Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

brODY MOLINA

Miller needed this time away.

He'd been so stressed lately. Quiet and not himself. His smile didn't quite sit right, and his laughter fell flat.

That spark of light in his eyes that I'd always noticed was gone.

He'd said his job was a lot to deal with right now, and he'd been putting in some long hours. The last few times I'd suggested dinner or grabbing a few drinks, he'd been stuck at work. And then there was the whole stress of Paisley's wedding.

And, the truth was, I'd missed him.

He was my wingman. The Robin to my Batman. I couldn't remember a time in my life when it wasn't us against the world.

But lately, things had been different.

Something didn't feel right with him, and it scared me in ways I wasn't ready to unpack just yet. So I knew I had to enter us when I saw that newlywed photo contest with a fully funded three-day weekend in Vegas.

Plus, we'd gone to Paisley's wedding two weeks before and had those really cool photos of us, with the one near the altar in the church, which could totally pass as our wedding. And the dancing photo as well. We were slow dancing, and it just so happened to be a photo where Paisley in her wedding gown wasn't in the background, so it looed like our wedding dance...

Which it wasn't.

But still . . .

The photo looked like it was, and that was all we needed.

Literally.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Miller mumbled as we waited to check into the hotel.

"It'll be fun," I tried, giving him a nudge. "Free room and free booze for three days. It's gonna be great."

"No, I mean, I can't believe all it took was a photo to enter us. No marriage certificate or anything."

"It was a photo contest."

He made a face. "We're going to get found out."

"Stop stressing. All we gotta do is look all coupley. Be all cutesy with the sexy gay vibe. You know they love that shit."

Miller's gaze shot to mine, hard and fierce, and I knew I'd said the wrong thing. "That shit?"

Goddammit.

"You know what I mean. The sexy gay couples all over Instagram and TikTok. They want the photo ops and?—"

"That gay shit isn't something I can turn on and off for a photo op, Brody. Jesus Christ."

I put my hand on his back, sliding it down and pulling him closer than was probably necessary and giving him my sad puppy face. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

Did I know that he'd forgive me for anything when I did that? Maybe.

Was that why I did it?

Yes.

I had absolutely zero problem with being handsy with Miller. We'd always been that way. It was why people often assumed we were a couple, because we were always handsy. Okay, correction. I was handsy with him. He was never handsy with me, but he was totally okay with me putting my arms around him, taking his arm or his hand, dancing with him.

So me putting my hand on his lower back and pulling him against me was nothing. Me pouting and batting my eyelashes until he smiled was par for the course.

But damn, for a minute I thought it wasn't gonna work. He was really mad at me. But then the corner of his lip began to curl up and he rolled his eyes. "You're such a jerk," he mumbled.

"Can I help you?" the lady behind the counter said.

Oh, it was finally our turn. I dropped my arm from Miller's back and stepped up to the desk. "Ah, yes. We have a reservation. Brody Molina and Miller Norton."

She tapped her keyboard and stared at the screen for a second before giving us a blinding smile. "Oh, yes, the newlywed contest winners! How wonderful."

Oh boy.

Here we go.

"Yes, that's us," I said.

No going back now.

We confirmed our booking and a few moments later were presented with our room keys. "The honeymoon suite," she proclaimed proudly. Smugly, almost, as she slid the key cards toward us.

Like she presumed we'd be having all kinds of newlywed sex in that honeymoon suite.

Like most people would expect newlyweds to do...

Gawd.

Before I could lose my nerve, before I could agree that this was a very bad idea, I took the keys and played along with the lie. "Thank you," I said cheerfully.

I turned to Miller with the intent of getting to the room ASAP when the reception woman offered me a printed piece of paper. "And here's your itinerary."

Itinerary?

I scanned the letter, horrified to see it was basically a full list.

"Carina left a message to say welcome and that she'd see you at four o'clock."

Carina was the contest lady who I'd dealt with.

Who I'd lied to.

And sure enough, there on the itinerary at four o'clock was meet and greet with Carina in hotel lobby .

Which meant we had about an hour.

We bundled into the elevator, Miller's eyes meeting mine in the mirrored wall. He didn't say anything but half-rolled his eyes and shook his head when someone else walked in. We rode in silence, and when we walked into our suite, he stopped dead and dropped his duffle bag at his feet.

We stood there a moment in silence, both of us staring at the huge bed.

The one bed.

One huge, soft, and comfy-looking, expensive-looking bed.

With a heart of rose petals on the duvet, and a bottle of Mo?t on ice.

Ohhhh boy.

"The bed's plenty big enough for both of us," I tried. We'd shared a bed before. This was no big deal.

Miller took the bottle of champagne, unwrapped the gold foil, looked me dead in the eye, uncorked it like a pro in one smooth pop, then began to chug it straight from the bottle.

Right then.

He made a face as he stopped for air. "So tell me, what's the felony charge, exactly, for the crime we're committing? Just trying to do the math on that. Like, will I be out of prison for my thirtieth? Because Mom was already talking about my grandparents visiting from Florida."

"There won't be any felony charges," I said.

I think . . .

"And anyway, your thirtieth is like five years away. She's planning it already?"

"You know what she's like." He chugged more Mo?t while we both seemed stuck staring at the bed.

"And I still can't believe your grandparents moved to Florida. I loved their house in the hills."

Miller nodded and handed me the bottle of champagne. "Same."

I took a decent mouthful, and then another.

Miller let his head fall back with a groan. "We are not gonna be able to pull this off."

I gulped the Mo?t and swallowed down the belch that threatened to escape. "Sure we will. There's nothing we don't know about each other. What can they ask us that we don't know?"

"It's not the trivia I'm concerned about."

No. He meant the physical stuff.

"We'll be fine," I said. "I'll be fine with it."

Miller replied with one raised eyebrow.

"What?" I countered. "I can pretend to be your husband, no problem." I put the bottle in the ice bucket and threw my arms around him to prove my point. I rested my chin on his shoulder. "You know I'll be fine with it."

He... didn't react. Didn't lean into me like he typically did, didn't turn around and hug me back. Didn't laugh or joke about it. He didn't say a word.

He did nothing.

It was almost as if he had a problem with it.

But he was gay. He never had a problem with a guy hanging off him. Lord knew I'd seen guys fawn all over him before and that was fine... kind of. I mean, he was fine with it.

It was almost like the problem he had here was me.

Wait.

I froze as realization dawned. "Miller," I said, turning him around so I could see his face. "Do you not want to do this?"

"It'd be too late now if I did, wouldn't it?"

"Mills," I tried. That nickname normally softened him like butter, but not today. He tried to look away, so I put my hands on his face to make him look at me. Something really wasn't right with him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

He wasn't, clearly.

He pulled his face from my hands but he didn't move away, so I pulled him in for a fierce hug. I don't know why hugging him always made me feel better, but it did. It gave me peace, and I hoped it did the same for him. "We'll be okay," I murmured. "It's just one weekend. We'll be fine. We'll have a few drinks, relax, and have a great time."

There.

That was good. Reassure him that it was just me and him, like the old days, and that I wanted to make this about him. For him to have a great weekend, relaxing and maybe feeling like his old self.

He sighed and pulled away from me. He threw his bag on the bed. "You're on the left side."

"As always."

He took the Mo?t bottle and guzzled more of it, squinting as he swallowed. He looked at the remaining contents, then at me. "We're gonna need a fuckton more of this."