“YOU COULD AT LEAST TRY to smile.”
I glance over at Valerie, my grandfather’s former secretary. She’s wearing a navy cocktail dress and she’s not smiling any more than I am.
“Look in the mirror,” I tell her dryly. “We’re a couple of old grumps standing on the sideline.”
We’re at the Stick It To Cancer charity event and while it’s a great cause and I should be mingling and thanking donors, I’m gripping a glass of scotch. The various players, coaches, and team sponsors are laughing and chatting.
While I’m over here, missing Danielle and wishing I was at home with her.
I’m comfortable in this Armani tux. But I suck at faking friendly.
“Stanford loved these events,” she muses. “You’d never find him propping up a wall.”
As if I need the reminder. “I know. He was great at this. It makes his absence even harder.”
My grandfather had been a classic networker. He could work a room like nobody’s business, remembering the smallest details about every person at the event all while making everyone feel at ease and included.
My father had been good at this as well. From what I’ve been told, his style was a little different. Less jovial, more dedicated seriousness, an emphasis on the charities and the work that was being done.
Me? I get the job done.
But I’m better behind a desk or at the computer, managing logistics and money, not people.
“Rumor has it you took a friend with you to visit him this week,” Valerie says, sipping a glass of red wine. “A female friend.”
I frown at her. “Are you stalking me? That’s creepy, Val.”
“Get over yourself. The nursing facility tells me what visitors Stanford has, just like they do you.”
“I didn’t actually think you were stalking me, but your defensiveness suggests maybe I should consider it,” I tease her.
She rolls her eyes. “Who is the girl?”
“None of your business. She’s a friend.” Friend, girlfriend, love of my life…
Not that I’ve told Danielle how I feel because I haven’t. But having her meet my grandfather was a big step for me. I’d had sweaty palms and a racing heart and I wasn’t even sure why. She had been sweet and supportive and had held me in her arms afterward when she saw how hard it was for me to witness him slip into confusion right before our eyes.
Danielle is the comfort I didn’t even know I needed. She’s there, every day, reliably, with that soft smile, sometimes sassy comebacks, and an open and generous heart.
Two other guys are always there too. Guys who would be just as good at this whole schmoozing thing as my grandfather and father. Guys my grandfather would like. Guys I like.
McNeill and Hughes.
They started out as my competition and somewhere along the way they morphed into something like fraternity brothers. I like their company. Crew’s barbs, Michael’s reminders to cool my heels, are starting to feel very familiar. Enjoyable. Something I look forward to, in fact.
Yes, it’s about Danielle. I love her.
But it’s also about bonus friendships with these guys that I never expected to have.
“You have a friend? Honey, I’m so proud of you,” Valerie says, patting my arm mockingly.
To my surprise, her teasing stings a little. Fuck. A lot.
In the past she’s taken jabs at me and it’s never bothered me. It’s her form of affection and I know that. So why the fuck does it hurt now?
“Harsh,” I tell her. “But don’t be proud of me yet. I’m sure I’ll fuck it up somehow.” That’s a huge fear of mine. That I’ll be the one to come up short in our Cookie & Co. foursome family and they won’t need me. Or want me.
That thought has me shoving myself off the wall, taking down the half-filled glass of scotch in one fiery swallow and heading into the fray. I’ve spent most of my life lonely. For the first time in forever I have something good in my life, relationships and people that I care about, and I don’t want to lose that.
Crew is actually laughing and animatedly telling a story, surrounded by his teammates. He gets along with everyone, everywhere he goes. He’s a media darling, he’s a favorite among the other players, and he makes Danielle laugh.
He doesn’t need another friend. He has a million.
Yet even now as I’m walking past, he spots me and calls out, “Boss! Get over here! I need you to hear this story.”
The other players part for me like I’m fucking Moses and they’re the Red Sea. That’s what happens when you’re the billionaire boss. It’s amazing power and it sure as hell has its perks, but it has a downside. No one really likes you. Or you’re never sure if they do.
But then there’s McNeill.
Call me crazy, but I think he actually likes hanging out with me in the same way I enjoy chilling with him. We’re total opposites and it’s fun to give each other a hard time.
“If this story involves being arrested or waking up with a stolen zoo animal, I don’t want to hear it,” I tell him, with a smile I don’t even have to force.
