Page 36 of The Best Man's Secret

He smiled wistfully. “When I think of the gain? Yes. To finally be with—” he shook his head like he was trying to shake the whole thought off— “but he hasn’t given me any hints that what he feels for me is anything but brotherly love. The kind of bond that comes from growing up in the system together.”

He put the glass down and stared at me.

“You’re really good at deflecting, Mister Boss. I got tricked for a moment there, but you’re not getting out of it that easy. Why can’t you tell this guy how you feel?”

Dammit.

“Because it’s complicated. Like, foster brothers complicated, except we’re not foster brothers.”

“I’m lost. Who’s this guy? Do I know him?”

My fingers tightened around the polished countertop of the bar, the cool surface grounding me as he grappled with the notion of laying bare the feelings I’d kept hidden for so long.

“It’s Adam.”

Drew gasped. “Adam as in…Adam, Adam?”

“How many Adams do you know?”

“Fuck, dude. Yeah, I get it. You’re best friends, and you don’t want to mess with that.”

I nodded. “Not to mention he’s straight.”

“You sure about that?”

No. I wasn’t sure about that. Not anymore. The lingering looks. The way he touched me like he wanted to do more of it but didn’t know how. The way his eyes settled on my mouth every time we were alone together? No. I wasn’t sure he was straight. But coming to terms with your sexuality wasn’t easy, and while Adam had grown up with two queer brothers, thinking you’re straight all your life and then finding you might not be, has to screw with your head.

If.Ifwhat I was reading into his behavior was correct.

“Your silence is loud and clear,” Drew said.

One of the servers came over to the bar to place an order so I took my position by the front desk and checked if we still had any bookings tonight.

I was helping out by placing the chairs on the tables after we closed when Drew appeared beside me.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“I think you should start paying attention to Adam and then make a move.”

I laughed. “Pot meet kettle.”

“Well, I’m a hopeless case, but?—”

“And I’m not? At least West is gay. What hope do I have?”

“Okay. Here’s an idea. When you tell Adam, I’ll tell West.”

I almost dropped the chair on my feet. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Dead serious.”

I laughed. “Well, I guess we’re both going to be pining for the foreseeable future.”

He shrugged and left me to my chair-stacking.

I wiped down the last table, the cloth gliding over the surface in slow circles before I stacked the last four chairs, ready for the cleaner in the morning.