Twenty-Five
Brennan
“Callum,”I greeted, my smile wide as I held out my hand for him. When our fingers collided, I tugged him into me so I could slap him on the back. “Thanks for coming over.”
“No worries. Is everything okay?”
“Sure is. I just need your help with something.” I held out my arm, indicating he should go down the corridor. “It’s in my office.”
“Never been to your place before,” he said sheepishly.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have invited you over once the decorator had finished. I didn’t really have a housewarming. Just my brothers came over and trashed the place.”
He grinned. “Sounds about right.”
I ran down the steps, hearing his thudding footsteps behind me and I pointed to my game room. “You have to see this. It’s my seven-year-old self’s version of heaven.”
Callum chuckled as I guided him inside, showing off a collection of arcade games I was pretty proud of—they’d cost me a fucking fortune to hunt down.
“Shit!” He ran over and gaped at my favorite cabinets.
“They’re all mint condition.”
“I can’t believe you haveGalaga. Holy fuck, is that1942?”
“Sure is.” I smirked at him. “We should have realized back then the fuck ups we’d be when all we loved were the shoot-‘em-up games. Have at it,” I told him, waving a hand as he immediately booted up the sci-fi classic that wasGalaga.
I walked toward the snooker table, and started to set up the balls for a game.
Now he was here, that was half the battle.
The other half was me not ramming a snooker cue down his fucking throat.
My jaw worked at the thought, but I maintained a placid expression as I set up a triangle on the green baize, then placed the red balls inside it. Setting the colored balls on the grid, I moved over to grab two cues, leaned one against the table, and then started chalking up my tip.
When he’d finished, he was grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, if I have a boy, I need to get them hooked on that. I loved that shit when I was a kid.”
“Who didn’t?” I knew my smile would be reflected in my eyes. “Simpler times back then, Cal.”
“Tell me about it. I’m still freaking out about Priestley pissing on a stick and it turning blue.” He pulled a face, but something about his words had me tipping my head to the side.
Was he trying to remind me he was about to be a family man? To deflect from the situation? I knew he had to be wondering why the hell I’d invited him here. Deflection might be his first line of defense.
I scrubbed my chin as I murmured, “Might as well have a game of snooker.”
He shrugged. “Don’t play. And I really need to get back when we’ve done. Priestley wants to go shopping. She wants to get the nursery ready ASAP.”
“Similar principles to pool. You pot a red, then you go for a colored ball. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the order as we go,” I instructed, ignoring the rest of his BS.
“Why not?” His smile was tight when he realized I wasn’t going to let this go.
“I’ll break,” I told him, leaning over the head of the table and tapping the white ball. It connected hard with the 2D red pyramid, sending balls shooting over the green surface. When I potted one, I murmured, “Next, you have to pot a color in ascending order of points. Yellow, green, brown, blue, pink, then black.”
I tapped the yellow into the top corner pocket, then aimed for another red and missed.
“Your turn.”
He leaned over the table, made his aim and tapped the white. He potted a red, a green, and another red. I saw the flush in his eyes as he grinned at me. “Beginner’s luck.”