Page 8 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
“Okay, follow me.” Matthew led the way down the wall toward the backstage entrance. Just as we reached the door, he turned toward me so suddenly I took a startled step backwards. “Actually, no. It’s not good.”
There it was. My chest tightened as I braced for a replay of Matthew’s angry accusations that marked the demise of our friendship.
“I’ve seen the way you two are together. Don’t treat me like a fool,” he said, his face red and his eyes flashing.
“You’re out of your goddamned mind.”
“Just tell me the truth—”
“You’ve already made up your own mind. Why fucking bother?”
It hadn’t helped that I’d been in the closet. I could have put Matthew’s concerns to rest with two simple words:I’m gay.But I’d feared the repercussions of that even more than him believing I might have designs on his wife. There was nothing to justify the accusation as far as I was concerned. Sam and I were friends, nothing more.
Matthew cleared his throat, bringing me back to the present. He looked a little nervous.
“I want to apologize.”
I didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure what to say. I’d fully expected that Matthew would ignore our past, let it sit like a heavy elephant between us until we could go our separate ways again. I didn’t know how he and Sam worked out their lack of trust in one another, but that was their business, not mine.
I might have been his confidante once, but that had been years ago.
He wet his lips. “It was my mistake, about you and Samantha, and I never should have…”
“Nothing happened. Nothing everwouldhave happened.”
“I know. I…realized that a long time ago, and I should have reached out. I just felt so embarrassed and ashamed.” He grimaced. “And I saw on Facebook…when you came out as gay…”
Most everyone knew I was gay these days, but having Matthew know—when he’d never known before—sent a flash of unease through me. I’d made the choice to come out on Facebook, so I could only blame myself.
I drew a breath. “Maybe I should have told you then, but I—”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he said. “I was the one who was wrong. I didn’t trust you, and I should have. Your being gay is irrelevant to that. I just wanted you to know that I know, and that you don’t have to worry about me being a homophobe.” He chuckled. “I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”
“No.” Some of my tension eased. “No, not at all. I appreciate the apology. But I should probably make this speech?”
His eyes widened as if he’d forgotten why we were there. “Yes! I’ll introduce you, and afterward, I’ll take you to dinner.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“I insist,” he said. He clapped a hand to my arm, smiling warmly. “The crowd is going to love you. You’ve always had a way of inspiring people.”
I watched him dart off to give my introduction, wondering if he’d smile half as warmly if he knew who’d been half-naked in my room the night before.
Applause echoed as Matthew finished his introduction. I pushed down inconvenient thoughts and made my way to center stage, shaking hands with Matthew once again—his apology making this handshake feel more like the meeting of old friends.
Nothing had happened with Cooper. There was no reason to feel the guilt that bubbled in my gut as I watched Matthew give me one last smile.
Nothing had happened, and I was leaving the next day, so nothing ever would.
* * *
COOPER
I was on the roof of an old, single-story house, the sun beating down on my head, when my phone rang. Kev crouched a few feet away, hammering another shingle into place, while more of my frat brothers were below, working to repair and seal windows. It was still early autumn, but in the Midwest, winter weather could arrive anytime from October to February, and we had three homes to properly weatherize before that happened.
Geraldine Peters, the widow who lived alone here, had come outside a few times already to ply the guys on the ground with homemade cookies and lemonade. None of them were complaining, though they’d probably prefer water, or knowing my brothers, beer. Still, I was proud of what we were doing here.
Our frat partied hard, but we worked hard too. Three years ago, we’d taken on one or two charity projects a year, usually as a way to flash our muscles and tell everyone we were a philanthropic chapter. But since then, we’d flourished into one of the college’s leading frats for charitable works. Some of the Greek organizations had gotten a bad rap for partying too much and ignoring many of their founding tenets, but not us. We didn’t just show up and refurbish a home for older residents like Geraldine, we organized the effort, raised money for the supplies we needed, and saw it through.
