The Real Baxter (The Baxter Chronicles 1) - Page 50

Ugh.

He tilted his chin my way in greeting and kissed Gray before dropping to his knees to give his extremely excited dog some love.

Gray set his hand on Justin’s head, ruffling his hair as he rose from his stool. “The pizza is still warm, babe. Do you want a slice?”

Justin stood and set his hand on Gray’s hip. “Sure. Thanks.”

Wait up. Did I say he could have a slice of my pizza? I bought that pizza. It’s mine.

I slugged back my vino, hoping I hadn’t actually said that out loud. I lost thirty years of maturity whenever our paths crossed. Thankfully, most of my crimes played out in my head. Which meant I basically tortured myself. Needlessly, too. I didn’t hate Justin. I just…resented that he’d stuck around long enough for me to have to allocate real feelings toward him. I had my reasons.

First of all, there was an eighteen-year age gap between him and Gray. And second…Justin was the very definition of a free spirit. I’d been pretty sure he’d get bored when he realized Gray’s idea of a good time was hangin’ poolside with his guitar or listening to vinyl records in his music library for hours on end. But in a twist, Justin loved that shit too. They were a match made in hipster funky music heaven.

Gee, that was sweet. Kind of like drinking coke and eating cotton candy for breakfast.

Was I bitter? Maybe. But that was an ugly look. I didn’t want to be that guy. I wanted to be happy for them. Sadly, I did that best from a distance.

Fuck, I was a real bastard.

“I should go. I have a big meeting in the morning,” I lied, stuffing the last of my pizza into my mouth.

Justin frowned. “Hang on. I have wedding questions for you.”

Oh, my God.

“Oh?” I gathered my plate and wineglass and headed for the sink.

“Yeah, Charlie has literally taken over. I knew he would and I’m cool with that, but he wants to get strict about dress code and timing speeches at the engagement party. Dress code…fine, but I’m not wearing a fuckin’ suit. I can’t cut my friends off midspeech. That’s low. According to Char, we have to. He says everything over five minutes is the equivalent of jerking off in public.”

I turned just as Gray threw his head back and guffawed. When he met my gaze, we shared one of those “parent” moments that were hard to explain to other people.

But Gray loved Justin, so he did what I never would, and shared a piece of our story.

“Char got that line from Seb. We had a running joke about the amount of time they’d give the winners during award season. Some cut you off with a bell, but years ago, there were a few that let you go on…and on. Charlie had to be five when he overheard Seb commenting on the five-minute jerk-off session we’d endured at an award show we’d attended the night before. Neither of us thought he was paying any attention, but sure enough, a week later, we had some friends over to play cards and—”

“Poker,” I interjected.

“Yeah, and one of them was taking forever with his hand. Charlie sneaked out of bed and sat on the bottom step, where he could hear us giving our buddy a hard time. The second it quieted again, Char grumbled… ‘Everything over five minutes is jerking off in public,’ which sounded funny as hell coming from a pipsqueak in footy pajamas,” Gray assured him.

Justin chuckled as he bit into a slice of pizza. He set it on Gray’s plate and picked up his fiancé’s wine, lifting the glass out of reach when Gray scowled playfully.

Happy couple…gross. Check, please.

The combination of sharing an inside story that belonged to us and witnessing their couple-y intimacy involving stolen food and touches that hinted at a secret language was too much for me. I didn’t think I was jealous, per se, but like I said, something was wrong with me. Whatever it was, I had to figure it out on my own.

“I’m off. I’ll see you two Saturday. Are you coming to the house early?”

Gray smiled. “Sure. We’ll have a drink before the masses arrive.”

“Masses? I thought this was a small party. How many people are coming?” Justin asked.

“No idea. Fifty, I think.” I shrugged my suit coat on and patted my pocket to make sure I had my phone. “By the way, did you set a date? Everyone there will want to know.”

“October eighth.”

I sucked in a shaky breath as if I’d just had a vat of ice water flung in my face. October eighth. That was…

Gray narrowed his eyes. “I thought we decided on the fifteenth.”

Ah, he remembered.

Justin reached for his half-eaten slice of pizza. “Yeah, but if we push it up a week, we’ll have more time in Fiji. I have to be in New York City in November.”

Tags: Lane Hayes The Baxter Chronicles Romance
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