Chapter 20 Angie #2
My hands continue a simple melody that works best when it’s repeated. I see her walking closer and I double-check to make sure my phone is flipped over before sliding over and giving her room to sit next to me.
“You always came in here when something was bothering you.”
I feel a smile lift my cheeks. “How hard could a ten-year-old’s life be to have things bothering them?”
“Oh, I remember quite well when you and Liam would fight over time in the bathroom.”
“Now that I’m older, I know exactly what he was doing in there,” I cringe at the thought of my brother experimenting.
My mom chuckles next to me and I veer the song into something that she can play effortlessly with me.
“How are you and your mystery boyfriend?” she asks casually as we continue to play.
“We’re really good,” I say and leave it at that.
“You’re still hiding him, huh?”
“It’s a lot more complicated than that,” I sigh.
“Well, you told me he’s not married. Does he have any kids??”
I snort. “No. Nothing like that.”
“We’re getting somewhere. What else?”
“He has a full-time job and doesn’t live with his parents, so that’s a bonus.”
“That is a bonus.” My mom takes her hands off the piano keys when the song ends and shifts her body toward me. “You should be with someone who’s not afraid to show you off to their family.”
“I know, Mom. Trust me when I say that both of us want nothing more than to tell our families. But we have some obstacles to get over, and there are a few other people that we need to tell before we come out.”
“You know we’ll like him either way.”
Yeah, until she finds out who it is I’m seeing. “I hope so,” I whisper.
I feel her burning a hole in the side of my face, but I master the act of a sullen teenager and keep my eyes on the ivory and black keys, waiting for her to give up and leave.
Seconds later, she does just that and kisses me on the cheek before heading in the direction of the living room.
The vibration of my phone with an incoming text makes me jump in the quiet room.
Snagging it from the piano lid, a smile curves my cheeks as I see a message from Brandon.
B: SOS.
B: I seem to have lost my girlfriend.
Me: Funny—I was about to send out the same message looking for my boyfriend.
B: I deserve that.
Me: You do.
B: Come over tomorrow?
Me: I get off at 5.
“Harvey, I can’t date your son. He’s old enough to be my father,” I tell him, letting him down gently.
His buddies at the table shake their heads because they’ve seen how drawn to me Harvey has become.
Both sets of my grandparents passed away when I was a baby.
So I don’t know what the dynamic should be like since I’ve never had grandparents to hang out with.
But if they’re anything like Harvey, who’s in his late seventies, then I feel like days would be spent this way.
“Nonsense,” he waves me off.
“How old is your son, Harvey?” I ask out of curiosity. He may have told me before, but Harvey tends to talk a lot, so it’s sometimes too much for me to remember.
“He’s forty-seven,” he states proudly.
I shake my head and point a finger at myself.
“I’m twenty-one. Your son is old enough to be my father.
” I tell him again. I leave my table full of retirees to head back to the bar.
Dropping the empty glass off, I make a loop around to pick up my other table’s check to close them out and finally get started on some closing work.
“You don’t have, what do the kids call it these days–daddy issues, do you?” Harvey asks when I make it back to them.
I cover my snort with a giggle. “Who teaches him these things?” I ask the table.
“No clue, sweetheart. Harvey, she’s already got a boyfriend.”
“What?” he asks, offended.
“Yeah. You didn’t see her canoodling with that gentleman a while ago?”
Canoodling? I mouth, trying to keep my laughter at bay.
“Pish posh.” He waves them off. “As the saying goes, nothing lasts forever.”
I laugh and place my hand on the seatback of their booth. “I hate to break it to you, Harvey. But this one’s not going anywhere.”
“Damn.” He pouts and finishes off the rest of his beer.
I pat him on the shoulder and address the table. “Are we all done? Or do we want another round?”
“We’re all done, Angie. We gotta get this guy back to his wife.”
With a nod, I turn on my heels to print out their receipt and drop it off, leaving them with a parting wave. When they’re gone and I’ve finished my closing work, I clock out and duck out before anyone can stop me.
As I’m walking down the street to my car, the fire truck rolls down the street with its sirens on.
When Brandon told me that Malcolm was a firefighter, I prayed that he wasn’t part of the group that regularly hangs out at Blue Pint Outpost after shift.
I’ve gotten lucky and haven’t been scheduled to work on days when they’re supposedly there, because I’ve been told he frequents my place of work.
And Brandon and I have had luck on our sides that his brother doesn’t pop in unexpectedly.
I don’t know how I’d react to seeing him.
From what Brandon says, Malcolm is a loose cannon and competitive to a fault.
I mull over it on my entire drive to his place and I’m still thinking about it when I knock on his front door.
“Hi, Angel,” he greets me with a smile.
“Hi to you, too,” I say as I step forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and greeting him with a kiss.
Brandon tightens his arms around me when I try to step away and deepens the kiss.
My bag falls from my shoulder with a thud, and I kick the door closed.
Our teeth clash and our tongues tangle as if we’ve been separated for a year and not weeks.
Brandon dips down and picks me up by the back of my thighs and walks us blindly over to his couch.
I push my hands into his hair and angle his head to deepen the kiss.
My hips begin to move, and Brandon’s heavy hands fall on my waist to stop me.
He breaks the kiss and trails his lips to my neck and exposed chest. “I don’t wanna come in my pants.”
“So take off your pants.”
I feel his teeth as he smiles into my neck and I pull back to look at him. His wild eyes and now messed-up hair from my hands make me feel like I’ve conquered the world. With a smacking kiss to his lips, I slide off his lap.
“You’re in a good mood. Did something happen?”
I swipe my thumb over his bottom lip to remove the Chapstick that smeared onto him. “Nope. Oh! Harvey tried setting me up with his son. But I had to turn him down.”
“You did, did you?”
“Yeah. He was way too old for me anyway.”
Brandon places his hand on my knee. “How old was he?”
“Forty-seven.”
He throws his head back and laughs freely. I watch with a smile as tears appear at the corner of his eyes.
“I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“I’m sorry,” he wheezes.
I leave him to gather himself when the oven beeps and take out what looks like a lasagna.
I see Brandon out of the corner of my eye with his arms crossed over his chest. Just watching me.
He does that a lot. At first, I was a little unnerved by how attentive his gaze was.
But over time, I realized he does it because he cares.
He’s one of the first people to care about me who goes beyond the familial duties.
In the short time we’ve been together, I can’t help but picture my future with him.
And with my depression, picturing the future has been something I’ve never been able to do—until now.