“She and I were from the same store.”
Beckett finally turned to look at him. He still appeared as frustrated as he had when he left the table, but maybe slightly more tolerant and moderately more agreeable. Rhys could work with that.
“I don’t want to shop at the same store,” he said.
“That’s a horrible way to put what we’re doing.” Beckett’s cheeks flushed the palest shade of pink and he looked down. “But I get your point.”
The sun was at the top of the sky and it made Beckett’s hair look like melted dark chocolate. It looked silky and rich, and Rhys ached to touch him. God, he ached with want.
“Would you like to come back inside with me, or would you rather leave?”
Beckett’s stare flickered toward the restaurant and his shoulders heaved with a reluctant breath. “We can go in.”
Rhys swallowed and nodded, again placing his hand against the small of Beckett’s back and guiding him toward the front door. Their food had arrived in their absence, a fresh-made farfalle with caviar and some other toppings that Rhys couldn’t be bothered to remember. As they approached the table, Beckett’s steps faltered, but he steadied himself and slid back into his seat.
“I tipped you a thousand dollars because I wanted you to be interested in me.”
The words left his mouth before the thought had finished forming in his brain, and he wished more than almost anything in his life that he could take them back. But they were true. He knew he didn’t bring good to anyone’s life. He made things harder and he made things worse. And at the end of the day, Rhys knew the only redeeming thing about him was the number of zeroes in his bank account. Everyone had their role to play, and he understood his.
Thinking that he’d be able to find actual happiness with another person just because his brother had was a ridiculous idea. Sebastian was able to have Remington and the life they were building together because of the sacrifices Rhys had made onhisbehalf. The quiet ones that no one knew about. And for the briefest moment, he’d thought that maybe he could have something nice too. But…
Foolish dreams.
Rhys shoveled the caviar garnish onto his fork and dumped it on the edge of the plate, suddenly horrified at the prospect of the extravagant delicacy. He looked across the table, feeling the weight of Beckett’s stare on him.
“I know I said I wanted your money.” Beckett raised his fork and took the smallest bite of pasta imaginable, then looked straight at Rhys. “But I don’t.”
“I believe that.” Rhys knew it to be true in his chest, and the world tilted a little more steeply. He closed his eyes and nodded, ready to take Beckett home after the meal and never see him again.
“So what else do you have to offer?”
Rhys set down his fork and tucked his hands beneath the table so Beckett wouldn’t be able to see him fidget. He wasn’t a fidgeter; that wasn’t his style. Why was he fidgeting? Was he nervous? Christ’s sake.
“What?” He blinked.
“Besides your money, Rhys,” Beckett repeated. “What do you have to offer someone? To offer me?”
“I…”
Beckett slid another forkful of pasta in his mouth, meeting Rhys’s stare with a sad smile. He chewed, swallowed, and waited.
Rhys didn’t know how to answer that question. He thought about what things other people would say if Beckett had asked them the same question, and none of the answers were nice. Even though they were all probably true. Rhys opened his mouth and closed it again with a frown.
“Not sure?” Beckett asked, stabbing the last piece of pasta on his plate and eating it. Beckett had eaten the caviar, Rhys noticed, while his own still sat untouched on the plate. He needed to eat, but he felt like he was going to be sick. Instead, he reached for his wine, taking a large and uncouth mouthful and swallowing it back. He refilled the glass himself and forced his gaze up to Beckett’s face.
In Rhys’s head, the question had sounded nearly accusatory, but Beckett’s face read anything but. He looked…almost sympathetic, and Rhys worried that might be worse. He wasn’t deserving of, nor interested in, sympathy from anyone, let alone a stranger.
“I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”
“Alright.” Beckett’s eyes sparkled with something that definitely wasn’t sympathy. “I hope you do.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
BECKETT’S FIRST CAVIAR
Lunch was delicious, and the wine really was the best he’d ever had. Rhys had spent half the meal looking like he wanted the ocean to swallow him whole and the other half looking like he wanted Beckett to do the same.
Beckett wouldn’t have minded the latter.
