Page 19

19

Prism

Arsen is mad. At me.

The thought was like a merry-go-round inside my brain. Round and round it went, up and down like those horses with the saddles. Never still, and even though it made a circle, it was still uneven.

You know something weird about an overstimulated and busy mind? The busier it got, the more vacant I became. It’s hard to explain. Like I got lost inside the swirling thoughts as everything competed, and I just got so overwhelmed that I became this shell that disassociated from literally everything. Empty yet congested at the same time.

It made no sense, but it was where I currently was.

Physically, I was at the airport. It was loud and bustling. People scattered everywhere like ants.

Probably another reason I was shutting down.

But mostly because Arsen was mad at me.

He said he wasn’t. He was currently holding my hand. Not like in that loose, half-hearted way either. Our fingers were interlaced, his grip firm. Our palms fit together.

Still, I couldn’t shake the worry. He’d been… off since Kruger had brought up the whole name thing. The idea that I would accept the offer and take my brother’s last name seemed to be a dealbreaker for him.

I think it was the first dealbreaker of Arsen’s I’d ever met.

What a shitty introduction.

Except the exclusive thing, of course. But that wasn’t a dealbreaker—not to me—because I’d never want anyone else anyway.

Oh .

Was that connected to this? Did Arsen think that if I took Kruger’s last name, it would somehow take away our exclusivity?

My nose wrinkled. It wouldn’t, though . Ben was my brother. That wasn’t the same as boyfriend.

But he’s mad.

It made me feel as if I’d done something wrong. Something really bad. And on top of that, my brother was getting married, jetting off to Hawaii… talking about having kids.

We were all at a chalet—a very nice place but an unfamiliar place all the same.

And now Arsen’s parents were coming here. They would be staying under the same roof as us. Over the past few months, I’d seen Bennett and Christina Andrews several times. We had a couple dinners. I visited the house where Arsen grew up, and Christina showed me her library. They were very accepting of me and welcoming. They treated me more like a son than my own parents ever had, but I was still getting used to it.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about them being here, but I wouldn’t say that out loud because this was for Jess and Kruger. I was glad Senator Andrews could marry them. I knew he’d make sure it was good and official, which was exactly what Ben needed.

He didn’t want to admit it, but this wedding was extremely important to him. Since the summer went by without a wedding as they’d originally planned, my brother became restless and worried. It was something I wasn’t used to and something he tried to hide. I couldn’t blame him for wanting everything to be official. He waited a long time for Jess. Did a lot to try and be “worthy” of her.

Men needed happy endings too, you know.

So here I was, spending winter break at a ski chalet and trying to hold it all together while standing in an airport, waiting for Gram to disembark her flight. To be honest? I wasn’t great at holding everything together.

Okay, maybe I was when I deployed certain coping mechanisms, but I’d gotten used to Arsen helping hold me together.

He’s mad. At me.

I said no to Kruger’s offer—more than once. But it seemed even just the possibility of me taking his name had inflicted damage.

How does one do damage control at an airport?

Or anywhere.

“There she is!” Kruger said, but the words didn’t register. Seconds later, his palm slapped me in the center of my chest, and his face filled my line of sight. “P! Gram’s here.”

I blinked, my surroundings coming back into focus. “Where?”

Kruger turned and pointed as a line of passengers filed through a freshly opened gate.

Her ultra-blond hair caught my eye from behind a few men, and I started forward, a smile curving my lips.

I was tugged back, though, Arsen’s hold on my hand firm. “Hey.”

I turned, meeting his dark, searching gaze.

“You sure you’re okay, baby?”

My stomach swooped a little. I really loved the sound of his voice. Especially when it was just for me.

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed a bit like he could detect the lie. “I want the truth, Matthew.”

“I’m fine.” I assured him. “Really. This is just a super busy place. I want to see Gram. Then we can get out of here.”

He tugged the double rings in his lower lip and reluctantly nodded. “All right. Go on.”

“Matt,” a familiar voice beckoned, and I turned as Gram approached, a big smile on her face.

