Graham
FORD’S FACE LIGHTS UP AS he recounts a story of giving a child a soccer ball somewhere on the other side of the planet. His tale is interesting, but watching him light up like I’ve never seen him before is the best part of it all.
“He would come up to us every time we saw him and say, ‘Thank you,’” he says, leaning back in his chair. “It was really gratifying.”
“Well, look who it is . . .”
We look up to see Barrett walk in the kitchen of the Farm, Huxley on his heels. He pulls Ford into a quick hug and then smacks me on the back. “What’s happening in here?”
“We were discussing the security company,” I say. “There’s more to do with this than there was your fucking campaign.”
“Just think,” Barrett jokes, “you would be bored out of your mind without us.”
“Or sane,” I mutter.
“Hi, Graham. Hey, Ford!” Huxley, the well-mannered kid that he is, waits his turn to talk. He dashes to Ford’s side.
Lincoln has always been Huxley’s favorite, but after spending a few days fishing with Ford while his mom and Barrett did political things in Atlanta, I hate to tell Linc that he has competition.
“Want to go see if the fish are biting?” Huxley asks.
“Hey, Hux. Ford is working with Graham today,” Barrett says, ruffling his hair.
“True,” Ford calls, shoving his chair back, “but fishing is way more fun than talking to Graham. Let’s go see what we can get into, buddy.” As they walk out, Ford leans in to Barrett and whispers just loud enough for me to hear, “Your turn to deal with him. Graham has a stick up his ass today.”
“Fuck off,” I chuckle. But he’s not all wrong.
I had to leave the office today because I couldn’t stand the proximity. Not because I wanted to be away from her. Because I wanted to be inside her. I wanted to scoop her up and listen to her laugh and hear her yoga stories and watch her face bunch up as she thinks of a response to something I’ve said.
Everything about this is impossible. I watched her pull away from the office last night after dropping her off. Her taillights dimmed as she vanished around the corner, and it took everything I had to not jump in my car and follow her.
Purely selfish. That’s what I am. There’s nothing I can give her, nothing I’m willing to give her, more than what we’ve been doing. That’s not fair to her in any way. Yet, I want to keep her in my office so I can breathe her in, feel her closeness. I want to sneak away for a few hours with her wrapped around me and just enjoy being with her. But if I do, everything will fall apart.
“What’s up, G?” Barrett sits in the chair previously occupied by Ford. He twists his head as he considers just how right Ford may have been with his interpretation of my demeanor. “You are pissed off.”
“Nah,” I say, drumming a pen against the table. “I’m fine.”
“Talk to me. What’s happening? Something with Ford?”
When I don’t respond, he snickers. “Oh, I see.”
“You don’t see shit.”
“Oh, I think I do, little brother.” We stare at each other across the table, him laughing, me glaring. “Just to be clear, I may be in Atlanta most of the time now, but I still talk. Specifically, to Linc. So I know things.”
“If Lincoln is giving you information, and you’re taking it, you aren’t nearly as smart as I give you credit for.”
“Let’s see how credible my sources are. I get one guess, all right?”
“Barrett,” I warn.
“It is . . . Mallory?”
I shrug.
“I’ve seen her. She’s hot.” I shrug again.
“Ford also chipped in that she was really smart, and believe it or not, Dad likes her.”
I shrug for a third time, but this time with a warning shot. Barrett laughs.
“Ford also said if you weren’t eyeing her—”
“Enough,” I shoot, sitting up and clasping my hands together on the table.
“I was only kidding. Ford didn’t say that last part, but I knew if I said he did, I’d get a true reaction out of you.”
“You are such a fucking politician,” I say, relieved that Ford wasn’t seriously looking at Mallory. As the relief lifts off me, I slump back again. “Barrett,” I wince. “I’m in trouble.”
He leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table, looking all smug.
“Mom will kill you for that,” Lincoln blasts, coming in the room. “Trust me. I got smacked yesterday for something pretty similar.”
We all laugh as Lincoln grabs a seat next to Barrett. As we settle down, I realize they’re both looking at me like I’m a suspect in some investigation. Suddenly, I feel very outnumbered.
