I grin at him because he’s always saying stuff about spreading our wings and exiting our cocoons or whatever. Beau clearly doesn’t know how to take him.
“It’s cool.” I wave his concern away. “Thanks, but Art’s right. This is a good move for me.”
Beau hurries to agree. “Of course, yeah. Well, I’m glad, then. I’m actually on my way to meet Marty now, but I’ll see you soon?”
“For sure.”
His face breaks into a wide smile that’s impossible not to smile back at. It defines his jaw and lights up his blue eyes behind the clear-rimmed glasses he always wears. “Right, okay.” He backs up. “See you then.”
As soon as he’s gone, Orson laughs. “Wow.”
“What?”
He rubs at his stubble. “The man was very nervous around you.”
“He’s always been like that.”
Art nods. “It’s true. Though it was worse when we were younger.”
Oh yeah, I’d almost forgotten about that. The stuttering and blurting out random comments. I’d forgotten because the past few years, it had all but disappeared. What’s brought it back now?
Griffin hums. “Weird or not, he’s hot.”
“Agreed,” Art says. “I’d bone him.”
“Is he single?” Griffin asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure actually. He was the last time I saw him, and Marty hasn’t mentioned anything.”
“Maybe when Poppy and I officially split, he’ll be interested in a date.”
I eye Griffin. He’s the more serious out of us all, with the least relationship experience, but he’s gorgeous, with dark brown hair, neat stubble, and insane piercing blue eyes.
Art’s distinguished, with Portuguese good looks, the kind of presence that demands attention and an attitude to match.
Orson’s the oldest of us, with a short beard that has more silver than black, but his hair is still dark. His face is lined in a friendly way, and he looks rough around the edges, but is the biggest sweetheart I’ve ever met.
I’m … well, the laid-back one out of us all. Well, usually. The whole cheating thing was hard to be laid-back about.
And trying to picture any of them with Beau … I can’t see it.
“How much longer until the split now?” I ask Griffin.
“End of summer. Once Felix leaves for college, we’ll separate and then tell him when he’s back for his first break.”
“No second thoughts?”
Griffin shakes his head. “None. Poppy was a great wife, but we’re both ready to get on with our lives now.”
“And you don’t think you should do it before Felix leaves so you can work through it together?”
“I’d rather wait until he’s off at college and has plenty of friends there to distract him.”
“You really think he’ll be that upset?” Art asks.
“Yep.” Griffin stares at his tea. “He doesn’t like change and can be a bit … dramatic.”
I’ve gotten enough of a read on the situation through our texts, so I remind him, “You and Poppy are going to support each other through this, and you’ll both be there for Felix like you always were. You guys will adjust.” And at least Poppy never cheated on you.
That part I keep to myself.
“True.” He sighs. “But fuck I’m ready to get laid again. It’s been years.”
They’ve stayed exclusive even with the plan to split because they haven’t wanted anything to get back to their son, and while Griffin is … let’s go with quiet, it makes me respect him to be putting his kid first like that.
It’s been a month since I left Kyle, and I haven’t had sex since. Truthfully, it’s the last thing on my mind after what he did, but I know it won’t take long for that urge to come back.
The urge will need to wait a little longer though because while I’m staying with Marty, I’m putting all my energy into family time. My brother, my sister-in-law, and my nieces are going to be spoiled filthy rotten. Well, with love. My money only extends so far right now, which is why I can’t find my own place. Yet.
We finish up, and I tell the guys I’ll see them next week before I head for my car. It’s late enough that Lizzy should be home with the girls, and the thought of seeing my nieces immediately boosts my mood. They’re adorable. And full-on.
I reach their place and pull up by the curb before grabbing the things I’ve brought with me on this trip. Most of our furniture I left with my fuckhead ex, so the things I do have are minimal. And there’s no way I wanted to take that bed.
I let myself inside with the key they gave me.
Lizzy’s on the couch flipping through the TV, while the girls are playing at the LEGO table behind her.
“Uncle Payne!” Bridget cries and jumps to her feet. She throws herself across the room and into my arms. I melt, and holding that much pure sunshine reminds me my life is still awesome.
“What are you guys building?” I ask.
“A military base. The aliens are coming.”
“We better get to work, then.” I spare Lizzy a quick smile as she watches on with amusement, then slump down next to Soph, who’s eyeing me strangely. It always takes a minute for her to warm up. “Remember me?”
She drops her head and watches me from under her eyebrows, and it’s so adorable I do my best not to laugh.
“Is this a new one?” Bridget asks, angling my forearm to see my most recent tattoo.
“It is. I made sure it had lots of detail, just for you.”
Her face lights up. “I’m going to grab my markers.”
“You okay?” Lizzy asks the moment Bridget is out of the room.
“As well as I can be. It still hurts sometimes, but I’m ready to move on from it all.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“Careful. I’m getting a whole single bed—you might never be rid of me.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I really do appreciate this.”
“I know you do. I still can’t believe—” She cuts off, face tense, and I know the only reason she’s holding back her thoughts is because of the girls. Lizzy has subjected Marty and me both to long rants about that fucker.
Listening to her swear like a sailor has been enjoyable, at least.
Bridget returns with a pencil case full of markers, so I yank my shirt over my head and lie facedown on the floor. I guess the aliens have been forgotten about already.
Soph eventually joins her coloring in, and I’m so peaceful while they work that I start to drift off. That is until Soph speaks. “Where’s Uncle Ky?”
Urg, straight to the heart.
Lizzy jumps in to explain that Uncle Ky won’t be around anymore while I bury my face in my folded arms.
I’m one hundred percent over him.
Mostly.
But in moments like this, all I can think of is why?
He destroyed our lives.
And I’m the one left to deal with the fallout.
2
Beau
Wow, am I a bumbling idiot or a bumbling idiot?
Thirty-six. I’m thirty-freaking-six, and I still trip over my words when Payne is around, like I’m going through puberty again. It definitely doesn’t help that the years have been kind to him.