I smiled too and went toward her as she opened her arms. Her hug was exactly as it always had been, exactly as I remembered. Tight and reassuring. And though I was bigger than her and had been since I was a teenager, I still felt enveloped.

Her signature scent was Chanel No.5, and it hadn’t changed since I was thrust into her life. I liked the continuity of that scent. It had become a reminder of home. Smiling over her shoulder, I inhaled deeply, the notes of jasmine, bourbon, and vanilla easing some of the anxiety inside me.

“Let me see you,” she said, pulling back but holding on to my arms. “Just look at how handsome you are.”

“You just saw me at Thanksgiving,” I told her.

“So?” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You get more handsome with age. It must be because Arsen is taking good care of you,” she said, blue eyes going over my shoulder to where he stood.

“Teresa,” he said, affection in his voice. He didn’t have to be reminded over and over like me to call the parentals by their first names. It just rolled off his tongue like honey.

“Arsen,” Gram said, giving me one last squeeze before rushing behind me to hug Arsen. Gram really loved my boyfriend. It didn’t surprise me, though, because he was charming. “You look handsome too,” she said. “Is that a new shirt?”

“Yes,” he replied, cheeky. “I had to get some more clothes since Matthew keeps stealing them.”

She laughed.

“I give them back,” I muttered, feelings stinging a little. Doesn’t he like it when I wear his clothes? Is that just something he tolerates?

A bad flavor coated my tongue, and I swallowed rapidly, trying to get it to go away.

“Oh, it’s just so good to be here.” Gram hugged me again, though I didn’t feel it as much this time. “Where’s the bride?”

“She’s getting washed and painted,” Kruger said.

“Washed and painted….” Gram wondered.

“She’s at the spa with the girls.” I clarified.

Gram laughed and swatted Kruger. “You do have a way with words.”

Kruger glanced at his watch. “They should be done soon. I know she’s anxious to show you her dress.”

That meant he was anxious to put his eyes on his wife.

“Oh, well, I am equally as anxious to see it,” Gram said. “I just need to get my bags from baggage claim. I tried to pack light, but how could I when there’s a wedding to attend?”

“I’ll carry your suitcases for you, Gram. All twelve of them,” I teased, holding out my elbow for her.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Gram. We’re at your service,” Kruger said, already hefting her carry-on onto his shoulder. “We’re just glad you could make it on such short notice.”

“Posh!” she said. “I would never miss your wedding. You’re family.”

I don’t know why, but my eyes slid to Arsen when she said that. As though I almost thought he’d be mad.

He was smiling. “How was your fight, Teresa? How about I get you a coffee while we wait for your bags?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Decaf vanilla latte with skim milk, right?” he asked.

“Oh, you remember,” she said.

“I’ve got it stored permanently,” he replied, tapping on the side of his head. His onyx hair was a little disheveled from wearing a hat all morning on the mountain, but that just gave him an effortless appeal.

And yes, Gram drank decaf.

“Decaf.” Kruger scoffed as we started walking toward baggage claim. “That’s like having sex without an orgasm.”

My mouth dropped open. I might have been operating on a half-functioning brain, but that certainly got in.

Arsen and Gram laughed, Kruger grinned like he got away with murder, and I shook my head. Who made sex jokes to their gram ? Not me. Ew .

“You’ll understand when you’re my age,” was all she said.

A familiar hand slid over my lower back, settling confidently. Arsen’s side brushed against mine as he leaned in. “How about a mocha, princess?”

I glanced at him, my heart squeezing a little. Something must have slipped through in my gaze because concern flashed on his face, then softened.

“Extra whip. Fully caffeinated.”

“Bear,” I murmured.

He leaned in and kissed the side of my head, lingering there for long moments even though we were walking.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he whispered before pulling away. “You want anything, Kruger?” he asked.

“I’m good, bro.”

“Meet you guys at baggage claim,” he said, giving me one last look before disappearing into the crowd toward the nearest coffee place.

The urge to call him back was strong, so much so that my lips parted, but Gram interrupted. “How has vacation been so far, honey?”

“Eventful,” I answered, eyes going back to where I last saw Arsen, but he was already gone. An empty feeling howled through my middle, but it was much different than the vacant one I mentioned before.

