Chapter Seventeen
Graham
This brewery we brought Elias to is supposed to be some like historic family brewhouse, or whatever the sign outside said. I honestly could not give more of a shit. The food is good, the beer is better and Elias is having a great time which is all that really matters.
Best of all, the girls aren’t here. According to Rowan they’re doing the exact same thing we are- a late in the game bachelor slash bachelorette party- except they ended up at some wine bar in Stowe.
Rowan put himself personally in charge of ordering their Uber and is keeping track of them on his phone so he can order their ride back to the cabin when they’re done.
I have to hand it to him, he really does take the whole bodyguard aesthetic to a whole other level. Especially when it comes to his wife.
“Oyé,” I smack his shoulder. “How many times are you going to look at your phone tonight, amigo?”
“I’m checking on the girls—”
“You have a smart watch. Put it away.” I wrap an arm around Elias’s shoulders. “Tonight is about celebrating our boy! To Elias’s marital imprisonment!” I hold up my glass in cheers.
Cristian snorts. “He hasn’t been free since the moment Pop dug her claws into him.”
“Fair,” I turn to Cristian with a shit eating grin, raising my glass again. “To Cristian’s permanent freedom! How does it feel to know you fucked your new step-mom?”
“Enough, Graham,” Elias laughs, wrapping an arm around his glowering son’s shoulders. “All that’s in the past and we don’t think about it anymore. Right, mijo?”
“Right…” Something in Cristian’s tone tells me he thinks about it way more often than he would prefer.
Honestly, I do feel kind of bad for the kid sometimes.
I mean, it must be a huge bummer to look at his ex-girlfriend and know he lost her to his dad of all people.
That kind of ego-death has to be peak level of difficulty to bounce back from.
It’s no wonder his face has been plastered across every commercial and sports ad for the last two years.
Ever since he won a spot on the starting lineup, he’s been raking in sponsors left and right.
Even now he wears a pair of the most expensive and gaudy sneakers I have ever seen.
A watch worth more than my car sits on his wrist, and I am pretty sure his suit is some new custom, breathable fabric that not even Elias knew about- and he’d been picking up a decent number of partnerships himself since Poppy inspired him to start writing music again.
The Island King released a new album last summer and has another one in the works for early fall. I think the asshole even has a fucking Christmas album he’s recording in secret. Because, of course, we’d give him the greatest amount of shit for it.
Although, not nearly as much shit as I’m about to give my nephew if I don’t get him laid pronto.
I have no doubt he’s pulled and done well since Poppy dumped him- for his dad- but having watched Elias and Rowan both date several models, I know the lay is just not as good.
Rowan’s exact description once was that it was like fucking a mummified corpse, and I want better for Cristian than that.
Slinging an arm around his shoulders I spot a target. Tall, red hair, shorts revealing naturally tanned legs. I point with my beer. “There, amigo. That girl has been looking over here for the last half hour,” I inform him.
He rolls his eyes. “She has not.”
She totally has, and as he’s looking she throws another subtle look our way through her sheet of strawberry blonde hair. Cristian curses under his breath, averting his gaze immediately.
“Come on, chico, what are you waiting for? Go get her—”
“She’s probably only looking because she recognizes me,” he picks up his beer. “Not because she’s interested in what will only be a one-night stand—”
“See,” I level a finger at him. “That’s where I have misguided you, and I apologize profusely—”
“Tío—”
“Being recognized is kind of the whole point to being an all-star fútbol star. You’re twenty-six years old, a starter for a major league team, and I mean, you just have the prettiest blue eyes.”
Rowan chokes on his beer trying not to laugh. Elias’ eyes narrow. “Stop flirting with my son.”
“I am trying to get your son laid! And not by me.” I grab Cristian’s shoulders, spinning him to face the girl who is still glancing over every few seconds. “This is your chance to use your powers for good, mijo! Take it!”
“Qué—”
I shove him in her direction hard enough to make him stumble, and he glares at me over his shoulder. But to save himself from further embarrassment he does go up to the girl and give her a polite smile and a handshake.
Brushing invisible dust from my hands I grin at my friends. “Just another successful day of making the world’s dicks happy.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Rowan shakes his head.
