Happy (2 page)

of his kind.

Maria plunked him down next to her on the corner of the couch

and then immediately cuddled up to her fiancé, who sat on her other side.

Sharing the chair to his right were Julian and Sara, clearly overjoyed to have

a night out without their one-year-old son and seeming in no hurry to leave.

Kevin’s older brother and his pregnant wife, whom he’d met for the first

time tonight, lounged on the floor, eagerly listening to Maria’s description

of her bridal bouquet. Adam and Joe were still MIA.

Peter’s rebellious dick stirred at the thought of what they might be

doing out there. He crossed his legs and tried sending Julian a telepathic

message it was time to leave. When Sara asked him to get her another glass

of wine, he knew he was in for a long wait.

Jesus, when had he become the last singleton among them?

He never should have come tonight. Especially not solo.

When the talk suddenly turned to breastfeeding, Peter decided he’d

reached his breaking point. He casually stood up as if he was going for his

own refill, and slipped out the front door.

Outside, he breathed deeply. He sat down on the painted wooden steps

and nursed his beer. Of course, Adam and Joe had the perfect front porch

to go with their quaint little house. How long before they started having

kids too? Once that happened, he would definitely be left behind. He cast

a hopeful glance over his shoulder through the screen door. Surely Julian

and his wife would want to head out soon. Didn’t they have a babysitter on

the clock? He grimaced at the thought of squeezing into the backseat again,

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8

squished up against the baby’s car seat, but they were his ride home. A cab

would cost him almost forty bucks—forty bucks he didn’t really have.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the hand rail. As soon as he

finished this drink, he would go, with or without them. He had dropped into

a light doze when the door opened.

Adam sat down beside him on the top step. “Okay, what’s going on

with you?” he asked directly.

“What are you talking about?” Peter felt his face heat in the darkness

as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and tried not to think about what he’d

seen his friend doing earlier.

Adam snatched the beer bottle out of his hand and moved it out of

reach. “I’m talking about this. You look like hell, Peter.”

Peter scratched self-consciously at his unshaven jaw. “I was off today.”

“The beard is the least of your worries. It’s the drinking I’m worried

about….”

“It’s a party. I’m supposed to be drinking.”

“It’s a wedding shower, not a kegger. And don’t pretend like this is the

first time. It’s becoming a regular thing with you.”

When Peter remained silent, Adam pressed harder. “Talk to me. You

haven’t been acting like yourself. I’m worried about you.”

“Gee, I’m flattered you still care. What would you know, Adam?

You’re hardly around anymore.” Adam’s wounded expression, highlighted

by the front porch light, made him immediately contrite. It wasn’t Adam’s

fault that he had fallen in love. Peter ran a hand over his own bare scalp. He

really shouldn’t have had that last drink. If he wasn’t careful, he would soon

be sitting in a corner blubbering. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying

anymore. I think… I think I’m just jealous.”

“Of?”

“I don’t know. What you have?”

“A clingy boyfriend who snores and hogs the covers? Please, take mine.”

Peter snorted a laugh. As if Adam would ever in a million years let Joe

go. As if Peter would ever be brave enough to take him.

He heaved a sigh. “Things are changing, Adam. It used to be the

three of us.”

“It still is the three of us.”

“No, it’s you two and then me.” Peter cringed. If his pop heard him

now, he’d be horrified. “God, I’m acting like such a girl, aren’t I?”

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“Maybe you’re right,” Adam surprised him by saying. “We have been

kind of wrapped up in the house. And Joe with his man-of-honor duties.”

It was more than the house, or Maria’s wedding, but Peter held his

tongue this time. He’d been a third wheel forever.

Adam gave him a nudge. “What are you doing next weekend?”

“The same thing I do every weekend. Friday and Saturday nights I

work at the diner.” He’d had to beg Pop to let him have tonight off.

“Let’s do something Saturday afternoon, then.”

Great. Peter cringed inwardly. Now Adam pitied him. “Don’t worry

about it. I’ll probably be hanging with Demetra anyway.”

“Oh. Things still going well with you two?”

Peter shrugged. He said what he always said. “She’s a great girl.

Smart. Attractive. Ma loves her. She’s actually been off my back for once.”

“But?” Adam coaxed.

He struggled to find the words to express his thoughts. Demetra wasn’t

the problem.
He
was. Damn Adam and his trick questions. Happy? Who the

hell was happy these days?

Adam didn’t get it.
No one
got it. The pressure on Pete’s chest

increased, like someone had fastened a belt around his rib cage and was

slowly tightening it another notch. Everyone was moving forward with their

lives, and he was standing still. No, going backward, since he was thirty-

two and still living in his parents’ basement.

“She has a problem with us, doesn’t she?”

Peter snapped out of his thoughts. “What?”

“I mean you’ve been dating for what, three months now, and we still

haven’t met her.”

He coughed. “You’ve got it all wrong. Demetra’s not like that.”

“Then maybe you’re the one who doesn’t want us to meet her.”

Peter’s gut clenched. “Jesus, Adam. It’s only been a few months.”

“But if she doesn’t make you happy—”

“Not everyone finds their soulmate,” Peter snapped, then immediately

wished he kept his mouth shut.

“Have you ever thought you might be looking in the wrong place?”

He froze in alarm.
What was that supposed to mean?

“I know your folks are pushing you to marry a Greek girl,” Adam

continued, “but maybe you should expand your horizons.”

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Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Adam only meant he should date outside

his neighborhood. “I don’t think that would go over too well.”

“It’s the twenty-first century, Pete.”

