Page 21 of Fallen Hearts

Funnily enough, the second Parker tossed out his idea, I knew Beck was going to want in. Thankfully there were four rooms in the main house, and none were occupied. “You can take number three.”

He pretended to be offended. “The smallest, nice.”

“Also far enough away,” Cole added in his typically dry manner, “no one has to hear the”—he cleared his throat—“guests you take home.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And maybe you can make yourself useful with the renovations too.”

“Of course.” He did not sound at all convincing. “I did spend two days cleaning a damn basement.”

“True.” And I appreciated it, even if I didn’t say the words. The guys knew saying such things out loud made me uncomfortable.

Cole took off his glasses to polish them. “If only I could partake in this interesting adult male bonding experiment.”

“Whatcha mean?” Beck asked.

“I mean,” he said, as if giving one of his famous lectures, “it’s one thing to declare we will remain bachelors for life. But quite another to actually live together at our age.”

“You say that like we’re seventy.” Parker shifted on his stool. I looked down, unable to unsee the brightest pair of pink and blue socks imaginable. Even though it was sort of his thing, those had to go.

“It would be more acceptable if you were seventy,” Cole said, popping his glasses back onto his face. “It would be like a retirement home.”

“And this will be like a very fancy frat house,” Beck said.

“Exactly my fear.” I took a long swig of beer.

“Frat brothers are not thirty-one and thirty-two,” Cole pointed out.

“You should totally join us.” Beck was unrepentant.

“Sure. Great idea. Maybe O’Malley’s is hiring.”

Beck could have taken offense to that, but he didn’t. With a college degree and parents who had more money than God, Beck chose to sling drinks because he liked it. Not because he had no other option, which would also be fine in my opinion. My father taught me never to look down on a person because of how they looked or what they chose to do for a living, and it was sage advice. I’d met cops who didn’t deserve the respect they got and custodians who deserved a hell of a lot more.

“You hate the city almost as much as Mason,” Beck accused instead.

“Clarification,” I added. “He hates it more.”

Cole was more like Parker. Loved the outdoors, played ice hockey growing up and in college. His family moved from Cedar Falls when his dad got the position at Yale, but of all of us, Cole enjoyed small-town living most. But when Columbia came calling, he answered.

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“Sure it is,” Beck pushed back. “Being a tenured college professor is your father’s dream, not yours. You can leave anytime.”

Now we were treading in dangerous territory. “We’re getting off track,” I said, refereeing. “Are the two of you actually moving in? What if I decide to sell?”

“Apartments in Cedar Falls aren’t that hard to come by,” Parker said.

“So we’re really doing this?” Beck asked.

“We’re doing this,” Parker said, looking back and forth between Beck and me.

“Can we please remember the end game?” Cole broke in. “No wives.”

The bachelor pact had been his idea, and anytime one of us had come close to breaking it, Cole stepped in with one of the myriad of reasons marriage was a bad idea. As if we had to be convinced.

I was allergic to the kind of lifelong heartbreak my father suffered. Parker’s dad cheated and his parents divorced, making him as bitter about the institution of marriage as any of us. Beck’s had divorced too. Ironically, Cole’s were the only set of parents intact, but it was almost worse because everyone knew it was for appearances and convenience only. Cole basically resented his parents almost as much as he resented people who didn’t read for pleasure, which included me, but… whatever.

“Who the hell wants a wife?” Beck asked, bottom on the list to ever actually settle down.

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