“You have to stay hard in these streets, amigo!”
“You better not be hard in this bar,” he shoots right back. “Your ass is walking back if you get kicked out again for- what was it? Public indecency?”
I open my mouth to protest but find no argument. Shaking my head, I pick up my beer. “I’m not hard, I assure you. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me—”
“I’m so good,” Rowan shakes his head. This time Elias snorts out a laugh, reaching for a jalapeno popper as they’re set down on our table.
“Your game has been pretty lame lately,” Elias admits, glancing over to see how his son is doing with the pretty girl at the bar. When he turns back to me, he raises a brow. “I could have sworn that girl was checking you out this whole time.”
She was, but I didn’t expect Elias to be that observant.
Her and I clocked each other the moment we entered the bar, but I have strategically kept my eyes focused elsewhere.
Not that it matters. I haven’t exactly been celibate the last few years, but I’ve been pretty selective.
Mostly men, mostly just quick fucks at The Cellar or at a hotel nearby.
I haven’t brought anyone back to my place in almost four years.
I certainly haven’t ended up in anyone else’s bed.
There’s a level of intimacy to sex in someone’s personal space that I’m just not quite ready for, no matter how long it’s been. So, I’ve kept it casual. Sometimes I’ll get the room, sometimes they will. It never lasts long, sometimes it hardly even starts.
Elias is right, I’m in a fucking rut. I just thought I was better at hiding it.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about my game while you’re locking yourself into one woman for life.” I take a long drink, holding up my hand to the waitress coming our way.
“I’m forty-three, rich as fuck, and perfectly content with that,” Elias confirms, shoving another jalapeno popper in his mouth with a smirk.
“Doesn’t hurt that she’s a bombshell,” I smirk.
“Best sex I ever had—”
“I verymuch wish I’d never been born,” Cristian groans as he rejoins us.
I throw my arms out wide, then toward the girl now leaving the brewery through the side doors, then back to him just sitting here with a fresh beer in hand. “Cono de la madre?!”
The kid just shrugs, actually shrugs, holding up a napkin with ten digits on it. “I got her number—”
“You should have gotten her address! You have nowhere to be tonight—”
“I’m not really that interested—”
“How?! Why?! She was hot as shit, chico—”
“Then you go fuck her!” He holds out the napkin to me. “She spent the entire time asking about the older blonde one anyway! She was looking at you, asshole. Not me.”
“Viste? Te lo dije.” Elias gives the waitress a smile as she sets down a fresh round.
Cristian glares at me as I shove the number he keeps offering me under my glass. “Why did you send me over there? You knew she was looking at you—”
“Because you're sad and pathetic—”
“OYé—”
“And the girl you gave your virginity to is about to marry your dad—”
“Can you please not?” Elias glares at me now.
"And I wanted to do something nice for you!”
They’re all staring at me now as if I just planned a strategic bank robbery in less than thirty seconds. Rowan, the master of glowering is watching me like a fucking sniper. Concerning considering I’m pretty sure he’s actually trained to be one. It makes me squirm in my seat.
“Amigo.” Oh, fuck. Not the pity party. Not from him. “It’s been two fucking years.”
“Shut up, Rowan,” I grit out. But Elias is already looking between us with wide brown eyes.
“Two years? What’s been two years? Graham, what’s going on? Is it your sister? What happened—”
“My sister is fine,” I huff. “I told you she’s fine.”
“Then…. What’s going on…?” Elias’ eyes narrow. “Why are you passing girls off to my son as if he can’t pull just fine on his own?”
“Thanks, Dad…?” Cristian grimaces, clearly done with being the center of any discussion of his sex life around his father.
Lucky for him and very unfortunate for me, Elias returns his attention my way, pulling my beer toward him as if holding it hostage for ransom. “Dale, suéltalo.”
One look at Rowan tells me he is going to be absolutely useless and not at all on my side.
Fair, he’s been carrying this particular secret around for the last two years- more out of fear of Naomi than loyalty to me, but still two entire years.
I chew at the inside of my cheek for several seconds before finally releasing the deepest exhale.
