Page 41 of Beautiful Small Things

“Good idea!” she says with enthusiasm. “I’m feeling very relaxed, and your father wanted to try something-”

“Do not finish that sentence!” Colby yells, holding up her hand. “I’m begging you. James, I already called Callan. He’s on his way to get her now. Can you go with her and make sure she doesn’t do a strip tease in the car?”

My mom snorts and hiccups in response. Good God, Kim. Get your shit together.

“Whatever you say,” I tell her. “Thank you again for everything, Mom,” Colby says, kissing her punch-drunk pink cheek. “Here’s Callan and Marcus now.” Fuck. Of course, he’s here. He’s like the grim reaper of embarrassing moments, always hovering in the background and just waiting for you to make a mistake that will haunt you forever.

Colby exchanges a few words with Callan, kisses him with entirely too much tongue and gusto for daytime displays of affection, and waves to us.

We start to walk away when I hear Sloppy Susan say, “Marcus, I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you.”

I halt my steps and flip around. I look at Marcus whose face expresses the annoyance he’s obviously feeling at the betrayal of his secret. “Why would you thank Marcus?” I ask her.

“He paid for this whole thing,” she says, followed by wide eyes and her hand covering her open mouth. “Oops. I don’t think I was supposed to mention that.”

What in the ever-loving fuck is happening right now? My mom is white girl wasted, and Marcus paid for this bridal shower.

My mom sings the entire way home. Thankfully, she is starting to fade by the time we get to her house. We pull up in the driveway, turn off the car, and help her in. I get her some water while Callan helps her to the couch, and Marcus grabs some aspirin.

We make the drive back to my apartment in relative silence, except for the boys cracking jokes about my mom’s inebriated state. I don’t bring up what she said about Marcus paying for the shower and shouldn’t get involved in something that’s none of my business, but after they drop me off, it’s all I can think about. Why would he do that? Why is it a secret?

Next thing I know, it’s four hours later, and I’m knocking on the door of their shared home, hoping to see Marcus. I have questions. Sure enough, he answers the door wearing no shirt and gray sweats.

“Seriously, Dude. Do you own shirts anymore?” I ask, throwing my hands up in disbelief.

“Like I knew you’d be here,” he scoffs, feigning offense.

“Bea is here,” I reply, knowing he has a part-time housekeeper who keeps things tidy for them. The perks of having money.

“Bea likes it. It’s the highlight of her job,” he smirks.

“You’re an idiot,” I reply, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry, James, but did you just drive to my house to insult me for no reason?” he asks, folding one arm over the other and leaning against the door jam. The pose is so damn sexy that I almost forget why I’m here. I manage to recover and continue my train of thought.

“No. I’m sorry,” I answer, meeting his eyes. “I’m also sorry about my mom.”

“Don’t be,” he laughs. “She was just enjoying herself. Is that all you wanted to say because Callan returned to the bridal shower to get Colby and the gifts.” He shifts his stance and lifts his right arm, placing it high on the door jam.

I glance at his hand, then down his shoulder, and stop at his armpit. I’ve always had a thing for male armpits. Don’t judge me. We all have our kinks. Marcus’s is covered in the perfect amount of hair. So masculine. They’re seriously perfect. Charmpits, if you will. He sees my eyes hover there for a moment and smirks. Cocky bastard.

“Yes, that was it,” I lie before turning to walk back down the walkway. But then I stop and turn back around. He’s still standing in the same position as if he knew this conversation wasn’t finished. I came here for a reason, and I want my answer. “Wait, Marcus, before I go, I have a question for you.”

“What’s up?” he asks, looking like a damn Greek God.

“Did you pay for my sister’s bridal shower?” I ask, shifting my weight to brace for the answer.

He shakes his head. “Damnit, Kim. She had one job,” he mutters.

“Well, she fucked up her job by beer-bonging mimosas,” I laugh.

“Classic,” he agrees. “Yes, I did.”

“Why would you do that?” I question.

He’s quiet for a moment before answering. “Callan’s family is paying for most everything, even though it’s tradition for the bride’s family to pay, which is stupid by the way. Your parents wanted to pay for this, but Colby confessed one day that it was tough on them financially. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I have the money. Why not?”

“You didn’t have to.”