This one was painful and aware, offering a minuscule glimpse of what it would be like if he walked away for good.

Stop being so dramatic, Matthew. He said he wasn’t mad. Everything is fine.

It didn’t matter how much I told myself that. The anxious part of me didn’t believe it.

“Oh?” Gram said. “Eventful how?”

“Rory almost drowned. Ryan almost lost his mind. I almost had to commit murder, ” Kruger listed, whispering the last part. “Oh, and the senator is flying in.”

Gram’s eyes widened. “Arsen’s father?”

“Both his parents.” I clarified. “He’s going to marry Jess and Ben.”

“How did that happen?” she asked.

“You still hauling around those hot-pink suitcases, Gram?” Kruger asked.

“Well, of course. They’re fabulous.”

“Fabulously loud,” Kruger deadpanned.

“Just like you,” I quipped.

“Har-har, P,” Kruger said. “Well, at least I can see them coming from a mile away.” He pointed toward the conveyor belt that had just started moving. “Be right back.”

He went off, and Gram turned, settling all her attention on me.

“How are you, honey?” she asked, a softness in her tone that hadn’t been there before. She was a beautiful woman who looked younger than her fifty-odd years. I didn’t know her exact age. She never told me. Said a woman didn’t discuss such things. I probably wouldn’t even know the decade if I hadn’t gone through a spiraling phase as a preteen who worried constantly about her dying and leaving me as an orphan. Or worse… back with my biologics.

She told me her “estimated” age to assure me she was still young enough to be around many more years. I guess that was one benefit of my estranged grandfather marrying—then divorcing—a much younger woman.

Her hair was very blond but not platinum like Lars’s. Hers was a warm shade, more honey than white. It was cut into a jawline-skimming blunt bob that was so straight it didn’t even curl in at the ends.

She had a fringe of bangs too. She told me once that she favored them because they covered the wrinkles in her forehead. I never noticed any wrinkles, but whatever.

Her skin was smooth from spa treatments, and her makeup was applied expertly. She was a woman who spent time on her appearance and self-care and had more than enough money to do so. She was dressed in a pair of dark jeans that looked like trousers and a cream-colored sweater that tied into a bow at the back of her neck.

Her coat was a plaid wool trench. Burberry, I think. Sometimes Arsen wore that brand.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I told her.

“Me too. I get to see my boys twice in the same month! What a way to close out the year.”

She called Arsen one of her boys now, from the very first time she’d met him. She never once batted an eye that I was dating a man. Just accepted him immediately. That probably had a lot to do with my boyfriend, though. Arsen was nearly impossible not to like.

What if, after this week, he decides I’m too much?

I worried about that so much in the beginning. The longer we were together, the less frequent that thought came. But today? It was relentless. It was sort of making me feel sick.

Gram’s light touch on my arm brought me back from the confines of my thoughts.

Glancing at her red-painted nails, I smiled. “It’s been a very busy week. I’m okay,” I said, trying to cut off this conversation before it could begin.

“Of course you are. But I think it would be completely understandable if you were a little overwhelmed.”

“This week isn’t about me. It’s about my best friends getting married.”

“P! Give me a hand, bro. She really brought half her house!” Kruger hollered across the crowd.

A few people chuckled and stared.

“I did not. That boy knows how big my house is,” Gram said, offended that Kruger thought she could fit half her house inside just a few bags.

I shook my head, pushed the AirPods deeper into my ears, and started off to help.

“Matt.”

I glanced around. Gram stretched up onto her toes to hug me. The way she patted my shoulder was familiar, and my throat closed. “I’m here if you need to talk, honey. I love you.”

“Love you too, Gram.” My voice was gravelly, and I hurried off to load up with suitcases.

Turned out he wasn’t being dramatic for once. There were not just a few bags. There were six. And she was only going to be here for two and a half days.

“Why couldn’t she be like every other normal person and bring her emotional baggage, not fifteen pairs of shoes?” Kruger wanted to know.

I laughed.

Kruger glanced at me. “You like that one, P?”

