Page 26 of The Bitter Rival

“Your Big Brother Association smart-ass little brother, Gavin, is watching your soon-to-be one-year-old daughter?” I laugh sarcastically.

“Well, Gavin and my dad. Gavin’s actually good with her. Watching the two of them together, I think he wanted a sibling. I can relate, having been an only child.”

“Tell him he can have Sam,” I quickly interject.

“Ha. Well, Gavin would never admit it. When I asked him if he’d watch Grace tonight, he just asked, ‘How much?’”

“I’ve always liked that kid. He kinda reminds me of… well, me.”

“Fuck, there’s not enough room in this world for two of you.” Nick shakes his head. “You up for dinner and a beer?”

“Sure. Why don’t you swing by the house? We could have dinner and drinks there. I’m not up to going out.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll give you a call after I talk to Kat. See ya, man.”

I turn toward my car and feel better about the direction my evening is going. Seeing Isabella in Jeff’s arms had rattled me. Other than a fascination with my one-night stand, I have no claim to her. What’s more, Jeff is a good guy. If that’s who she has her eyes on, I should leave her be. He could treat her far better than some asshole with commitment issues.

“Hey, Nick.” I greet on speakerphone as I take inventory of my grocery items.

“Bas, is it okay if Kat comes with? I’m not dropping her off at the club until later. Just didn’t want us to have dinner after ten.”

“Hell, of course. I’ll have dinner waiting. Steaks okay?”

“Sebastian, are you kidding. Steaks would be great. You need us to bring anything?”

“Nah, man. Just yourselves. It’s been way too long.”

Having hit my gym and showered after arriving home, I set about getting the steaks ready for the grill. I’d picked up a few things on the way here, anticipating leftovers for the weekend. There’d be plenty for the three of us. I had a personal chef that would leave items in my fridge each week. I’m not much for cooking, but I enjoy grilling on occasion.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Glancing down, anticipating Nick had forgotten something, I instead find Sam’s name flashing across the phone screen.

“Hello?” I practically sneer into the line. After his unwanted visit to my home the night I returned from Bali, I can only imagine what this call might be about.

“What a greeting,” he chastises.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“Well, I was hoping I could crash at your place to-”

“No.”

“Wait, what? Why not?”

“Because you have a home. Are you suddenly renting it out? Why do you need to crash here?”

“Well, I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a bind.”

“Sam, you need to be a little more careful about who you’re fucking. I can’t have your women and their scorned lovers coming here after me.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk.”

“I’ve never had to hide out from anyone. I don’t bring women here. You’re a grown man. Get your shit together.”

“Come on, Bas. Just tonight,” he pushes.

“No. Figure it out,” I bark, hanging up the call. Shaking my head at the intrusion, I have to admit my life hasn’t been that different from my party boy brother’s. It was clear our upbringing affected our ability to enter a committed relationship. We both bounced from one woman to another. It was simply our approach that was unique. While I’d made a conscious decision not to date anyone twice or let them into my world, Sam would string them along until he was ready to move on. I’m sure he frequently juggles more than one woman on his dance card.

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