Page 35 of The Himbo and the Lord

He looks up and I can see in his eyes that it’s something real.

Something important.

He opens his mouth to tell me but then shakes his head and looks away.

“It’s not—I can’t right now, okay? Let’s just wait for Kit and Tony to get here.”

I stay quiet for a long moment, trying to find the answers in his pained expression, but there’s no way I can read his mind. I’ve never seen him like this. I have no clue what could be happening.

Eventually, though, I realize that pushing him now could do more bad than good. So I nod, then hail the waiter over.

It’s less than ten minutes later that Tony and Kit arrive, looking happy enough and smiling as they walk over.

We get drinks, order dinner, and talk about everything the way we always have.

I tease them about their jobs, they tease me about being a hobo, though they know better, and Seth’s frown smooths over little by little throughout the evening and then the night.

I’m pretty sure he comes close to drinking the equivalent of his body weight, but I don’t stop or question him again.

If getting shit-faced is what he thinks he needs, then who am I to argue?

Instead, at four in the morning, I half carry him out of a club we ended up going to, and over to his brother’s car.

His security is there to help me, and so is Zac.

“He okay?” he asks quietly when he greets me with a hug. The hug isn’t usual for us, but it’s also not super weird that I think twice about returning it.

“I honestly don’t know. He didn’t tell me what happened,” I hurry to add, so Zac doesn’t pry or say something my best friend doesn’t want me to know. “He just said he needed to get drunk and I provided.”

Zac’s smile looks tired and honestly fake as fuck, so I simply pat his shoulder and nod back at the SUV.

“I’m here for you both if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” he croaks, surprising me. That’s more emotion than I’ve ever seen in him, so this really has to be serious.

Again, I realize it’s not really my place to pry, we’ve all got shit going on in our lives. I nod for him to climb in next to a sleeping Seth and step back.

Since I told Yates, my driver, to go home hours ago, I call a car after they drive off, and breathe deeply.

I really was a dumbass, thinking I’d basically never see my friends again after we came back from Australia. I jeopardized whatever relationship I could’ve had with the lord because of that fear, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.

But at least I have them.

It’s a very goodat least.

* * *

I don’t bother turningon the lights when I arrive home and step out of the elevator. I’ve lived here all my life, and though Mom oversaw remodels of the penthouse more than a couple of times in my lifetime, the layout is as ingrained in me as my name.

But I’ve only taken five steps down the hallway when a light turns on in the formal living room.

Like the villain of a B-grade movie, my father’s sitting there glaring at me, with a whiskey tumbler in his hand, wearing his fancy-ass pajamas and hate filling his eyes.

Oh well, having a perfect night seems to be something I’ll never experience again, it seems.

Of course, I could’ve moved out at any time over the last four months.

But that would’ve meant explaining to my father why I’m able to move out, where I got the money, and another conversation on how I need to get my act together and come work with him.

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