Happy

Happy

By Chris Scully

Growing up Greek-Canadian, Peter Georgiou always knew his duty

was to his family, for whom twenty-first century rules don’t apply. In his

early thirties, Peter still lives at home, dates who his parents tell him to,

and works at the family restaurant. But watching his two best friends find

happiness in each other’s arms has made him worry over his destiny.

When Louie Papadakis returns home to nurse his broken heart and start

a new life, he can’t believe his sister is dating his high school crush, Peter.

There’s a sadness behind Peter’s eyes that draws him in, and a chemistry he

wishes he could ignore. After his closeted ex broke his heart, Louie is afraid

to fall in love again, especially with a man who’s keeping secrets.

As Peter finds himself drawn to Louie in unexpected ways, old and

new worlds collide. Then a family crisis forces Peter’s hand, and he must

decide if he’s willing to sacrifice his happiness for family duty.

ONE

“Are you happy?”

It was a simple question. Should have been a simple answer. So why

was it still rattling around in Peter’s head an hour after Adam had asked it?

And why did his insides squirm uncomfortably every time he thought about

it? Of course he was happy. Wasn’t he?

He rinsed his hands under the bathroom faucet and chanced a final glance

in the mirror. The man staring back at him certainly didn’t
look
happy.

You’re a sad fucking case these days, Peter Georgiou
, he thought

tiredly, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the retreating hairline

that even the closest shave couldn’t disguise. His lungs grew tight, and he

quickly averted his eyes before he looked too deeply and saw something

he’d rather not see.

Peter cupped his hands beneath the water, letting it spill through his fingers

before bending to splash his overheated face. He struggled to recall a time when

he hadn’t felt this weight on his chest, but if it had ever existed, it must have

been long ago. Before he knew what expectations were. What had happened to

the boy who was going to get away and see the world? Be his own man?

He straightened and flicked his wet fingers at the mirror, shattering his

reflection with droplets. With a sigh he reached for the nearby hand towel to

dry it off. His image blurred for a second and then crystalized again as the

water evaporated. He made a face and then looked away. Ugh. He shouldn’t

have had that last beer. He was a gloomy drunk to begin with, but tonight he

was more morose than usual.

When had it all started to go wrong? With his dad’s heart attack? When

Elena ended their engagement? Or was it before that, even?

The sounds of laughter filtered up to the second floor through the

floorboards of the old house. The party was winding down, but a few

stragglers still hung on in the living room, having moved inside after

darkness settled in and brought the mosquitos with it. Peter wondered if he

could slip out without anyone noticing. Then he remembered he had no way

to get home without Julian, unless he called a cab.

Happy |
Chris Scully

4

He was reaching for the door handle when voices drifted through

the open window, too low to hear the words but loud enough for him to

recognize the speakers. Curious, Peter crept to the window and squinted

into the shadows. The bathroom overlooked the narrow backyard, and sound

drifted easily. Through the fluttering streamers and paper bells stretching

over the deck, two familiar figures moved about below, illuminated by the

glow from the kitchen.

Adam hopped up to perch on the deck railing, facing the house as

Joe filled a garbage bag with the litter from earlier in the evening. After

a mumbled comment, Joe set down his bag and moved to stand between

Adam’s splayed knees, his back turned toward Peter, his hands seeking

out Adam’s hips. As Peter watched from his secret vantage point, Adam

wrapped his arms around Joe’s neck and leaned down to kiss him.

It was slow and tender, and Peter’s stomach hollowed.

His best friends rarely displayed this side of their relationship in

public. They’d always been affectionate with each other—Joe was a chronic

hugger—even when they were only friends, so once they’d gone beyond

that, not much had changed. Unless you happened to notice the way they

looked at each other, or the way they finished each other’s sentences, or how

one would know what the other wanted without him saying a word.

Peter did his best not to notice.

There was enough light from the house to see Joe’s hand slide up

Adam’s pale thigh and under the leg of his shorts. Peter’s breath hitched.

His groin filled with a slow heat.

Adam’s husky protest rose upward. “Stop. We’re not alone.”

Joe mumbled something and turned his dark head into the curve of Adam’s

neck. His wandering hand kept wandering, rucking Adam’s shorts nearly up to

his hip. Adam’s fingers slid into Joe’s curls, tipping his head back.

Peter knew he should look away, give them their privacy, but some

perverse instinct made him keep watching. His hand went to his fly, and he

rubbed himself through his jeans.

Joe’s deep chuckle made the hair on his arms stand up. Did Joe ever

think about that night in their sophomore year of college? Did he even

remember? They had both been pretty wasted at the time. Joe had been

drowning his sorrows about something, and Peter… well, Peter had been

basking in the attention of his new friend. It had been nothing more than

a drunken fumble, but he had never been able to completely escape the

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Chris Scully

5

memory of Joe’s warm, cuddly body against his, the pull of those full lips

and the scrape of stubble on his cheek.

