The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(52)

“You’re not sleeping?”

“I get some sleep.”

“You’ll learn to function on less. I barely get three hours a night these days.”

I stare at him in shock as he has another drink of his beer. “Three hours? Who functions on three hours!”

“It’s what you get used to.” He smiles at me and licks the froth from his upper lip. “I’m usually up late working or away on a job. Every couple of weeks, I tend to snap. I have to sleep for an entire weekend to catch up.” He shrugs as if he knows he has terrible sleeping habits.

“That’s crazy. I need my full eight hours—no exceptions—or I can’t function. It’s like nothing connects in my brain, and I’m a ball of mush.”

“I don’t like to rely on anything but myself to get me through the day. It’s why I don’t drink coffee.”

“Do you eat?” I say with a stupid smile.

“Don’t be smart.” He chuckles, downing the last of his drink and lifting it in the direction of the barman to signal another. “Do you want another?”

“No, thank you.” I frown as I look from my mostly full glass to his empty one.

He drank that damn fast.

“So…” Maxwell peers at me over his crossed arms, and I can’t help the grin that forms on my face with the way he looks at me.

“What?” I ask, my cheeks starting to ache.

“You haven’t mentioned a boyfriend on the last two occasions I’ve seen you….” I shake my head at him and look at my lap. “You’re single?”

“I am single.” I breathe through the dull ache that punctures my ribs. I decide to be honest. “But, there is this guy.”

“Is his name Maxwell?”

I laugh and push his arm. “His name is...” Why don’t I want to say it? Elliot’s name is on the tip of my tongue, but it feels wrong to tell Maxwell about what we have when I’m not even sure what it is myself. “His name is Miller.”

I swallow hard, trying to force the lie back into my throat as my brows meet.

“He’s your ex?”

Shit.

“Yeah. It actually ended right before I came out here. I guess we’re both pretty confused still.”

The truth in my lies makes me feel all the more shitty. I should’ve just been honest.

Elliot deserves better than that.

“What went wrong?”

“I came here. Although, we were on two different paths long before that. He’s the sort of man that’s hard to keep hold of.”

“You’re out of his league?” He frowns, the unconvinced look on his face contradicting his words. “I don’t believe that.”

“Not out of my league,” I confirm, thinking about what he’s said. There’s no doubt in my mind that Elliot is an elite form of man. He’s kind, caring—at least to me and the ones he loves—and looks after himself. He’s funny. He’s not out of my league. “We’re in different leagues. That’s the problem.”

“He still wants you?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

I know that we’ve been speaking more than usual since I left London, but I’ve seen how Elliot Montgomery operates. He has a different flavour of the month whenever he feels like it, and although I don’t think I’m a flavour, I do know that he’s an in-the-moment guy. It’s two different mindsets and two different goals.

I want a picture-perfect happy ending, with kids and a white wedding in the country.

Elliot wants a happy ending. Simple.

“He’s an idiot,” Maxwell tells me, reaching out to take his drink from the barman.

His comment is supposed to compliment me. He’s telling me that Elliot’s an idiot because of his own perception of me. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to set him straight. I’ve lied on the spot and feel like an ass for it. “Elliot is one of the most incredible men I know. He’s not an idiot.”

The tips of Maxwell’s brows tease together as he looks at me in confusion. “Elliot?”

My stomach drops, but at the same time, relief consumes me.

I shake my head and take a large sip of my drink. I don’t know why I even lied in the first place. “Elliot is—”

“Alec!” Maxwell cuts me off midsentence, waving at someone over my shoulder. I turn on the barstool and spot a short, blond-haired man headed in our direction, a woman who I can’t quite make out trailing behind him. “How are you, my friend? It’s been a fucking week.”

The guy slaps his hand into Maxwell’s, their matching smiles knowing. “I’m good, I’m good.”

The guy looks from Maxwell to me and then back to Maxwell again, a silent exchange passing between them. “Come to Russo’s tonight. Corkscrew is playing from ten.”

“I plan to head over after here. You want a drink?” Maxwell offers.

“I’ll get them,” Alec insists, inserting himself between Maxwell and another guy at the bar. “What time did you finish up on Tuesday?”

I tune the two men out, easing back on my stool to get a better look at the woman at the guy, Alec’s, back. She looks bored and maybe a little distant. Her hair is dark brown and curled to one side. She’s slightly taller than Alec and is built with lines and angles I’d die for. Her arms are toned to perfection. The girl clearly works out. She’s beautiful. “Hey!” I greet, holding out my hand. “I love your makeup tonight. It’s stunning.”