He was completely on his own.
“Nope. Just me.” He tried to make light of it, but Bianca, softhearted as usual, gave him a smile filled with affection.
“We’re your family now. I can’t wait for you and André to get married.”
“Did you know your father?”
That particular question came from Kyle, who’d remained silent until then, concentrating on his lunch. He set his fork on his plate.
“Why?”
Kyle lifted a shoulder and twisted his lips in a smile so forced, it could only be called a grimace. “It’s a valid question. You didn’t mention him, so I asked.”
“But Chess asked why you need to know,” Spencer countered. Chess knew he’d been itching to speak out. “You’re not family, and frankly, I’m not sure what you’re even doing here.”
Kyle flushed under his sun-reddened cheeks. “I’m here for work purposes.”
From the first, Chess had believed Kyle was there for more than business reasons. “The more I think about it, the more unlikely that seems. Whatever you and André had to discuss could’ve been handled over the phone or through teleconferencing.”
“Margery asked me to come.”
“I’m sure with subtle hints from you. But your plan, or whatever it might’ve been, to push a wedge between André and myself didn’t work. I know about the past you shared.”
His brows shot up. “Really? You know I was his first?”
It hurt like hell to discuss his and André’s private life in front of a group of people, but Chess refused to allow Kyle, the smug bastard, to think he was putting something over on him.
“Yeah. André and I discussed it; it’s all out in the open between us, so you know what? You failed. You lose and I win because I ended up with the prize. André. I know everything about the night Dawson died. And my heart hurts for André that all these years he held on to this horrible, debilitating guilt over his best friend’s death for someone who wasn’t worth it.”
Kyle’s mouth tightened. “I never led him on.”
“You played him because he was younger, and you knew how he felt about you. But I’m glad it worked out that way. Because while you were his first, I’ll be his last. His always.”
Tired and disgusted with the conversation, Chess threw down his napkin, stood, and left the table. He heard the scrape of a chair and braced himself for further argument with Kyle, but it turned out to be Spencer instead.
“You want to talk about it? I don’t like what I heard out there.”
Again, Spencer to the rescue, and Chess had never been so grateful to have him there.
“Come on. We can go into my bedroom.”
Once settled in the room with the door firmly closed behind them, he quickly filled Spencer in on the highlights of that terrible evening for André, leaving out his humiliation and the worst of Kyle’s behavior. He also left out his meeting with Oliver Hogan in the restroom, as he still wasn’t sure how he planned on handling that situation.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave…
“Damn. I feel so bad for André. He must’ve been eating himself up inside for years, thinking Dawson’s death was his fault.” Spencer sprawled on the club chair near the fireplace. “Holding all that pain inside? It’s a wonder he’s as normal as he is.”
“I know. But it all makes sense now—why he never wanted to come to the Hamptons and spend time here, his refusal to even enter the pool house, and the reluctance to use the separate home his parents gave him. All of it was tied to his traumatic past with Kyle and Dawson.”
“He had the choice to let it drag him down further or shock him into life and take control. I get it.”
At Spencer’s cryptic remark, Chess sent him a sharp look, but his friend was lost in thought and staring blankly into space. Lately, he’d noticed Spencer dropping comments or hinting at his own inner turmoil, but the times he’d asked, Spencer had brushed him off. But Chess would never stop trying, because that was what they did for each other. Be there, whether asked or not, because they were family.
“You know, if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m right here. Like you are for me and the rest of us.”
Blinking those big blue eyes at him, Spencer gave him a sweet smile, yet the tinge of sadness didn’t escape Chess. “I know you are.”
And that was it.
