Chapter 31 #2
“And where would you be?” he asks, far too sharp.
“Promise me, and I promise to try not to be a jealous ass.”
His eyes tighten. “I promise, and you aren’t a jealous ass?”
“I said try,” I grumble, and he chuckles as he toasts me and throws his drink back.
“And I’ll try not to be a jealous ass too.”
The waiter arrives, and I go to order for Mackie, knowing his favorites, but I glance at Conan.
“Why don’t you order? Mackie loves the burgers here, but he hates pickles and loves their cheesy fries, even if he says he doesn’t want them.
He will never order it himself, but the pink soda mix is his favorite. ”
Conan watches me with confusion before he smiles. “Thank you.”
I shrug. “You should know.” I don’t finish that sentence, but he should know for when I’m gone. Someone should remember Mackie’s favorites and order them for him when I can’t be here to do it.
I watch Conan order and nod. He finishes just as Mackie comes back. His eyes are a little red, but he doesn’t look upset as he sits. “I know this is hard, and I don’t expect you to get along all the time, but I’d like to get through this without someone dying or getting upset, okay?” he rushes out.
“We already came to an agreement, baby, so stop stressing.” I smile as I take his hand and place a soft kiss on it. “Okay?”
“You did?” He swings his hopeful eyes between us, and that tells me we’ve done the right thing.
“We did.” Conan nods. “No murder, at least not today.”
Mackie slumps, his relief palpable, and that damn smile tilts his lips, showcasing his dimples. Conan and I share the same lost, defeated look. I can’t help but laugh since we both have the same reaction, and he joins in.
“What?” Mackie asks, looking confused. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I reply as I kiss his hand again. “You’re just so cute.”
“Shut up,” he grumbles just as his pink soda arrives, and his eyes widen. “My favorite!”
I give Conan an I told you so look, and he rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue.
He leans in and tastes it when Mackie offers him a sip.
As I lean back in my seat and watch them, some of my jealousy dissipates.
Seeing it and imagining it are different.
Mackie looks so happy and comfortable that no matter how jealous and angry I want to be, I can’t.
He’s happy, and I want the person I love to be happy. It’s that simple.
It seems the more I drink, the more Conan does, like we are in a silent battle. Or maybe, like me, he’s fighting off the need to pounce on Mackie, who is just too fucking cute as he eats, completely oblivious of the effect he has on us.
Does he even know he has us both wrapped around his little finger?
Doubtful.
“The burger is so good today.” He moans, and the sound goes right to my dick.
It sounds like the noise he makes when I’m deep inside him, and I have to shift to relieve some of the pressure on my rock-hard cock.
“Can I try your taco?” he asks, and I shove my plate toward him.
He can have it all if he keeps looking at me like that. I don’t need to eat. It’s fine.
He takes a bite and moans as he sits back. “Oh, that is so good,” he murmurs. I swipe my thumb across his mouth and lick away the sauce as his eyes blow, desire flaming to life. Good, he should be suffering as much as I am.
“Stop making those noises, baby,” I warn as I grab his hand and press it against my cock. His eyes widen, and he yanks his hand back, his gaze swinging around before landing on Conan.
“I second him,” he says as he tips his drink back. “Do you know how hard it is to sit here and eat and pretend to be civilized while I’m as hard as a rock?”
“Stop it!” Mackie exclaims, covering his flaming cheeks.
“So fucking cute,” I grumble as I pull his hands away and kiss his cheek. “Have you always been this fucking cute?”
“Yes,” he mutters before throwing me a sassy look. “You were just too stubborn to notice.”
Grabbing my drink, I toss it back. “Eat your food,” I order.
He sticks his tongue out at me then smiles gratefully as Conan offers him some of his chicken.
He picks between our plates, and we let him grab all the best bits first before we even start eating.
He continues to make those noises, and I know he’s doing it on purpose, that fucking brat.
I scramble to focus on anything else before I toss him onto the table and taste that fucking burger on his body instead of his plate.
“So, what? Do we get a fucking calendar? I have Monday to Friday and you have the weekends?” I joke.
“A shared calendar might not be a bad idea,” Conan replies, ever the practical one.
“That way we can put in when we are together and see if the other is busy. Obviously, we can tweak it if need be, like you’re having a bad day and want to spend time together.
It’s going to take some getting used to—”
“I was joking,” I grumble.
“It’s a good idea.” Conan shrugs. “I’ll download an app and invite you both.”
“Delightful,” I joke and nod my thanks as he shoves another drink at me. I’m starting to feel a little relaxed, which I guess is good, but I need to remember not to get too drunk.
It’s my job to look after Mackie.