I shook my head. “Better than the decaf joke.”

“Aww, that’s a classic.”

“That’s my Gram.”

“I hate to break it to you, P. But she’s a MILF,” he cracked.

Horror must have completely taken over my face because Kruger held up his hands. “Not to me! That’s just inappropriate. I’m a married man!” He leaned in and gestured around the crowd. “I’m just saying… I’ve seen the bros in suits looking.”

I leveled him with a look. “You aren’t married yet.”

“All right, I get it. No more MILF jokes.”

I grabbed one of the suitcases to stack it on top of another, larger one as Kruger did the same. “How do you think she got all this into the airport on her way here?” Kruger wondered. “Probably used some of that MILF mojo— shit. I did it again,” he lamented. “Sorry, bro. You know I’m like a one-man show.”

I shook my head and pointed to the suitcases, preparing to heft the stack and another on the side.

“Not so fast,” Arsen said, appearing around a group of people standing in wait.

Gram was right beside him, a white paper cup with a cardboard sleeve around it in her hand. The large square diamond on her index finger sparkled under the light.

“I’ll get it,” Arsen said, stepping right into my personal space.

I relaxed instantly, the neurons in my body recognizing him instantly and soothing my tattered nerves. It never ceased to amaze me the effect this man had. It was like no one else. Even when I was anxious and worried about him being upset, my body still reacted in relief.

“You take this,” he said, holding out a cup that looked a lot like Gram’s but larger. “Mocha latte with extra whip. Extra chocolate drizzle.”

“Too much sugar,” I grumped. He always got me this. I always liked it. I guess I felt like being difficult today.

“That means you can share some with me,” he said, curling an arm around my side to tug me in.

My chin fell back to look up at him. It was something I didn’t really need to do. The three inches he stood taller didn’t require me to crane my neck, but I always did this. His large presence always made me feel dwarfed and protected.

He hummed low in his throat. So low I doubted anyone else heard.

“You gonna kiss me in this airport, Matthew?” he asked, the words on his lips a mere whisper. My scalp rippled and tightened as tingles raced along my nerves. My fingers tightened on the warm cup, and my lashes fluttered like butterfly wings.

He dipped his face, capturing my lips softly, pressing deep but not aggressively. Just enough to make me feel owned. To quiet everything inside me for long, blissful moments. It was over too soon, and he lifted his head. I whined, and he collared the back of my neck with his palm.

“Not even out of my sight for ten minutes and it was just too long.”

“Really?” The vulnerability I’d been working so hard to contain slipped out with that one word.

“I’m gonna make it better when we’re alone later,” he said, replying to so much more than my simple one-word question.

I didn’t trust myself to say anything, so I took a sip of the mocha. It was warm and sweet, the chocolate adding a bit of richness.

“I know it’s been a busy day, princess. Full of a lot of people and stuff. Can you hang in there just a little longer?”

I slid him some side-eye. “I’m not five,” I muttered, taking another sip of my whipped cream and chocolate. Fuck . “And I’m fine.”

The hand still around my waist tightened. His body shifted, clothes rustled against my side, body heat enveloped me. My body desperately wanted to give in. My energy already had, but I forced my limbs to stay upright.

“Fine’s not good enough,” he vowed softly, and prickles of awareness scattered along my arms. “ Later .”

The words were a prologue to a story I was intrigued by. A book whose page I was anxious to turn.

“I got these,” Arsen said, louder this time, grabbing the handle of the stacked cases. “You take this one,” he offered, sliding one of the smaller bags toward me.

I gave him a dark look, and he smirked. “I can’t help it I’m bigger than you, princess.”

Those words were a well-aimed arrow, and they pierced my heart in the perfect spot, making it deflate. I found myself caught up in a tidal wave of emotion, trying to find purchase and not get lost in my own mind. If I was a violin, he was a master violinist because Arsen Aaron Andrews knew exactly which strings to pluck, exactly the melody bleeding from my soul.

I was needy and helpless, dependent on him in a way I couldn’t even understand. And as everything around us shifted and changed, I prayed what was between us remained.

Even if I was terrified it wouldn’t.