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“Like I said,” Peter responded, “we need to talk.”
Spencer’s posture stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said to Emilio. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“You need me to get rid of him?” Emilio asked quietly.
The corner of Spencer’s mouth turned up. “Tempting as that sounds, no. I need to deal with this.”
“Are you sure?” Emilio asked. “I wouldn’t mind.” He clenched his fists and cracked his knuckles. “At all.”
Spencer smiled broadly. “I’m sure.”
“Spencer,” Peter said, his voice louder. “I’m waiting.”
With a flinch, Spencer turned around and walked over to Peter. Emilio heard him say, “Keep your voice down.” After that, they spoke too quietly for Emilio to make out the words, but he could tell from their facial expressions that they weren’t talking about anything good.
“Who is that?” Henry said from behind Emilio.
He looked back over his shoulder. “Spencer’s ex. Guy’s a total asshole.”
“Should we take care of him?” Henry asked immediately.
“Spencer said he wanted to handle it himself,” Emilio answered before turning his attention back to Spencer and Peter.
“Then let’s stop staring at them.” Henry tugged on Emilio’s shoulder. “Come on, we have a game to finish.”
Emilio grudgingly followed his brother to the pool table.
“Martin, you’re up,” Henry said as they walked up.
“Who’s the guy talking to Spencer?” Martin asked as he picked up his cue. “Four ball, side pocket.” He lined up his cue stick, took the shot, and missed.
“Spencer’s ex-boyfriend,” Emilio said, glancing over at the two men again.
“Huh,” Martin responded. “Henry, it’s your shot.” He walked over to Emilio and followed his gaze. “Should we go take care of him?” he asked.
Emilio heard the balls connecting, indicating that Henry had taken his turn.
“We’re not in the fuckin’ Mafia,” Henry said, as if he hadn’t just suggested the same thing. “Besides, Spencer said he wanted to handle it himself. You’re up, Emilio.”
Emilio picked up his cue and walked over to the side of the table that would give him a good view of Spencer.
“I don’t like his body language,” Martin said, still staring at Peter.
“I don’t either,” Emilio responded. The man was scowling, his face contorted in anger, and he kept throwing his arms around. Emilio leaned over the table and lined up his shot. “Eight ball, left corner of his pocket,” he said. Then he hit the ball hard, bounced it over the edge of the table, and sent it flying, right into Peter’s groin. The asshole cried out and dropped to his knees.
Spencer spun around and stared at Emilio.
He shrugged and smirked.
“You missed,” Martin said.
“Nah, I think he landed his shot right on target,” Henry responded as he looked at Peter crouched on the ground, cupping his balls with his hands.
“No. He said corner pocket.” Martin tilted the bottom of his beer bottle in Peter’s direction. “That was a zipper shot,” he argued.
“I said left corner of his pocket,” Emilio corrected. He leaned back against the pool table and crossed his arms over his chest. “The inside corner is probably up against the zipper. I nailed it.”
“True.” Martin shrugged and took a swig of his beer. “It was hard to see from this angle.”
All three of them watched as Spencer crouched next to Peter, seemingly trying to help him.
“You gonna get in trouble?” Henry asked.
“Probably not. Spence is really forgiving.” Emilio chewed on his bottom lip. “But if he’s pissed, I’ll just do that thing I told you about earlier until he gets over it.”
“Yeah, good call,” Henry said.
Spencer glanced up and met Emilio’s gaze. Emilio raised his eyebrows in question, and Spencer grinned for just a second before grasping Peter’s arm and helping him up.
Though he didn’t have the details, Emilio knew Peter had been an asshole to Spencer when they were together and that Peter was the one who had ended the relationship. He could understand why Peter would regret walking away; hell, if he lost Spencer, he’d probably feel nothing but regret for the rest of his life. But following him to a public place for the second weekend in a row and trying to embarrass him was a dick move, plain and simple. And yelling instead of getting on his knees and begging was just stupid. Yet despite all that, Spencer was still trying to help Peter up off the floor, still being kind.
Emilio’s heart warmed as he looked at his man; Spencer really was the sweetest guy alive. “Actually,” Emilio said. “I’m gonna do that thing either way.”
“I don’t want to know,” Martin muttered.
Chapter 17
THOUGH Spencer would have thought it impossible, his day had just gotten weirder: the “everyone is bisexual” conversation with Maria, followed by Peter showing up at his office, and then Maria and Peter fighting like they were teenagers. Well, the last one was actually somewhat par for the course. Maria had never liked Peter, and Peter had never liked anybody who didn’t think he was wonderful.
