Kevin finished up, took an awkward look around like he didn’t know what to do since it was just Brett, Carl, and me on the couches. But he decided to sit down at the edge instead of waiting outside by himself.
I continued to ignore him.
Brett continued. “Ever since, like, second grade, this guy has been super smart. Remember when you built that robot in fourth grade, and the teacher got mad because it chased her around the classroom?”
“Yeah.” I remembered that moment like it was yesterday. Kevin distracted the teacher so I could pull it out of my desk and put it on the floor and get it warmed up before I directed it to hunt her down.
Kevin probably remembered the exact same moment at the same time, but he didn’t react to the story.
The guys from high school knew us when we were friends and were well aware of the falling-out, but they continued to act like they didn’t all notice the way we behaved around each other, like enemies.
“This guy is a professor at NYU,” Brett said. “And he runs an aeronautics company. And he’s a best-selling author, to top it off.”
“Brett, stop.” I raised my hand so he wouldn’t continue to brag about me.
“Whoa.” Carl looked at me. “Do you write under a pen name?”
“No. I use my name—Derek Hamilton.”
Carl’s face lit up because he recognized my name, just not my face. “Holy shit, I know exactly who you are. I always hear your name on the news and stuff.”
“So, what’s going with your new rocket?” Brett asked. “Launching that soon?”
“It’s almost finished,” I said. “We’ll do a test launch once we’re ready and the weather conditions are good. If everything checks out, we’ll hand everything over to NASA so they can utilize it.”
“Wow, that’s awesome,” Carl said. “So, you’re a billionaire? How much money do you have in your wallet right now? Do you own, like, a place in the Hamptons and have your own private jet—”
“Carl, come on,” Kevin interrupted without lifting his gaze. “Don’t ask him that.”
I hated to be asked about money. It always made me uncomfortable, how obsessed people became about my wealth, when they would never ask anyone else about money. Kevin seemed to know how I felt about it because he knew exactly how my father felt about it—from spending so much time with us over the years. But I refused to appreciate the interference because I didn’t need an asshole to defend me. If he really wanted to be there for me, he could have just not slept with my fiancée.
The subject changed, and we talked about something else.Ryan called Carl over for something, and then Brett stepped outside to take a phone call.
So, I was stuck with Kevin.
The two of us just sitting there, pretending the other didn’t exist.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through it, behaving like he wasn’t sitting on the other couch, going through my email and things that required my attention. I’d rather spend my time doing that than acknowledging his existence.
“I’m excited for your new book on Tuesday.”
My eyes stilled on the screen, and my annoyance immediately piqued.
“I’ve read the first three a couple times. They’re really good.”
I stayed silent in the hope that he would shut up.
“I’m not just saying that—”
“Do I look like I care?” I shouldn’t give in to the bait, but I was really sick of hearing his goddamn voice. It sounded exactly the way I remembered, the way he sounded on the boat when we fished together over the summer. I let him into my world completely, and he decided to honor that time together by shoving his dick into my fiancée’s cunt. I lifted my gaze and looked at him.
He stared across the room.
“Look at my face.”
He sighed before he turned to me.
I pointed at my expression. “You’re a smart guy, Kevin. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure this out. Does it look like I care?”
He turned away.
“Answer me, asshole.” I kept my voice low so no one would hear our exchange.
He clenched his jaw before he spoke. “No.”
“Good job.” I relaxed back into the chair and returned to scrolling through my phone.
Kevin didn’t make the mistake of trying to talk to me again.I was supposed to have dinner with Emerson and Lizzie, but I was too pissed to be in the mood for that. I texted her. I need to reschedule. I’ll see you on Monday. I shouldn’t let Kevin affect me this deeply, let him ruin my entire day, but that was difficult when I continued to play back the shitshow in my head.
She texted me back. No.
I stared at the message, not understanding the response.
You’re coming over here like we planned.
I’m really not in the mood.
I don’t care because you will be when you walk in the door. Don’t let a bad experience affect a good experience. I’m sorry that it’s so difficult for you every time you have to see him, but we’re your happy place. We’re your home. So, get your ass up and come over here. Otherwise, we’ll come to you.