Chapter Eleven

Ethan hurried out of the party with his eyes lowered to avoid attention. Pleasant small talk with people he barely knew was the last thing he felt like making. There was a terrace and a beer garden at the front of the hotel. He went straight outside, grateful to find it empty, and drew in a deep breath of cool air. Anger continued to simmer inside him, and he needed to get it under control. The night was chilly, with a cloudless sky, exactly what he needed to clear the fog in his head.

Alex Shaefer was unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. The hypocrisy of the man. All that crap he’d said the past weekend, about Ethan having grown up, how he was so much better now than the juvenile brat he’d been in his twenties. Holy shit. Ethan had actually fallen for it. He’d believed him.

Well, the same couldn’t be said about Alex, not after that little display. He was no better than a kid—an immature, jealous brat who couldn’t stand it when things didn’t go his own way. What kind of grown adult belittled another for caring about their career? Alex was clearly insecure if he felt threatened by Ethan’s ambitions. Alex’s own career had gone from strength to strength, building upon years of hard work. Ethan didn’t have that luxury. He’d had to start all over again and consider new career options in his mid-thirties. Of course he would give it everything he had.

It didn’t have to be at the expense of a relationship, though. Besides, they had only just met again after a long break. They could hardly jump right in and start living together. They had separate lives. It would take time to get reacquainted and to get to know each other. Ethan would not put the rest of his life on hold while they waited to see what would happen.

And what was that shit about Rory? Ethan didn’t care who Alex had slept with in the past or how many boyfriends or lovers he’d had. Anything that had happened before they got together was irrelevant. So what if he’d had a casual thing going with Rory for a while? It didn’t affect anything now.

Ethan exhaled, long and slow.

That kind of relationship—the jealous, insecure type—would never work for him. He was his own man, with his ambitions and hopes for the future. It would be nice to share some of that with another man—one who appreciated things and would enjoy the ride. Alex was obviously not that guy.

A group of four people came out of the hotel and stood around one of the outside tables to light their cigarettes. One of the women glanced in Ethan’s direction and seemed to recognise him. He gave a cursory nod and headed back into the hotel before they tried to draw him into conversation.

Rather than go back into the party and risk seeing Alex, he took a right turn and went to the hotel’s public bar. There were a few people around, but none paid him any attention. Ethan went straight to the bar and ordered a double vodka and Coke. He might as well get shitfaced. His plans for the night had vanished.

He’d come by taxi, half-hoping he would stay over with Alex and they could enjoy a few drinks together. There was no chance of that now, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t get drunk. If the hotel didn’t have any rooms to spare, he would get home the same way he got there.

The waiter put down his drink, and Ethan took a long swallow.

Better.

He carried the drink to a high stool at the end of the bar and sat with his back to the room, hoping to avoid attention and conversation. He wanted to be alone. It was better that way, time to focus on himself and his future. Fuck anyone else. He didn’t need them. All his efforts from now would be focus on work. No more diversions. No more handsome faces to turn his head. He didn’t want that kind of distraction.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Rory Evans slapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he slid up to him at the bar.

“Trying to get some peace,” he replied, staring at his drink and avoiding Rory. In his peripheral vision, he saw Rory watching him intently.

“The party’s not all that, is it? Not unless you’re into football. Never understood the attraction myself. The players, yes. The sport, not so much.” He chuckled and climbed onto the stool next to Ethan.

Shit.

“Double Bacardi and Coke,” he called to the waiter, and to Ethan, “You want another?”

“Why not? The same again, please.”

“It’s nicer out here,” Rory remarked, looking around the bar. “It’s getting a bit too hot in that other room.”

“What did you say to Alex Shaefer?” Ethan asked.

“When?”

“Earlier tonight. You told him about our old arrangement.”

“No, I didn’t—not in so many words. He just jumped to that conclusion. Why are you bothered about him, anyway? He’s bloody boring, man. Nice enough to look at, but he’s got no sense of humour and no personality that I can see.”

Ethan shrugged and drained his glass. “You’re probably not wrong in that assessment.”

“Oh, I’m right. Trust me. That’s why he writes books for other people, because he’s got nothing of interest going on himself.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. Rory was so transparent. “You asked him to write your biography, didn’t you? What happened? Did he turn you down?”

“I sounded him out, that’s all—just to see if he was the right man to tell my story. As it turns out, he’s not. Too bloody dull, that’s what he is.”

They both laughed and the second round of drinks arrived.

“Cheers,” Rory said. “You need to loosen up, man. It doesn’t suit you being so down. Why don’t we blow that party off? Let’s say we get pissed, you and me. Have a real good laugh. What have you got to lose?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Ethan took another long swallow.

The vodka was working its magic, and he felt better already.

 

* * * *

 

“What’s wrong with your face?” Lanita asked. “This party is for your benefit, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’m fine,” Alex said.

“Well, you don’t look it—more as if someone had died.”

He grimaced. Lanita was right. Since Ethan had stormed off, he hadn’t felt sociable at all. He’d made an effort, accepting the praise of various well-wishers as they came over and posed for selfies through gritted teeth, but he couldn’t think about the book. His thoughts were with Ethan.

“I fucked up,” he said.

Her smile wavered. “In what way?”

“With Ethan. You were right. I behaved like an idiot, expecting him to put me before his career. Oh shit, I’ve blown it completely. What a dick.”

