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“Uh-huh. Like what?”
He shrugged as he crossed to the little cabinet-sized pantry to grab the can of soup while I kept a closer eye on the new sandwich.
“Last night we watched a movie and purged our feelings.” He shot me a nervous smile. “Andi was hurting, and I haven’t exactly done a great job of hiding my turmoil lately. So, when she asked, I told her I’d had some bad luck in the romance department too.”
“Oh.” I frowned, unsure of what I wanted to ask. “Are you…upset? I mean, do you not want…”
“I barely understand what I feel.” He poured soup into a pan and placed it on the open burner to heat on the stove. “Even though we need to do this, it’s not easy. You know?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For being a drunk idiot and proposing freaking marriage. I got you into this mess.”
“Wes…” Beckett shook his head. “There’s something you should know about that night.”
“What? Did you remember something else we did?”
“Sort of,” he hedged. “Let’s finish the cooking and we’ll talk while we eat.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling uneasy. What more could I have fucked up without realizing it? Maybe Dad was right to be so pissed at me. Being responsible for actions I couldn’t even remember was no way to go through life.
I made two more sandwiches, and Beck ladled the soup into bowls. We didn’t have a table, so we cleared off the counter and ate while standing. I let Beck enjoy his meal for a few bites, watching as his eyes closed in bliss and he made a pleased little humming sound that went straight to my dick.
That’s new…
I shifted and tried to distract myself from the hard-on trying to form. Tonight was definitely not the time.
“So, what did you remember about that night in Vegas?” I chuckled weakly, trying to make light of it. “Did I embarrass myself even more than I realized?”
“Actually, you didn’t.” Beck winced. “I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I, uh…I’m the one who suggested we get married for real. To make the prank seem more legit. You were totally game for just taking some pics and having a laugh. I’m the one who fucked up, Wes.”
I stared at him, shocked. I didn’t know what to say. Beckett and I had a pattern, and that pattern was that I did stupid shit and he either reined me in or did damage control when he couldn’t. Never had the reverse happened. Beckett was the smart, level-headed one. He liked to have fun, but he knew where to draw the lines. So for him to have proposed marriage…
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He crammed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, as if he needed a few more minutes to compose his answer. That was fine. I needed time to process. I wasn’t upset, of course. I’d believed the marriage was my idea, but even if it wasn’t, I’d agreed to it.
But…a fraction of my guilt eased. Because we really were in this together. I hadn’t dragged Beckett into my ridiculous ploy. Hadn’t persuaded him to make a bad choice. He’d been right there with me, impulsive and spontaneous and…a little crazy, but only in the very best way.
Beckett swallowed, licked his lips nervously, and said, “We didn’t mess around that night either. I remember.”
“But…the cum dried on you…”
Beckett turned bright red and mumbled something.
“What was that?” I asked.
“It was mine,” he said a little louder. “I jerked off while drunk.” His eyes met mine, so intense I had to resist the urge to look away, to escape the emotions floating there for anyone to see: the guilt, the shame, the longing.
“Wes, this whole thing is my fault. We got married because of me. We hooked up because you believed it had already happened…because of me. We’re in this position because ofme.”
The break in his voice slayed me. Absolutely killed every last shred of restraint in me.
