24. Miguel
MIGUEL
THEN
February, Year Three
t/makonmain
QueenofKing16: Who’s the other guy in this pic?
poplovergurl: IDK but I’ve seen him with Mak before.
MakKing4life: Hard to miss when he dresses like that. LOL
Ladybug_000: Did he raid my grandpa’s closet?
QueenofKing16: Has anyone noticed he’s looking at the king a certain way?
poplovergurl: He’s definitely not looking at our princess.
Ladybug_000: There’s only one princess allowed in GK’s life. Unless he adds me.
Bile coated my throat as I read the conversation again.
Graham and Tatum had teams who monitored comments on their social media accounts, but no one paid attention to online message boards but me.
That was where all the juicy gossip happened, where people felt safe to hide behind screens and let their true opinions come out.
And it was where I doom-scrolled myself into a cesspool of anxiety.
Tatum’s rabid fans loved to analyze photos of their beloved Makenzie doing normal, everyday things.
Like the photo of our group climbing into an SUV at the airport after a recent vacation.
Maisy and I should’ve taken a separate vehicle, but Graham insisted we’d be fine riding together. I should’ve trusted my instincts.
A shadow filled the doorway. I glanced up from my phone to find Graham towering over me. Sweat dripped from his hair, and the smell of dirt hit my nostrils as he stripped off his hiking clothes.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked.
“What?” My heart pounded like I’d been caught in a worse act than sitting on the closet floor in my underwear.
“I thought you’d be dressed already. Jonathan’s party starts soon.”
The rough carpet fibers scraped my knuckles when I slid the phone under my thigh. “I got dizzy after my shower.”
“Did you forget to eat today?”
“Yeah.”
He kicked his boxer briefs to the side, and I zeroed in on the offense. When he noticed me glaring at his dirty undies, he swept them off the floor and shoved them in the hamper.
“We’ll get you some crackers or something before we leave for the restaurant.”
His mention of our public outing reminded me why I ended up huddled between a row of pants and the built-in drawers.
We’d act like nothing more than friends at the party, but our secret was becoming harder to keep.
Too many people knew about us, and our behavior would eventually raise suspicions from those who didn’t.
Graham couldn’t keep his eyes off me, and I looked at anything but him. Often, it felt like I was searching for the nearest exit in a haunted house. How we’d maintained our cover for two whole years was anyone’s guess.
I squeezed my phone tighter. “Would Jonathan be upset if I don’t go? I’m really not feeling well.”
Graham scratched his balls and disappeared into the bathroom. “He’ll understand. Do you want me to stay home with you?”
“No, you go ahead,” I called out, scrambling to my feet before leaving the dim closet. I flinched when the vanity lights assaulted my eyeballs. “Invite Tate or Maisy so you don’t have to go alone.”
“They have plans tonight. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
He twisted the faucet handle in the shower. The hissing water mimicked the anxiety slithering through me like a living organism. I wanted him to stay, but more so, I wanted him to enjoy his life and career without an anchor like me dragging him down.
With a shaky hand, I reached for the wall to steady myself. “I never want you to give up anything for me, Graham. I know people say shit like that all the time, but I mean it. Don’t make sacrifices for me or let me hold you back.”
“What’s going on?” Worry carved deep lines between his eyebrows, and I averted my gaze to the floor.
Graham’s need to fix problems was precisely why I kept my mouth shut and powered through. I didn’t want to be a problem for him. He had enough to deal with, like focusing on his career, and I’d never ask him to choose between his movies and me.
Looking up, I forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m emotional today. Probably because I haven’t eaten.”
“After my shower, I’ll fill your belly.” He stepped under the spray and grabbed the shampoo bottle.
“There’s a sex joke in there somewhere,” I teased.
“Damn, a missed opportunity. I’m slipping.”
No, I was—slipping headfirst into my fears, on the brink of ruining the best thing that had ever happened to me. I loved him so goddamn much. And a supportive partner should be willing to make small sacrifices at least, which meant my insecurities needed to take a backseat to his happiness.
“Actually, I’ll go with you. There’s better food at the restaurant,” I said.
Foamy suds covered his head when he smiled, rubbing his chest in seductive slow motion. “And afterward, if you’re feeling better, dessert’s on me.”