“So, what are we talking about?” Lincoln asks, blowing a huge pink bubble and letting it smack against his face.
“Your happiness is annoying,” I say.
“That’s what good pussy will do for ya, G. Try it.”
“We were just talking about that,” Barrett notes, smiling smugly at me.
“So he has been tapping that,” Lincoln exclaims. “Ford said—”
“Shut up, Lincoln.”
“Graham was just about to ask me for advice,” Barrett tells our brother.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Good thing I stopped by then. I feel like this is my area of expertise,” Lincoln says. “Women are my thing. I mean, look at it. I’m the one that’s engaged and a little Landry on the way. Bring it, G.”
“I don’t need your advice.”
“So we’ll give it to you without you asking,” Barrett quips. “Does that make you feel better about it?”
I groan, putting my head on the table.
“You go first,” Lincoln tells our brother. “We’ll save the best for last.”
“Lincoln, you’re still on a thin fucking line over this wedding bullshit.”
“I can’t help it you don’t have balls,” Lincoln sighs. “When I see what I want, I go for it.”
I’m not sure what happens, but I hear a scuffle and the two of them start laughing. When I look up, they’re looking at me. “Okay, G. What are the problems with Mallory?”
They’re both looking at me, their gazes affixed on my face. There’s no way out. I’m as stuck in this situation as I am in the one with Mallory, only with this one, I see a way out. It’s going to be painful and potentially humiliating, but there is a way.
Sucking in a breath, I say, “The problem with Mallory is there isn’t one.” Neither of them respond immediately and that annoys me. “Are we done here?”
“Nope,” Lincoln says. “So, just let me get this straight, she does like you? Right? Not saying you aren’t all—”
“Knock it off, Linc,” Barrett laughs. “What’s stopping you, Graham?”
“It just won’t work.”
“I told you I have tips to fix that,” Lincoln winks. “They also make these pills . . .”
I sigh. “Look, guys, I appreciate your desire to help. I do. But I don’t need help. I just need . . . to figure it out.”
Barrett leans against the table, his watch clinking against the wood. “When you meet the right one, it’s never easy. There were a number of women I was with and it was so fucking easy,” he says. “They did what I said. They had the right last name or were on the right track to add to my persona for public office.”
“Or they wore black fishnets,” Lincoln grins.
“And that,” Barrett says, pointing at Lincoln, “is how you know they aren’t the right one.”
“True.” Lincoln takes off his hat and twists it around backwards. “What Barrett is saying is true. With Dani, it wasn’t easy. Hell, it’s still not. She tells me when I’m wrong and sets me straight. And then we had the whole baseball thing. Shit is complicated. The key is—”
“Wanting to figure it out instead of just replacing them,” Barrett says, smiling at Lincoln. “It’s when you’d rather take all these problems, all this headache, and fight for it because when you imagine another woman’s perfume on your skin or someone else’s smile looking back at you . . .”
“You can’t.” Lincoln smiles at me. “Someone told me once that maybe I couldn’t have the job and the girl. Maybe you can’t have this delusion that it ‘just won’t work’ and whatever that fucking means, which is stupid, by the way, and the girl. You’re gonna walk away with one of them, G—your dumbass excuses or Mallory Sims. You pick.”
The door opens and Ford and Huxley walk back in. I’ve never felt more relieved to see a kid in my life.
“This isn’t over,” Lincoln warns.
“Did you have fun?” Barrett asks Hux. “Yeah.”
“Are you cheating on me?” Lincoln asks, grabbing Hux by the arm and giving him a quick hug. “How are you, buddy?”
“Good. Hey, I heard you were having a baby. I was thinking. If you want to name your kid after me, I’m okay with that.”
“I’ll pass that along to the boss,” Lincoln laughs.
“All right, guys, I need to get back to the office. Ford, I’ll get that final insurance paper faxed back before the end of the week. As soon as that’s in place, I think we’re good to go.”
“Thanks.”
“Now go get some puuuu. . . . Puppies,” Lincoln chokes, looking at Hux. “Puppies. Go buy yourself a new puppy, Graham.”
We all laugh, Huxley looking confused, as I walk out of the Farm.