“Yes, Graham, I do know that he’s Nolan’s nephew. I also know how genetics work and that you don’t get to pick who you’re related to. If that were the case, I would opt out of sharing any DNA with you right now.”
He takes that hit, tugging at the collar of his white button-down shirt. His cufflinks twinkle in the light cast from the chandelier over his head. There are lines on his face I haven’t noticed before—deep, worrisome etches i
n his skin. If I wasn’t so mad at him, I’d ask him how he was feeling. But I don’t because I am still angry.
“I also know about the loan,” he states.
“Good for you.”
“Cam, please tell me you understand why this is concerning. Please tell me you haven’t lost all of your mind.”
“I get it. I’m not stupid. It’s a lot of money to be loaning someone that looks like he . . . what did you say? Walked out of prison? Something like that?”
Looking at the ceiling, he sighs.
“What is this, Graham? Is this about the money? About social status? Did it offend you somehow that Mom’s friends saw me with someone not in a Brooks Brother’s suit? Did that somehow take down our Landry brand?”
He shoots me a glare.
“Because if that’s the case, if that’s what we’ve been relegated to, I’m not sure I fit in here anymore.”
“Of course that’s not it,” he mutters. “I’m just . . . I’m trying to control what’s going on here.”
“Let me give you a piece of advice for a change. Go home. Find Mallory. Worry about that relationship and not mine. Trust me when I tell you that your efforts will be much more appreciated and are much more necessary in your own house.”
He shakes his head. “I take it you’re going to continue seeing him.”
It’s not the words so much that pierce me. It’s more the tone, the dismissive nature of them that zip right through me like a hot knife.
“Get out of my house.”
He doesn’t move.
“I’m not joking, Graham. Get out of my house now.”
“Swink . . .”
“No,” I say, shaking my head and feeling my hands start to tremble. “Leave. You aren’t welcome here.”
He holds my gaze before turning to go. He gets to the door and yanks it open. When he turns, I see fire in his eyes. “When you wise up, you know where to find me to get you out of whatever mess he gets you in.”
The door closes. I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s gone before bursting into tears.
Dominic
THE HOUSE IS QUIET. NATE is at the bar and Chrissy came by and took Ryder a little while ago. It’s just me, a beer that is the temperature of piss, and a muted television.
Everything hurts. My body. My head. My heart. It all aches like a motherfucker.
My legs stretch in front of me as I sit on the sofa, my eyes watching but not seeing the talking head on the news. There’s some story on about a family that had something tragic happen but are now all smiles, holding hands, all that shit. Shit I’ve never had.
Shit I’ll never have.
Not the way I want it.
I’m tired. The thought of getting up in the morning and going to work and then to the gym and then home to this, makes me want to close my eyes and just sleep. There’s no point to it. No point to any of it.
Yesterday was supposed to be a way to make some inroads with the Landry’s. I figured it was probably for naught and that’s why I refused for so long.