Page 48 of You & I, Rewritten

He looks me dead in the eye, gauging the seriousness of my tone. Opening his mouth once more, I take another step forward, our chests now touching.

“Try me.” I refuse to break eye contact and I can see his uncertainty increasing as he assesses his options here. Between Graham and I, just based on size alone, he must know that he’s no match for us together. Not that I would ever want it to come to that, especially with a member of Graham’s family, but I’m relieved when he takes a step backward, glancing between the two of us before slowly turning around and disappearing into the now growing crowd. I don’t take my eyes off his frame until he’s completely out of my sight.

When I finally turn back to Graham, his head is lowered as his parents are questioning him about everything that just transpired.

“Son, what was that about?” Mitch doesn’t sound or appear angry, but there is serious concern in his voice. Graham doesn’t respond but just shakes his head.

I look to Camila, who’s standing quietly with tears in her eyes, which causes a lump to form in my own throat. “I’m so sorry…I don’t know exactly what just happened, but I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“No, Will…you did the right thing. Thank you,” she says quietly, grabbing my hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Come on,amor…let these two have a moment.” Camila reaches for Mitch as the two of them walk arm-in-arm through the crowd.

Graham still hasn’t lifted his gaze, so I quickly close the distance between us. “What can I do?” I ask, placing my hand on his arm and ignoring the not-so-subtle stares of the lingering guests. He slowly raises his head, his eyes meeting mine for the first time and I see it all—shame, betrayal, anger, sadness. My heart breaks for him without even truly knowing or understanding why.

“I…Will, I need to get out of here,now.” His eyes are red, tears threatening to betray everything he’s keeping bottled up, and all I want to do is wrap him in my arms and shield him from whatever is impacting him this profoundly.

“Then let’s go,” I say, extending my hand toward him, which he seems happy to hold on to, as if it’s the only thing keeping him here in the moment. Once again, I lead us through the swells of the crowd, back through the lavish double doors and into the night’s darkness.

* * *

I turn Graham’s SUV onto the quiet highway. When we left the country club and made it back to his car, he willingly gave me his keys when I asked for them, both of us realizing that he was not in any sort of mindset to drive safely. Graham is leaning with his head against the passenger window and his back slightly turned to me like he doesn’t want me to see him in this state.

His breathing has finally slowed to a normal rate, which allows me to put the fear of him having a panic attack out of my mind. We drive in silence, the dimness of the street lamps illuminating our way as I replay this evening’s events over and over in my mind. From Graham’s hesitation about joining his family in the first place to his mother’s revealing speech to finally meeting a brother I had no idea existed, tonight was filled with one too many surprises that I was not mentally prepared for. But again, I have to remind myself that none of this is about me and that my priority right now is making sure Graham is okay.

For someone who is normally so regulated and in control of his actions and reactions, it was a whole new experience to see Graham go through such a wide array of intense emotions. The passion and spontaneity he exhibited when it was just the two of us. The borderline jealous and rash behavior his brother seemed to pull from him. And then the deep sadness that I hope to never see again. Ugh,my sweet Graham.I wish there was something I could say or do to make this better for him, but based on his body language, I get the sense that he just wants to be left alone with his thoughts.I think?

At the risk of doing something contradictory to what he needs in this moment, I lay my hand on his thigh, gently running my thumb back and forth against the smooth fabric of his suit pants. If nothing else, he’ll know that I’m here.

“Are you hungry?” I hear him ask, straightening in his seat. “I’m just realizing we were supposed to have dinner tonight.”

“I’m fine…don’t even worry about that,” I say, doing my best to reassure him that the last thing on my mind right now is food or anything related to me. But of course, my empty stomach decides now is the time to stab me in the back and let out an audible rumble, which I know he hears because he’s now staring at me from the passenger seat.

“Pull off at the next exit…I know a place,” Graham says, a faint smile forming on his lips, the sight alone making me want to pull over and do cartwheels up and down the street. I follow Graham’s instructions as he quietly but competently navigates me through the outskirts of downtown Brooklyn. After we find a parking spot, Graham takes my hand in his as he leads us down the street, his demeanor slowly starting to normalize.

“Do you trust me?” he asks as we arrive at a cluster of food trucks that are radiating some of the most mouthwatering smells I’ve ever experienced. I know I’m hungry, but these people clearly know what they are doing.

“Always.”

“Perfect…go and grab us a table and I’ll be right back.” He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before padding off toward the growing line of people placing their orders. I’ve never seen this little area before, but it’s definitely a place I’d want to come back to. There are probably six or seven food trucks lined up, offering a wide variety of items. They’ve made a make-shift seating area on a nicely manicured patch of lawn with warm bistro lights strung overhead. The entire space exudes social-media-worthy date-night and I’m so glad I’m experiencing it for the first time with Graham.

I choose a semi-secluded table and sit down, taking out my phone for the first time since leaving earlier this evening and see that I have several messages from Klair who’s desperate for an update. I just finished typing out a quickI’m not dead, but I’ll fill you in latermessage when Graham returns, his hands full of food boxes and two beer bottles.

“That was fast!” I say, reaching up to grab the ice-cold beers from his hands so that he can set the rest down between us. He slides over one of the grease-covered boxes in my direction, a smile spreading across his sweet face.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of beer you liked so I just got you my favorite…I hope that’s okay,” he says, lifting his bottle to mine so they clink together. He appears to be back in control of his emotions, but I know he’s the master of bottling up his feelings.

“This is great…cheers.” I bring the bottle to my lips; the crisp amber ale is refreshing in all the right ways.

“Okay, I know how much you love burgers, so let me present you with my submission for the BEST burger in the city,” he says enthusiastically, opening the box in front of him as I do the same that releases a scent that literally makes me drool. He’s charming me with burgers…it’s like he knows the way to my heart or something.

More brownie points.

“Ooohhhmgosh,” I moan after taking a massive bit of the cheesy and bacony deliciousness placed before me, ignoring the condiments I can feel now dripping from my fingers. I inhale a few more bites, breaking to take a swig from my beer. “This is probably one of the best burgers I’ve ever had.”

“Right? I need to figure out their secret!” Graham says through a genuine smile, the kind that always stops me in my tracks. I pause in appreciation of this moment. We must be quite the sight right now—still dressed in our formal attire, crammed together at this small table, and bent over a couple of burgers and beers. I wouldn’t change a thing.

In no time at all, we’ve both finished our burgers and wiped their remnants from our mouths and fingers. Leaning back in my chair, I take a slow sip of my beer, completely content.

Graham picks at his fries and I can tell his gears are turning. “Will, I cannot apologize enough for the complete disaster that our evening turned into,” he says, remorse filling every inch of his face.

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