Spencer grinned at him. “Look at you, standing up for me. Be careful, Wolfie. People might think you like me, and you’ll ruin your reputation.” His eyes twinkled. “You two would get along great. You both hate me.”
Tired of the battle, Wolf sat next to Spencer. “I don’t hate you, Spencer. As a matter of fact, I—”
“I’m back.” Fernando burst into the room at the same time Spencer’s phone went off.
“There’s my next appointment. Take good care of him, Fernando. He’s a huge pain in the ass, but deep down he’s okay.” Before Wolf could respond, Spencer left the dressing room.
With half an ear, Wolf listened to Fernando chatter on about the clothing he couldn’t care less about. He nodded, and smiled, and at the end of his shopping spree, he’d spent several thousand dollars but was no further along in fixing the rift between him and Spencer.
Chapter Five
Spencer was never more in his element than in a designer’s showroom. He’d promised Elliot an inside look at the fashion industry for an article, and he’d arranged an interview for him with one of this year’s stars. To top it off, the following evening he’d invited all the guys to his runway show featuring a new designer exclusive to his store, and then to the after-party. He’d even sent them clothing from the designer and told them to wear it to the show. It wasn’t often he got the chance to show them what he did for a living, and he was very proud of what he’d accomplished with this up-and-coming designer he’d discovered on his own. Elliot, Win, Chess, and André had all expressed excitement over the event. Not Wolf. And after that conversation in the dressing room, Spencer couldn’t be sure Wolf would even attend.
Waiting for Elliot to meet him at the showroom of this year’s CFDA nominated Rising Designer of the year, Julian Cornell, Spencer recalled those days when he and his mother would take out all her dresses from the closet and she would model them. He’d loved playing with the soft fabrics, and even as young as he was, he’d had the eye as to what looked well and fit the body.
Trish Hawkins had been a beautiful girl with golden hair and big blue eyes who’d grown up dirt-poor in one of the small towns in Suffolk County, Long Island. She’d dreamed of modeling and living in the city, but her parents had kicked her out when she found herself pregnant at seventeen. With the breathtaking naïveté of someone young and in love, when her boyfriend had agreed to marry her, Trish thought her problems were solved and life would be perfect. When Spencer was born, she’d gladly put aside her dreams to take care of him. She’d wanted him to have everything she didn’t have growing up and had lavished all her love on him.
But like most hasty marriages due to an unwanted pregnancy, his parents’ relationship wasn’t a happy union. Spencer long suspected his father was a violent man, and though he never saw any physical evidence, he remembered going to bed with the sounds of him yelling and screaming and his mother crying about his drinking and cheating.
When he grew older, he’d asked his mother point-blank if his father hit her. She’d given him a sad smile and hugged him tight. “He’s never touched me. It’s just his way—Billy’s got a temper on him. But I wanted you to have a loving family like I never did.”
Spencer could’ve told her that no father was better than someone who ignored your existence, but then she got sick, and none of it ended up mattering anymore.
At the sight of Elliot rushing toward him, he rubbed his eyes and put a smile on his face, the one he’d perfected over the years.
“Hi, Elliot.” They hugged and kissed each other on the cheeks.
“Hey. I’m not late, am I? I thought about taking the train but decided a car would be faster.”
“Ugh. Why would you subject yourself to all those people?” Spencer wrinkled his nose. “All those bodies pressed close together.”
Elliot snickered. “And here I thought you loved touching people.”
“I do, sweetheart, when they’re good-looking or wealthy, like Detective Sexy or André the Millionaire.” He hooked his arm through Elliot’s. “Let’s go. I know with the craziness of Fashion Week and awards season, Julian must be going slightly insane. It’s a coup for you to get this interview right now.”
Elliot squeezed him. “I know. I’m so grateful you arranged it.”
“I wasn’t fishing for kudos. I want you to let your bosses know so they’ll make sure to give you a huge byline and a big, fat paycheck.” Together they walked into the building on Seventh Avenue, and after checking in with the guard, waited for the elevators.
“What’s the deal with you and Wolf?”
The elevator emptied out, and the two of them entered.
“What deal?”
Elliot leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, his brows raised. “Come on. You of all people will have to do better than that. Stop being so cagey.”
“I don’t know what you mean—cagey.” Spencer pushed the button again. “Damn, these things are slow as hell.”
“Uh-huh. As I said.” Elliot continued to stare at him, and Spencer blinked first.
“Just spit it out already, Ello.” Unless Wolf had said something, no one knew about that night in Milan or their clash in Chess’s apartment. And Spencer knew Wolf would rather have his testicles removed than admit they slept together. “You obviously have something to say.”
“And you obviously don’t want to talk about it. I feel like you’re unhappy and trying to cover it up, and I’m afraid you might get reckless with men you’re with. You rarely confide in us anymore, and even worse, you and Wolf have been increasingly hostile to each other over the years. Case in point, that blowup at Chess and André’s. We meant well because we love you both and can’t stand the tension. And then there was the Hamptons.”
“What about the Hamptons?” He scrunched up his brows and shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a blowup. It was just a little spat.” He didn’t intend to tell any of them about their kiss on the beach.
Elliot gave him an impatient wave. “I didn’t want to say anything, but Chess told us he saw your hand on Wolf’s ass during picture-taking right before the wedding.”
