"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
I let out a low, sarcastic laugh. "Now I really can't wait to meet him."
"Behave, Court. Please. For me."
"I will. Butonlyfor you."
My eyes meet his, and when he smiles gratefully, all I want to do is reach out and kiss him. Kiss him to show him all the emotions I have for him I've never been able to put into words. Kiss him to let him know he means more to me than anyone in the world. Kiss him so hard that everyone here—including any ponytailed professional mourners among us—can see loud and clear that Buzz is mine.
I know I'm acting jealous and irrational, but I'm not going to apologize for it. Because it's Buzz.
He's the best, and he deserves the best.
Is that person me?…
No one knows better than I do that I am far from perfect. But when it comes to him, I'd give up everything in my life for the chance to show him how a man treats the man he loves—perceived flaws and all.
Even though I'm leaving for Boston tomorrow, I'm going to tell him how I feel before I go.
I've waited far too many years already.
5
Buzz
Courtland isnota happy camper. The poor guy is jet-lagged, cold, and looks downright miserable.
After leaving the collation, I suggested we head over to the diner. And by we, I mean the same group of buddies I've had my whole life—Court, Scooter who's on a weeklong hiatus from filming his hit reality TV show,Keeping up with the Veterinarians, and Cyrus who's glowing and tanned and even more gorgeous than usual after a two-week shoot in The Seychelles for a high-end fashion magazine.
My twin, Howie, is tagging along, too. His season with the Patriots ended in the first game of the season thanks to a dislocated shoulder and a torn labrum. He's been an absolute joy to live with since he came back to Clovelly to undergo physical rehab. I've been hoping some of mylife is not a total crapholeenergy might rub off on him. I'll report back when I make any progress.
And then there's the newcomer to our group and the guy who's been getting under Court's skin ever since I met him this past summer—Zane Johnson.
To give credit where credit is due, Court smiled nicely and was polite when I introduced them, even commenting how much he liked Zane's ponytail.
Did Zane accept the compliment? Yes.
Do I know Court is full of shit and there's a million percent chance he hates Zane's hair? Also, yes.
But hetried.
Just like he's trying now, wedged into the corner of the booth, diagonally opposite me with my ray of sunshine twin bro next to him, who's stuffing his face with a stacked bacon cheeseburger, and Zane sitting across from him.
Cyrus is busy filling us in on The Seychelles—the food is amazing, apparently, a blend of African, French, Indian, Chinese, and British influences—but that hasn't stopped me from trying to eavesdrop on what Zane is saying to Court. From the little bits I've managed to overhear, he's telling him about his first impressions of Clovelly.
My eyes meet Court's.
I smile.Keep it up, buddy. You're doing good.
He smirks back.You'll pay for this later, bitch.
"You stayin' for Thanksgiving, man?" Scooter asks Court when there's a break in the convo.
He never got around to answering my same question before. He averts my gaze, drops the smirk, and zips his charcoal-gray hoodie all the way up.
As if being ridiculously smart, relentlessly driven, and genuinely committed to helping people weren't enough, Courtland Matthews is insanely attractive to boot. The same age as me at thirty-one, he's got dark-blond hair that's always a perfectly tousled mess, eyes the color of spring grass, well-shaped lips that border on pouty, and a chiseled jawline beneath a dark, close-cut beard. Firefighters may be known for their sexy calendars, but if doctors were ever tempted to jump on the bandwagon, I have strong opinions about who should grace the cover.
