The Devil Gets His Due (The Devils #4)(33)

“Going to Starbucks, Mark. You need anything?” I ask.

He holds today’s Wall Street Journal over his head to block out the morning sun. “You ever sat on the sidewalk before, Graham?”

I knew I’d regret stopping. “I’m sure I have…at some point.”

I’m worried he’s going to ask me to sit, and I really don’t want to. I just fucking showered. I also don’t care to have everyone passing by think I’m homeless.

“That’s how we met, me and Keeley. She tried to give me that chair because she didn’t like the idea of me being uncomfortable. I told her I’d keep it just for her in case she came to visit. You know how many people would have come back? You know how many people of all the millions would come down here, day after day, to check on me? Fucking one, and you got her.”

I sigh wearily. “I take it Keeley mentioned we argued last night. Do you have a point?”

He squints. “No, she didn’t mention it. But I can see she’s stressed, and I’m just wondering…why you? What did she see in you that she didn’t see in anyone else? Because I thought when she finally chose someone, she’d be a lot happier than she is.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m not sure how much she’s told you about our wedding.”

He laughs. “Oh, yeah, I know the whole thing. But do you think you’re the first guy who’s suggested running off to Vegas to her? No way. But you’re the first one she said ‘yes’ to.”

“It might just be a question of sobriety, or lack thereof.”

“Doubtful. She had plenty of non-sober nights out before then too. She saw something different in you—that’s why she agreed. I guess what I’m saying is…bro, find that thing. It’s like the whole world is connected. Can you see that? Can you see the lace patterns in the air? Can you see all those rainbows?”

“Uh…I’m not sure about the rainbows.”

“That might be the mushrooms talking. I ate a few grams just before you came downstairs. But anyway, there’s a connection between you and you’ve got to find it.”

I still. “Just out of curiosity, it wasn’t my wife who gave you the drugs, was it?”

He laughs. “Course not. I ordered ’em.”

He pulls an iPhone out of his pocket. It’s newer than mine. “Your wife did give me this, though.”

“She bought you a phone?”

“My last one got stolen. This is how I manage her investments.”

Keeley, who has no interest in investing or saving whatsoever, asked him to manage investments for her because it would make him happy.

She loves people so wholeheartedly.

I wonder what it would be like to be among them.





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21





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KEELEY





That night when I get home, he has dinner waiting. And he’s wearing shorts.

I don’t remember seeing Graham’s thighs before, but they are corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair. I can picture the way they’d flex as he kneeled above me, rolling on a condom. Maybe that was the problem…maybe I was too busy ogling his thighs to mention he was putting on each of those condoms in some ridiculous way. To say, “you’ve got to leave some room at the tip” or “you clearly need a bigger condom” because based on how sore I was, I assume he should be ordering his from a specialty site.

“Grilled chicken,” he says. “Does that work for you?”

I nod. “I’m so hungry right now I’d eat it even if it didn’t work. And I ate lunch today too. I don’t know why, but I’m famished.”

“You’re getting bigger. It stands to reason you’d need more calories.”

“Please never use the phrase ‘getting bigger’ again,” I say sternly.

He gets two plates from the cupboard. “Keeley, you’re supposed to pack on weight. It’s not a bad thing.”

My eyes narrow. “Don’t use the phrase ‘pack on weight’ either.”

“Apparently,” he says, eyes twinkling, “our conversations are going to be very limited over the next few months.”

I change into sweats and return to the table, where he’s just placed dinner. Salad again, but there’s avocado in it and he made baked potatoes too. I cut into my chicken, spearing it with a bit of avocado. “Thank you for doing this. I know I was a little ungrateful the last time.”

“I was being overly punitive the last time. It’s not like I’d have cooked that for myself.”

“I knew no one could possibly like fish!” I cry victoriously, holding my fork in the air, and he laughs. “I promise not to give the leftovers to Mark.”

“Leftovers make you gag, Keeley. Of course you’re giving them to Mark.”

I focus on my plate, suddenly bashful. “You’ve only been here two weeks and you already know me better than Shannon does.”

“She’s your…stepmother?”

I nod. “Since I was five. She doesn’t like me. Never has.”

He frowns. “Who couldn’t like you?”