“I saw Luke and Matthew in the kitchen earlier. They looked chummy together.”
“Did they?” Richard's tone was casual and not at all alarmed.
“I have to ask: How can you stand seeing them together? Don't you get jealous? I mean they were kissing and holding each other. If I saw my wife with another man, I'd go crazy.”
Richard smirked and sipped his drink. “I love them both. It's different.” He faced his friend. “You want me to answer truthfully?”
The man's expression changed to one of somber curiosity. “Tell me.”
“I like to watch them. Sometimes when I come home from work, they are in the kitchen together, and I stop dead in my tracks. They will be setting the table or doing some other mundane task and the way they move together and touch each other is the most sensual, beautiful thing I've ever witnessed. They are amazing looking, and together they are stunning, but it's more than that. Each has an awareness of himself and his body that blends. I'm a fortunate man to see them together on a daily basis.”
I gasped. Matthew was sensual, sexy, beautiful. I was nothing of the sort.
Richard continued. “The attraction and affection you see between them— it isn't just about them. Wrapped up in that is me— their feelings for me.”
He could not have described it better. It was what I tried not to see when I looked at Matthew and Richard, but it was there. I was there. In them. With them. A part of them. We all fit together in a way we wouldn't if one of us left.
A deluge of guilt slammed into me. What would have happened to them? What would my leaving have done to them?
The doorbell rang again, and I groaned. I couldn't wait to get Richard and Matthew out of their clothes and into bed. It'd been a long night, and with each glance at my lovers, they offered me promises for later.
A man entered, and I spotted his graying hair but little else. It didn't matter, though. With one look, I knew.
I stepped through the crowd toward the door.
Matthew was shaking hands with Walter, the younger man's smile as warm and inviting as ever.
“How did you get an invite?” I asked.
“I have my ways. I was just saying hello to Matthew. I don't think I've ever had the privilege of meeting him before.”
Matthew smiled, always happy to see me, even when I'd been within a few feet of him all night. He turned back to Walter. “It's nice to finally meet you. Any friend of Luke's must be someone special.” He stepped back. “I'll let you two catch up.”
Walter didn't miss the look that lingered between Matthew and me. “Things are going better?”
“They are.”
“I'm glad. I do believe I said they'd be good for you.”
“They have been. I'm not sure I can explain it.” I paused and struggled to find the words. I settled on the truth of the matter. “I've become the man I didn't even know I wanted to be.”
He didn't tease any further. He must have deemed me sincere, or perhaps infatuated beyond all reason. He gave me a squeeze on the shoulder, nothing my father ever gave to me. “I owe them my thanks, then. For giving a dear friend a life filled with more than the club. Can I meet your Richard?”
I spotted Richard across the room and made my way to him. He excused himself from the conversation and met me near the bar.
I leaned in. “I have you to thank for this?”
“I wanted you to have a friend here tonight.”
“Thank you.” I stepped back and gestured to Walter. “Richard, I'd like you to meet Walter Simon.”
Walter accepted Richard's outstretched hand. “It's good to meet you.”
They already knew of each other from years spent at the club— whether they'd ever talked or not was beside the point. It was a moment for me to claim Richard and Matthew as mine, and the introductions were necessary, for them and for me. Walter was likely the only person of consequence in my life for me to make such introductions to.
Then, as if to mock my postulation, another unexpected guest arrived.
Natural curiosity caused me to turn my head toward the door. Matthew's small frame was sidestepped by a man of my height, a man with my own last name, a man whom I never wanted to see walk through my front door.
Chapter Thirty-three
I dashed out of the room, past the caterers in the kitchen, and down the basement steps in search of the privacy of our small playroom.
As soon as I reached the bedroom, the breath rushed out of me. I bent over and gripped the handholds of the bench. Who invited my father? What the hell was he up to? And what did a heart attack feel like anyway?
He hadn't seen me before my hasty departure, but I still feared hearing his voice behind me. When a voice did come, it was a lower, more familiar one.
“Luke, what's wrong?” Richard's warm hand rubbed my back.
I straightened and glared at him. Anger shook my body without my consent. “What is he doing here?”
“Who?” He reached for me.
I shoved his hand away. “My father! He's in the goddamn living room.”
“Johnathan Moore? The senator? He's your father?”
I slumped to the bench.
Richard landed with a thud beside me. “I didn't know. You didn't say. Doug came up with a list of investors. If I'd known— ”
“This isn't your fault. I should have told you who he was before now.”
Richard stood. “He's not staying.” He made a move for the door.
“Wait. I don't want you to make a scene. This is your business.”
He came back and sat next to me. “I'll never do business with him. Ever.”
“I know.” I gave him a halfhearted smile. “But there are other people here you need to work with. Let me talk to him. Ask him to