He claps my shoulder. He’s lost his jacket and tie already and looks a little drunk. “I’ve never stolen a single zoo animal. No, listen, this is about that time in Boston when that ref called a high stick on me, which was total bullshit and was just targeting because he hates me. I stole his whistle and put it in my—
Jesus. I throw my hand up. “Stop talking. I don’t want to hear this.”
Alexei , our defenseman, lets out a snort. “You did not!”
McNeill nods. “I did,” he says solemnly. “In my pants, rolled it all over my sweaty balls.”
“That’s way better than where I thought you were going with that,” Jack Hayes, our right wing, says.
“I can’t believe you’re telling Mr. Armstrong this,” goalie Blake Wilder comments. “Like, seriously, dude. Boundaries.”
“He thinks I’m hilarious.” Crew throws his arm around me and hugs me to his side. “He loves me.”
He’s definitely drunk. At least a little buzzed. He’s being way too open for this environment.
But his obvious affection for me makes me feel good.
All of this makes it harder and harder to keep our arrangement a secret.
Crew has given me the perfect opener to get us both out of the event at the same time, which is winding up anyway, without arousing suspicion.
I have no doubt that Danielle has spent a pleasant evening at her own apartment alone or hanging out with Luna, but we all made plans to meet up at my place after the charity event and I’m looking forward to it. After these events get me wound up tight and left with feelings of dissatisfaction and loneliness, I usually go home and drink alone while watching an espionage movie. I like how car chases and explosions fill my apartment with sound.
Which is as pathetic as it sounds.
But now I don’t have to go home alone to a place that rivals an echo chamber.
Instead, Michael and Danielle and Crew will all be there, and we’ll catch up on each others’ week, hang out, and end up in my bed, taking turns worshiping our Danielle until she’s shaking and screaming out in pleasure.
The thought makes me impatient.
Michael is picking up Danielle right about now, so it’s time to get the hell out of here.
“Are you drunk?” I ask Crew, giving him a look that I hope he interprets correctly as me wanting him to exaggerate how much alcohol he’s had.
He does, giving me a wink no one else can see before saying in a booming and jovial voice, “I’m not fucking drunk. Lighten up, Nate.”
“Whoa, McNeill, uh, take it down a notch,” Blake says. He rubs the back of his head and looks nervously between us. “Maybe lay off the tequila.”
“Lay off my jock,” Crew tells him. He goes to point his finger at the goalie and stumbles. He knocks into Blake’s beer, causing it to splash over the edge of the glass.
“Oh, shit,” Alexei says.
Blake, who is older, a rule-follower, and in control of himself the majority of the time, appears to be fighting the urge to take a swing at Crew. His nostrils are flaring as he shakes beer off of his hand.
“Go home, McNeill,” he says tightly. “Before you embarrass yourself and the Racketeers. This is for fucking cancer research.”
That’s my cue.
“I completely agree,” I say, nudging Crew. “Come on. I’ll take you down and get you a car.”
Crew shakes me off and raises his hands. “Okay, okay. It’s cool. I’m cool.” He points to Blake. “You’re cool.” He pivots and gestures between himself and Alexei. “We’re cool. Everyone’s so damn cool and we’re going to win a motherfucking championship.”
His goofy drunk act actually seems to readily win the guys back around. They’re all shaking their heads and are in various stages of smiling, from resisting the urge to full grins. Everyone loves Crew.
Even I have to admit he’s hard to stay annoyed with and I’ve worked really hard at it.
The minute we’re in the elevator he turns to me. “How’d I do?”
“Not bad,” I said. “Though you could have skipped spilling Wilder’s beer all over him.”
“That was actually an accident.”
I snort. “You’re a handful.”
He puts his hand on his dick. “That’s what Dani says.”
Was I just thinking I like this idiot? I roll my eyes. “Say that in front of her. It will only serve to make me look better.”
“Hey, I got us out of here tonight by being fake drunk. I took one for the team. Don’t be mean.”
“You’re not drunk at all?” I ask. I thought he was at least a little buzzed. That means he included me in his circle of teammates sober, which makes me feel… interesting. Grateful isn’t the right word. Pleased, I guess. That’s what I am. Pleased.
“Hell, no, I’m not drunk. We have plans tonight with Dani. Do you think I’m going to risk whiskey dick or being sloppy all over her? Nope, no way.” The elevator opens. “I just have hella acting skills. Unlike you.”
I pull my phone out to order my car from the valet with the app. “I don’t need to act.”
