wasn’t completely sure about either of those topics, so I did my best to change the subject. “Do you think it’s bad that he’s so normal? Does that mean he’s probably got weird skeletons in his closet?”
Jonah and Wade were shaking their heads, but the synchronized movement was making me nauseous so I had to look away. Unfortunately, that put Tanner in my line of sight and he was doing his best to think. “Why don’t you already know about his skeletons?”
That sounded weird.
“Maybe he just doesn’t have any.” I thought it was logical…somewhat, at least, but Austin started giggling.
“He’s just too young for skeletons.” That slightly slurred comment had everyone looking at him.
Including me.
“Huh?” The math wasn’t working right in my head, but he had to be in his early thirties, right?
Austin giggled again. “When you’re only twenty-two there’s only so much shit you could’ve gotten up to. Unless you’re me, of course.”
Jonah was nodding. “Yes, you’re not like regular people.”
Was Tristan regular people?
Wait…
“How old is he?” I was how much older than him?
Austin laughed so hard he slid right off the chair then looked around, startled. Before he could start lecturing the furniture again, I threw a pillow at him.
I couldn’t remember where it came from, but it was handy.
“Stay focused. How old is he?” I needed to start either drinking more at these things or less.
Austin was looking around at the floor like it was getting ready to bounce him back up to the chair. He was slightly wobbly, so I couldn’t decide if his face thought that was a good idea or not. Knowing him, he would have probably found it exciting.
“Austin.” Damned drunk. “How old is he?”
The drunk tease looked up. “Who?”
I definitely needed another drink. Stealing the shot in front of Wade because he was already so giggly he wouldn’t notice, I drank it in one smooth motion.
That was much better.
The fire that raced through me dulled more of the insanity I seemed to be surrounded with, but it wasn’t enough to make me forget what we were doing. “How old is Tristan?”
Austin’s head bobbed back and forth, making the room spin. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” His body swayed again. “Do you know how to stop the room from moving?”
“Less booze.”
“Fuck that, then.” He gave the floor a pat and looked over at Wade. “We just need to get Wade a more stable place to live. I’m going to talk to Silas about that. He’s very helpful.”
Wade nodded. “Oh yes, he’s very helpful. I bet he’ll fix the floor.”
“Or he’ll find someone to help. He knows everyone.” Austin’s tangent was making it hard to remember why I needed to stay on track.
Were they always this hard to talk to? I had a feeling I hadn’t been paying enough attention on booze nights. “How old is Tristan?”
Austin huffed. “Why are you so loud?”
That was it.
I sent another pillow flying.
Why did I have a pile of decorative pillows around me?
My aim wasn’t half bad. It got Austin right upside the head. “What?”
“Age.” Full sentences didn’t seem to be helping, so I decided to keep it simpler.
“Whose?” Austin was at least trying to follow along this time.
“Tristan.”
He nodded. “Oh yes.”
“How old is he?” I needed another drink. They were too frustrating even slightly sober-ish.
Jonah’s last shot went down even better than Wade’s, sending more warmth and patience through me.
Austin giggled but stayed on track. “Early twenties. I think. I remember thinking you were robbing the cradle and that it was funny because he wasn’t a little or a Daddy. Oh, did you know I found the cutest stuffed animals for the playroom?”
“He’s what?” I looked around but couldn’t find any more shots. “I need another drink.”
Jonah was very helpful and made one appear almost magically.
“He’s how old?” Had I known he was that young?
Thinking was hard—even my notebook wasn’t fascinating at that point—but I tried to piece together what I knew. “He’s got a good resume.”
Heads bobbed around the room, but it was Bradley who spoke. “Good work ethic and crazy parents will do that to you.”
Very true.
Tristan’s parents seemed to be the good kind of crazy, though.
“Does it matter?” Wade’s question had me trying to pull my brain cells back together.
“Does what matter?” A work ethic or crazy parents?
Wade giggled. “His age.”
Oh, that. “I think I like the idea of being a dirty old man.”
The fantasies just multiplied with that possibility.
Laughter rolled around the room. Wade carefully moved from his chair to the floor beside me and