The Beard (Haylee Thorne)

by Haylee Thorne

  I am flabbergasted and stunned into silence. He must take my silence for admission because he goes on.

  “You are using him. You don’t care about him. You are just taking advantage of a lovesick fool.”

  His words punch me right in the chest. He doesn’t have feelings for me, he is just trying to trick me, I think to myself. My heart breaks right then and there.

  “Let me answer your question,” I say in an icy tone. “I love your brother, and I will marry him. Restaurant or no restaurant.”

  I take a step toward him, pointing my finger at him.

  “And you better believe that this is the last time I am going to let you insinuate that I am some kind of whore.”

  He blinks.

  “You need to leave now. I don’t ever want to see you again, and the next time you even think about so much as shaking my hand, my knee will be making contact with your crown jewels.”

  “Mac, I—”

  “Get. Out,” I bite as I turn and point toward the door.

  I feel the color drain from my face, and I imagine that I have taken on the color of my uniform. Brock is standing in the door opening, looking on in horror. There is no telling how much of this he has witnessed.

  “Brock, I…” my voice trails off.

  “I have warned you, Ashton. Get the hell out of here. You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

  Ashton opens his mouth to speak, but he is interrupted by Brock.

  “Get. Out. Now!” he bellows.

  Tears are streaming freely and pouring down my face, blurring my vision. I get pulled into a pair of strong arms.

  “It’s okay, M. I’m here,” he whispers against my temple. “I’m so sorry.”

  I wipe the tears from my face with the backs of my hands.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about,” I tell him.

  “Are you in love with him, M?”

  The question surprises me. He has heard more than I thought he did. I don’t want to tell him, but I care too much for him to lie to him.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you?”

  “I think so, yes,” I almost whisper.

  “I see.”

  “But it doesn’t matter. I could never be with him, and my commitment is to you. I am not going back on my word to you, I promise. We will still get married.”

  Brock looks at me with a pained look on his face.

  “Listen, don’t worry about it okay? It’s not like he is in love with me too. He was just angry and was trying to smoke out a gold digger.”

  “Mackenzie, I...”

  Brock doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Amber storms into my office.

  “What the hell, M? What’s the hold up?”

  She cocks her head when she sees me. She rushes toward me.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  I nod.

  “I’m fine, I promise,” I mutter.

  Her eyes dart to Brock.

  “You heard her,” he says. “She’s fine.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I know she isn’t buying it for a second, but she lets it go.

  “You realize that you can’t go out there looking like that, right?”

  I walk to the bathroom and flip the light on.

  “You don’t think that the raccoon look will be a hit?”

  Amber shakes her head and chuckles.

  “Let’s try to fix this mess.”

  We manage to salvage my face and make me as presentable as possible. I make my rounds through the restaurant and stop by every table to greet the diners, thanking them for coming and giving us a chance. I love watching people enjoy my food. We don’t have an empty table until it is time to close the doors. By the time the last happy customer leaves, we are all exhausted. After we clean up, I invite all the staff to stay over and relax for a bit. All of us are sitting at the largest table in the restaurant, enjoying a well-deserved drink. Brock is sitting next to me, and I lean my head on his shoulder as all of us listen to Hannah animatedly tell the story of how she thought she won the jackpot on a scratch off but didn’t. Brock leans in and kisses the top of my head.

  “You did it, M,” he tells me proudly.

  “We did it,” I say, correcting him.

  “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

  “Nope.”

  He chuckles.

  “See?”

  “See what?”

  He shakes his head and smirks.

  “I meant what I said though, Brock.”

  He raises a brow.

  “You’ve said a lot of things,” he teases. “How is a guy to keep up?”

  I smack his arm playfully, and he laughs. I look up at him, and our eyes lock.

  “I love you.”

  He smiles.

  “I love you, too,” he says as he leans in and pecks me on the nose.

  It tickles and causes me to giggle.

  “Aw, look at the love birds, you guys! You are too adorable,” Hannah coos.

  My eyes dart to Brock, and we laugh.

  “We are freaking adorable,” I tell him.

  “I think I’ve heard that somewhere before,” he says as he winks at me.

  “We’re good, right? You and me?” I ask.

  “Never better,” he says.

  ASHTON

  Loud banging on my front door jolts me awake. It’s been over a week since I left my apartment, shaved, or showered. My diet has been primarily of the liquid variety, and I am not talking about water. Even after making a complete jackass of myself that night, Brock has been calling and texting me nonstop. I can’t face him. Even though I am ashamed of myself for what I did, part of me still resents him. The fact that I made an ass out of myself doesn’t erase the fact that he betrayed me. Him and Mackenzie both. There is another loud knock.

  Damn it.

  It isn’t doing the pounding in my head any favors.

  “I know you’re in there, Ashton,” Brock yells through the door.

  He waits a few beats for me to respond, but my mouth is too busy being wrapped around the bottle of Macallan—the very same bottle that’s been there since before I was so rudely woken up—that is tightly clutched in my hand.