Lanita put a hand on his forearm and led him away from the crowd to a quieter corner of the room. They sat down. “Ethan’s not stupid. He’ll come round.”

“No, he’s not stupid. I am. He won’t want anything to do with me now, and I don’t blame him. I was no better than a stroppy teenager. All the things I accused him of? I was guilty of them all myself. I was just too self-absorbed to realise it.”

“Well, you’re aware of it now. That’s something, isn’t it? And there is one way you can start to put things right.”

“And what’s that?”

“Tell him you’re sorry,” she suggested. “Tell him you realise you’ve made a mistake. He might not welcome the apology straight away, but I think he’ll appreciate it.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“It’s never too late to say you’re sorry,” she said, tapping her finger on the table. She turned her head, surveying the room. “Where is he? Still around?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well,” she said, poking him in the leg, “find out. Instead of moping around with a face like a slapped arse, track him down and make your apology. And if he doesn’t want to hear it, at least you’ll know you tried. That is, if you’re serious about him, of course.”

“I am.”

“Then prove it.”

“All right,” he said, getting to his feet, filled with determination. “I will.”

Alex wandered around the room. A DJ had taken to the decks, and the small dancefloor was full. Fernando appeared to be enjoying himself, his handsome face glowing as he danced openly with his boyfriend Joshua. They made a fine couple and were so obviously in love. The prospect of sharing a moment like that with Ethan seemed a long way off.

Even further if Alex didn’t find him.

He continued his search. He spotted Melanie in conversation with a Premier League player who had announced his retirement at the end of the season. He tapped her on the shoulder.

“Is Ethan still around?” he asked.

She regarded him coldly. “I assume so.”

“Have you seen him?” he persisted.

“Not for a while.” She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

“Thanks,” he said, without emotion.

“Try outside,” she said wearily. “He was heading in that direction the last time I saw him.”

As he left the function room, the relief was instant. He hadn’t noticed how warm it had gotten in there. The air-conditioned foyer was much more comfortable. He sighed relief. Now if he could only find Ethan. He didn’t expect him to accept his apology, but it might make amends for the shitty way he’d behaved.

There was a large bar to the left of the reception desk. Alex tried there first.

He spotted the figure sitting at the bar straight away. He would recognise Ethan’s broad back and blond hair anywhere. He recognised the bald black man sitting beside him too.

Alex watched as Rory slid his hand around Ethan’s waist and let it drop to caress the curve of his arse.

Rory Evans had wasted no time making his move and Alex realised with regret that he was too late.

 

* * * *

 

After four doubles, Ethan felt no pain.

Rory was in high spirits, telling jokes and making bitchy remarks without a care who heard him. “I tell you something. I won’t be back in this neck of the woods for a very long time. Two weekends in a row in the northeast. I must be bloody mad.”

“Hey, this is my home,” Ethan said.

“A shit-hole is what it is.” Rory laughed, drawing seething glances from the hotel staff. “There’s nothing going on here. It’s boring.”

“Shush.” Ethan thumped his arm. “You’ll get us kicked out.”

“Hey, why don’t we go up to my room? I’ve got a bottle of vodka up there.”

“I’m fine here.”

“C’mon… You might not get the chance again for a while,” Rory ventured, copping a feel of Ethan’s arse.

Ethan didn’t brush him away. He was too drunk to care. Is this what my life has come to? he wondered. Getting pissed and flirting with Rory Evans? Shit, there has to be something better than that.

He looked at his watch and struggled to focus on the numerals. It had gone midnight. He should really think about quitting and calling for a taxi. It was a half hour drive home from here and he didn’t want to pass out or throw up in the car. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you up to?” Rory asked.

“I’m going home,” he managed to say, struggling to bring up his list of contacts.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” Rory pressed. “Put that thing away. I’m getting us another round.”

“It’s Saturday night. If I don’t call a taxi soon, I won’t get one until after three.”

“Listen to yourself, man. You sound like a right old fart,” Rory laughed, tugging Ethan’s phone out of his hand and turning it off. “There. No taxi. You don’t need one. We’re in a hotel.”

“I don’t have a room.”

“You’ll stay with me,” Rory said, signalling the waiter.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not going to eat you. Let your hair down for once.” He gave Ethan’s arse a playful pat before turning to the stony-faced barman. “Two more doubles. Thanks, mate.”

Why the hell not? Staying with Rory seemed like the simplest solution.

“I need a piss,” Ethan said, easing himself off the stool. “Won’t be long.”

He stumbled with his first step. It was no surprise, considering the drinks he’d put away in the last couple of hours. Ethan weaved through the tables, grabbing the backs of chairs for support on his way to the door. Now he had stood up, he didn’t feel so great. His vision skipped like the reels of an old movie.

Shit. He realised too late that he’d had too much to drink.

He stumbled to the foyer, swaying. The bathrooms were somewhere to the right. If he could only find them, he’d throw cold water in his face. That would help.

As he took another step forward, his bad ankle gave way. He skidded, slipped and broke his fall against the wall. His vision flickered worse than ever.

He needed to lie down. Nothing else mattered right now.

A gentle hand took hold of his elbow. A familiar scent and voice.

“Ethan, you don’t look good. Let me get you to my room.”

Alex.

Ethan slumped into his arms, flooded with relief.