Third Time Lucky (Finn's Pub Romance 3)

I could say something about Joey’s train, but I manage to resist. “It can’t be fixed. He made the decision for us and he’s right, isn’t he? He deserves one of the guys his brother picked out for him. Someone who’ll take him on adult dates and to singalongs. Someone who’ll take care of him while he’s taking care of every kid that crosses his path, because his heart is too damn open. Someone who’ll propose over pancakes and never leave him behind, drop him off like he’s junk or make him feel unwanted.”

The men around the table lift their beers, as if to toast my overshare.

Shit. “I don’t usually talk this much.”

Except with Joey.

“You should do it more often,” Ken says with a smile. “I know I’m sold. Green’s brother deserves all of that and more. So why don’t you give it to him? What’s stopping you?”

“I’m not—I wasn’t…”

“Let me guess,” Seamus says, slapping a hand on his thigh in emphasis. “You didn’t think you were into men until you met him? Welcome to the club. We discontinued the t-shirts, but you still get a pub discount.”

“I always knew,” Brady mumbles.

Ken nudges him with a shoulder. “Well, we’re special, love muffin.”

“They are rare in our family,” Seamus agrees. “My brother Owen slept with every woman in town until Jeremy. Rory’s man was clueless. I was completely oblivious.”

“Calamity’s brother, Matthew,” Brady added. “He was as surprised as everyone else.”

Is that relief easing the tension in my shoulders? “So, it’s normal? Not to know?”

And exactly how many members of their family are gay?

“Normal? What’s normal?” Seamus says with a laugh. “It may not be not the norm, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Do you love him? Because that’s the crux. What it all boils down to in the end. That and the trust that when you leap, he’ll be around to catch you.”

Love and trust. When it comes to Joey, I think it’s been there for a while. But I thought I understood why he was holding back. Why he agreed to be temporary, and why he might have thought that I didn’t want anyone to know.

Has that changed for me? I’ve known a few players whose coming-out party was usually a one-way ticket to the minors and obscurity. Subtly done, but obvious all the same.

I close my eyes and see him laughing with my daughter, looking up at me like he can’t quite believe I’m real.

I want that. Every day. Whatever I’m supposed to call it.

Enough to risk your dream of playing in The Series?

Enough to risk anything.

“I need to talk to him.”

Ken gets to his feet. “It’s about time. It smells weird down here, Seamus.”

“Don’t let Thor hear you say that.”

I push back my chair and stand with them. “How do I do this? Joey made himself clear and he won’t answer his phone. And I don’t think all the reporters are willing to give up on the story yet.”

Brady frowns. “The lingerers are there about selfies and some vampire hippo bullshit. We’ll fix that tomorrow.”

Ken walks over and puts his arm around my shoulders. “I put in two elevators and several other necessary additions. You think I’d have a place on the harbor and not make sure there was another way to smuggle something into the building?”

“Smuggle?”

“Good guys can smuggle things.”

Brady chuckles. “Stop teasing him. He’s had a hell of a day.”

“I’m sorry. There’s no smuggling. But on occasion, privacy is key.”

George and I have a conversation in our future. A long one.

***

Brady pulls around the corner of the building to the parking garage entrance. His SUV draws some interest from the few reporters still hovering around the lobby doors and fire exit as we drive by, but none of them follow. Probably because they’re under the same impression I am, that those doors are the only way into the building. That there’s no access from the exterior structure.

As the big ginger eases into a reserved parking spot on the fourth floor of the garage, I scan around for a private door to get in the building. Not seeing one. There are elevators and stairs. But no direct entrance from the fourth level.

“High voltage.” Brady points out the window to my right at the tall green electrical transformer cabinet with a bright yellow warning sign and a picture of a stick figure being electrocuted.

Eyes wide, I turn back to Brady.

He’s smiling broadly. “Like I said. He’s Batman.”

I chuckle, but my amusement is short-lived. This is so strange. Like something out of one of George’s books. But he’s not joking.

When I start to get out of the car, Ken’s hand lands on my shoulder from the back seat. “Pay attention, because this is important. Turn the handle to the left, then right and step inside. Close the door and punch in four, nine, seven, one. The inner door will open, and then you’ll have to climb through the air ducts for a few hundred feet, slide down the fireman’s pole into the lobby and sprint for the elevator.”