  “I’ve had enough, Ash. You have two choices. Either you open the door for me right now, or I get Gigi over here to knock some fucking sense into you.”

  I debate pretending that I’m not here. He might be bluffing.

  “I know you, Ash. And you know me. I am not bluffing. I have my cell in my hand right now.”

  I groan and tiptoe to my front door.

  “I’m gonna count to five. If you have not opened this door by the time I get to zero, I’m pressing dial,” he threatens.

  I look through the peephole and see that my going theory that my brother is bluffing is not correct. He is, in fact, holding said phone and a small carrier with what looks like coffee.

  “Five.”

  Fuck.

  “Four.”

  My hand reaches for the deadbolt.

  “Three.”

  “Hold your horses,” I grumble.

  I unlock my door and open it, but I don’t greet him. Instead, I start to walk back to my living room while taking another swig of my scotch. I lower myself back onto my couch and watch the horrified look on my brother’s face as he assesses the state of me and my apartment. His eyes dart to the bottle I’m still holding in my hand. He shakes his head.

  “Jesus, dude. You need to open up a window or something. It smells like an alley in here,” he says as he wrinkles his nose.

  He’s got some damn nerve, I think spitefully to myself.

  “Did you come to criticize my housekeeping skills, or was there another pleasant reason for your visit? Was there something else you forgot to take from me?”

  “We need to talk,” he tells me. “But maybe you need to sober up a little bit first.”

  “Sure, come back next year or something. What’s an appropria
te time to get bent after your twin brother steals everything right from under your nose? I always forget.”

  “If you would stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to get your head out of your ass, then maybe we can get somewhere,” he bites out.

  I raise my brow.

  “Say what you’ve got to say, and then get the hell out of my apartment.”

  He moves a pizza box and a couple of empty liquor bottles from the recliner next to my couch and places them on the coffee table. He hands me one of the cups from his carrier.

  “Drink,” he demands.

  “It’s a little late to try and pretend that you actually give a fuck about me, isn’t it?”

  He sighs and tosses me an irritated look.

  “If you had bothered to hear me out in the first place, we could have avoided all of this mess,” he says as he rakes his hand through his hair. “That day that you came to the office—”

  “You mean when I found out that you wasted no time to oust me?”

  “Will you shut your damn mouth and let me finish?” Brock barks.

  I hold up my hands. “Fine, I’m sorry. By all means, spin that tale.”

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, clearly starting to lose patience.

  “As I was saying, you didn’t stick around long enough to see what was actually happening.”

  I’m not really sure where he is going with this, but I keep my lips tightly shut.

  “I discussed with Pops what the best course for Walker Inc. would be, and we both agreed that you are a vital part of the company.”

  His eyes dart to the coffee cup in my hand.

  “Drink,” he urges again. “I need your head to be clear for this.”

  “Yeah, cause a sip of coffee is going to sober me up,” I grumble.

  He ignores my sarcastic comment when I take a sip. I almost spit it out; that asshat gave me black coffee. I can’t stand the stuff without a ton of cream and sugar. A small smile tugs at his lips, and I know he is trying not to laugh.

  “Remember a few years back when Larry Ellison stepped down as Oracle’s CEO? He named not one, but two CEOs to take his place. Pop and I both agreed that while it’s uncommon, it’s the best thing for Walker Inc. to have us both at the helm.”

  My brows knit together. I am not quite sure if I understand what he is saying.

  “How do you explain my office?”

  “If you had paid attention when you stepped into mine, you would have noticed that my entire office has been redone. Mikaela Kingsley designed a whole new office for you as well. It was supposed to be a surprise, but you ruined it by storming in and out like a bat out of hell,” he says with a chuckle.

  I take another swallow of my coffee, forgetting for a moment the disgusting taste.

  “And I know you didn’t see the nameplate on your door, the one that clearly says Ashton Walker, CEO.”

  My brain is scrambling to jump-start.

  “So, what you’re saying is that we are both being tapped for CEO when Pops retires?”

  “Yup.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “What the hell do you mean, you don’t know? What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that you used Mac to steal the position out from under me in the first place, Brock. I can’t just forget that.”

  “Do you really think it happened that way, Ash?”

  He stares at me, waiting for me to reply. When I don’t answer, he sighs.

  “Do you love her, Ash? I mean, do you really love her?”

  I look up at him.

  “Even now, I do.”

  “Even now?”

  “She used you to get her restaurant. She isn’t in love with you, Brock. I’m not saying that to be smug, but I know she has feelings for me. She won’t admit it, but she does. I felt it when I kissed her. I know it was a rotten thing to do to you, but I love her, Brock.”

  “You really shouldn’t be so hard on her, you know? Mackenzie is incredible. With what she’s done for me, I owe her ten restaurants. She didn’t use me or take advantage of me, Ash. If anything, I’ve taken advantage of her.”

