Chapter Thirteen #2
We shook our heads. “Although we might’ve called each other afterward to compare notes.”
“Oh God, I wish I’d been listening to that conversation.” He used his fork to cut off a piece of omelet.
“Not all that interesting. What happened later, though, was.” I eyed Hamish. “I didn’t share what happened after.”
Hamish shrugged. “I figure if it’s worth knowing, then you’ll share.”
So damn trusting. Curious, but trusting. “Donovan called me.”
Donovan pressed his fingers to his temple. “You need to remind me?”
I burst out laughing. “Dude, this is so on you.” I turned my attention back to Hamish. “He calls me in a panic because he can’t reach Cole. Now, I’m thinking the guy just—finally—won a Golden Globe. He’s home with his partners. I could sort of understand why he wasn’t answering the phone.”
“He wasn’t answering my call. Cole always answers my call.”
“That’s some friend.”
Donovan shrugged.
“So what happened?” Again, Hamish dunked a piece of waffle into his syrup.
I took a sliver of sauce on my knife and scraped it onto a corner of Hamish’s plate—before I forgot.
He grinned at me—clearly grateful.
“What happened? Donovan convinced me to go over to the Cole Hamilton’s house on the night he won a Golden Globe and was celebrating with his partners.”
Hamish’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“And what did you interrupt? I mean, if you can share. Because they must’ve been doing—” His cheeks flared red. “But with Cole still recovering…” He winced. “None of my business.”
“No. But interesting that’s where your mind went.” Donovan’s grin was positively devious. Clearly, he had zero fucks to give about having put me in that position in the first place.
“They were celebrating.”
“You can tell him the rest.” Donovan ate a bit of sourdough with peanut butter and marmalade. Seemed we were all doing a little British. Well, Portugal via Britain. Sometimes I knew way too much weird trivia.
I sighed. “I’m certain they’d be okay with me telling you. They exchanged rings—the three of them.”
Donovan swallowed. “Cole bought them. With my help. And yes, I am capable of keeping secrets.”
“Well, we certainly weren’t entitled to know.” Hamish, having finished his waffle, strawberries, and whipped cream, ran his fork through the steak sauce.
I waited with bated breath. How he feels about it doesn’t matter.
Yet somehow it did matter. Every time we found something in common, that gave me more hope.
Donovan and I had a few things in common.
Same with me and Hamish as well as him and Donovan.
But I felt less connected to a man with a PhD who perceived the world very differently than I did.
Hamish’s eyes widened. “Yes, that has quite a kick.”
“Yeah?” Donovan watched him with as much intensity as I.
“I like it.”
Donovan cut a piece of omelet, dunked it in my sauce, and held the fork out for Hamish to take.
This was wildly intimate—and yet also felt super right.
Hamish snagged the piece between his teeth without any hesitation. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and grinned. “I like it. I need to get some.”
“I have some at my house.” I grinned.
“Me too,” Donovan was quick to add. “So you’ll just have to spend more time at our homes.”
Hamish chuckled. “Subtle as a freight train.”
Even as he said the words, the diner began to shake. We turned our heads to see a freight train on the tracks.
Donovan gestured to the tracks. “The commuter train runs on them during the week.”
“Which is apropos of…” I was curious.
“Absolutely nothing. Except I had a friend who considered moving out this way because houses are cheaper.” He cut another piece of omelet—he was almost finished, Hamish was done, and I’d barely started.
I sliced another piece of heaven—in the form of steak—and took a bite. Yes, I knew about cow farts and the environment. Sometimes, though, I just wanted red meat.
“Are Cole, Caressa, and Michael going to come out as a triad?” Hamish leaned in to ask the question, even though the diner was super busy and clearly no one was paying us any mind.
Donovan shrugged. “He knows the shitstorm it’ll create. He’s also not hiding who he is. The shooting—” He gazed up at the ceiling for a moment. Finally, he met Hamish’s gaze. “It changed him. You know?”
“Like it changed you?” Hamish furrowed his brow.
A snort came from Donovan. “Like, I wasn’t going to say that. This isn’t about me. Cole has to make his own decisions—to live his life in the way that works for him. I know that means Michael and Caressa. Forever.”
“Forever’s a long time.” I ate a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
Hamish pivoted his attention to me. “It’s unfortunate your marriage didn’t last.”
I shrugged and tried to swallow.
Before I could say anything, Donovan pressed his thigh to mine again. “And if it had, we wouldn’t be sitting here. I have to say—I prefer being here to anywhere else.”
Again, Hamish’s cheeks pinkened. How does this guy survive as a therapist?
His emotions are written all over his face.
Yet even as I had the thought, I considered.
No, just blushes and embarrassment. Even when he was in distress, he didn’t show it.
And I saw humor only when he chose to share with me.
“I prefer it too.” I sighed. “Tammy and I…we weren’t meant for forever. And yeah, no regrets. The lessons I learned from being with her are things I can offer you two.”
“One day you’ll have to enlighten us as to what those lessons are.” Hamish sipped his tea and winced.
The damn thing must’ve been stone cold. My coffee was, but I wasn’t going to ask for a refill. Something told me we weren’t long for this place—which was fair. I spotted a lineup outside. Still, I had to ask, “Not today?”
He shook his head, pulled out his phone, and started tapping. If I had to guess, he was typing out a message. Likely to his boss. I didn’t figure he would do some kind of search while at the table—although that was just an instinct.
When he finished, he placed the phone face down and met my gaze. “Business.”
“Ah.” I took another bite of steak. The thing was also cold—but still fucking delicious.
His phone buzzed. After a very long moment, he flipped it over. Seconds passed before he finally met my gaze. “Can you give me a ride?”
I nodded, mouth still full of food. I tried to swallow, but again, Donovan beat me to the punch.
“Where are you going? I mean, it’s not any of our business, but we’re concerned.”
Him using the royal we warmed my heart. Sometimes I got irritated when people spoke on my behalf—this wasn’t one of those times.
Hamish swallowed. “My bosses are home.” He tapped a few times. “It’s about twelve klicks from here.”
“Distance doesn’t matter.” I managed to swallow. “We’ll take you wherever you need to go. Do you want us to come in with you?”
He shook his head, a wry smile crossing his lovely lips. “No. I have to pull up my big-boy pants and handle this myself.”
Again, Donovan extended his hand.
Again, Hamish took it—but without hesitation this time.
Donvan squeezed. “We’ll drive around the area. You text when you’re ready for a pickup. I promise we’ll be there within minutes.”
“You don’t—”
“Yeah, we do.” This time, I spoke. With a firmness that brooked no opposition.
Hamish blinked. “Okay.”
I finished my breakfast, we didn’t top up our coffees, and we were on our way fifteen minutes later.