Played: Manhattan Ruthless - 10

Chapter

Nine

I never stay at the hotel where conferences are held, preferring my own privacy over having to make small talk with people I’ll never see again—or worse, getting hit on by drunk tech guys who are too young to understand that Green Day is a punk-rock band and not a national holiday for vegans. But as I’m the keynote speaker at this particular event, I make an effort to attend the meet and greet on day one and speak to people before they get wasted on the free sparkling wine.

Sean Phillips, the VP from a tech company we do a lot of business with, greets me as soon as I walk into the conference center. “Mason. It’s so good to see you, buddy.” He doesn’t bother with any attempt at a formal handshake and instead wraps me in a bear hug. “How the fuck are you?”

I clap him on the back. “Good. You?”

Smiling, he pulls his cell out of his pocket. “Fucking aces, buddy. You wanna see the twins?”

Not particularly, but the enthusiasm in his voice stops me from saying that. A few seconds later, he pulls up a fuck-ton of pictures of two cute babies, each with a shock of white-blond hair.

“They’re adorable. How old are they now?”

He’s still beaming, scrolling through picture after picture. “Coming up on six months. You know they change so much every day at this age. Makes me really want to reevaluate my life and the hours I’m putting in, you know?” He comes to a stop at a picture of him and his husband, Rick, each proudly holding a baby in their arms.

Thinking of my own workaholic brothers and the change in them, I agree. “Yeah. Marriage and kids will do that to you, I hear.”

“Fuck. I must be boring you stiff.” He slips his phone back into his pocket and offers an apologetic shrug.

He wasn’t boring me, per se. We’re just at very different stages of our life. It wasn’t always this way. Up until about three years ago, he was terminally single, like me. But then he met Rick. They were married within the year and promptly found a surrogate who delivered them twin daughters. “Not at all.”

“Tell me what’s going on with you,” he says, graciously changing the subject.

“No husband and kids on the horizon quite yet,” I assure him.

He throws his head back and laughs like I told the funniest joke in the world. A joke I don’t get. “Yeah, right.” He wipes an actual tear from the corner of his eye.

“Why is that so funny?”

It must be the sharp tone of my voice that turns his smile into a perplexed frown. “You? The eternal bachelor? Married with kids?”

I bristle, feeling defensive for reasons I don’t understand. Never in my life have I been insulted by anyone’s assumption that I’m not the settling down kind of guy. In fact, I cultivate it, so why the hell am I getting so pissy with Sean? It has to be spending time with my nephew. Adorable little jerk. “It could happen,” I insist.

Sean’s demeanor changes entirely. Either he’s remembered Jamestech is a primary shareholder in his company, or he’s genuinely worried he hurt my feelings. Probably both. He’s a nice guy, and I have no idea why I’m so rattled this afternoon. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that …” He winces rather than finishing the sentence.

“Just what?”

He blows out a breath. “You remember that summer we went on a few dates?”

I remember it was a scorching hot July, and he was working in New York for a few months. My recollection of that time is that we had some fun and there were no hard feelings when he had to head back to Philly. We’ve stayed friends ever since. “Yeah.”

“I asked you if you wanted to come see me in Philly, and you almost had a fucking stroke. I’ve never seen anyone ask for a check so quickly in my whole goddamn life.”

“We agreed it was a casual thing though,” I say. “Didn’t we?”

He winces again. “You offered casual, and I was so fucking smitten, I agreed.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You were smitten? Really? Did you, a thirty-six-year-old man with a Harvard degree, really use the word smitten?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You have no idea of the fucking tornado you are, do you, Mason James? You blow into people’s lives and turn them upside down before moving on like nothing happened.”

What the fuck? “I truly don’t understand what you’re saying. You never said you wanted more. We stayed friends all these years, and you never …” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a tension headache building.

Sean places a hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, I wanted more. But you made it very clear that more wasn’t on the table. And I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m sorry if I have. You were one hundred percent up front about what you wanted, and I went into it knowing exactly what I was getting myself into. I welcomed the tornado with open arms, well aware I was headed for nothing but heartbreak.” He follows that up with a smile.

He’s messing with me, surely. “If I broke your heart, then why are we still friends?”

His eyes twinkle. “The same reason most of your exes remain your friends, Mason. You’re impossible to dislike. And sometimes I suppose it’s for the occasional benefit that comes with being your friend.”

“Benefit?”

“Like when we went to the cryptocurrency conference in Vegas.”

When we won ten thousand dollars playing poker, got fall-down drunk, and still managed to fuck all night? That conference in Vegas?

“I met Rick a few weeks later, and he finally cured me of my Mason James habit.”

Well, that’s good to know. I think. “So now we’re friends because …?”

“Because you’re funny and smart, and I get to be entertained by your exciting love life.” He nudges my elbow. “How many of these greedy young tech geniuses have you fucked so far?” The conference center is filled with hundreds of young smartly dressed men and women who are just starting out in the careers and will no doubt be hanging on my every word when I deliver the keynote speech tomorrow. “I only got here this morning, Sean.”

“Only two or three, then?” He snorts a laugh.

I straighten my tie. “I don’t fuck people I work with. And you don’t count because we didn’t work together then.”

“I do miss the freedom sometimes though,” he says with a wistful sigh. “I adore Rick and want to wake up with only him for the rest of my life, but it’s still quite the realization when you’re confronted with the fact that this is it.”

“Mr. James?” The woman who interrupts our conversation introduces herself as Dana, the VP of a new start-up that is looking for investors. She tells me what a huge fan she is and how much she’s looking forward to my speech, but I’m uncharacteristically distracted.

Ordinarily, I’d be listening intently to Dana’s pitch, because that’s what it is, and I’d probably give her some pointers too. But I’m only half listening. The other half of my brain is replaying my conversation with Sean and dissecting everything he said.

Just because he had that experience doesn’t mean I’m a tornado blowing in and out of people’s lives. Does it? While I do remain friends with most of my exes, it’s not for benefits , at least not on my part. I go over and over it, trying to think of other examples where guys have wanted more than I could offer. I’m sure there must have been some, but I’m usually checked out of the relationship before any meaningful conversations about feelings can take place. And like Sean said, I’m totally up front about my expectations, so why the hell is this bothering me now when it hasn’t for years?

And then I recall what he said about only waking up with one person for the rest of your life. I can’t imagine what that would feel like. Only knowing one body. One person’s likes and dislikes. What makes them tick. What makes them fall apart and rebuild. It’s not something I have any interest in, so why does what he said play over and over in my head all damn afternoon and into the evening? So much so that when the hot-as-fuck bartender at my hotel—who is exactly my type with a dusting of stubble and tattoos running all the way down to his knuckles—suggests we “grab a drink” after his shift finishes, I tell him I have to be up early for work. Not a lie, but also not a factor that’s ever stopped me from taking a guy back to my room before.

I almost convince myself it’s because I’m tired and that it has nothing to do with my chat with Sean earlier today. Almost.