“No, I’m fine.”
“Bailey. You’ve been with us two minutes and haven’t made a joke yet. Plus, you ran out of Grady and Lauren’s weekend like you had the devil chasing you, with no explanation. Bren and I called to check up on you several times, but you never answered.”
Crap. I’d ignored their calls, figuring they only wanted to tease me about Keston. Almost forty, and I still didn’t believe people cared about me or for me.
“We spoke, West. In the office.”
“That’s bullshit. It was about work. Not the important stuff, like what’s bothering you.”
I rubbed my face. “Sorry. It was a…false alarm. Everything’s fine. And I should get home…” Was that my voice sounding so weak and pathetic? Obviously so, as Brenner put an arm around me, and I found myself sandwiched between them, walking toward their apartment.
Weston squeezed my shoulder. “Bailey, come on, we’re your friends. What’s wrong?”
Damn Weston because when he was caring and nice, he became impossible to resist. I waited until we entered their apartment to answer.
“I doubt you have all night to listen to my tales of woe.”
Brenner and Weston exchanged a look. West walked to their bar, picked a bottle of vodka, and set it on the table between us. “We have all night.”
I shook my head. “Nothing for me.”
“Okay, now I know something’s wrong.” Brenner leaned forward, the penetrating gaze he was famous for piercing straight through me. “C’mon, Bailey. It’s us.”
I covered my eyes, and the words spilled out, revealing everything I’d spent the last twenty-odd years hiding. I heldnothing back—my mother’s abandonment and return, my father’s absence while I grew up and his subsequent illness, the guys I slept with in law school to keep the loneliness at bay, hoping someone would love me. And finally, Belinda’s poor life choices and her new fiancé with anger issues.
“So that’s why I left on Saturday night. I thought she was in trouble, and instead she was celebrating.” I forced my shaky lips to smile. “Nothing that horrendous.”
“Aw, man, Bailey, I’m sorry. That must’ve been rough.” Weston’s green-gold eyes were thoughtful. “You never told us anything.”
I snorted. “When would that have happened? At a frat party while we were pounding down beers, or when you came in after a date? I don’t think so.”
“I understand.” Brenner steepled his fingers under his chin. “I’d see everyone laughing and enjoying themselves, but I couldn’t. I never belonged.”
How well I knew that feeling. I was the kid with his face pressed to the window, watching all his friends at a party he wasn’t invited to. I’d thought I’d beaten the inferiority complex, but like a scar, it remained a permanent mark, no matter how determined you were to get rid of it.
“But how does Keston fit into all this? And don’t say he doesn’t because that man couldn’t keep his eyes off you all weekend.” Brenner’s grin grew wolfish. “I wasn’t kidding about the sounds from your bedroom.”
I sighed. “All right already. Yeah, we’ve been hooking up for a while now.”
“I knew it,” Weston crowed, and Brenner frowned.
“West, it’s not a game. Bailey’s upset.”
“Ah, shit. I’m sorry,” Weston apologized, immediately contrite. “I’m just excited for you. I didn’t mean to joke about it. So what’s the problem, then? From that night at Grady’s housewarming to this past weekend’s engagement party, you two have been getting close. Is it serious?”
I sidestepped the question. “You want to hear something wild? He’s been hiding the fact that we’re together from his best friend. He’s never mentioned we’d been seeing each other.”
“I mean, it’s not as if you’ve been so forthcoming either,” Weston pointed out. “Here we are, practically prying it out of you.”
“What was I supposed to do, call you up and say guess whom I’mschtupping? Those two work together every day. And I didn’t lie to you. I just didn’t say anything. Keston deliberately lied to Ambrose.”
“What’re you talking about?” Brenner asked. “How?”
“Tonight I was at his shop. Ambrose’s girlfriend had mentioned seeing Keston kissing someone on the subway platform this morning. He denied it, but it was us. He’d stayed over, and we were going to work. When Ambrose confronted him, he tried to wiggle out of it. It’s because I’m not part of his cool world. I’m an uptown, suit-and-tie-wearing lawyer.” I laughed at the absurdity of it. “People would see Keston—the longer hair, the tattoos—and think,look at Bailey Marks, nice Jewish boy, taking a walk on the wild side. Meanwhile, it’s Keston who’s ashamed of me.”
“Ah, that’s what had you so upset.” Weston laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You really like him and wanted to hear him tell Ambrose you two were seeing each other. Instead, he jerked you around.”
“Yeah. He’s afraid to say we’re together because what? I’m a snob? You know I’m not. Or I have some money so that makes me a bad person? Also false.” I shook my head. “This is so fucked up.”
