Chapter 10
Brian
Happy endings weren’t supposed to happen to a guy like me, a guy with more problems than advantages and who had known the bitter taste of humiliation like I had. But it was hard to remember that I was supposed to feel bad about myself when I had Samwise Meyers in my bed.
He spent the whole night on Tuesday, after I’d finally confessed everything to him.
There weren’t words for how much comfort I found in him holding me as I slept, through the entire night.
I’d never had a guy I was dating or someone I’d hooked up with stay the entire night until Sam.
It felt so good that I had the best night’s sleep I’d had in a while.
Of course, that meant we had to do the walk of shame in the morning, first when we left my bedroom just as Kendra was getting home from her night shift, and then when we walked into Common Grounds together, Sam still wearing the clothes he’d had on the night before.
“Well, that answers that question,” Diccon said with a bright smile as the two of us entered the café.
“And what question is that?” Sam asked, one hand on the small of my back and a challenging look for his brother.
Diccon was all smiles and smugness, of course. “The question of how things went last night.”
“They went very well, thank you very much,” Sam said before kissing me quickly and veering off toward the office. “I’ve got to get things started here, then I’m running home to change.”
“Aw,” Diccon cooed as I made my way behind the counter. “Don’t change. I bet Brian likes you just the way you are.”
“Shut up,” I laughed, swatting Diccon once I was behind the counter with him.
I didn’t really mind his teasing. I was still on cloud nine from the night before. Not just the sex and the closeness, but the relief of sharing the scariest part of me with someone I could see myself spending the rest of my life with.
Was it too soon to be thinking like that? Probably, but I didn’t care. Being with Sam felt right, and it was about time my life felt right.
“So it went well?” Diccon asked more seriously, once we’d settled into the morning routine of turning on all the coffee makers and getting the first pots brewing.
I nodded with a big grin. “I feel a little dumb saying this, but I don’t know why I didn’t share everything with Sam earlier.”
“You’re not dumb,” Diccon told me, still serious. “Stuff like that is big and intimidating. And for the record, I’m in awe of the way you’ve been able to navigate life and to still land on your own two feet despite having that kind of challenge.”
I deeply appreciated my friend’s vote of confidence. “It hasn’t been easy,” I said, “but I think maybe things will be easier with Sam by my side to help me out.”
“I’m sure they will,” Diccon said, then laughed. “Just don’t let Sam get too big a head about it. I know he likes being the oldest brother and the one who takes care of everyone, but he can get insufferable. And whatever you do, don’t let him think he’s won your whole games night bet thing.”
I laughed and my face heated. Mostly because I liked the idea of being taken care of a little too much. I was still sorting out that awkward impulse in my head. But when it came to games night, there was no way I was going to let Sam’s idea win out over mine.
I spent the next couple of weeks working hard to make sure open games night ended up being more profitable than Sam’s tournaments. It wasn’t easy, but it was a fun sort of challenge that gave Sam and me something to both work on together and challenge each other with as the summer bled into fall.
“Another successful night of games and fun,” I told Sam early in October, after our best-attended open games night yet. “We had a lot of newbies in tonight. How many new people did you have for your poker tournament last Thursday?”
“A lot,” Sam said with a wry grin as he helped me put board games away. “And we had a surprising turnout for the backgammon tournament two weeks ago, if you’ll remember.”
“Was that a good turnout?” I teased him, scrunching up my face. I knew full well it had been.
As it turned out, people liked the idea of a different sort of tournament each week on Thursdays.
At first, I thought there was no way it would work and that a different tournament each Thursday would mean an entirely different group of people who needed to be recruited for each different game.
But actually, people used it as a reason to learn a new game each week and to really dive into it.
There were as many return players for Sam’s games as there were for mine.
“We need a way to determine which of our games night ideas is the winner once and for all,” I told Sam as we walked back to my place after closing.
Sam had started spending as many nights at my apartment as he spent at his house, or that I spent at his house with him, since the night of our conversation.
“We need to do something like put it to a vote.”
