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He arches an eyebrow. “You’re really going to take a shot at my celibacy after you jumped down my throat?”
I wince. “Sorry. It’s what I do. Inappropriate humor is my thing.”
He hums, deep in thought, wise sage that he is. “Often the most sensitive souls hide behind humor.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t hide behind humor, Mad.”
“Never said you did,” he says. “I was talking about sensitive souls, which we both know you’re not.”
Now that’s more like it. He winks at me and stands. On his way toward the door, he passes by me and places his hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be an amazing dad, Mase. Or an amazing partner or husband for that matter. Maybe you could have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
He walks out of the room, and I stare after him, wondering how the hell we ended up here. Marriage? Kids? Me? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. So what if I love spending time with my nephew? And I may have the occasional thought about what it would be like to have another person depend on me and how nice it might be to feel needed in that way—maybe by a kid or perhaps a partner or even a dog.
That doesn’t mean I’m not happy with my lifestyle. I do what I want when I want, and I don’t have to worry about upsetting or inconveniencing anyone else. My life is fast-paced, fun, andmost importantly, easy. It’s exactly how I like it. I tried the whole deep and meaningful shit a long time ago, and it didn’t end well. I have no desire to ever go there again.
“That’sanother James brother off the market,” Tyler says with a mischievous grin. “I can hear the hearts breaking all over New York tonight.”
I hand him another Scotch. “I think Drake has been off the market from the moment he set eyes on Amelia. But yeah, it was good to officially welcome her into the family.” I was shocked as hell when Drake fell for his secretary considering what a workaholic and commitment-phobe he was. But when I see the two of them dancing together on the balcony where he proposed to her on New Year’s, it all makes sense. A little over five months later, they’re married. New York in June makes for a beautiful wedding. Romantic bastard.
Tyler stands beside me, his arm bumping against mine, and we stare out at the New York skyline. “So that’s Nathan, Drake, and Elijah all happily married now. That only leaves…” He lets the unfinished sentence hang in the air. My oldest brother also got married this year—or rather remarried. He and his wife divorced because they made each other miserable as sin, then both realized they were more miserable without each other. Now, they’re two of the happiest people I’ve ever seen. Another of my brothers I’m undeniably happy for. Whatever broke, Elijah and Amber definitely fixed it. “I wonder who’ll be off the market next.”
I take a swig of my Scotch. “Well, given the choice between me and my celibate, Buddhist monk little brother, my money’s on him.”
Tyler laughs. “Mine too. I can’t imagine anyone ever being man enough to pin you down.”
I sigh and take another swig. “Although many have tried.”
He laughs again, his huge shoulders shaking with the force. “Like the bartender from that sex club.”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ, I forgot about him.” He wasn’t my usual type, but when a member of the Irish mob wants to set you up with someone, it’s not the kind of offer you turn down. Mikey Ryan told me about a guy who works at his club, Ben, who’s around my age, hot, and also gay, and assumed we’d be compatible.
The guy was hot, but we went on one date, and it was a disaster. It’s like with Tyler and me. He’s Mel’s cousin, and he’s become as much a part of our family as she is. I’m sure most of them keep expecting us to hook up at some point, and I get why. We’re both single, both into dick, and we get along great. What more could we want?
Tyler grins at me. “He didn’t seem your type though. Way too alpha and very up his own ass.”
I hum my agreement. “Yeah, but it was the fact he wanted to be up my ass that was the real problem.”
Tyler spits out a mouthful of Scotch and doubles over, coughing and laughing, while declaring his inability to breathe.
I slap him on the back. “Jeez, buddy. You used to be able to handle your liquor.”
He stands straight and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fuck!” He lets out another chuckle. “Your dating stories never fail to entertain. I swear you have the most colorful love life of anyone I’ve ever known.”
That’s probably true, although lately it’s been decidedly less so. More like beige. The dating scene in Manhattan is growing old—or maybe I am. Or maybe I’ve already dated everyunattached gay guy in the state. “Colorful? Is that a polite way of saying…?”
“That you’re a man-whore,” he replies, deadpan, folding his tattooed forearms across his chest. “Have you ever bottomed though? For anyone?”
Fuck, I do not want to open that can of worms. Not even with him. And besides, it was a different life, so it’s not exactly a lie when I shake my head and tell him no. “You?”
He shrugs and flashes me that grin that makes his dimples pop. “Occasionally. For the right guy.”
Well, that’s an interesting development. Tyler is all top energy, and I never considered that he could be a switch. On paper, he’s exactly my type. Tall, broad, tattooed, sparkling blue eyes. Funny as hell. “For the right guy, huh?”
He tilts his head to the side and rakes his eyes down my body. Fuck. We have had way too much Scotch and are far too alone in this room to be having this conversation. “That’s what I said.”
“And how does someone find themselves lucky enough to be that guy?”
He arches an eyebrow in challenge. “Keep smiling at me like that, Mase, and you might find out.”