“Not in my house it’s not.” For nearly thirty-two years Peter had lived

in his parents’ house, under his parents’ rules. He’d been a baby when they

moved to this country; it was all he’d ever known, but he might as well have

still been living in the village his mother grew up in. As a kid, he’d jealously

watched the other boys playing road hockey on Saturday mornings while he

went to Greek school. He’d endured the humiliation of Greek dancing classes,

marching in the annual Greek Independence Parade, and now, the ultimate

disgrace of having his mother fix him up with marriage-worthy women.

“Hey, hey. Break it up.” Joe squeezed in between them on the top step,

jamming Peter up against the railing with a grunt. He draped his left arm

possessively over Adam’s shoulders. “What’s with the long face? C’mere and

tell Papa Joe all about it.” Hooking his right arm around Peter’s neck, he brought

him in for a hug. In Joe’s world, a hug solved every problem—big or small.

“Ugh, that’s creepy,” Peter protested, but he was too drunk to resist

the pull for long. At least that’s what he told himself as he let Joe’s warmth

lull him. “Adam’s trying to sell you to the highest bidder, you know.”

“He’s just mad because now that he finally got up the nerve to propose,

he has to wait.”

Peter jerked upright. Joe’s arm fell from his shoulder. “Propose?” He

felt like someone had just kicked him in the balls.

“Don’t say anything,” Adam cautioned. “We’re not telling anyone until

after Maria’s wedding. We don’t want to take away from her celebration.”

“Yeah. That’s… that’s great,” he said weakly. “I’m happy for you.”

For a second his vision blurred.

“Doesn’t really sound like it,” Joe commented.

Peter pretended not to see Adam elbow Joe in the ribs. That was it,

then. Peter had never felt more alone. “Ever wish you could go back and

change your life?” he asked suddenly.

“All the time.”

Joe answered so quickly Peter swung his head around in surprise.

“What would you do?”

“Not wait eighteen years to tell Adam how I felt.”

There it was again. That unwanted stab of jealousy. Peter swallowed

hard when Adam rested his hand affectionately on Joe’s knee. Joe covered

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11

it with his own and twined their fingers. Peter looked away. This was not

helping his situation.

“Why?” Joe prompted. “What would you do over?”

“Christ, where do I start?” he muttered under his breath.
Stop talking,

Peter.
Just shut the fuck up.
“You know what? Ignore me. I’m wasted. I

don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” He tried to stand up but Joe grabbed

the tail of his shirt and pulled him back down.

“Spill,” he ordered. But Peter remained stubbornly tight-lipped.

“This is about Elena, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” Peter started at the mention of his ex-fiancée. “Where did that

come from?”

“You’re the one talking about do-overs….”

“It’s been two years since she got married. Almost four since we

broke up.”

Joe rubbed the back of Peter’s neck affectionately. “It’s okay to have

regrets, Pete, but you can’t let them control your life. You keep waiting for

everything to come to you. Once in a while you’ve got to go out and get it

yourself.”

“Oh my God, you’re unreal. I am not still hung up on Elena,” he

insisted. But maybe it did all come back to Elena. She’d been the last good

thing in his life, and he’d let her go. He shook off the uncomfortable thought.

“Hey, no offense, but I’m not taking life advice from either of you. May I

remind you how long it took you to figure out you wanted each other?” He

rose unsteadily to his feet and fumbled in his front pocket for his phone. “I

should go. Will you let Julian and Sara know I left?”

“Why don’t you crash here tonight?”

Peter’s heart jumped in alarm. That’s all he needed.
More
time with

Adam and Joe. “Nah, I’ve got church in the morning, and then I’m working

the lunch shift.”

“Then I’ll drive you home,” Adam offered. “Or we can call you a cab.”

He waved aside both suggestions. What was the point of a girlfriend

if you couldn’t count on her to help you out? Besides, maybe Joe was right.

He needed to make more of an effort. “I’ll see if Demetra’s feeling better.

She can pick me up.” Peter had his phone out and the number dialed before

Adam could talk him out of it.

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12

It took her a long time to answer. When she did, she sounded none too

pleased. He hoped she hadn’t been trying to sleep. “Peter? Hey. I thought

you were at that party.”

“I am.” Joe and Adam were watching him carefully. He stumbled to

the far end of the porch and lowered his voice. “How’s the headache?”

“Oh. It’s a little better.”

“Good.” Peter heard a man’s voice in the background and frowned.

“Is someone there with you?”

“It’s just Louie.” Right. Demetra’s older brother had returned to the

city and was staying with her and her parents until he found a place of his

own. He’d briefly met the man last week. “Why are you calling?”

“I, uh, wondered if you could pick me up.”

“Peter,” she sighed. “Are you drunk?”

“I’m trapped. My ride’s not ready to leave.” Silence. Peter struggled

to stave off the sudden pressure behind his eyes. “Please, Demetra.”

He heard the sound of muffled voices in the background as Demetra

covered the phone speaker. “Fine,” she relented. “Give me a few minutes,

okay? And send me the address.”

“Great. Thanks, I—” She hung up before he could finish. He turned

back to Adam and Joe, who still sat on the step, and forced his lips into a

smile. “Looks like you’ll get to meet Demetra after all.”

TWO

Louie Papadakis sprawled face first across his childhood twin bed and

contemplated the sorry state of his life. It was Saturday night. He should

be out having fun, not sitting around here alone, with only the Internet for

company. But he’d lost touch with his Toronto friends when he moved to

Vancouver right after high school, and now that he was back in Toronto

twelve years later, he didn’t know who to call.

You could go out
, his horny self suggested.
Check out a club or two.

But Louie wasn’t ready to get back into the bar scene yet. Thanks to Aaron,

he’d become a bit of a recluse, sticking close to home in case Aaron dropped

by; when he did, they rarely ventured out.

He rolled to his back and stared at the stack of cardboard boxes piled

in the corner, awaiting a new home. Pitiful to think that’s all that was left of

his life. But he’d sold his car, his furniture, and anything of note when he