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“Edison. Please.” Edison cut his eyes at Bishop then back to Royce. “It was just my opinion, of course. I probably would’ve done something similar if I’d had more of a choice. I remember my pop gave me a recipe book of everyone’s favorite entrees at popular restaurants. Like Chili’s ribs, or Friday’s artichoke dip.” Edison laughed, “My favorite was Red Lobster’s cheddar bay biscuits.”
“No bullshit? You can make those?” Twerp asked, looking impressed, which only appeared to incense Royce.
Edison smiled. “I can. They’re really not all that hard. What restaurant are you managing, Royce? I almost guarantee I’ve made a dish by them.”
“It’s not important,” Bishop said to Edison before Royce could answer. “Your pancakes are much better than IHOP’s, baby.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Edison
Edison could have counted on one hand how many times he’d prayed for a dinner to be over. That was rare for him. But, gosh was he happy to be walking out of Bravo and into the night air. That had been the weirdest, most awkward dinner he’d ever had. Which really sucked, because he’d been looking forward to it for so long. But he wasn’t mad, not at Bishop anyway. He was sure he hadn’t planned that, not with the almost hostile way he’d reacted to the guy. But Royce had played off their discomfort and commandeered their evening, whether they’d liked it or not.
Edison shook his head as they walked slowly back to the car. That Royce was a real character. Edison thought he’d met some interesting people in his line of work—interning in the General District Court, volunteering at the help desk at Social Services—but Royce topped them all. He should’ve been an actor or something, because he’d had all of them up and down with his sarcastic antics. Royce would say things in a way that wasn’t nice, but it was never quite clear if he was being insulting either. Especially the way he kept acting as if he didn’t mean to call Edison, Ed.
He was theatrical in the way he would uncross his long legs, turn his body in another direction and cross them again. With a set of gams like those, he could’ve been a male Radio City Rockette, old George from his father’s shop would’ve probably said. And Edison was confused by how well the man could frown with his eyes all while smiling with his mouth. To say his personality could’ve used an overhaul was an understatement. A lot of men would’ve killed for Royce’s body—for his swag. He was a man who could have had his pick of any suitor he wanted if he wasn’t so… so… Edison frowned. Weird.
It was unbelievable to think that Bishop had once been in love with him. Bishop hadn’t denied it when Royce had said they were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together. So, he must’ve loved him. But they seemed almost like enemies now, surely not friends. Edison squeezed Bishop’s hand as they maneuvered around a rowdy group of ladies who were hanging off of each other and having fun.
Bishop had been quiet all through dinner. Royce had literally excused himself after their entrees came, claiming he and his study buddy needed to get back to work. Bishop’s jaw had been tight as a bowstring since. He felt bad that Bishop had let his ex get to him like he had. The little jabs Royce had gotten in on Edison just bounced off his thick skin. When it came to guys like Royce, Edison could deflect their BS all day. He’d had many years of experience, so he’d enjoyed his salmon dish and not thought twice about the prick when he’d left. However, Hurricane Royce had left a mess behind as he’d departed.
Edison didn’t start the engine as soon as they got in the car. It was quieter, and he could finally speak without having to yell over the noise and music in the courtyard. “Hey,” Edison whispered. He reached up and took Bishop’s chin in his palm, his rough beard electrifying his sensitive skin. Bishop’s shoulders were slumped, and his expression pained when he looked up at Edison. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Your dinner was hijacked,” Bishop growled.
Edison removed his hand, the sound of Bishop’s voice striking him in his chest. He was so upset and Edison hated it, he wanted to fix it. It was true, they didn’t deserve for their first date to be like that but hopefully there’d be more. “Yeah, I guess. But, it’s all right, Bishop. I’m really happy just to be out with you.”
Bishop cracked a hint of a smile, and Edison seized it and continued talking. “Next time I’ll pick the restaurant and I’ll guarantee you it’s not a place Royce will show up at.”
“And where’s that?” Bishop stared at him.
“Golden Corral. Do you like that place?” Edison smiled. “I love their buffet. It’s one of my guilty pleasures. I bet Royce wouldn’t be caught dead in there.”
