Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Chad
“Dooms!” Robbie booms before crossing the cafe to reach me. Normally we try to catch up once a month at a bar for drinks, but he and Brandon are going away next week, so today will have to do.
Seeing his face takes me back. How has it only been two years? Our Sigma days feel like both yesterday and a hundred years ago, but Robbie never changes. I wish I could say the same.
I’m exhausted.
He hauls me into a hug as soon as we reach each other. “Still as ugly as ever.”
“Remind me who was the pickup king in college?”
“Yeah, but everyone knows college kids make bad choices.”
“I’ll be sure to let Brandon know.”
Robbie lets out a loud laugh before kicking out a chair. “He’s still as obsessed with me as the day we met.”
“So not at all, then?”
He snorts and throws up his middle finger, taking in the menu. We talk food and what we’re going to eat, and when our orders have been taken, Robbie kicks back in his chair and studies me.
“You know I was ribbing your handsome ass about being ugly before, but you really do look like shit, brother. What’s going on?”
Fuck. I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask me that. “Nothing. I’m good.”
“Lies.”
“I’m—”
“We’ve known each other for … what, six years? Seven years? We lived together. I’ve seen you passed out around the toilet bowl. I was there for that one week the whole house was hit with a stomach flu. We’ve been through some shit together, and I know you. I know you’re struggling. Bromote it out.”
I chuckle at the reminder of our bromotions nights, knowing I wouldn’t be holding all this in if we were still in college and doing those regularly.
Our coffees come, and I take a moment to drink mine.
Robbie’s still staring at me. “You know …” he starts, and I think he’s going to push for more. “I think I hate my job.”
I almost choke on my drink. “What?”
“Yeah. It’s everything I thought it would be. The work, the people, the policies … I hate it.”
“I thought you wanted to be in that kind of high-powered environment? To be at the head of change. Bringing in innovative new ideas.”
“That’s the thing. They don’t want change, and they definitely don’t want innovation.”
“Shit. Sorry.”
He shrugs. “As soon as they said no to the in-office bromotion day and my heroes simp for mental health campaign idea, I knew they weren’t my people.”
It doesn’t surprise me at all that Robbie was his most Robbie self, but politics isn’t ready for the outliers or the guys who won’t conform into a safe image for voters.
“They don’t deserve you,” I say.
“Thanks. I know. Besides, my work shirts press so tight against my throat it reminds me of Brando ramming my tonsils, and I pop wood at the worst moments.”
“Because why would it make you think of anything else?”
I don’t know what to say. I’m glad Robbie shared all that, but also kinda suspicious that Bailey has been talking to Brandon and they’ve sent Robbie to talk to me. I knew there was a reason Brandon was busy today instead of arranging a different time so he could make it too.
“I also hate my job,” I say, figuring there’s no harm in giving them what they want. “I bust my ass every day, and it’s soul sucking.”
“Good thing you have a rich boyfriend and can just quit.”
I know he’s joking, but those words make me go tense. “I’m not a freeloader.”
“Never said you were.”
“You’re implying I could be.”
Robbie’s eyebrows bristle. “You know it’s not like that.”
“Do I?”
“Of course you do. We all just want the best—”
“I knew it.” I set my coffee down with a sigh, and we’re quiet as the waiter brings around our food. “You three have been talking about me behind my back.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Don’t see how else it is.”
Robbie leans over the table, rare serious expression crossing his face. “Bailey’s worried about you. You’ve got him stressed, man, and you’re never home. How are any of us supposed to talk to you when all you ever do is work?”
“I’m just trying to get ahead—”
“You’ve had two promotions since you started there. That has to be some kind of record. Slow it down.”
I’m not at all hungry for my food, and I hate that Robbie came all the way here just to spring this conversation on me. “I know what I’m doing.”
Robbie stabs at the bacon on his plate and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m establishing myself.”
“Right.”
“How else am I supposed to become a somebody and give Bailey everything he wants?”
Sadness fills Robbie’s eyes. “You’re what he wants.”
“Until I’m a lazy leech who doesn’t pull his weight. I won’t let that happen.”
“You’re miserable.”
I huff, feeling like steam might come out of my nose. He thinks I don’t know that? Of course I’m miserable. The place is bleeding the fucking life out of me. “I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to deserve him. I’m not going to lose him over something as stupid as a job.”
Robbie rolls his eyes. “You’re already losing him.”
“W-what?”
“I love you, brother, but you’re being dumber than that time Rooster thought the bacon fat was apple juice.”
“To be fair, it was in a juice bottle.”
Robbie almost laughs. “Yeah, but he drank it twice.”
I wish I could argue in Rooster’s defense, but I’ve got nothing. “I’m not being stupid. I’m being ambitious.”
“And you’re pushing the reason for all your ambition away.”
“We’re fine.”
“He thinks you’re cheating on him.”
My jaw drops. “No way.”
“Okay, I don’t think he actually thinks that, but your man is getting insecure. Thinks there’s a reason you’re never home with him. That you always pass out before sex.”
My heart is thundering. “I’m tired.”
“Too tired for sex? Bro, come on.”
“Why is Bailey telling you all this?”
“Because he needs to tell someone.” Robbie casually swallows another chunk of bacon, like my relationship isn’t unraveling before my eyes. “Bromotions, remember? It’s not healthy to bottle shit up. And you’re never home for him to bring it up with you.”
Robbie’s right, but I can’t help feeling betrayed.
Everything I do is for Bailey. I’d underestimated how much it would impact me to have him earning such enormous piles of money while I’m bringing in a modest income that barely makes a dent in our expenses.
I want to pull my weight. I want people to look at us and know without a doubt that we belong together.
How else am I supposed to achieve that?
“I think I need to go.”
Robbie grabs my arm. “Eat your steak. I’ll shut up about it. You know I didn’t want to come here and nag you, but I love you. I hate seeing you like this. We all do.”
“I’m just working. Same as you. Same as Brando. Same as Bailey. And like he can talk—he’s married to that damn job. Constantly brings it home with him. Always talking about it—”
“But it makes him happy. That’s the difference. If you were working yourself into a hole for a job you love, none of us would give a shit.” His eyes sweep over me again. “Actually, I think you might want to talk to someone.”
“Like a shrink?”
“Exactly a shrink.”
“Don’t try to heroes simp for mental health me.”
Robbie laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that breaks through the fog and makes you think things might be okay.
Just for a second. Then it ends. “I know, I know. But I’m serious.
Just one appointment, Dooms. That’s it. Talk to them, tell them some stuff, and then let a professional work out if you need help. ”
“Did you miss the part where I’m working to earn money? That’s a fast way to throw it all away again.”
I hate the idea, mostly because, deep down, it tickles a little part of me that has been wondering the same thing for a while.
Am I depressed? I don’t think so. But I am frustrated and feel so completely worthless when it comes to Bails that there’s definitely something there I should be talking about.
Considering how gung-ho my frat brothers have always been about looking after yourself inside and out, it’s a surprise to me that I’m finding it so hard to acknowledge. To talk about.
The thing is, I’m not worried about them judging me.
I’m judging myself.
I pinch the spot between my eyes, not wanting to get emotional over this, but Robbie jumps up and rounds the table, pulling me into a hug. My brother knows exactly how to hug someone.
“Just one appointment,” he says.
“Okay.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “But can you promise me something?”
Robbie pulls back. “Anything.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I …”
Understanding clicks behind his eyes, and he squeezes my shoulder hard. “Promise.”
I’m hoping the acknowledgment will bring relief.
It doesn’t.