Had he been waiting for Evan to break the silence? He’d warred with himself over whether to, but he was the one who’d fucked up, so wouldn’t that mean it was up to Heath to decide if he could forgive him? Or was he supposed to ask for forgiveness first?
Shit, he still wasn’t sure.
What if he went down there and Heath turned and walked away? Or threw a drink in his face?
What if he was alone in missing the way they’d fit together, and Heath just treated him like anyone else? Like no one special at all.
“If you’re waiting for a cue, I can ask the string quartet to play you in.”
He shook his head and laughed. An unfairly gorgeous Isabella stood at the top of the stairs, draped in a shimmery cream slip dress that couldn’t possibly be legal, especially in Puritan Massachusetts. It emphasized her curves, setting off the deep chocolate of her hair and eyes. She would be the cause of several domestic squabbles that evening, he was certain.
“I’m… having some trouble.”
She looked him over, eyebrow raised, lips pursed, like she’d spent a lot of time in Heath’s presence during the months sincethey’d parted at the island. “I can’t find anything wrong with you.”
“Thanks, but unfortunately it’s internal.”
“What do you need? Tums? GasX? Pepto?”
He cursed her under his breath. “A friend who won’t taunt me when I’m panicking?”
“I am fresh out of those, I fear.”
Evan turned to the crowd, his attention locked on the man who consumed his thoughts. Olivia was introducing him to various people as they mingled their way toward the bar, and though Evan could read his discomfort, the way he carried himself was outwardly impeccable.
Was that how he’d been at parties with the other men who’d paraded him around? Swallowing his distaste while hoping the guy would be worth it?
He pushed the thought away, not wanting to be lumped in with anyone from before. Not wanting to think about there having been abeforeat all. Heath wasn’t here because Evan wanted to show him off like some big game trophy. He was there because Evan wanted him—period.
Like you did with Lucy,rolled through his mind, and he studied his shoes while waiting for the anxious shame to process.
Yes, Lucy had been a means to an end, but she’d viewed him the same way. They’d entered the relationship knowing it wasn’t destined to be some epic love story, and he’d been fine with that. He wasn’t fine with it anymore.
Anxiety mixed with aching need, winding around his throat and squeezing until he choked. Now he wanted the story, and he wanted it with Heath.
“He looks amazing.”
Isabella’s face softened, and she joined him in peering over the railing. “Yes, he does. It was a goddamn battle getting him to agree to it all, but between myself and his friend Andres, we guilted him into it.”
“You guilted him out of his original guilt?”
She laughed. “Essentially, yes. I told him Liv was so excited to see him and had especially requested we treat him like a king, and that it would devastate her to learn he hadn’t allowed us to pamper him appropriately.”
“He fell for that?”
“Of course not, but it gave him enough of an excuse to give in and enjoy himself. I assure you, that man enjoys some pampering. You just have to break through his low self-esteem first.”
That was a task Evan would take on happily, if Heath allowed him to.
“So, he doesn’t know I’m here?”
“As far as I’m aware, he knows nothing. Even if he did a deep dive on the foundation, he’d find squat, since you’re conveniently absent from any and all information pages.”
That was on purpose, because he didn’t want his father thinking he was benefiting from having a last name he hadn’t even wanted. He wondered if the prick even remembered who Maggie Flanagan was.
“Heath? Good lord, what are you doing here?”
Heath and Olivia had disappeared beneath the balcony overhang, but Evan didn’t need his eyes to know who was speaking to them.
