CHAPTER NINE

 

 

 

By the time we’d left the restaurant, I was ready for this to be over. I tried not to read too much into the way he questioned the waiter on shellfish allergy precautions taken when cooking on my behalf or the way we talked for almost two hours straight without the slightest lull in conversation.

We never mentioned Eli, and that was more than fine with me.

I really needed this to be finished. I needed Eli to either want Andrew back or to walk away for good. As much as I didn’t want it to be over, it was doing my head in. And my heart.

I had to put these foolish feelings aside and concentrate on my job.

The bar was already busy. The jazz music had the crowd buzzed. It was a great spot, and I made a mental note to come back here when Andrew was no longer in my life.

I bought us a drink and found us a tall table, though it was crowded and there wasn’t much room, so we were standing pretty close. Andrew had his back to the crowd, so I could see over his shoulder if Eli decided to show.

And of course he did. I knew he would. We’d baited him, hook, line, and sinker. I put my hand on Andrew’s waist and leaned right in to speak into his ear. “He’s here.”

Eli made his way to the bar, but he was scanning the room. It didn’t take him long to spot us. His eyes were narrowed and stormy, his jaw was set. He was clearly not very happy with me being so close to Andrew. Maybe he recognised me. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

And then foolish pride and wishful thinking made me take it one step further. I figured this was it. This was the first and last chance I’d have to do this, my one chance to know if he tasted as good as I knew he would. I stepped right in close, pinning Andrew against the table so Eli would have a side-on view. I put one hand on his chest and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t look, but he’s watching us.” I pulled back and put my fingers under his chin. “Can I kiss you?”

Andrew’s eyes went wide, his breath caught, and he nodded. So I softly pressed my lips to his, feeling the warmth of his lips. It was heady, and my stupid heart was hammering. I knew I shouldn’t want more, but my head spun, and pure desire threw caution and reason out the window. My stupid brain was nowhere to be found. I slid my hand along his jaw and tilted his face to mine, and I kissed him properly.

He was soft lips and warm breath, bourbon and everything I wanted. This kiss wasn’t for show. It wasn’t a part of my deal to make his ex jealous; this was me, kissing him because I wanted him. I had feelings for him, confused and frightening feelings that I couldn’t begin to understand.

I was kissing him. Open mouthed, eager lips and tasting tongues. And he was kissing me back. He slid one hand around my back and pulled me closer, the other around my neck. And fuck, he could kiss.

When we slowed and pulled apart, his eyes were unfocused, his lips a little flushed. He looked kiss-drunk and smug.

It was a perfect kiss. He was everything right for me. If a person was designed just for me, to be the yin to my yang, it was Andrew.

Yet, I’d just broken every personal and professional rule I’d ever set for myself. I’d failed not only myself, but Andrew too. He was paying me to provide a service, and I’d crossed the line.

“Uh, wow,” Andrew said breathily. He licked his lips. “God, you can kiss.”

“Not bad yourself,” I said, trying to joke, but the ache in my chest made it impossible to pull off. I took a breath to collect myself and be the professional he needed me to be. We’d somehow changed places, and I now had my back to the bar. “Did Eli see that?”

“Oh,” he recoiled and looked over my shoulder. “Um, he’s gone.”

My heart soared. Usually if they didn’t confront us, it meant the relationship was really over. And that shouldn’t have made me happy. That was the wrong outcome for Andrew. I was so conflicted. My head was a mess, my heart, well, I’d deal with that later. “Andrew, if he’s gone…” And I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to give him the bad news. I didn’t want to hurt him, but it would also mean my job with him was done. I wanted to ask him if what I felt was real, I wanted to ask him if he felt it too. Surely, he did. It couldn’t just be one-sided. “Let’s go, hey?”

He frowned but nodded, and I took his hand and led us through the crowded bar. We were almost to the door when someone grabbed Andrew’s arm.

Eli.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

Eli glanced at me, then back to Andrew. “Can we talk?”

And there it was. My heart squeezed, and the hope that had been there just a moment ago, was snuffed out. This was mission accomplished. Eli wanted Andrew back. Andrew got what he wanted, what he paid me for.

Andrew glanced at me, like he was unsure of what to do. I could see it in his eyes. Is this part of the plan? What do I say? How do I act? He was looking at me to take the lead. What I wanted to do was tell Eli to get his hand off Andrew and fuck off.

But I couldn’t. That’s not what Andrew had hired me to do. I forced a smile on my face, and as much as it killed me, I said, “I’ll just wait outside.”

I turned and made my way out of the bar, blood pounding in my ears, my heart hammering and my stomach turning. I just needed air. I needed to leave.

How could one night be the very best and the very worst?

I didn’t wait. I kept on walking.

I’ll just wait outside, I’d said. Code for good luck.

Oh God, I thought I was gonna puke.

A few blocks later I came up to a liquor store and went in. One bottle of Maker’s Mark later, and I headed for home. I needed to drown my sorrows, and I needed to forget. I needed to kill whatever stupid hope I’d had, to convince myself I wasn’t falling for him.

By the time I saw the neon lights of the tattoo shop, I was drunk. Really fucking drunk. Emilio sometimes worked late, and I was glad to see the lights were still on in the shop. I pushed the door open and tripped up the step, stumbling into the store. “Fuck man, ’Milio, need to fix your step.”

Emilio, who was just finishing up an ink job, stood up. He patted his client and said, “Hang on one minute,” pulled off his glove, and walked over to me. “Daniela!”

