The Anti-Boyfriend

Once I got to my door, I was surprised to hear music playing inside my apartment.

And not just any music. The song was an old one: “How Deep is Your Love” by the Bee Gees.

The Bee Gees?

I only knew them because my mother had loved disco when I was growing up.

I assumed maybe Sharon had a thing for the seventies until I opened the door and saw Deacon standing there. The music came from his phone.

What the hell?

CHAPTER 10

Deacon

THE BIRTHDAY GIFT

After I’d returned to my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about Carys and that guy in Starbucks. Fuck. Why had it bothered me so damn much? Seeing her with a dude who looked like he wanted to eat her up definitely got under my skin. I’d always told myself nothing could come of my attraction to Carys, yet I seemed unable to turn off the jealousy. That was messed up, because it couldn’t work both ways. That old saying came to mind again. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too, Deacon.

It may have been a business thing, but there was no way Carys was walking away from that meeting without an invitation for something more. And why wouldn’t she take it? He looked like he had his shit together.

It was only a matter of time before she started dating, anyway. As her friend, I’d have to suck up my feelings on that. She had needs—as her masturbation book had proven. What I’d neglected to tell her back then was that she needed a good fuck more than any self-service, whether she realized it or not. I just couldn’t be the one to give it to her. But I wasn’t going to encourage her to go out and get it from some asshole who didn’t deserve her, either.

My coffee was cold, and I’d tried to force myself to get some work done, but I couldn’t concentrate. Although it wasn’t because I was thinking about Carys anymore. It was Sunny. She wouldn’t stop crying. Sharon was next door with her, so I knew she was in good hands. But when the crying hadn’t stopped after a full thirty minutes, I’d decided to head over there to make sure everything was okay.

Sharon had opened the door looking completely frazzled. We’d met once before, so she knew who I was, and Carys had always told her to call me in the event of an emergency.

She’d thrown her free hand up, carrying Sunny with her other arm. “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’ve changed her diaper. Fed her. I don’t understand. She hasn’t done this before.”

I pressed the back of my hand to Sunny’s forehead. “What’s up, Sunny?” She didn’t feel hot or anything. I took her from Sharon.

Her crying slowed before it eventually stopped.

“Oh no you don’t. We can’t go down this road. There needs to be another way to get you to stop.”

Sharon seemed amused. “Does she always stop crying when you hold her?”

“Most of the time, yeah.”

“That’s so cute.”

“It is until you can’t put her down.”

When I placed her in the swing, the crying started again. I was determined to help Sharon find a solution that didn’t involve me picking Sunny up.

I took out my phone and scrolled over to my music-streaming app.

Kneeling down next to Sunny, I said, “We’re gonna find something you like.”

Song after song, nothing seemed to stop the crying—until I got to the seventies station. “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees was on.

Little Sunny’s eyes went wide as she listened. I started bopping my head to the music and watched as she fell silent and remained content.

“Did we find a winner?” Sharon asked.

When the song ended, a Donna Summer tune started, and Sunny wasn’t having it. She started wailing. So I tried a little experiment. I pulled up the same Bee Gees’ song on YouTube, and sure enough, Sunny stopped crying again. When it ended, the next video was another song by a different artist. Again, she started crying.

The Bee Gees definitely had a unique sound. I wondered if it was the song she liked or the pitch of their voices. So I pulled up “How Deep is Your Love,” a slower ballad. Sunny again quieted and listened intently.

No shit? This is gold.

At that point, I downloaded the whole freaking Best of the Bee Gees album onto my phone.

Then Carys walked in. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking.

She looked concerned. “What’s going on? Why are you here, Deacon?”

“Deacon is a genius,” Sharon said. “He figured out that Sunny likes the Bee Gees. Listening to their music keeps her from crying. He heard her from next door and came over to help.”

“Well, she stopped crying when I picked her up, but I didn’t want to encourage that habit,” I explained. “Decided to try something new. But the only thing she likes is the Bee Gees, apparently.”