Peter’s cock swelled. He snatched his hand away. Jesus. What kind of

creep got off on watching his best friends making out?

He spun away from the window and escaped the bathroom before he

crossed a line. But as he went down the stairs, Peter let himself wonder what

would have happened if he hadn’t been so scared and uptight in college.

Would this be
his
house now? Would that be him down below with a big

warm hand on his leg and someone who loved him?

No. In his heart he knew Adam and Joe were always destined to be

together. He, on the other hand, would have torn his family apart for nothing.

He’d done the right thing.

Deciding he was not nearly drunk enough for this level of introspection,

Peter headed straight for the kitchen, grabbed another beer out of the well-

stocked fridge, twisted off the cap with a practiced turn of his wrist, and

downed half the bottle in one gulp.

“Slow down there, tiger.” Joe’s younger sister Maria snickered as she

entered. “Save some for the rest of us.” The diamond on her ring finger

caught the light as she squeezed his arm for old time’s sake and then reached

around him to open the fridge. She pulled out two bottles and held them out

for him to open.

“Don’t you have a fiancé for this?” he asked as he obliged, knowing

full well Kevin was in the other room.

“Oh, is that what he’s for?” A wicked grin crossed her lips. She still

wore the paper-plate hat festooned with ribbons and bows from the shower

gifts, although now it tilted precariously to one side. Peter straightened

it on her abundant curls. He could hardly believe little Maria Massone

was getting married in a couple of months. It seemed like only yesterday

that she’d been throwing herself at him every time he hung out at Joe’s

apartment: a nineteen-year-old nuisance in tight tittie-hugging sweaters

who bathed in vanilla-scented perfume and constantly flipped her hair,

trying to catch his attention. Where had the time gone? Everyone was

pairing up except him.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” she said. “Please tell me I’ve broken

your heart and you’re hiding in here because you can’t bear to see me

marrying someone else.”

“It’s true. You’ve got me.”

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6

She gazed at him thoughtfully and then shook her head. “Boy, I bet I

was a real pain in your ass all those years. It’s so embarrassing.”

“More like Joe’s ass. He’s the one who had to watch his little sister fawn

all over me. Me? I didn’t mind so much.” He gave her a flirtatious wink.

“What?” she shrieked. “You mean I actually had a chance?”

Peter held a hand to his heart. “Alas, our love was never meant to be.”

“Oh, hell no. You go distract Joe. I’ll get the car. Let’s elope.”

“Your fiancé might have something to say about that.”

She wrinkled her nose playfully. “Oh right. Him.”

“We’ll just have to be strong and resist this.”

“You’re such a tease, Peter Georgiou,” Maria groaned. “I pity your

future wife.”

Peter held up his beer and they clinked bottles. “Look on the bright

side. It all worked out in the end. Kevin seems like a great guy.”

“He is.”

“Hey,” he began, “are you happy?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I’m happy. I’m getting

married in eight weeks to the man of my dreams.”

“Spoken like a woman who’s besotted.”

“I am.” She beamed. “I really am. Speaking of besotted, where is

Demetra anyway? I was looking forward to meeting her. Didn’t she want

to come?”

“She’s at home with a migraine.” Demetra had promised to help get

him through tonight but had called him at the last minute to beg off. With

the way he was feeling, he was almost relieved she hadn’t made it. He

would have been terrible company. She hated it when he got depressed and

down in the dumps.

Maria’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm, are you sure this phantom girlfriend

of yours isn’t a last ditch attempt to make me jealous?”

Peter pulled out his phone and called up the photos he kept there. He

flashed her one of him and Demetra—the one he always trotted out in cases

like this because he looked less miserable than usual. “See? No phantoms.”

“Cute,” Maria commented. “She’s a little young for you, though,

isn’t she?”

God, even Maria had noticed his options were running out. He wanted

to tell her it wasn’t his fault all the acceptable—read Orthodox—women his

own age were already married with children. If Demetra didn’t work out,

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7

who knew what his mother would do. She’d likely ship a child bride over

from Greece. Maybe she already had one waiting. Peter shrugged. “Only

five years.”

“You’re bringing her to the wedding?”

“Of course.”

“Cool. I’ll meet her then. Come and hang with us.” Maria hooked

her arm through his and dragged him into the living room before he could

protest. Most of Joe and Maria’s large Italian family had departed earlier,

and now only the under-thirty-five crowd was left.

It was all couples, which he now remembered was what had driven

him to the sanctuary of the bathroom in the first place. He supposed that

was to be expected at a unisex wedding shower. It wouldn’t have been so

bad if Demetra had made it, but as the only single male, he felt like the last