"Nope."
I waited. Marcus took another sip of wine, deliberately casual.
I leaned back in my chair. "You've been weird about your phone lately."
"I'm always weird."
"You've been weirder."
Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You sound like my mother."
"Your motherlikesme. That means I get to ask nosy questions."
"She doesn't like you. She tolerates you."
"Semantics." I waved a hand. "But go on."
Marcus exhaled, drumming his fingers against the table. "Michael's bringing someone to dinner on Sunday."
I blinked. "Michael? Your Michael?"
Marcus huffed. "He's not my Michael."
"He's absolutely your Michael." I narrowed my eyes. "And he's never brought anyone to dinner. Ever."
"Yeah, I know." Marcus picked up his phone again, checking the screen before locking it. "He hasn't said much, just that it'sathingand I should shut up and let it happen."
I grinned. "And yet here you are,notshutting up."
Marcus glared at me, but it was more amusement than anything else. "Don't make it a thing."
"Oh, it's already a thing."
"I mean it, James." He pointed a finger at me. "You and my brothers aremenaceswhen it comes to this kind of shit."
I tapped my fingers against the table. "What's their name?"
Marcus hesitated.
I sat up straighter. "Wait.You know their name, don't you?"
His mouth flattened.
"You do."
He sighed, rubbing his temple. "It's—" He hesitated, then muttered, "Alex."
"Alex," I repeated, rolling the name around in my mouth. "Interesting."
"You don't even know them."
I shrugged. "Still interesting."
Marcus shook his head. "This is why I didn't tell you."
"You werealwaysgoing to tell me," I said smugly. "You just wanted to act like you weren't itching to talk about it."
He groaned, tilting his head back. "I hate you."
