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First, Augustus had given in to his attraction to his coworker, Joe. Then Clark had broken his personal rule not to date fathers of students to be with Hunter.
But I was most surprised—along with everyone else in this town—when a husband Tucker had kept secret for nearly two decades arrived in Granville and rekindled their relationship.
They’d all made leaps of faith to be together. But it wasn’t the same for Beck and me. We were family, blood-related or not, and there was more at stake than just our feelings on the matter. I hadn’t liked that Beckett shot me down earlier today, but I understood why.
Taking that leap together would be a fuck ton more complicated than it had been for any of our friends.
I rubbed my ring finger, missing the weight of my wedding band. I’d only worn it for twenty-four hours, and somehow it had made a lasting impression.
One I wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon no matter how much I pretended what happened in Vegas was nothing but a prank. I realized Laurie was watching me and stopped abruptly. His gaze met mine, a lot more answers than questions in his eyes.
Beckett must have noticed because he “accidentally” knocked over Clark’s beer. Laurie’s gaze was diverted as Clark jumped back, and Hunter grabbed a stack of napkins.
“Shit, sorry,” Beckett said. “I’ll order you a new one.”
While Beck went to replace Clark’s drink and order a couple for us, the conversation moved on—though Laurie’s watchful eyes didn’t.
It was pretty clear that while most of our friends were inclined to believe our marriage was a joke, Laurie Ellis wasn’t so easily convinced. I resisted the urge to rub my ring finger again, the weight of that wedding band feeling heavy even if it was nowhere on my body.
I watched Beck return, standing to help him set the glasses down on the table.
“Thanks,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Always happy to help,” I said in a low voice.
When I retook my seat, everyone was watching me with expressions ranging from bafflement to suspicion.
“What? I can be nice!”
Beckett snorted. “You must have gotten too much sun in Vegas, huh?”
Our friends busted up in laughter again, reverting to the trash talk we all embraced as our love language.
Beckett kicked my ankle under the table when I didn’t join in, giving me a warning glance.
Right. Everyone expected me to be his trash-talking stepbrother, not the guy who’d kissed him stupid in Vegas, and definitely not the guy who wanted to do it again. Right now.
This pretending shit was harder than it looked.
* * *
BECKETT
I rappedon the bathroom door at 5:55 a.m. the following morning. “Hurry up! We’re going to be late.”
I was showered, dressed, and caffeinated—all while Wes hit snooze a dozen times in a desperate attempt to cling to sleep. This was a familiar routine, and going through the motions of it made me feel more normal than I had since we went to Vegas.
When trivia ended last night, I’d gone straight to bed and actually managed to sleep better than I had since we’d gotten home. Ripping off the Band-Aid with our friends had been reassuring. The sooner we faced everyone, the sooner we could move on.
Inside the bathroom, Wes cursed, the shower curtain rattled, then the door opened. He grabbed my coffee mug from my hand, which I’d already cooled with a couple of ice cubes because of what he’d do next.
Wes gulped the coffee down in three huge swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat worked.
The kick of my heart as I watched water droplets course down his bare chest was also familiar. But it was more powerful than it had been before, shattering the illusion that I could pretend we’d never had sex.
I spun away, knowing that in two minutes, Wes would emerge from the bathroom butt naked to rush into his room and pull on jeans and a Potter Landscaping T-shirt—still half wet, so the fabric clung to him in unfortunately delicious ways. There was a time I’d hung around intentionally to see that, figuring that enjoying the view did little harm.
I knew better now.