  And not for the first time today, I’m not sure I’m following.

  “I need you to understand that she has only ever been loyal to me. She has protected my secret—lied to everyone she knows—because she is that amazing.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Brock?”

  “Do you know what a beard is?”

  “Jesus, I will shave the damn thing off later. What the hell does facial hair have to do with anything? You can comment on my fashion choices later.”

  “Ugh,” he says. “I hope to God you shave that thing off, but that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

  “I’m going to need you to get to the point. The pounding in my head is interrupting my thought process,” I grumble.

  “When a man who is attracted to other men doesn’t want other people to know, he might date or marry a woman to cover up the fact that he is gay. The woman in this scenario is referred to as a beard.”

  I blink.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Mackenzie is my beard, Ash. I’m gay.”

  “And she knows this?” I blurt out.

  He nods before he answers.

  “She does.”

  I instantly sober up.

  “You’re gay?”

  “I am.”

  I frown.

  “Why are you trying to hide it?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Do you think that it changes anything?”

  Brock stares at me, silent and with uncertainty painted on his face.

  “I mean besides the fact that you have not slept with the woman I love—wait...you haven’t, have you?”

  He lets out a chuckle.

  “No, I haven’t. She is kind of missing a vital part of the anatomy for me,” he jokes.

  “Okay, good. So, besides the fact that you have in fact not slept with the woman I love, you being gay makes zero difference to me. You must know that. I love you, little brother, no matter what.”

  I rise and walk to him. I hold out my hand, and he takes it. I pull him up and into a hug.

  “Seven fucking minutes,” he grumbles.

  I chuckle and release my hold on him.

  I know he is attempting to hide the tears that are clearly pooling in his eyes.

  “I promise you, Ashton, Mackenzie being my beard was just to get Gigi off my back. When I met M, she had just had her life savings stolen by her piece of shit boyfriend. She has been working two jobs for years, trying to save up enough money to open up her restaurant. She got robbed and fired in the same day. I’m not proud to admit this, but she was desperate and vulnerable, so I pounced. We met by chance. I asked her to lie for me, to be my beard, knowing full well that she was desperate. And to make sure she didn’t have another option, I offered her employer a year of free rent. He rents the property from us, so that was easy. So, you see, I am the one that has taken gross advantage of Mackenzie, not the other way around. I wasn’t lying when I told you that I used the restaurant as the dangling carrot, but she deserves it, Ash. Not just for being my beard but because of how hard she works.”

  “She didn’t tell me that when I confronted her in her office the other day.”

  “She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

  She took the heat for my brother. Warmth spreads in my chest.

  “You say that she knows you are gay, but she told me she is in love with you,” I say, confused.

  “She told you that she loves me, and she does. And I love her. We are just not 'in love’. We love each other like close friends or siblings.”

  I scratch my head, trying to replay her words to me.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “My wedding is tonight.”

  “What?”

  “I am marrying Mackenzie tonight at the Hampton house.”

  I swallow.

  “Again, why are you telling me this?” />
  “Because she loves you, Ash.”

  My eyes widen.

  “And you know this how?”

  “She told me.”

  “She told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she is still going through with this wedding?”

  “Yes, you enormous dumbass, because she is loyal as hell and thinks it’s betraying me if she backs out. She doesn’t believe that you have feelings for her because you basically led her to believe you only kissed her to spite me and to catch her out. She thinks that she can get over you.”

  That stings.

  “So what am I supposed to do now? I don’t exactly have a lot of time to change her mind. Can’t you just call the thing off?

  He smirks at me.

  “I could, but I’m not.”

  “Why wouldn’t you call it off?”

  “Because I have a better idea.”

  I shower as ordered. Much to Brock’s horror, I am out of razors, so I just trim my beard. I’m clean and feel refreshed when I step into my living room. Brock has been busy too; my windows are open, and all the empty liquor bottles and pizza boxes have been cleared away.

  “You clean up well, twin.”

  “Eyes to yourself. I am not a piece of meat,” I joke.

  “That is disgusting. You’re my brother,” he grumbles.

  I chuckle.

  Brock glances at his watch. “It’s almost noon. If we leave now, we can beat the bridal party to the house.”

  I know that we are going to need Gigi’s help if I’m going to pull this off. I also know what this means for Brock; he is going to have to come out to our grandparents. We get downstairs and into a waiting vehicle.

  “Here,” he says as he hands me a bottled water. “You need to hydrate.”

  Typical Brock, always trying to take care of everyone. I should have known that he would never hurt me, not intentionally anyway. We ride in silence for a while. It has been a big morning for both of us, and it is a long way from being over. We both have bigger things to deal with.

  “Are you worried?” I ask.

  He nods.

  I reach over, grab his hand, and squeeze it like I used to do when we were kids.

  “No matter what happens, I have your back, Brock. Okay?”

  He smiles half-heartedly.

  “Okay,” he replies weakly.

  “I mean it,” I tell him with urgency.