by JB Salsbury
I hear Jordan snort-giggle, and the sound threatens to burst my own barely held control.
When Leslie slowly turns to glare at August, who suddenly finds his meal the most interesting thing in the room, I lose it and choke on a laugh.
Gabriella is fucking phenomenal.
She’s quick, witty, and lying through her teeth. She did not grow up poor—or spend any time volunteering in prison. She’s saying this shit to upset August and Leslie, and I want to hug her for it.
“I remember this one time I was in the Terminal Market. Don’t judge me, but…” She leans toward them and cups her mouth. “I used to steal food for my family,” she whispers, then leans back and sips her wine. “I ran into this kid who was getting into some trouble for giving an apple to a homeless boy. Anyway, long story short, turns out he was of royal lineage, there in disguise. He just wanted to see how the normal folk lived, ya know? I helped him escape from the authorities because I knew all the cracks and secret hiding places. We ended up dating for a while.” She sets down her wine and takes a bite of lamb.
“You dated a royal?” Leslie asks, clearly skeptical as she looks pointedly at Gabriella’s scar.
“I did,” she says matter of factly. “It didn’t work out, though. He had this weird fascination with magic carpets,” she mumbles, loud enough only for me and Jordan, who are closest to her, to hear.
A burst of laughter comes from my lips, and Jordan follows suit. Meanwhile, my brothers all stare at us like we’re insane.
“That’s, like, a whole new world,” Jordan says, then dissolves into laughter again.
Gabriella nods and smiles. “He never had a friend like me.”
I cover my mouth with my napkin and laugh as she and Jordan go back and forth talking about genies and monkeys wearing hats.
In the past, I’ve barely endured these family dinners, but tonight, I’m enjoying it. I don’t find myself checking the time, wishing the food would come quicker, or counting the seconds until I can get the hell away. Instead, I’m dreading the moment I have to say goodbye to Gabriella and never see her again.
“Fascinating story,” Hayes says sarcastically. “But I prefer non-fiction.”
Leave it to Hayes to crap all over my good mood.
“Dick,” Jordan says under her breath.
I second that.
Gabriella delicately places her fork and knife on her plate and folds her hands under her chin. “Why am I not surprised.”
Hayes’ eyes take on a predatory glint that has me sitting up taller in my chair. I’m not a violent man, I have never been, but given the way he’s looking at Gabriella like he’s gearing up to humiliate her, my mind conjures up images of blood and death.
“What’s your last name again?” he asks as if she’d already told him.
“Sterling,” she answers without missing a beat.
“Sterling. That name is so familiar. I believe I know a Sterling,” August says like the stuck-up snob that he is.
“Sterling…” Hayes deliberately sets down his silverware slowly. “As in Penn-Sterling?”
She doesn’t respond except for a slight clench of her jaw.
He sips his wine and shrugs. “Not many Penn-Sterlings living in poverty in New York.”
My stomach turns to concrete. The guy gets off on causing drama. He’s such a little bitch.
“Penn-Sterling?” August says predictably. “As in William Penn-Sterling?”
Gabriella doesn’t react to the name, not so much as a twitch. She smiles endearingly and looks between August and Hayes. “Who?”
“William Penn-Sterling,” August says, this time over-enunciating the name as if she’s hard of hearing.
She chews her lip then shrugs. “Never heard of him.”
Hayes huffs out a humorless laugh. “Penn-Sterling is one of the biggest multimedia corporations in the country, but something tells me you already knew that.”
She screws up her mouth and squints one eye as if she’s thinking hard, then shakes her head. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. But really, I don’t watch a lot of television. I prefer reading to mindless entertainment.”
So sharp, she continues to throw barbs at Hayes as she plays stupid, which only manages to drive him crazy.
“You think I believe you’ve lived in New York and never once heard of the Penn-Sterling dynasty?”
She blows out a breath and sighs. “Man, I wish I had. Imagine the ways I could’ve used my last name to swindle money out of people? Seriously, Hayes, where were you when I was ten and eating dog food out of a can? This information would have been a lot more helpful then.”
“Unbelievable,” Hayes mutters and shakes his head.
I happen to agree.
She turns to me and smiles. I don’t see even a hint of deception in her blue eyes, not a tinge of dishonesty. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she believes the lies she’s been telling tonight.
And I respect the hell out of her for that.
“That was interesting,” Gabriella says as I walk her outside to wait for her Uber.
I take the opportunity to press my palm to the small of her back as I guide her through a crowd of people. “Thank you for enduring it.”
We walk a few yards down the sidewalk away from the valet. The wind picks up a lock of her hair, and with delicate fingers, she gracefully tucks it back into place.
“Listen,” she says, looking up at me.
I dart my eyes away like I have been doing all night. Her introspective gaze makes me worry about what she might see.
“I know what it’s like to be the black sheep.” She smiles sadly. “I can’t imagine how hard it has been for you—”
“Understatement of the year.”
“—hiding who you are for fear of being rejected.”
