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“Deal.” She smiled. “So I see Dean and Josh are both here,” she remarked, raising her perfect strawberry blonde brow at me. “What are you going to do?”
“Drink,” I said, clinking my champagne glass against hers.
“So, with Dean, anything there?”
“Too much.” Admitting the truth to my sister felt good. I was done with denial half an hour ago with Dean’s admission. I had been running from the truth long enough.
“And Josh?” she asked carefully.
I shook my head no. I’d been fighting that inevitability long enough as well.
“Hey, beautiful,” Grant called from inside the door. “Come on, I have something for you.” We both stood up and I gave her a brief hug before she joined Grant. I followed them both in. I looked to see everyone gathered around. A piece of canvas sat on top of my father’s model table, which now sat on our kitchen table. My father encouraged Rose to unveil it and we all waited silently, excited for her reaction. Our brother Paul stood with his arms wrapped around Hilary with excitement in his eyes as Rose jumped in reaction.
“Oh, Grant,” she exclaimed, looking at the model of her future home. “It’s perfect.”
“We are going to build it for you, sweetheart,” my father said, meeting Paul’s eyes with a nod, his pride in his ability to make her dream home a reality. Rose had mentioned that Grant owned some land they were planning to build a house on. She threw herself into my father’s arms as she cried happy tears, then my father made a toast. Everyone in the room clinked glasses, and I felt arms slide around me as Josh apologized sweetly in my ear.
“I’m sorry. I love you,” he said, kissing my cheek, his warmth radiating from him. I nodded as I looked up to see Dean watching us. His expression was pained as he looked on at Rose. He stood still for several seconds before setting his glass down on the counter and walking out of the room. Feeling the need to go to him, I excused myself from Josh, just as my father recruited him to bring out the cake.
“Dean.” I stopped him at the door.
“Please apologize for me,” he said, opening the door then closing it behind him. I opened it, stepping out and grabbing his arm. “I can’t fucking take this,” he said as he faced me, his lips coming in hard and fast. I pushed him away with a fierce “No.”
He stumbled away, the hurt on his face ripping into me.
“It’s not right. You can’t just throw a fit when you don’t get what you want. You are better than this.”
“You’re right,” he said, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. “It won’t happen again.” I nodded as he took a step forward. “But don’t think for one second that I’m giving up on you. I’ll be patient, and wait for you to do…whatever it is you need to do.”
“I’m doing the right thing, Dean,” I argued.
“Bullshit,” he said, cupping the back of my head and forcing me to face him. “You are cowering away in your corner with a safe bet. You don’t want to hurt him, I understand that, but you are only going to hurt him in the long run.”
“You’re pretty confident about that, aren’t you, you smug bastard? You’re so sure I’ll come running back to you.” He dropped his hand and closed his eyes tightly.
“I’m running back to you, Dallas, can’t you see that?”
“Took you long enough,” I said sarcastically.
He backed me up against the door, his frustration rolling off of him.
“Does it feel good to see me like this? Completely fucking ruined that he gets to touch you when I can’t? That I’ll go home tonight out of my mind with the fact that he gets to have your smiles, your laugh, and your body? Because if having me like this is what you are aiming for, I’m there.” I shook my head no furiously as he leaned in closer.
“I’m not intentionally trying to make
you feel any certain way. You damn men and your egos. He’s my boyfriend. You have no right to feel this way or to guilt me for being his.” I exhaled as he pushed away from the door, backing away slowly. “I’ve explained this to you repeatedly. You put yourself in this situation and have given me nothing but hell about it ever since.”
“Maybe,” he said, “and maybe I’m finally doing what you wanted me to years ago. I’ll keep fighting for you, Dallas, until you realize that I’m not going anywhere.”
“Looks like it to me,” I said as he clasped his keys in his hands.
“Seriously,” he said, as if I was the one being completely unreasonable.
“Get your entitled ass back into that house, spend the evening with my family—a family who embraced you as one of their own for half your life, might I add—and congratulate my sister. Right now, you’re acting like an ass. You don’t deserve my loyalty or theirs by pulling this crap.”
He looked shocked as he absorbed my words.
“You have no right to touch me, Dean, or to ask me to leave my ‘safe bet,’ or anything else for that matter. You have no right to judge my life or how I live it. I asked you to be a friend, not put yourself in direct competition with the man who’s held my hand through the last year of my life. He deserves my loyalty and faithfulness. You want to make me believe you, that you’re sincere about your feelings for me, fine. I’m giving you that chance now.”
