And living my own personal unrequited-love rom-com movie isn’t on this year’s bingo card.
“Hmm.”
I scowl, snapping my bottle down on the bar top. “Ishmma legal term?”
“Yes. It’s Latin for ‘I smell bullshit.’” He holds up his bottle.
“While I hate to interrupt this ... fascinating cross-examination, I’m going to hit the bathroom. But you two, please.” Daniel waves a hand between us. “Carry on.”
With a half smile, he stands and heads for the bathroom. As soon as the door closes behind him, Cyrus tips his head back, a grimace pulling his face taut.
“Fuck.”
Yeah.
A large, Goliath-size fist squeezes my chest, and I lift a hand, trying to rub away the phantom soreness.
The Nuggets drafted me toward the end of my sophomore year at the University of Denver, and Daniel had already been on the teamfor four years and married for three. And he hadn’t been one of those husbands who was married only when in front of his wife. It wasn’t only his great basketball talent and skills that I admired and looked up to but his integrity. He’d loved Jerricka, and everyone had known it. He’d been faithful, never bringing random women to his hotel rooms on the road or partying and clubbing. His wife had been his world. And when she’d died two years ago of a sudden brain aneurysm, he’d been broken. It’s just been in the last six months that I’ve started to see remnants of the old Daniel. And I’m thrilled about it. Him hanging out with us tonight when he’s turned down numerous invitations in the past couple of years is just one of the signs he’s coming back to us.
But shit, talk of Cyrus’s new relationship and his obvious happiness in the face of Daniel losing his love must hurt Daniel like raw salt rubbed in an open wound. Something both Cyrus and I forgot.
“I feel like an utter asshole,” Cyrus mutters, tipping his head down, regret darkening his eyes. “How could I forget ...?”
“Let it go, bruh.” I nudge his bottle closer to him. “He knows you didn’t mean anything by it. And frankly, he’d be mad as shit if he knew you were out here beating yourself up for even thinking he’d begrudge you the happiness he had with Jerricka.”
“Yeah, I know. Just ... shit.” Cyrus picks up his bottle and takes a long pull from it, then drops it to the bar top again, eyes narrowing on me. “This is your fault.” He points the beer at me. “You and your denial over Miriam. You do realize as your lawyer that I’m bound by attorney-client privilege? But if you want me to pretend that I don’t notice the way you look at Miriam, then that’s fine too. And before you ask, you stare at her like plane-crash victims look at each other on week two of being stranded on a deserted island after they’ve gone through all the food supplies.”
Heat scalds my chest, rolling up my throat and pouring into my face. Dammit. And here I thought I had my “We’re only friends” gameon lock. If Cyrus guessed even a bit of the truth, has anyone else? Does Zora know? Levi?
Fuck, doesMiriam?
Shoving aside the panic thrumming through my veins, I jam a finger, growling, “You know what? I’m beginning to appreciate my alone time.”
“Touchy.” He holds up a hand, palm out, and cocks his head. “Is that due to the injury or the current subject?”
“I think I liked you better when you were an emotional wormhole.”
Cyrus snorts, a smirk curling his mouth. He does that more. Smiles and laughs. Especially since he’s met Zora Nelson and opened his own entertainment law firm, leaving the toxic environment of his old one behind. It’s good to see him ... happy. Cyrus deserves that.
But even as the thought passes through my head, his smirk disappears, leaving his customary serious expression behind.
“I didn’t think I needed to say it, but just in case I do ...” He folds his arms on the bar top and leans forward. “That confidentiality clause doesn’t pertain just to our professional relationship. Whatever you tell me stays here, between us.”
“Yeah, I know.” I clear my throat, ducking my head. “And no, you didn’t need to say it.”
Silence beats in the room.
Then I add, “I feel like when Daniel gets back out here, we should go play someFortniteso I can shoot you in the face a couple of times. It’s either that or I come over there and put my head on your shoulder while eating my feelings.”
“I vote for shots to the face.”
“My man.”
CHAPTER THREE
MIRIAM
“I can kill you or fuck you. Either one works just fine with me.”
