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He sits to my right, Yale to my left, and Xavier across from me, and I cast a glance over my shoulder to the blonde man at the bar. His attention is on his drink, and I can’t help but stare as Zayden runs his fingertip up my dress and strokes my inner thigh.
“Do you know him?”
I’m jolted back to the moment, to the dinner table and Yale’s question.
I shake my head and snatch up the menu. “Probably a patient. I thought I recognized him.” Slamming my thighs together, I trap Zayden’s fingers, and he huffs a laugh.
Yale throws the man at the bar a frown, his chiseled jaw tight, and the stranger makes the mistake of glancing in our direction again. He quickly shifts his attention behind us, but Yale noticed. They all did. “He’s still looking over.”
My grip tightens on the menu. “Is he?”
“I bet I could kill him from here,” Xavier says, turning over a steak knife in his fingers, his attention firmly on my stranger. I bristle. “Yale, bet me twenty bucks and I’ll do it.”
“You do realize you’re thirty-one years old?” I point out, and Xavier turns his glare on me. It’s pointless to start this back-and-forth, but the mention of killing has soured my stomach. It’s something we can’t avoid totally, but the last thing I need is to be reminded of what they do when I’ve spent my life trying to escape death and the devastation it leaves behind.
Xavier rests his elbows on the table, still holding the steak knife, green eyes piercing into me as sharply as the cutlery would. “You think you’re all grown up now, Q?”
“I think even ten years ago I was more mature than you.”
Yale snorts a laugh. “She has you there.”
Xavier’s steady gaze never leaves mine, and Zayden, the bastard that he is, shifts his finger to graze my clit. I almost jolt out of my seat.
“Speaking of ten years ago … remember when you weren’t in our lives and things were noticeably easier?”
My smile vanishes, and so does Yale’s. Xavier’s words used to hurt, but now they just piss me off. I drop the menu. “Why did you even come if you’re going to be a dick?”
“And miss your special day?”
“Enough.” Zayden’s voice rumbles through me, and seemingly the room, because some of the other guests glance over. He removes his hand from between my legs. “Can you cut your bullshit for one fucking day, Xavier? Shut your mouth, eat your steak, and smile.”
He rolls his eyes. “How can I eat my steak if my mouth is shut?”
Yale huffs. “I swear to God, X, if you ruin Silence’s night, I’ll kick your ass.”
“You haven’t kicked anyone’s ass in years,” Xavier hits back. “You wanna go? We can go.”
“Oh my God,” I hiss. “Everyone be quiet and let me order my chocolate spaghetti, or I’ll kick all your asses, and I won’t pay the bill.”
It takes a second for me to realize that it isn’t just our table that’s quiet. People are watching, and some look beyond disgusted.
“Causing trouble?” Grant says from beside me. Eager to move past the squabble, I squeal and hop to my feet, throwing my arms around his neck, and he picks me up. “Happy birthday, Q. You don’t look a day over exhausted.”
He places me down and I flick his cheek. He looks charming as always—dark blue suit, white shirt, dirty blonde hair cut short.
“X.” Grant takes the empty seat between Xavier and Zayden. “You couldn’t have worn a suit?”
“This coming from a man in a mismatched outfit.”
“It’s not mismatched.”
Xavier reads the menu. “The pants and jacket are a different shade of blue.”
Grant looks between us all. “Are they? Am I mismatched?”
“He’s fucking with you,” Yale says. “Ignore him.”
“Is he? Are you?” Grant looks helplessly at me. “Help me, Silence.”
