“Either you take that check and deposit it by Monday, or I’ll be wiring it to your bank directly and adding another $20k for the inconvenience.”
Marcus groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re ridiculous. This.Thisis why I don’t ask you for money. I know I’ve yelled at you before for not spending more of it, butthisisn’t what I meant. You should blow it on expensive vacations. Buy a fucking bookstore. Just dosomethingfor yourself for once.”
“I don’t need to spend it on myself. I’ve got everything I want, and there’s still so much left that it’s pointless letting it sit there. So, you’re doing me a favor by taking it off my hands. Break it up into your kids’ college funds if it makes you feel better, but you know I’ll give them more when they get older, too, right?”
Marcus huffs a laugh. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”
“You know you love me.”
“You’re lucky I do, asshole.”
“I’ll see you later.” I smirk. “Tell Tiff that if she rips that check up, I’ll add another $50k to the wire.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus waves a hand flippantly as he walks toward his car. “Wouldn’t dream of giving the resident millionaire another reason to throw his money away.”
He turns and gives me one more assessing look over his shoulder before he smirks and shakes his head, waving goodbye.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sweet Sixteen
Marcus,itseems,hasgone overboard throwing this birthday party for Ryder. There are so many people here that we have to park half a mile down the road from his house, and every room is packed to the brim by the time we arrive.
There’s a host of familiar faces—people I’ve known since childhood and some of Tiff’s group of friends and coworkers from the hospital—but there’s an equal amount of strangers, too. I didn’t think a person could have so many acquaintances, but it isMarcuswe’re talking about. He’s so charismatic that it wouldn’t shock me to see he’d made friends and invited someone like Lizzo or Big Gretch.
He's clearly made too much food, there’s enough alcohol to sustain a small army, and I think he lost his mind decorating the house because it looks like Party City vomited all over the interior. There are pictures of Ryder’s face on tablecloths, napkins, plates, and balloons, with so many streamers hanging from the ceiling that no one could question who we’re here to celebrate. I can only imagine Ryder didn’t agree to any of it… Though I bet he secretly loves it, too.
Luke and I make our way through the throngs of people toward the kitchen to say hi to Marcus and Tiff, and they point us toward the backyard, where Ryder is hanging out with a dozen or so of his friends. The moment Ryder spots me as I step outside to greet him, he breaks into a grin and runs over to give me an unusually solid hug for such a skinny kid.
“Uncle Ethan!” he exclaims happily, before looking back at his friends, beckoning them to come closer. “Hey guys, come meet my uncle Ethan!”
“Uncle?” Luke steps out of the house behind me, arching a brow with delighted confusion.
“Close enough,” I shrug. “Marcus and I are practically brothers. And I’ve known this little guy since the day he was born,” I tease affectionately, ruffling my hand through his hair. He’s still pretty short at sixteen, barely hitting 5’5”. I wonder if this is as tall as he’ll get or if there’s still another growth spurt in there.
Suddenly, I notice how preternaturally still Ryder has gone. He's frozen like a statue, staring over my shoulder at Luke with eyes as big as saucers. I can’t help but smirk at the stunned look on the kid’s face as he takes in all 6’7” of the beautiful man beside me like he’s just died and been greeted by a literal angel at the pearly gates of heaven. Same, kid. Same.
“You’re Luke Shaw,” Ryder says, plainly awed. He’s pale as a ghost, but then he smiles wider than I’ve ever seen, and there are honest to god stars in his eyes. “You’re deadass Luke Shaw.”
Luke cocks his head to the side, and his lips twist up into that devilish little half-smile as he regards Ryder cautiously, unsure where this is going. “I am.”
“No. Fucking. Way.” Ryder beams wide. “Luke Shaw is at my birthday party.”
“You know who he is?” I frown, looking between the two of them with confusion. Luke meets my eye, and I can see he’s just as clueless about what’s happening here as I am.
Ryder turns to the boy standing next to him, his friends gathering around, and he excitedly grips him by the shoulders. “Yo, he’s the one I was telling you about!”
“I am?” Luke asks at the same time that I balk, “He is?”
The boy Ryder is holding onto eyes Luke up and down cautiously, and if the unmistakable look of jealousy on his face indicates anything, I’d have to bet this is the secret boyfriend Marcus was telling me about. I wonder how many people here know they’re dating, or if they’re keeping it hidden from everyone else, too…
“I follow you on Instagram!” Ryder says proudly, his whole face glowing with reverence. “You’re legendary!”
“He is?” I ask again at the same time that Luke chokes out a disbelieving, “I am?”
Ryder whips out his phone and pulls up Instagram, flipping to Luke’s profile in less than three taps before showing the ever-growing swarm of teenagers (seriously, where did they all come from?) the pictures of my boyfriend's face to prove he’s not crazy—that this is the same man he has apparently idolized, at least online, for some time. Once it’s confirmed, Luke is launched into a new celebrity status as everyone fawns over him, like they’re in the presence of an internet icon.
Luke throws on an awed but charming smile, slipping into a well-practiced persona of a star interacting with fans, though the blush on his cheeks tells me he was not expecting this kind of recognitionhere, of all places. I wonder if this happened a lot to him back home in New York City or if it was rare for him there, too? Was he famous enough for people to regularly recognize him on the streets? Or only in certain circumstances?
