Chapter 13
Rowan
“So…” his dad said when the dust Milo left behind had settled. “That’s the happy tree friend.”
“What?” Rowan balked.
“Please.” Rupert rolled his eyes. “He’s a terrible liar. And I saw the reports of the incident; I remember faces really well. Plus…”
He pulled his phone from his suit pocket and opened their group chat, which Rowan had muted.
It was full of GIFs of Milo biting Rowan.
Goddammit, Raina.
“Two things can be true at the same time,” Rowan said. “He really does work for the wing place. You can check the reception sign-ins.”
Rupert looked at him strangely. “I don’t think it matters whether he delivered a bag of wings or not, do you Rowan?”
Rowan flushed and looked down. “No, I was just pointing out that he’s not a liar, that’s all.”
He didn’t know why that felt important to correct, but he was restless with the urge to get his dad to take it back, feeling defensive of Milo’s honor.
“I see.”
Did he? Would he be able to tell Rowan? Because he had no idea what was going on with him.
“There aren’t going to be any more surprises on this project, are there, son?” Rupert asked.
“No,” Rowan replied hastily, whipping his head up. “I have it all handled.”
He held still under his father’s scrutiny, having never quite managed the poker face his dad had perfected. He just hoped he was good enough to pass. Raina always said he was a terrible liar, but she knew him better than anyone so maybe…
Rupert smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m counting on you.”
Rowan managed a wan smile in return, exhaling slowly. “I know.”
“I’m proud of you.”
It felt like a knife to the gut every time he said it, even though Rowan knew he meant well.
“Thanks.”
Rowan escaped the bathroom feeling like he had run an emotional marathon.
He searched for Milo in the expensive, dimly lit space on instinct.
He didn’t know why. If he was searching for an anchor then Milo definitely wasn’t a steady weight—he was more like a kite that had had the string cut and been caught up in a gust of wind.
But as soon as he found that bright head in the crowd he felt better, more focused.
Maybe Rowan was the anchor and Milo needed to attach himself.
He settled back down at their table, which was coincidentally only one table over from Milo’s. Rowan’s seat was even facing that way, and he could see Milo over his mother’s shoulder.
He scanned the rest of the people at the table curiously and found the average age was about seventy. These people were Milo’s hoard. Other than their advanced age, Rowan had never seen a more mismatched set of people. Which fit Milo perfectly.
Except one guy, who didn’t seem to fit in at all.
He was a little older than Milo, possibly late thirties, if Rowan had to guess. He was handsome and had a winning smile and Rowan decided on the spot that he didn’t like him one bit.
He had been blocked by Rowan’s mother’s head, but he’d revealed himself when he’d leaned over to whisper into Milo’s ear, making him laugh out loud.
“Why are you scowling, my little Snugglescales?”
Rowan was ripped back to reality by that god-awful childhood nickname, and he met his mother’s earnest red eyes under her curly bangs. She had a silk headband on that matched her dress, with a pattern of white lilies across the blue fabric.
“Mother, please.”
His siblings were already snickering around the table. Even Troy was smirking.
“Has your father been pushing you too hard over this project?” she asked sympathetically.
“No, Mom, it’s fine.”
He subtly craned his neck for a better view behind her.
The man was feeding Milo a breadstick.
Why the hell was that necessary? Milo had hands! Perfectly functional hands and the ability to feed himself if he wanted a goddamn breadstick.
“Your claws are digging into the table,” Raina muttered into his ear. “Get it together.”
Rowan hastily retracted them just as Rupert rejoined them.
“Shall we order a bottle of wine?” he asked, already flagging down the waitress.
“Make it two,” Rowan grumbled.
When the server poured the wine, Rowan looked at her seriously until she filled it to the brim before handing it over, and Rowan downed half of it in one swallow before handing it back to her to refill.
“Tough day at the office, Snugglescales?” his mother asked.
Rowan watched the guy lay his arm casually over the back of Milo’s chair, and smoke blew out his nostrils. “Something like that.”
He took the wine back.
They eventually ordered food, the same server standing next to Rowan as they placed their orders. Rowan barely saw her, mumbling the name of a random dish off the menu while he tried to pointedly NOT look at what Milo was doing.
But he was imagining.
Were they canoodling? Linking arms to drink? Feeding each other bites of their main course? Playing footsie?!
“Ow!” Ruben complained.
Rowan blinked over to him. “What?”
“You just kicked me in the shin.”
Rowan was sheepish. That wasn’t the shin he was aiming for in his head. Oops.
“Be nice, boys,” their mother said. “I thought you left all this behind as children?”