I allow my gaze to lock with hers and settle. And, fuck, I feel that in my chest. “You have no idea.”
She grabs my hand and squeezes. Her skin is so soft and her palm so warm it makes me long for things I shouldn’t. “I do. Your family isn’t much different than mine, and although our struggles are different, I can’t imagine coming out to your family.”
Pump the breaks. Hold the fuck on. Did she say coming out?
“They don’t strike me as an overly tolerant or accepting bunch. Except Jordan. I really like her.”
“Wait…” I close my eyes as I replay the last ten seconds, wondering if I misheard. “Coming out?”
She shrugs. “Hayes made it pretty clear when he invited me. Although, I’m surprised you’d choose to tell him first.” She makes a face like she just sucked on a lemon. “He’s a grade-A dickface if you ask me.”
“Look, Gabriella, I’m not—”
“You don’t have to apologize for him. I’m glad he invited me tonight. Trust me, messing with your mom and dad was therapeutic.”
“Stepmom.”
She looks down at her phone as if it buzzed in her hand. “My Uber is close.” She turns toward the street to look out for the car.
She thinks I’m gay.
And closeted.
This isn’t the first time someone has mistaken me for being homosexual—I love fashion, and I don’t conform to my gender’s stereotypes. I’d have more fun at Fashion Week than I would at a Super Bowl, I prefer an elegant steak tartare to a burger, and I get facials rather than use the same soap on my face that I do on my balls. My clothes are colorful, I’m a fan of a floral pattern, and I own multiple brands of eyeliner.
But I am very much a straight man.
A white compact car pulls up in front of us, and a man gets out. “Are you Gabriella? I’m Manny.”
“Yes,” she says and turns to me. “This is me.”
I watch as Manny takes her in from behind, the way his eyes linger on the bare skin of her shoulder and then slip down and widen at her ass. He licks his lips.
“No.”
Her brows pinch together. “What?”
“I’ll take you home.”
; A flicker of unease sparks in her eyes. “That’s crazy. I have an Uber right here.” She backs away from me, and a growl bubbles up from my chest as I resist the urge to snag her and pull her closer.
She’s slipping away.
This is it.
There’s no reason for us to ever see each other again after tonight. And that’s the way it should be. She doesn’t belong in my world, and I certainly don’t belong in hers.
And yet, my fingers ache to reach out.
She opens the car door, and with one slender leg inside, she turns back. “If you ever need a wingman again—”
“Yes!” Oh shit, did I that just say that?
“Really?” With her phone already in her hand, she asks for my number.
Without giving my mouth permission to do so, I rattle off the digits, and seconds later, my phone vibrates with an incoming text.
From her.
“Text me when you need me.” She flashes another gorgeous smile. “Goodnight.”
It isn’t until the taillights of the Uber disappear in the distance that I respond. “Goodnight, Bee.”
Seven
Kingston
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” I say to Hayes as he glares at me from one of the million filing cabinets.
“You don’t see what the big deal is?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
His jaw hardens, and his nostrils flare.
I roll my eyes. Great, here we go. I know the storm that’s brewing, and I’m fully prepared for his fury.
“Are you stupid?” he says.
My molars slam together. Okay, maybe I wasn’t fully prepared.
“How did you graduate from Burton Prep without knowing your fucking ABCs, dumbass?” He motions to the files with an angry slash of his hand. “I can’t find the Montgomery file.”
I cross to him and quickly finger through the files, finding the one that says Montgomery. I slap it into his chest. “Who’s the dumbass now?”
His forehead gets redder as if the top of his head is about to blow. “M. O. Why is it down here with the Murry file?”
“It’s in the M section. God forbid you dig a little deeper.”
He slams the drawer closed. “If August didn’t insist on keeping you on, I would’ve fired you weeks ago.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug. “That says a lot more about you than it does about me, brother.”
“Fuck off.”
“You first.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Hudson comes sauntering into the file room with a casual and slightly entertained smile. “The love pouring from this room is beautiful.”
“You can fuck off, too.” Hayes pushes past his twin, and thankfully, the legion of evil spirits follow.
“What’s his problem?”
I fall back into the closest chair with a groan. “Like he needs an excuse to be a complete cockface?”
“Excellent point.” Hudson goes to one of the file cabinets and pulls open a drawer. “You doing okay?”
“Fucking fantastic.” I rub my eyes and swallow back the insecurity and feelings of inadequacy that wash in when I’m around my brothers.
Fact is, I’m nothing like them.
I was an outcast in this family at sixteen, and nothing has changed since.
He tucks the file he came to grab under his bicep and leans back against the wall of cabinets, studying me.
“What?”
A slow smile spreads across his face.
I run a hand through my hair. “You got something to say?”
“You’re unraveling a little bit.”
“Am not.”
He lifts his brows. “Dude, it’s okay to—”
“I’m not unraveling!” What does that even mean?
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Yeah, and what do you see, Theresa Caputo? Please share.”
“Who?”
“Seriously? The Long Island Psychic. The lady who talks to dead people.”
He shrugs.
