Mom bit her lip in a way that told me she already had, and fuck if jealousy didn’t flow like mud through my veins. I wanted Elias to be happy. There was nothing I wanted more, and no one deserved it more either, but didn’t I deserve it too?
Mom rambled on about Carly, asking about meeting her and all sorts of other things, before her attention settled on me. I felt it, the heaviness of her stare, piling extra weight onto my shoulders. “And what about you?”
“What about me, Ma?” I was full, but I took another bite of my food just to have something to do.
“When are you going to meet someone, Anson? I want both my boys to be happy. Your father and I were so happy together. I want the same for you. I’m tired of being outnumbered. I want nice girls for you both, nice daughters-in-law and lots of babies.”
My hand was trembling, my fork shaking in midair, so I set it down. Christ, I needed to get a fucking grip. Not that anything she was saying was new. I’d heard it a hundred times before, but it wasn’t the same now. Ever since I’d met Weston Calloway, nothing was.
“I’m too busy for that right now. Plus, it’s hard to meet someone I can trust.”
“I don’t know why you’ve been dancing around Mia for so long. That girl is crazy about you.”
But I’m not crazy about her. I can’t be who Mia needs. I’ll hurt her.
“She’s Darren’s sister. She’s like family. There’s nothing more between us, Mama.”
“You work too hard. You deserve someone.”
With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t think that’s for me. The serious-relationship thing. I love football too much.”
“But, Anson—”
“Cut him some slack, Mama,” Elias interrupted. “Anson knows what’s best for him.”
I looked at my brother, trying to send a quiet thank-you his way. He was looking at me strangely, his forehead crinkled.
We finished dinner and talked for a little while before I said I had to go.
“I’ll head out with you,” my brother said.
We said our goodbyes to Mom and left.
In the driveway, Elias grabbed my arm. “Hey, listen, are you okay? You looked… I don’t know, sick or upset or something in there. I can’t explain it.”
What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d been fine. I’d been dealing with shit, covering everything up, and now I was suddenly slipping, thinking about and wanting things I would never let myself have. “Pfft.” I ruffled his hair again. “What do I have to be upset about? I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m fine, El,” I snapped.
“Just asking.”
“Sorry.”
We parted ways, Elias heading to his car and me to my SUV. His vehicle was set up with hand controls so he could drive. I pulled away as he transferred himself from his chair to the driver’s seat.
I’d told him I was fine, but I didn’t feel that way at all.
Chapter Ten
Weston
I hadn’t heard from Anson, and it was making me lose my fucking mind. It was ridiculous, and I was pissed at myself for still calling and watching his damn games just to make sure everything was okay. He’d gotten to me, and that was messing with my head. People didn’t get to me. That wasn’t how I worked, but somehow, he had.
And I was motherfucking chasing him. The way he was ignoring me made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with me, and I kept telling myself to walk away. Yeah, I wanted to be there for him, wanted him to know he wasn’t alone because I knew what that was like, but I could only lead a horse to water, not make him drink, or whatever the hell that saying was. I couldn’t make Anson do anything he didn’t want to do. I couldn’t make him accept my friendship or anything else.
I just needed to let it go.
Which was exactly what I was trying to do.
It was Jeremy’s husband’s birthday, and a group of us had gone out in LA, where they’d reserved an upscale restaurant for the celebration. I didn’t go to personal parties often, but I couldn’t say no to Jeremy, and I obviously needed to clear my head of all the shit that was going on with Anson. Nope. I wasn’t going to let myself go there tonight. Anson had clearly forgotten about me, so I should do the same.
“Well, if it isn’t Senator Calloway.” A sexy ginger with a smattering of freckles across his nose leaned against a pillar beside me.
“Well, that’s hardly fair,” I flirted back. “You know who I am, but I haven’t had the privilege of meeting you before.” I looked him up and down, my interest clear. “And it is a privilege.”
He grinned. “Ooh, you’re good.”
“Did you have doubts?”
“No.” He took a drink of his cocktail. “Tim.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tim. Are you a friend of Bobby’s?”
“I am. And you’re close with Jeremy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Again, I’m at a disadvantage. You know more about me than I do about you.”
“We have all night for you to learn.”
I smiled, but oddly, I had to work to make it happen. Tim was gorgeous, and I was attracted to him, but my smile wasn’t as authentic as it should be. Still, I said what was expected, what I should want to say. “Yes, we do.”
There was nothing quite like waking up to photos of yourself in compromising positions all over the internet. I was used to it, and in some ways, it didn’t matter to me. I was single. I was allowed to date and have fun. The only reason people cared was because I was a man doing those things with another man, and I was a senator—part of the new generation, they always said, speaking about me and the younger crowd cropping up. The photos weren’t of anything too bad—dancing, kissing Tim up against a car, getting into said car with him—but in some ways, the constant media attention was exhausting. I was tired of the stories and headlines that always somehow led back to my father and how much I had to be disappointing the conservative, God-fearing elder Senator Calloway.
I was used to being a disappointment to him. I always had been. I didn’t care.
I closed my eyes. I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.
He didn’t deserve it, but damn if there wasn’t a part of me that did mind just a little.
With a sigh, I put my cell down and got out of the hotel bed. That was enough internet for the day. I had a flight to catch back to San Francisco later.
I ordered food, ate, and took care of some work phone calls. I would need to return to Washington soon.
I kept myself busy until it was time to go to the airport. Anson had a game, which I knew because I hadn’t been able to stop following his schedule. He was in Denver, and the game would start while I was in flight.
For the first time in my life, I watched football on a plane.
As soon as he touched the ball, I could tell something was off. He fumbled it, and while those things obviously happened, he’d been wide open, and there was no reason he should have missed the catch. Of course, I wasn’t a football player, so what the hell did I know?