“Fine,” I look Elias in the eye when I finally admit. “I’m in love with Naomi.”
Cristian’s jaw drops. Rowan actually chokes again, as his eyes grow just as wide as his cousin’s. “QUé?!” Elias asks.
“Sí, qué?!”
“You already know!” I gesture to Rowan.
“No, no, no, I knew you were fucking her for like two years—”
“QUé?!” Elias’ shout draws several eyes our way.
“I didn’t know you loved her!” Rowan protests. “Actually… No that makes sense. You’ve been fucking gone for her since we met them.”
Elias drags his hands through his hair, leaning his elbows on the table like he is physically incapable of processing this new information. “How did I not see this…?” He smacks Rowan in the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“First of all, OW!” Rowan glares, then gestures to me. “I didn’t want to know! Clara and I walked in on them going at it in a bathroom—”
“Aye Dios mío!” Elias looks at me, horrified. “El bano?! Really, Graham?!”
“It was her idea,” I reach for my beer. “I tried to be much classier about it. Closets and shit—”
“You’re a fucking animal—”
“Because you and Poppy are any better! You fuck her in your office regularly, we all know it!”
“My office has a couch!”
Cristian’s nose wrinkles. “Por qué- You know what, no. Don’t answer that…”
Elias suddenly gets very serious, leaning forward to look me dead in my fucking eyes. “You’re in love with Naomi?”
“Sí.”
“Naomi Mychal?”
“Sí.”
“Naomi Mychal, Poppy’s best friend—”
“Sí! Cono, what about this is so hard to understand?!”
Elias throws up his hands. “I’m sorry! It’s just… Amigo, she’s always been so fucking mean to you. You two bicker constantly. We always thought you hated each other the way she treats you.”
Rowan’s nose wrinkles in time with Cristian. “Aye Dios…. You like that she’s mean to you, don’t you?”
I sigh like only a man desperately in love for four fucking years can. “Yeah, I really fucking do.”
Cristian gags.
“Okay, wait,” Elias holds up his hands. “Does she know you’re in love with her?” I shrug, bobble my head. “So, what’s going on? You slept together for how many years and…. Nothing? Why aren’t you together?”
Because I begged her to stay with me and she left anyway.
Because I offered her my help a dozen times and she kept insisting she was fine.
Because I couldn’t continue watching her fall victim to the same sickness that nearly killed me when I was exactly her age.
Different substance, same illness. I can handle a lot, I could have handled pulling her out of it.
I couldn’t handle enabling her.
The guilt was eating me alive. Every drink I mixed, every glass of wine I poured. Every time I watched her pick up a glass and had to fight the urge to rip it from her fingers—
“Wrong time, I guess…” I mutter, because I can’t tell him. I can’t tell any of them. Naomi’s issues with alcohol are for her to admit on her own. “She didn’t love me back. She left,” I remind them, neither of which is a lie. “We just didn’t see things the same way.”
The pity in my friends’ eyes makes me want to crawl under the fucking table and die like the little worm I am.
“It’s no big deal, really.” I shrug as if my heart hasn’t been in literal pieces for the last four fucking years. Picking up my beer, I take several long swallows that do not at all make me look less like a broken man.
Even Cristian watches me with a hint of pity having picked up on what Naomi and I were putting down apparently not as subtly as I thought.
“Stop it. All of you. Now.” I stand, taking my glass and Rowen’s. “I’m getting us another round and then we’re going to go back to celebrating Elias and his marriage! Sí?”
Raising his glass Cristian forces a smile. “Sí!”
Rowan nods in agreement. Only Elias continues to watch me with a hint of concern as I turn away from the high-top.
My false smile falters just a little as I lean against the bar, waiting for a bartender to be free.
I sweep a hand through my hair, regretting when I look over my shoulder and find Elias muttering to Rowan in serious hushed tones.
It’ll be fine, I tell myself. So long as Naomi doesn’t find out, everything will be totally fine.
I’m not even thinking about how Elias tells Poppy everything. And I’m certainly not thinking- as I take our next round back to the table- about how Elias’ future wife has the restraint of a fucking bull in a China shop when it comes to secrets. Or her friends.