“A vote is a great idea,” Sam said, reaching for my hand as we walked. “We’ve got enough crossover people who come to both nights that calling for a vote is a brilliant idea.” He paused, then said, “You’re full of brilliant ideas, sweetheart.”
I blushed hot under his praise. Sam was so generous with praise. It was to the point where I was pretty sure I was developing some sort of praise kink. But could you blame me? After the way so many people had looked down on me for so much of my life, I soaked up kind words like a sponge.
“You know what else we should do?” I asked as we reached my apartment.
“We should have one great big games night, on a Saturday or something, and invite everyone who’s ever attended either Tuesdays or Thursdays.
We could bill it as a games night party.
Maybe Hannah and her friend would even play a small concert for us. That’s when we should have the vote.”
“Did I say brilliant idea?” Sam smiled as I let go of his hand to fish my keys out of my pocket. “Because that is a brilliant idea.”
The brilliant idea was set in motion quickly.
It was handy that Sam was part owner of Common Grounds and could schedule whatever he wanted on short notice.
We worked hard to put together a few signs and notices to be handed out to the regulars on Tuesday and Thursday, then did the best we could to whip together a Saturday party.
Hannah was more than happy to play, and by some miracle, Diccon managed to rope Theo into singing with her.
“I’ve been dying to get Theo to sing more ever since that first open mic night,” Diccon said as he helped me set up tables and games for the night.
“He’s got a great voice,” I said, ready to give anyone and everyone compliments, I was so happy.
The games night party was so well-attended that I almost worried we were breaking some sort of fire code.
It was amazing to see so many familiar faces and to have everyone laughing and talking and getting to know each other.
That was what Common Grounds was for, after all.
The entire point of the café, whether it was beset by construction or not, was to bring people together.
I was proud of the fact that I’d found a way to contribute to the community and to help the Meyers family rise above the mess and impediment of construction to do that.
And speaking of the construction, I was surprised when none other than Kyle Jameson walked into the café dressed in jeans and a button-down just as the games were getting underway for the night. He took a few cautious steps into the heart of the café and looked around with a curious eye.
I wasn’t the only one to notice him, of course.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Gilbert muttered from where he’d been standing behind the counter, helping take orders during the first rush before people settled.
“He has as much of a right to be here as anyone else,” Sam warned him as Gilbert stepped out from behind the counter and strode purposefully toward him.
I shifted the way I stood to stand by Sam’s side as the two of us watched Gilbert walk right up to Jameson. “Are we going to need to intervene?” I asked quietly.
Sam just grunted.
“What are you doing here?” Gilbert asked Jameson, crossing his arms and standing like he would block Jameson from so much as looking around the café, let alone heading to the back to participate in any of the games.
Jameson’s benign look of curiosity turned into a challenging frown. “I thought this games night was open to the public,” he said.
“The public, yes,” Gilbert said, as if that didn’t include Jameson.
Jameson didn’t look the least bit intimidated, but there was a kind of fire in his eyes. “Then I’m here to play games,” he said, mirroring Gilbert’s stance. “You got a problem with that?”
“Yes, I’ve got a problem with that,” Gilbert snapped. “People who obstruct our business don’t have any right to enjoy the perks of that same business.”
Jameson made a show of looking around. “It doesn’t look like your business is suffering,” he said.
He had a point, and Gilbert probably knew it.
Now that the initial, messy part of constructing the new addition next door was done, the noise and dirt level had gone down.
The road was still partially blocked and the front of the café had reduced access, but I’d noticed that things had gotten slightly better.
Gilbert knew it, too, and he clearly wasn’t happy about it. “You and I need to settle this outside,” he said, then actually grabbed Jameson’s arm and marched him out of the café into the chilly night.
“What is going on there?” Diccon asked, sticking his head between where Sam and I stood close together from behind the counter.
“I don’t know,” Sam said, his mouth twitching up on one side, but it’s something we need to keep an eye on.”
I was sure he was right, but it wasn’t my drama to worry about. The only drama I wanted to worry about, if it could even be called drama at all, was how our patrons would decide who was the winner of the big games night idea competition.