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Warmth fills my chest as I look at Ben. None of that surprises me, because it sounds exactly like the Ben I know.
“He’s got plenty of bad habits, too,” Ben cracks. “But that’s nice of you to say, thanks.”
When people start clearing out, Tre looks at Tanisha and takes her hand. “Time for us to go try out that hot tub in our room.”
“Oh hell yes, it is.” She squeals and smiles at him.
“We’ll see everyone tomorrow for trivia,” Tre says.
The other couples at the table follow their lead, all of us saying goodnight and heading for our rooms. It’s not until Ben and I walk into our spacious honeymoon suite that I think about there only been one king-sized bed.
Fresh red rose petals are scattered on the white duvet cover. Ben and I exchange a look.
“I’ll take the couch,” he offers.
I want to tell him it’s okay, that we’re not strangers and I’m completely comfortable sleeping next to him. I nod, though, because deep down, I know it wouldn’t be like sharing a bed with Claire.
Ben is...I take a deep breath to steady myself. I already knew Ben before our fake wedding and honeymoon. But being alone with him has reminded me that there’s a side to him I didn’t know. Every time he lies about being in love with me, my insides melt.
I can’t do anything to change it, but the more time I spend alone with Ben, the more certain I become of one thing.
I’ve spent ten years in a relationship with a man who looks exactly like him but has never come close to being the man he is.
Chapter Eight
Ben
* * *
“You look like shit,” I tell Dom the next morning.
He texted me late last night demanding we meet up for breakfast, so I’m sitting across from him and Rowan at one of the hotel’s restaurants, morning sunshine steaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Those fruity drinks snuck up on me,” Dom says. “I don’t even remember walking back to the room last night.”
Rowan glares at him. “Because you didn’t. You were passed out and I had to load you onto a luggage cart and push it back to our room.”
“That tracks. I vaguely remember you running over my foot with one of the wheels on the cart.”
Dom’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday, and he also has dark sunglasses on. He’s already pounded half a pitcher of water and we’ve only been here for five minutes.
“So before your wife gets here, fill us in on what the hell has happened to you since we saw you less than three weeks ago,” he says. “There are guys on the team I can see getting married out of the blue, but not you. Does she have something on you?”
I scoff. “Fuck no. I told you, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Almost twenty years. I didn’t need to spend time getting to know her, because I already do.”
“You didn’t think maybe it would be good to get engaged and see how that goes?” Rowan asks. “Remember when Drew found out his fiancée was a convicted felon? He dodged a bullet on that one.”
I shake my head. “Stella’s not a felon. I know her better than anyone I’m not related to.”
“So she’s moving to Denver,” Dom says, his tone indicating he doubts it.
“Yeah, of course. It’s not like I can move to Wisconsin, and we’re married.”
The lies are piling up now, but I have no choice but to keep going with this.
“If you’re happy, I’m happy for you,” Rowan says.
“Tell me you had her sign a prenup,” Dom says.
Aggravation flares in my chest at his insinuation that Stella would try to cheat me somehow.
“I’ll have breakfast with you, man, but I’m not taking relationship advice from the guy who once got his nipple stuck in an elevator door.”
Dom looks up at the ceiling. “Fuck, that hurt.”
I spot Stella walking into the restaurant. She stayed in the room to finish getting ready, and she’s dressed in a red top that ties at the back of her neck, flowing black crop pants and black flip flops, her hair piled on top of her head in a loose bun.
“Don’t be a dick,” I tell Dom in a low tone. “This is my wife.”
I love the sound of those words so fucking much. I physically ache for Stella to be walking toward me on an actual honeymoon, my much-bigger ring sparkling on her finger. In my fantasy, my back doesn’t hurt from sleeping on a shitty couch last night, but from hours of standing and holding her while she bounced up and down on my cock, making herself come until she was too exhausted to continue.
“Good morning,” Stella says as she arrives at the table.
I stand and pull out the chair next to me, which she slides into.