Daniela came out from the back, and I tried not to notice how she frowned when she saw me. I held up the now half-empty bottle of bourbon. “Drink?”

Emilio ignored me. Instead he spoke to Daniela. “Call Lola.” Daniela disappeared again, and I turned to face Emilio, but the floor tilted and I swayed. Emilio caught me. “What happened?” he asked.

“Andrew,” I started. “Eli…” And I had to wipe my stupid cheeks because stupid tears fell out of my stupid fucking eyes.

“Oh, man,” Emilio mumbled.

“I thought he was different,” I slurred.

“So did I,” Emilio said.

I sucked back a ragged breath and my voice cracked. “What’s wrong with me?”

He pulled me against him. “Nothing, man. Not one thing.”

Daniela came out. “She’s on her way.”

Then I felt worse than I already did. “She didn’t need to come.”

Daniela put her arm around me. “Come with me,” she said quietly and led me to one of the back cubicles. She offered me a chair, but I opted for the floor instead. I leaned back against the wall, and she kneeled in front of me and put her hand to my face. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Spencer. Not one thing.”

“Why did he…?” I shook my head. I knew the answer to that. “So fucking stupid. I knew he was in love with someone else. That’s why he came to me, to help get him back, and just so happens I’m really fucking good at my job.”

Daniela put her hand to my face. “Oh, Spencer, honey.” She looked so sad, and I couldn’t bear it. I drank more bourbon instead.

It wasn’t long after that Daniela was gone and it was Lola in front of me. She was trying to catch her breath, like she’d ran the whole way here. I thought I had a handle on my stupid emotions, and I did, until I saw the sadness on her face. “Tell me what happened,” she said.

“I kissed him,” I told her. My words were slow and slurred. “Not some ploy, not some strategy. It was me, kissing him.”

“What did he do?”

“He kissed me back. It was, God, it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.” I could still feel the warmth of his lips, the taste of his tongue…

“Then what happened?”

“I kinda panicked and said we should leave, and Eli—fucking Eli—stopped us on the way out.” I took another mouthful of bourbon. Lola took the bottle off me. I didn’t protest. I had to look away from Gabe, who was leaning against the door, looking back at me with the saddest fucking look on his face. I focused on Lola instead. “And I let him go. I fucking let him go.” I couldn’t stop the tears again. “Thought he was different.”

“Oh, hun.”

“And I’m losing my shit,” I said, wiping my stupid tears with the back of my hand. “And it hurts.”

“Because you’re falling in love with him,” Lola whispered.

Then there were other voices and Gabe walked away from the door, but my booze infused mind was stuck on what Lola said. I stared at her, but I couldn’t bear the pity in her eyes, so I looked away and stared at the wall instead. I tried to find the words to deny it but couldn’t. It was never supposed to get to this. I was never supposed to fall in love. More stupid tears came, and I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Stupid fucking tears.”

She squeezed my arm.

“You know why I do what I do?” I asked, looking at her. My words were thick with tears. “Emotional detachment. Distance and separation. And no one can tell me they don’t want me.”

And there it was.

It always came back to that.

No one can tell me they don’t want me.

“Oh, Spencer,” Lola whispered. Her eyes welled with tears. “Andrew’s not like your family.”

I shook my head and breathed in deep, trying to get a fucking grip. It didn’t work. “He didn’t want me either,” I said with a wave of fresh tears.

The room started to spin a little and it took a while for my stupid brain to realise Andrew was standing in front of me. His eyes were wide, no doubt the sight of me losing my shit on the floor was a shock to him. He’d obviously just heard what Lola said about my family. I wiped at my stupid fucking tears, just as Lola turned to see who I was looking at. She stood up and went to him, whispering something I couldn’t hear. I pulled my knees up and dug the heels of my hands into my eyes again.

When I looked up, I was expecting him to be gone. I was expecting him to have bailed, fled the ball of crazy, sitting drunk, crying on the floor. But he didn’t. He picked up the bottle of bourbon and sat his arse down next to me. Instead of telling me I was stupid, instead of telling me I was unwanted, he put the bottle to his mouth and took a swig. He hissed at the burn.

“Andrew,” I tried to say, but my voice cracked.

He slid his hand over mine and held it tight. “It’s okay.”

I shook my head. “Eli?”

“Eli’s gone.”

Oh God. “S’my fault. I fucked up. Sorry.”

He took another mouthful of bourbon and squeezed my hand. “No. You didn’t. He did. But I’m glad,” he said. “Because of him, I met you.”

My heart hammered and he was saying all the right words, and he hadn’t run a mile when he saw me, like it meant maybe I had a chance. It brought fresh tears to my eyes. “I’m a mess.”

He threaded his fingers with mine. “I can see that.”

I hung my head. Tired, drunk, and an emotional fucking wreck. “You saw through all my bullshit,” I told him. I held out our joined hands and pointed to the blackbirds on my arm. “And these. No one has ever…” I shook my head and swallowed back new tears. “This one is my dad.” I pointed to the biggest. Then to the other three in turn. “My mum, my two brothers.”

He ran his other hand over my arm, as though his touch could heal the pain there.

“They’re not really dead,” I whispered. “Well, they are to me. That’s what my father said, the last thing he said to me was that I was dead to them.”

“Oh, Spencer.”

I let the tears fall. I didn’t even try to stop them. “I was sixteen,” I choked out. “And gay.”

He let go of my hand so he could put his arm around me, and he pulled me against him. That warm, safe place I hadn’t felt in years. “N’then there was you,” I mumbled.

He kissed the top of my head. “And then there was you.”