It wouldn’t be fair to get his hopes up higher than they already are. Chad is clearly going through something, and I could never be what he needs.
Until he realizes that, I need to stay far away from him.
1
CHAD
TWO MONTHS LATER
If there’s one thing I’m determined to do this weekend—besides getting my best friend, Blake, married to the love of his life—it’s gettingmyhusband, John, who I haven’t seen in two months since our whirlwind weekend in Vegas that ended with our impromptu wedding, to stop ignoring me.
John’s motorcycle is parked outside his house, and so is an old rusty black truck, so I’m guessing he’s here. I walk up the two steps to the warped deck. I’m sure there’s no way this structure is safe, so it’s a good thing it’s only, like, a foot off the ground in case one of the wooden boards falls apart under my feet. The red front door is also chipping, and I realize just how handy John must be if he bought this old house to fix up for fun.
I’ve always just paid people to fix things that are broken, but money isn’t going to fix my marriage. I’m excited about the idea of proving to John that what we have is real. Sure, he’s spent the last two months ignoring me, but still, I know we can make this work.
Before our wedding—aka Blake and Liam’s Vegas bachelor party weekend—we’d only met a handful of times, and he’dalways been kind of standoffish. I usually get along with everyone, but I’d never felt like I had enough time to win John over.
When Blake named me his best man and Liam picked John as his, I knew it was my chance.
I succeeded at the bachelor party, and we got along so well that we ended up exchanging vows in front of an Elvis impersonator. It might not have been how I thought the weekend would go—especially because before those few days with John, I’d assumed I was only attracted to women—but honestly, our wedding was a dream, and I wouldn’t change anything about that night.
Just the morning after.
Now that we’relegallymarried, my husband won’t talk to me. I don’t even know why. That night, he seemed really hung up on thinking I’d regret it. I obviously don’t, but maybe he does. If that’s the case, though, he needs to tell me to my face and explain why.
My husband is very good at pretending things don’t matter, but I’m very bad at letting things go. Especially when they do matter, and especially when I can feel it in my bones that what happened between us wasn’t a mistake. No matter how much he might want to pretend otherwise.
When we were in Vegas, I felt like John saw me in a way no one else ever had. He might have teased me about being a spoiled princess, but I know he wasn’t doing it insultingly. It’s why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way he looked out for me on both drunken nights we shared. He cared enough to make sure I got back to the penthouse safely and fed me. Hell, he even defended me when a drunk man tried to start a fight with me for accidentally bumping into him.
He also didn’t expect me to be the comedic relief friend with no real feelings like so many of the people I spend time with in New York do. When I got back to the city, it was more obviousthan ever how shallow those friendships are, especially with Blake gone.
My time with John might’ve been short, but it was long enough for me to get a taste of what being with him would be like, and I’m not willing to give that up without a fight.
Which is why I’m done waiting around for him to answer my calls and texts. It’s time for me to step things up and demand he pay attention to me, his husband.
So I’m moving in.
I take a steadying breath on his front porch, then bring my fist to the door, knocking three times. He doesn’t immediately answer, so I wait a few seconds before knocking again. Just when I start to worry he isn’t actually home, finally, the door opens.
Instead of being happy to see me, John looks pissed. But he also looks really good. He always does. Before we went to Vegas, I thought I was always looking at him because I was kind of jealous of how cool he seemed. But I’ve had a lot of time since our wedding and my bi-awakening to embrace the fact that I’m so interested in what he’s wearing and how well it fits him because I’m attracted to him, not because I wish I could look more like him. And seeing him again in person after all this time only reinforces that truth. My husband is sexy as fuck.
His hair is pulled back in a bun, a strand of brown hair falling against his face. He’s covered in… dust? Maybe? And he’s sweating in a tank top that shows off so much of his inked skin. He really is a hot biker baddie, and for a moment, my chest swells with pride because he’smyhusband. Even if he’s struggling to acknowledge it.
“Hi, Hubby!” I say cheerfully, determined to remind him of how much fun we have together, to win him over just like I did in Vegas.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Chad?” John grumbles.
“Are you still pretending you’re not happy to see me? Ithought we moved past this when you agreed to stay married to me?” I argue with my smile still in place. “I know you want me; it’s okay to drop the tough guy act.”
But despite my encouragement, he doesn’t. He shuts the door. Right in my face.
Rude!
But I’m used to John pretending to be annoyed by me so I don’t take it personally. I knock again. And again. And again until, finally, he opens the door, making a deep growly noise at me when our gazes meet, but that only makes my smile grow. I think his growling is kind of hot. Especially when I know how soft he can be when he lets me past the walls he likes to put up.
I flash my most charming smile. “May I come in?”
“No,” he grunts.