He steps out of the elevator and grins at me. “Maybe you should try it.”
The valet pulls my Lamborghini around. I don’t drive it as often as I’d like because it’s hard to open it up in the city, but it works well for events like this one. Anyone seeing me arriving appreciates the flash of a sports car.
“Can I drive?” Crew asks, as the valet hands me my keys.
“Over my dead body.”
“You know, you’re like a much, much older brother to me,” Crew says as he opens the passenger door and I go around to the driver’s side.
I pause and tell him over the roof, “You’re like the younger half-brother I never wanted from my father’s second marriage.”
He grins. “That’s sweet. See? You’re warming up to me.”
I play my role and roll my eyes because that’s what he expects and wants, but in reality, I am.
I’m warming up to all of this.
Some people are fortunate to be born into a family filled with love and laughter.
Others create theirs.
My grandfather and I had our own little two man family unit, with some side characters like Valerie and my grandfather’s cousins. Small, but mighty, and I’ve been missing that more than I realized until these last few weeks.
When me and McNeill step out of the elevator into my penthouse we find Dani and Michael in the kitchen, talking and making popcorn, music playing over the integrated speakers around the room. I’m struck by how different this is from my usual post-cocktail party evenings.
The room feels toasty warm, vibrating with energy and yes, love.
Even the lighting feels softer somehow, which is impossible, and yet I stand by the fact that when four different people are turning on and off a variety of lights, the mood is always comfortable. I normally use the same two lights in every room, which creates shadows in most of the corners and a stale atmosphere. I’ve been in a rut, one that includes dinner for one and every streaming service available on the planet.
But now I’m greeted by a wave from Hughes and Dani’s warm voice. “Hey! How was the event? You two are home earlier than we expected.”
Clapping Crew on the shoulder, I toss my keys on the console table. “This guy pretended to have one too many and shaved about thirty minutes off of our time. I probably should have stuck it out and spoken to more donors but I just wanted to come home.”
Something about my tone causes Dani to pause in shaking salt over a bowl of popcorn. She heads toward me, her smile softening. I just stand there and wait, my throat tight, for her to do whatever it is she’s about to do. Sometimes when I look at her, I’m incapable of action because she just takes my fucking breath away.
Crew is chattering away about his awesome acting skills as he kicks off his dress shoes and strips his jacket in ten seconds flat before heading straight to the popcorn.
Dani reaches me. She cups my cheeks and rises on her tiptoes to press her lips against mine. I close my eyes, sighing into the kiss, needing her touch, craving her understanding.
When she pulls back, she says, simply, “You miss him.”
I know who and what she means. I just nod, unable to speak. It amazes me how in tune with my emotions she is. She knows what I’m thinking and feeling, sometimes before I do.
“It really just sucks, sweetheart,” she tells me before kissing me again.
She doesn’t try to qualify it with an “at least you have great memories” or “but you’re lucky he left you so much money”, both of which I’ve heard. Neither of which make me feel any better.
I’ve never felt the loss of having my own kids until my grandfather’s dementia, and Dani knows the right words to say to me. I’m also pretty damn sure no one has called me sweetheart since I was five years old and I fucking love everything about it, though I will never admit that out loud. Ever.
I kiss her fiercely before brushing my thumb over her bottom lip and staring deep into her eyes. “Thank you,” I tell her gruffly.
For her compassion, for her heart, for her passion in bed, and for being the driving force that somehow created this new group dynamic—maybe even a fucking family—for me when I didn’t know I needed one.
She smiles and reaches up and loosens the bowtie on my tux. “Come and grab some popcorn and “accidentally” drop some down my cleavage so you can fish it out.”
“That sounds like a Crew move,” I tell her.
But I do check her out. She’s wearing the Racketeers shirt I gave her the night we met. The one that’s too small. Her tits are busting out of the V.
God, I fucking love this shirt.
“What’s your move?” she asks.
“I’m not telling you,” I murmur, nuzzling her earlobe. “But when it happens, you’ll know, my dirty little slut.”
Danielle laughs softly. “Wait until you see my moves.”
I hook my finger in the V of her t-shirt and tug it down so I can see more of her breasts. “I love every move you make.”
I love you.
I almost say it, but I can’t make the words come out.
“Nathan, do you want a beer?” Michael calls out from the kitchen.
Relieved, I let go of Danielle. “Yes, I would love one.”
