Page 117 of Last First Kiss

“She thought it’d be better for my résumé.” Javi smilesjoylessly. “She handed the wedding over to a colleague without even telling me.”

“Fuck,” Jordan hisses.

“That’s Katharine Glass for you.” Javi raises his glass like he’s making another toast. “She couldn’t let one high-profile opportunity get away. Not to support me. To show everyone she doesn’t work with bigots.”

He downs another fourth of his drink.

Jordan frowns into his own.

He can’t imagine Kami doing that. Uncle Kenny either. Denz has been openly out since college. Jordan doesn’t remember a single client turning away from him because he’s gay. The company wouldn’t have allowed it.

“Two weeks later,” Javi says, “I quit.”

Jordan grabs his wrist before he can take another slurp. “Wait. You didn’t fight it?”

“Fight what?”

“What Katharine did to you!”

Javi eyes Jordan’s fingers wound aggressively around his wrist. With a sheepish grimace, Jordan lets go.

Javi swirls his Jack and ginger. “No. I didn’t fight.”

“But why?”

“Because I’m just little Javier Velasco. From Little Havana in Miami. My ma still cleans houses around the city. I grew up in hair salons with my tías. In neighborhoods Katharine would never march her Louboutins in.” He exhales hard. His hand trembles around his glass. “I’ve always had to prove myself. That I’m great enough.”

Jordan thinks to comment, but decides not to.

“People like us”—Javi motions a finger between his and Jordan’s faces, their very not-white skin—“we fight for our spots. Nothing’s ever given. Not by them.”

Jordan chews on his lip. He knows what Javi means.

Exhaling, Javi adds, “I didn’t want to fight. Not when I had better options.”

Jordan whispers, “24 Carter Gold.”

Finally, Javi grins. “Denz is fully out. Everywhere. And people love it! His sexuality has never affected his career. The company had his back, and I don’t think it’s because he was the boss’s son.”

Jordan smiles too. “It wasn’t.”

“I saw something great in him and—”

“You wanted to emulate that?”

“Fuck no.” Javi guffaws loudly. “I wanted to bebetter.”

Jordan clinks his glass to Javi’s. “Now that I can relate to.”

Javi lowers his empty glass. “Let’s go, Carter. You’re falling behind. Or are you going to let me beat you at another thing?”

“When did you beat me the first time?”

There’s a glint in Javi’s eyes Jordan can’t dissect. He’s notbuzzed, but heat swirls beneath his skin. All the bar’s edges are turning smooth.

Two swallows later, he orders another.

On Javi’s third drink, he says, “It’s sweet what you’re doing.”