Dinner was always a formal affair in the Stevenson household, even when they said it was casual. Seb’s mom was an outstanding cook, and dinner was French service, as she liked to call it. Everything was carved and plated in the kitchen and brought out to the table in individual portions, like they were in a restaurant.
That night was an especially elaborate affair given all the people gathered. There were the six Stevensons—Philip and Seb’s mother Nora, Gillian and Parker, Ollie and Seb. Then there was Gillian’s husband Julian—Seb still had to fight back a smirk as he introduced them to Martin—and Parker’s husband Jason. And Martin. Gillian and Parker’s combined five children were excused from the family festivities for the evening. Just as well because that would have been too damn much quality family time for Seb.
“So Martin,” Jason said once salads were served. “Parker says you’re a doctor? What do you practice? I have a cousin who is a urologist in Jacksonville.”
Martin wiped his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat. “I’m not that kind of doctor.”
Seb glanced at Oliver, who glanced at Parker, who shrugged. Seb said he was bringing a doctor, and he’d said it to cause a stir. He hadn’t expected the news to make it as far down the family grapevine as Jason.
“Martin and I have quite a bit in common,” Philip said from his place at the head of the table. “He specializes in the historical side of the spectrum, but we are both men of knowledge.”
Philip claiming Martin as one of his own made Seb’s spine tense.
“So how did you two meet?” Parker asked. Her smile was kind. Seb tried to tell himself she was being polite, not nosey. Martin cut into an endive, and little splotches of color formed just above the collar of the shirt he’d put on for dinner. He probably didn’t want to talk about the bookstore. Seb pressed his knee against Martin’s and took the lead.
“One of those gay hookup apps. Doctors Without Borders. Something like that.” He used the practiced social smile he’d perfected years ago with his family. It irritated the shit out of most of them. “Isn’t that how you two met, Gillie?”
“Oh for god’s sakes,” Gillian said. His eldest sister was a cardiologist in Charleston, but she and Julian were part of a group of practitioners who ran a clinic in Guatemala. She also looked like an owl, with wispy hair that wasn’t light enough to be blond or dark enough to be brown, and wide eyes set under heavy brows perpetually judging the people around them.
“How was the drive?” Nora asked. Seb’s mom could always be relied on to redirect the conversation before the second course could be delayed.
The second course turned out to be seared fish. Pink, with golden brown skin and roasted grapes. Seb was dubious, but Martin looked pleased.
“Oliver,” Philip said, once everyone had resumed eating. “I saw Cooper the other day.”
“Cooper?” Martin asked Seb quietly.
“My brother’s ex.” He didn’t bother to pitch his voice as low as Martin’s. “Good as arm candy at gala dinners, and he knew his way around a Porsche. Not good for much else.”
“Cooper is a very talented lawyer.” Philip’s eyes held a spark of challenge, one Seb knew exactly how to stoke to a flame if the need arose.
“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, Dad,” Oliver said.
“That doesn’t mean you two can’t be friends,” Nora said. “We’ve known his family for years. You were friends for ages before you dated.”
Oliver nodded, eyes on his plate.
“What happened between you two anyway?” Seb asked.
“It’scomplicated.” Oliver forked a grape into his mouth.
“Complicated? Does that mean you can’t even be Facebook friends anymore?” Seb couldn’t help the dig.
“Facebook.” Jason laughed. “No one uses Facebook. My kids will tell you it’s for old people. It’s all pictures now. Instachat and Snap-App.”
Parker smiled at her husband. The smile said she knew he was wrong, but wasn’t going to correct him.
But Seb could.
“I’m coming up to Charlotte next week, Oliver,” Philip said as Seb was about to launch his retort. “I’m having dinner with Dr. Fisher—you remember him—but I thought I could stop by your office and we could have lunch together.”
A blind person could see the panic spread across Oliver’s face, but the family’s collective eyesight appeared to have deteriorated significantly over the years.
Oliver was gripping his knife like a weapon. “I could meet you somewhere. You don’t need to come all the way to the office.”
“No, no, I’ll have the car. I can park it in your visitor parking for free while we eat.”
Cheap bastard.
