Page 37 of Romeo vs Romeo

“I’ll be off tonight,” I said, trying my hardest not to sound teasing while letting my eyes do precisely that. Tristan choked on a sip of water, letting me know I’d failed to conceal the alluring tone.

“Great,” Everett said. “It’s just that I…” He looked at two men nearing the tables. “God, I really picked a moment, huh?”

“Are you alright?” I asked, worry finally coming through the veil of happiness that had overwhelmed me when I saw him.

Everett shrugged. “Not sure yet.”

“Rome, why don’t you take a break? I can handle this,” Tristan said.

“Are you sure?” But even as I asked, I was pushing my chair back.

Tristan nodded. “This is a nice crowd. They can wait a few minutes longer.”

“Thank you,” I said, but those two words couldn’t contain all the gratitude that I felt. I stood up and gestured at the back of the bar with my hand, but Everett gave a slightly jerky shake of his head and led the way outside.

The dusk glow was fading, letting the night creep in. Everett walked stiffly, his shoulders squared, his face hard. He gazed out into the distance as we walked. Somehow, I didn’t fear he was here to tell me it had all been a mistake. After all, he’d started by telling me he missed me. But there was more to it than that.It felt as if Everett was only now letting this tension show. It felt like he was safe enough with me to be stressed.

“My parents think I’m watching a polo game,” he said with a slight note of contempt.

We walked for a little while longer as the muscles in Everett’s face tensed and relaxed. After a minute, we slipped into a narrower street.

“They don’t suspect a thing,” he said and sounded like he was on the verge of a bitter laugh. “Nobody does.” This he said with clear guilt. “Roman, there’s something I need to tell you.”

I swallowed and discovered that my throat was very tight. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“Oh?” His voice was hoarse, like he was fighting to hold something back. He shook his head. “Something awful happened.”

I reached for his upper arm and took it, slowing him down. Surely we were far enough from prying ears and eyes.

“This guy I used to know from my mother’s group got caught having sex with another guy from church and…” He shook his head. “They kicked him out, Rome. His own parents kicked him out.”

“Fuck,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I hesitated, resisting the urge to wave a magic wand and solve everything by saying he was welcome in Neon Nights. The bar was a safe place, but it wasn’t all-powerful. “Was he a friend of yours?”

Everett sucked his teeth and tossed his head. “I kinda hated him. My mother always…” He paused and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why. But when they kicked him out, my own mother said she would have forced him to a conversion camp. No. Hold on. That’s not what I need to tell you. Fuck. I wish I could be good with words like you. It’s just that it’s hard, after everything, and I’m scared…”

Seeing this big, muscled man admit he was scared of something touched the deepest, darkest corner of my soul. My heart went out to him. “I’m here,” I whispered.

But Everett pulled a little back when I began lifting my arms for a hug. He shot his words like a bullet. “He’s my father.” His voice rang against the brick walls that closed in around us. For a moment, I tried to retrace the words and see where I missed something, but Everett spoke again with the gravity of someone jumping off a cliff. “Harold Langley. That’s who my father is, Rome. I’m Everett Langley.”

It broke my heart that he looked at me pleadingly just when my body recoiled from him.

It was stronger than me. It was an instant, physical reaction you’d have if you saw a hateful snake while weeding your flower bed or an abusive father slapping his child. It was the shock.

He saw me pull back, and that was what broke him. He slouched, took a step back, and exhaled. “Yeah,” he huffed. “I’d hate me, too.”

I stared at him. That fitted shirt and the fancy sweater and the perfect pants that hugged his ass lovingly, the shoes that were polished to perfection, the wristwatch I’d only just noticed. Fuck. Everett Langley, the son of a billionaire construction mogul, the heir to the empire that reshaped the face of New York City.

The son of a man who had bulldozers thundering toward our home.

But then I caught myself. Everett offered us proof, and I doubted he was a double agent. He was too tortured to be his father’s spy. After all, Harold Langley didn’t need spies when he had the New York elite in his pocket.

Everett was the guy in the headquarters. Everett was the guy who would rat out the Langley emperor.

I blinked, my mouth still twisted, my eyebrows contorted. “You can’t be,” I whispered. My mouth was running late. My brain had already gone through the loops, but the words only now came. “We…we slept together.”

Everett closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Roman.”

“We had sex,” I whispered a little louder as if that would make me believe it sooner. “And you didn’t tell me.”

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