“I didn’t do anything! It’s him,” Ruben exclaimed.
“You’re older than him, so set an example,” she said.
“I didn’t start it! Why am I being held accountable?”
“You don’t get held accountable for anything else, so why not start there,” Riley drawled, still looking at her phone.
“That’s enough,” Rupert said mildly before the bickering could really start.
Rowan hid under the cover of it, peeking back over the tables—
“What are you doing?” Raina asked. “Why are you acting so weird? You were supposed to be lying low tonight.”
“I am lying low. I’m not even saying anything!” he grumbled back.
“You’re smoking up the place.”
Rowan looked around and saw a considerable cloud around their table. Was that from him? He noticed the female server coming back with their food, giving him a smile as they made eye contact.
Rowan looked back at his sister. “Okay, I’ll get it together.”
The server rounded the table until she was on Rowan’s side, which was slightly odd, and used his chair to balance as she began handing out plates of food.
She left Rowan until last, leaning close to place the plate perfectly, then lingering. “Can I get you anything else?”
A tranquilizer gun for table five, maybe?
He shook his head instead of voicing that thought aloud. “This is perfectly fine, thank you.”
She gave him a bright smile, then left, her perfume lingering in the air and tickling his nose.
“Someone’s working for a tip tonight,” Raina mumbled, and Troy snorted in agreement.
“Servers always work hard for tips,” Rowan said.
“Not the kind of tip I was talking about.” Raina popped a mushroom into her mouth daintily. Troy laughed.
Rowan frowned, too distracted and worked up to deal with her nonsense. “What are you even talking about?”
“Nothing,” Troy said. “How’s your steak?”
Rowan looked down at his plate. Had he ordered steak? It had peppercorn sauce. He didn’t even like peppercorn sauce. Troy knew that too, which was why he was asking.
Rowan glared at him. “Fine.”
He forced himself through dinner. It was probably the worst meal of his life. The waitress checked on them often, asking him if they needed anything else. At a stern look from his mother, he didn’t order more wine.
When he wasn’t glancing two tables over he was straining his ears to see if he could pick anything up. Milo was loud usually, so why was he watching his manners now? It was frustrating the hell out of him.
He perked up when the younger man got out of his seat, approaching the kitchen and handing something over to them secretively.
Rowan’s head spun and he got hot all over.
Was this guy thinking of doing what Rowan thought he was doing?
Was he about to propose?
To MILO?
How had this happened? Were those two dating that seriously?
He hadn’t even known Milo had a boyfriend in the first place!
What had he been doing with Rowan all this time if he had a boyfriend?
What was that in the bathroom? Was it an open relationship?
Or maybe Milo didn’t know and they weren’t dating and this was a surprise proposal.
Whatever the reason, it was UNACCEPTABLE.
His chair legs screeched across the floor as he stood up, and his family all looked up at him.
“I need to go to the bathroom again,” he said.
He approached the kitchen just as a huge baked Alaska came out on a tray. He followed after the guy holding it, blind to anything else.
The man reached Milo’s table, and Milo and his hoard oohed and ahhed over the pristine white meringue as it was presented, just before Rowan opened his mouth and blew a blast of flame directly at it.
The whole restaurant froze, and Rowan came screeching back to his senses as he met Milo’s confused stare past the embers.
Oh shit.
The baked Alaska was charred way beyond being edible, and in the center of the thing, revealed, was a bracelet that said BFF.
Rowan was mortified.
One of the older gentlemen at the table clapped heartily. “What a flambé display! Dinner and a show! This place really is fancy, Micheal.”
The male server blinked at Rowan, his burner held uselessly in his hand. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you not to blow fire in the establishment,” he said, clearly at a loss for anything else to say.
Rowan gave an awkward laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Sorry. I’m a friend. I just wanted to… I wanted to… I’m not crazy or dangerous, I promise!” I’m going to get arrested. He’d never been more mortified in his life. “I’m so sorry.”
He ran back to his table and grabbed his things.
“Rowan!” Rupert stood up from his seat. “What the hell just happened?”
“I need to go. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” he lied.
“ROWAN!”
He ignored the call and aimed for the exit, the female server catching him on his way to the door. “Leaving so soon?”
“Uhh, yes.” He tried to sidestep her and accidentally bumped into her. He steadied her with a hand. “So sorry.”
“Rowan!!” It was Milo’s voice this time, and something in him wanted to answer, but the humiliation was too strong.
He ran out the door and to the nearest cab.
Notes:
When you torch your crush’s cake by accident because you’re jelly. Hashtag relatable.