Archie tiptoes – yes, he fucking tiptoes – across the room to hide behind a giant artificial palm tree. He turns back to us and makes some sort of hand gesture that I take to mean weshould move on up. We creep in a line and pile in behind Archie. Obviously, because we’re six big, grown men, people are starting to stare at us all standing there spying behind a palm tree.
Ethan steps on Rafe’s foot, and he swears and pushes him. Cas is trying to keep them both quiet, and Nate is busy texting on his phone. I turn to shush them, but Archie beats me to it.
“Will you all, please, shut the hell up! You’re going to give away our position!” He’s trying his hardest to whisper and shout at the same time.
Rafe sniggers. “Alright, Commando, calm down.” He salutes Archie, who flips him off and turns back to listen in.
“Arch, what are they saying?” I’m desperate to know.
“He’s telling her how sorry he is for fobbing her off. Something about pressure at work…” Archie turns back around, his brows knitted. “How much pressure does a lifeguard at a leisure centre get?” I twirl my finger for him to turn around and listen some more.
“Okay, now he’s telling her he regrets how they left it…and…OH MY GOD!” He shouts this last bit and dives back as Lacey and DBD turn to look at the source of the noise. Luckily, we’re out of eyesight, but that doesn’t stop the rest of the restaurant from staring at us like we’ve got four heads each.
“Archie! What the hell was that?” I whisper to him, but he shakes his head.
“If I tell you, then you have to promise to stay where you are.”
I give him a look that says, ‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll be shoving that palm tree where the sun doesn’t shine.' He shakes his head but gives in.
“He just asked her if she’s interested in a friends with benefits situation.”
I see red. That is the only thing to describe what happens next. I move out of the line, ready to grab this little fucker by his neck, but Archie reaches out to try and stop me, only he missesme completely and instead collides with a server who is walking past. The tray of drinks she’s holding falls, as if in slow motion, to the ground, and when it smashes everywhere, Lacey spins round in her chair. A look of shock registers on her face when she sees me, before that shock turns into a look of pure rage.
I gulp, actually gulp, because I realise the shit storm I am about to be in. So do my brothers, because when I turn around, they’re all making their way back, out of the restaurant.
Lacey reaches me and, with a storm in her eyes, she says one word that sends shivers down my spine. “Outside!”
I follow her out; my brothers haven’t abandoned me because they’re all standing there, heads hanging low.
“Really?” Lacey crosses her arms and levels her stare at us all.
“It was his idea!” Rafe points to Archie, and Lacey cuts him a glare that has him closing his mouth.
“Do you not trust me or something? What made you think that it was okay to ignore my text messagesaskingfor your advice? What made you think it was okay to come here to fuckingspyon me, Cole?” I go to respond, but she isn’t done yet. “No! You don’t get to explain this away. None of you gets to explain this away.” She turns to Cas. “And you? Just wait till I tell Emmy about this, Cas.”
I reach forward to her, but she shrugs out of my grasp. “Don’t touch me, Cole. You have done nothing but take from me in this so-called friendship, and I have done everything I could to support you and your decisions, regardless of who they were or what they were. You don’t give me the decency of telling me the truth, so until you can, I’m not interested.”
She turns and heads back inside with DBD without giving me a second glance. That fucker smiles at me, then points his fingers like a gun and blows out the imaginary smoke before pretending to holster it.
“Fucking dickbag!” Ethan shouts at him. And he is a dickbag, but then so am I because, once again, I have pushed away the only thing that’s been good for me because of my insecurities.
**********
“So, tell me about your week.”
She starts it the same way every week, and every week I relay what’s happened. This week, I’m dreading relaying anything. Sandra is skilled at her job and adept at allowing people a moment to think; she never pushes.
“I messed up badly.” That’s all I say. She writes something down and moves her hand for me to carry on. “Lacey sent me a message to tell me the baby’s biological father reached out and wanted to talk to her, for the baby’s sake.”
“Okay, and how did that make you feel?”
“Scared, scared shitless.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought that was it, I lost my chance.”
“Did you have a chance in the first place?”
