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Why does it bother him?
He never cared when I was dating Trent.
But then, Trent never sent me a hundred purple roses.
Clearly, I don’t understand male psychology.
Sullivan does. He’s burrowing under Angus’ skin like a tick. Eating away at him.
As soon as we climb in the car together, Angus says, “You two must have had quite the weekend.”
I’m sure I look guilty, though not for the reason Angus thinks. I mutter, “Sullivan’s very thoughtful.”
Angus is driving too fast, taking the turns hard enough that my shoulder presses against the passenger-side door. He always drives that way, so it has nothing to do with the flowers. But there’s an edge to his voice when he says, “I saw he dropped you off this morning.”
“Yup.”
Angus jerks across two lanes without using his blinker.
“You’re not moving in with him permanently, are you? Six months isn’t very long to make that kind of decision.”
That’s rich coming from Angus, who’s already been married and divorced three times, none of those nuptials lasting longer than a year.
His hypocrisy irritates me enough to say, “I don’t know—Sullivan’s got a huge place, and you know what a shithole my apartment is.” Then, to really turn the screws, I add, “Plus, it’s closer to the office. I know how much you hate when I’m late.”
Angus’ knuckles tighten on the wheel. “So, it’s getting serious?”
He really won’t let this drop.
I sneak a glance at him, heat creeping up my neck. Usually, on a drive like this, Angus would be nattering away about work shit, all the things he expects me to do, and all his brilliant plans he wants complimented.
Instead, he’s edgy and agitated, picking at this boyfriend thing like a scab.
Is Sullivan right? Could this actually work?
Recklessly, I say, “Yeah, it’s pretty serious. Sullivan’s incredible—so considerate and attentive. He’s really smart, too. Like the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
I knew that one would hurt. Angus likes to believe he’s the smartest personanybody’sever met.
His jaw tightens, and he takes a turn that makes the wheels screech. “Is that right?”
“Oh, yeah…” I’m really laying it on thick. “He could be on Jeopardy. Every time we watch it, he knows all the answers first.”
Angus loves Jeopardy. He cried when Alex Trebek died.
A dull, brick-colored flush blooms beneath his tan. He looks so angry, I’m wondering if I crossed the line.
But then he says, “Well, if it’s that serious, I better get to know him. Why don’t we all go for dinner this weekend?”
“Sure.” I turn to look out the window so Angus won’t catch my smile.
Angusand I visit a property out in Irvine that includes some fifty acres of undeveloped land. It has most of the things Angus needs in terms of square footage and access to utilities, but he seems distracted and irritated throughout the tour.
He’s snappy with Corgus, who keeps trying to sing the praises of the developer without noticing that Angus isn’t listening to a word he says.
“What do you think, Theo?” Corgus says to me at last, out of pure desperation.
I glance over at Angus, trying to imagine what Sullivan would say.