“Forget it.”
“What’s up with you and that Gabriella chick?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You know how many women I’ve seen you invested in?”
“None. I never get invested.”
“Keep telling yourself that, bro.”
I will, fuck you very much.
“In the meantime, I’ll tell you what I saw last night.” His eyebrows raise. “Investment.”
“Not even close,” I say with my back to him so he can’t see my face. Apparently, the asshole really is some kind of psychic.
“Your defense only confirms—”
“You don’t know anything about me or my life.” I hold eye contact, and he smirks, which just pisses me off more. “I’m not into Gabriella. I don’t even like her.” Lies lies lies. “Maybe it’s time you find a woman to settle down with so you’ll stop meddling in other people’s relationships.”
“Ah ha!” He points at me. “So you admit you’re in a relationship.”
“What? No. You need to… I… fuck it.” I slam my lips together and storm out of the room.
Rather than go back to my closet in Hayes’ office, I head to the elevator. I punch the lobby button and fidget like I’ve got a million butterflies under my skin. I walk to Central Park and find a bench with a view of the cherry blossoms.
I want to get on a plane and disappear for a month. Sit on some white sandy beach sipping umbrella drinks with a tan, bikini-clad stranger at my side. As soon as the image forms in my head, I rebuke it. And I refuse to think too hard on why.
One thing Hudson is right about? I’m different when Gabriella is around. She understands the burden of my life better than any of my trust-fund friends. I’m deep in the friend zone, which is the safest place to be. She thinks I’m gay, so there’s no way a romantic relationship would develop. There’s no harm in spending more time with her. She’s offered to be my wingman.
Text me if you need me.
I roll my phone around in my palm. I know I’m weak. Working at North Industries has brought me to a new low.
One month ago, I wouldn’t have found myself in this position, but here I am, unlocking my phone and punching out a text message.
I hit send and lean forward with my head in my hand.
If she ghosts me, I’ll block her number and move on with my life.
Ignoring me would be better for us both.
Gabriella
I need you.
I read Kingston’s text message for the hundredth time today, smiling like an idiot. Literally, my cheeks hurt.
He needs me. Why does that feel so good?
A heartbroken sniffle comes from the opposite side of Mr. Humphries’ bed, where his daughter Paige glares at me. “I’m glad someone in the room is happy,” she says and sobs.
Oops. I shove my phone into the pocket of my scrubs and wipe the grin from my face. “I’m sorry. I’m not happy you’re losing your father.” Shit. “It’s just…” I clear my throat. “Death isn’t the end as much as it is a beginning.”
“I’m not religious.” She swipes at her nose. “I don’t believe in all that crap.”
“Well, you don’t have to be religious to believe that there’s something more, something bigger out there.”
Her glare tightens. “There is something bigger. It’s called the circle of life. We become worm food, go back into the earth, and that’s it.”
“You know,” I say and pick up Mr. Humphries hand that’s quickly turning cold and clammy, “I’ve been to the other side.”
She sniffs and dabs tissue at her eyes. “You have?” Her gaze darts to my scars.
“Yes. My heart stopped beating for six and a half minutes. I saw this glowing light, felt a sense of peace and rightness, and I swear I saw my dog Peaches, who died when I was twelve, running toward me before I was pulled back.”
“Back?”
“Into this body. This life.”
She blinks down at her father. “Is that true?” A tiny smile tilts her lips. “His dog Ollie died last year. It broke his heart.”
“See? Imagine that reunion. There is a reason to smile.”
She nods, and her expression becomes more peaceful.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” I turn my back to them and breathe out a sigh of relief.
I can’t believe I was so insensitive to smile like a lunatic while a daughter is saying her final goodbye to her dad.
All because some handsome guy needs me.
Dammit, I’m smiling again.
I head to the break room, grab a Diet Coke, and get comfortable so I can compose my response.
Dear Kingston…
Nope, too formal.
Yo.
Ugh… No. Delete.
Wassup
No. My gosh, just be myself.
I take a deep breath, text, and hit send before I can overthink it.
“Someone’s happy to see me.” Evan takes the seat across from me, and his foot brushes up against mine beneath the table. “What’s going on?”
“Just having a good day, that’s all.” Still smiling.
“People dying, loved ones crying, and you still manage an upbeat attitude.” His brown eyes sparkle a little. “I like that about you.”
I feel my face heat at his friendly flirtation.
He lifts his chin, and I feel his Nike brush softly against my Croc. “We should hang out sometime.”
Um… what? “Really?”
He’s never asked me out before. Don’t jump to conclusions.
I’ve had two men ask me out in the last three years. First, there was David, who asked me to a movie, but when I got there, he had his brother Charlie with him. Charlie had burns up the left side of his body from falling into a fire pit years before. I guess David was trying to set us up. The second date I had was with a guy I met at a coffee shop. He asked me to a play. Turns out, it was his daughter’s fifth grade play, and he wasn’t exactly divorced yet.
“All right. You need me to help you pick out furniture or buy a suit or something?”
