, like my feet are made of cement. I don’t understand. I can feel myself spiraling hard. My hand drops to my hip.
We haven’t been fucking around for that long, but Marcus has never seemed like the cheating type. He’s so loyal to his family.
Maybe she’s a friend?
Marcus leans over the table, tracing his finger along the woman’s palm, a mischievous smile on his face.
They look intimate. Perfect. Like they belong together.
Jealousy and hurt coil in my chest.
Whoever she is, he can sit in a fucking restaurant and hold her hand, and the world doesn’t give them a second glance.
My eyes burn with tears, and I hate it. I don’t want to cry. He doesn’t fucking deserve it.
People shuffle around me. The store down the street plays “Jingle Bells.” But all I hear is Marcus’s tender voice calling me Starlight. And all I see is Marcus touching this woman.
Something cold lands in my eye, and I blink up at the darkened sky just as snow starts to fall. I scrub a hand across my face, probably smearing my eyeliner, and text Marion that I’m feeling sick and can’t make it.
But the glutton for punishment that I am, I still can’t seem to move.
Marcus pulls back with a chuckle and reaches for his wine glass, bringing it to his lips. He freezes mid-drink, and I realize that he’s noticed me. I finally force a deep breath into my lungs and take off in the direction I came, panic fueling my red Converse.
“Jeremy!” I hear the deep tenor of his voice, and I want to stop so badly, but I just keep running. “Jeremy, wait!”
He’s going to leave you. He’ll leave you for her. She’s beautiful, and life with her would be easy. Effortless. You’re too difficult. Too queer. Too much.
I round a corner, pushing through throngs of pedestrians loitering at a bus stop.
Unfortunately for me, Marcus’s legs are much longer than mine, and he actually does cardio for fun, so I slow in defeat as his heavy footsteps echo directly behind me.
I step into a parking garage just as he grabs my elbow.
The heat of his hand is fire licking my skin.
I rip free of his grip and turn on him like a cornered animal, my teeth bared.
Marcus takes a step back, his hands raising and his eyes widening in surprise. “It’s not what it looks like—”
I burst out laughing. “You’re full of shit, Marcus Conner.”
Marcus gives me a funny look. Probably because I sound completely unhinged. “You’re obviously upset.”
“You think?” I sneer.
“Please let me explain, Jer.”
Despite the way I want to listen, being rational isn’t really on my to-do list right now. I raise my hand. “Save it, Marcus. You got what you wanted. You had your fun on the down-low with a guy.”
Marcus’s face falls. “What? No, Jer. It’s business.”
My eyes widen. “Like a prostitute?” I yell. I notice the couple walking by is staring, so I lower my voice. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not that kind of business.”
“You two looked super professional, let me tell you. How long have you been seeing her?”
He rubs his hand down his face, his fingers pressing so hard that his skin reddens. “Can you just stop and listen?”
I step back. “Now you can have your perfect little hetero life with a wife and kids and a fucking dog.”
His whole body stiffens, and he has the audacity to look hurt while my stupid heart has cracked open and is bleeding out on the sidewalk between us.
I push past him. “I knew this was too good to be true. And to think that I was going to give you a key to my apartment.”
Marcus catches my arm in a bruising grip, pulling me back in front of him. I’m crying big time, and my face is probably all gross and red and splotchy. I’m a seriously ugly crier.
When I keep my gaze down, Marcus pinches my chin between his fingers and forces me to look into his eyes, which have darkened like damp leaves in the gutter. “I don’t want a dog,” he growls. “I want a bratty boyfriend and a mouthy fucking cat.”
My lips part, and I sniff, trying to pull some snot back into my nose before he sees it. “Boyfriend?”
He swallows, his throat moving slowly, and nods.
When he exhales, his breath smells like red wine, and it just reminds me of that beautiful woman.
I can’t hide in his grip, so I squeeze my eyes closed.
“I don’t understand.” I hate the way my voice comes out small and shaky. “You’re not cheating on me?”
Marcus’s grip on my chin loosens, and he glances around. He takes my wrist and pushes me against the wall so that we’re hidden from the busy sidewalk. Then he steps into my space and threads his fingers into my hair, tipping my head back.
“Do you think I would cheat on you?”
I hesitate but finally shake my head, blinking moisture from my eyes.
His grip on my scalp tightens, the sting of pain raising goosebumps on my neck.
“I’m in this so fucking deep, Jeremy, and if I’m gonna fuck this up,” he gives me a lopsided smile, “and I probably will, it won’t be because I stuck my dick where it didn’t belong. ”
He drops his mouth to mine, the kiss hard and possessive as he invades every inch of my mouth, and I melt into him, taking it all.
The tang of alcohol on his tongue mixes with the salty bite of my own tears, and I moan involuntarily, my hands landing on Marcus’s ass.
The expensive fabric of his pants slides beneath my fingers, and my cock hardens painfully in my tight jeans.
When we pull apart, we’re panting, our breaths making a halo of white around our heads in the frigid air.
“I’m going to go finish my business dinner, and then I’m coming over, and I’m going to explain everything, and then I’m going to strip you naked, get on my knees, and show you that you’re all I fucking want. That you’re mine. Got it?”
I flush and nod.
Marcus brings his thumbs to my face, tenderly wiping tears and snot from my cheeks. Then he drops another kiss on my lips, this one slow and achingly sweet, and then he leaves, the expensive click of his footsteps echoing in the cavernous parking garage.