I think I’m going to be sick.
Aspen chimes in but stays a reasonable distance from me. “They agreed to the wedding in two weeks, Remo’s gay, and we need to work out the details of a bachelor party. Should there be two?”
Damen frowns and scans Remo from top to bottom. “That does actually make some sense.”
“Does it?” Aspen mutters, but everyone ignores him.
“One party,” I say hurriedly and step toward Damen, placing both my hands on his shoulders. I want someone reasonable at the helm, and as far as my cousins go, Damen’s my best bet. “Will you be my best man?”
Damen frowns, looking around as if he’s in need of help.
Oh, please, Damen, you’ve never needed anyone’s help in your life with the kind of charm and temper you have! Do this one thing for me.
“We could organize the bachelor party at my club,” Remo offers, and Damen relaxes, meeting my eyes.
“All right.”
Aspen shakes his head. “That is so unfair. I havegreatideas for parties.”
I decide to ignore him altogether, as that’s the thing most likely to annoy him, but it means my attention drifts to Dalton who sits on the windowsill and is staring outside. I hate that I don’t know what he’s thinking. How am I supposed to make the right decisions without knowing about all the moving parts?
Chapter 22
Dalton
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
I fucked up. I fucked up so badly I don’t even know how to approach it.
Now we’re stuck in a silent car on the way home, and I don’t know where to go from here.
Because I’m a fucking fuckup who fucked up. Again.
I get angry too easily, say the wrong things, say the wrong thingsin public, I flirted with a stranger in front of Corvus to make him jealous, and then complained about the fallout. I’m so fucking petty I hate myself.
We leave the car without a word, Corvus pays for the ride, because of course he does, since I spent the last of my allowance on nice coffee for him.
As soon as we cross the threshold, I can’t take it anymore, and the shard of glass that’s been sitting in my gullet needs to be pulled out.
“I’m sorry, okay? You were right, I was wrong, the wedding is a bad idea. We shouldn’t get married either. This is a mess.”
Since the violent outburst I hadn’t expected from Corvus, he’s been the picture of calm. I’ve only seen that collected side of him and misjudged him by assuming he would never lose his temper. It’s all my fault—Stephen’s broken wrist, the embarrassment of it all. I pushed him, and I’m sure he’s mad that his family witnessed his loss of control.
His exhale seems to weigh a tonne, but instead of telling me I should pack my bags, or leaving me behind, he drops his coat to the floor and sits on the lowest step of the staircase, watching me.
The lights are off, with the exception of the little lamp in the vestibule, which is motion-activated, and its warm glow deepens the dark shadows surrounding Corvus. “Why?” he asks after a dull pause.
I’m surprised he doesn’t know the obvious answer, but I guess he needs me to spell it out as my punishment. I cross my arms. “Because you deserve someone you actually want to marry, not a fuckup you ended up with because of stupid circumstances. You’re handsome, rich, and now you’re out of the closet anyway.” I shrug and look away because this is all so humiliating. “There’s other guys out there with big dicks.”
I hear him swallow, then he leans against the wall, as if it’s the only thing that can offer him a hug. “It’s not that easy. I’ve been hiding in plain sight for years. Even when Damen married Killian, it seemed… selfish to come out too. All I could think of is whether my father would be proud of me. He might not be here, but he’s always watching, assessing what I’m doing with the life he gave me.” With a deep exhale, he looks up, meeting my gaze, and I can barely see his eyes in the faint light. “Deep down, I know that if I don’t do this now, everyone will just act as if it never happened, and I’ll be back in the closet.”
So I’m just a means to an end. “You wouldn’t be. You’d just… date and shit.” My hands ball into fists because the very idea of him with another guy is pissing me off.
Corvus laughs and leans forward, resting his face between his hands. “You think it’s so easy in my line of work? That just any guy who’s actually nice to be around would be fine with my basement?” he asks, glaring at me from between his fingers. “I thought we were on the same page about this!”
He does have a point. I too had to keep parts of my life secret from men I dated over the years, because as soon as they got a sniff of the violence they were out. Because they were normal, nice people. The few that were a littletoointo it weren’t good matches for me either and saw me as a killing machine who also happened to fuck well.
Maybe that is what I am though?
