Page 74 of A Matter of Fact

“I don’t want them to think I’m…” He stopped himself.

Rhys stepped back and gave Beckett a dubious look. “You better not have been about to say a gold digger.”

“A gold digger,” he sighed.

Beckett didn’t see a way around Rhys’s friends making the assumption. They were so different in so many ways.

“You’re not that,” Rhys assured him.

“They don’t know that.”

The intercom buzzed.

“Then we’ll prove it to them,” Rhys said with a shrug. He tangled his fingers with Beckett’s and pulled him out of the bedroom, toward the living room.

“How?”

“Time will tell them, darling.” Rhys gave him a soft look and Beckett’s entire heart flipped again at the use of the endearment. The fact that Rhys so rarely used it, and the times he did, it almost slipped out against his will which somehow made hearing it that much more special. It felt stolen and private. It felt vulnerable in a way Beckett couldn’t explain.

Before Beckett could say anything else, Rhys opened the door, and a few seconds after, Remington and Sebastian were there. Sebastian gave his brother a hug, and Remington gave him a cautious look. Beckett got the impression that things weren’t necessarily icy between them, but maybe tentative.

“Beckett,” Sebastian saying his name pulled him out of his own head and back into the present.

“Sebastian.” He cleared his throat. “Hey. Good to see you again.”

“How was your fancy date?”

“Oh, it was really great. Thank you again for the clothes.”

“It was nothing,” Sebastian said, and Beckett knew to him it hadn’t been. “Have you and Remington properly met?”

“Not really,” he said as Remington came to stand alongside Sebastian. Rhys was still there beside him, still holding his hand, and he could feel both of the other men staring at the contact point.

“Nice to meet you,” Remington offered, eyes watchful behind a pair of black-framed glasses. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Nothing bad I hope.” Beckett laughed awkwardly.

Remington didn’t have time to answer because the intercom buzzed again, indicating the food had been delivered. He broke away from Rhys and met the driver at the door, taking the bags into the kitchen and busying himself with getting the food ready to save himself from the awkwardness in the other room.

“Beckett.”

He startled at the sound of his name and looked up to find Sebastian standing in the doorway.

“Sebastian.” He let out a shaky breath. “Hey.”

“Did you need help?”

“With this?” Beckett flipped open the lids on the takeout containers and started scooping food onto serving plates. “No, I’m good. I know my way around a kitchen.”

“My brother’s kitchen, you mean.”

Beckett heard the hint of accusation in Sebastian’s words, but he shrugged it off. “Kitchens in general,” he said. “But yes, Rhys’s as well.”

“In general?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m a waiter,” he explained, shoving the empty bags into the trash. “But you know that.”

“How long have you been in the service industry?”