Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

MILLER

So if we were doing this, I would be doing it drunk.

There was no other way I could get through it. Certainly not freaking sober. Social lubrication be damned. This was a pain buffer in the form of sparkling anesthetic, a hundred bucks a bottle.

One bottle of Mo?t later and I was feeling marginally better. Well... that wasn't exactly true. I still felt bad, but I cared a whole lot less.

Which was probably just as well, because we had to meet with the contest organizer.

I was letting Brody take the lead on that.

This was all his idea, after all.

"Ah, Brody and Miller," a woman greeted us. She was tall and thin, wearing a radio station T-shirt and a wide, bright lipstick smile. She shook Brody's hand first. "I'm Carina. Nice to meet you," she said, then she turned to me. "And you must be Miller."

I shook her hand with an easy Mo?t smile. I really should drink more Champagne. Not that I drank much of anything, but that warm, easy feeling was nice.

"That's me," I replied.

She asked about our flight and if we were ready for a great weekend, if we were excited.

Uh, no. I'm dreading it. And I'm drunk, so there's that.

"And how's married life treating you?" she asked with a squinty smile.

"Well," I began, because she was looking directly at me.

"It's great," Brody interjected. "So far," he added with a laugh. "It's all kinda new."

"So new," I said, a little drunker than I was just a minute ago. "So new it doesn't even feel real."

Brody put his arm around my shoulder, squeezing a little harder than necessary. "Incredible, huh?"

"Well, you were a clear fan favorite," Carina said. "Your photos were so beautiful."

"Yes, they were," I said, meaning every word.

I felt Brody's eyes on me but didn't dare look at him. Maybe he'd see through me, see it in my eyes that I almost cried when I first saw that photo of us dancing at my sister's wedding. How we were standing so close, our arms around each other, the way I was smiling at him.

God, I'd seen that photo and it broke my heart.

Because he'd never love me the way I loved him. And had loved him for almost half my life.

"Speaking of photos," Carina said. "Can we pose for a few?"

"Sure," Brody said.

A man with a camera appeared from nowhere, springing up with the radio station standee, and Brody and I were corralled next to it with the hotel name behind us. Promo, promo, promo. Whatever. If there was more Mo?t, I didn't care at all.

"Okay, face me," the photographer said. He waved us in. "Stand closer."

I slid my arm around Brody's waist and his arm went around my shoulder. We'd done this a million times. This was no different from any other photo we'd taken over the years.

No big deal.

"Okay, re-create the dancing photo," the guy said.

Dread and butterflies fought for airspace in my belly.

But Brody slid his hand down to my lower back and pulled me in close, far too naturally, far too comfortably. I pressed against him, allowing myself to have this just one more time.

A stupid photo op, nothing more . . .

He took my hand like we were ballroom dancing and we did a few slow steps, but it was ridiculous and stupid, and I laughed.

"Perfect," the photographer said.

I snorted.

"Okay, now kiss."

Aaaaand now I wasn't laughing.

Brody's eyes met mine. Fear and what the fuck stared back at me, and I almost faltered. I almost gave us away right then and there.

But then his gaze dropped to my lips and drew back up to my eyes, and something else stared back at me.

Determination?

Daring?

Then he slid his hand along my jaw, lifted my face, and pressed his lips to mine.

Soft and sweet and everything I'd ever wanted.

Everything I'd longed for, dreamed of.

My whole chest was aching and thrumming all at once. I pressed my forehead to his, my eyes closed—too afraid to look at him—trying to convince my heart that this wasn't real but to savor this moment anyway.

And not to break into a million pieces.

"Perfect," the photographer said, snapping me out of Brody's spell.

Looking at them, the photographer reviewed his camera screen and Carina smiled at us.

"Awww, so perfect," she crooned.

I dropped my hand from Brody's waist and took a step away, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded.

Brody grabbed my arm, then slid his hand down into mine, threading our fingers. "He cracked the Champagne in our room," he announced, as if that explained why I was suddenly dizzy.

As if it had nothing to do with the fact that Brody had just kissed me.

"He doesn't normally drink too much," Brody added, like it'd help.

I looked right at Carina. "Uh, yeah. That Mo?t is good. Any chances of another bottle?"

She found that cute, apparently. "I'll have a word with the hotel and see what I can do."

Brody squeezed my hand. "You'll need a nap if you have any more."

"Oh no," I joked. "A nap. How terrible."

Brody laughed, but he never let go of my hand. He was taking this way better than I was. Considering this was the first time he'd ever kissed a guy. That I knew of, anyway.

Christ.

What if it wasn't?

No.

No, I had to not think of that. He'd been with a stack of women before, and it never bothered me too much. But the idea of him kissing a man? A man that wasn't me?

The Champagne was threatening to reappear. The way my stomach turned...

He was completely unfazed, and I was spiraling. And I was the gay guy who'd had my share of men, kissing random strangers in clubs who'd meant nothing at all. Exactly how he'd just kissed me.

It was all a very blunt reminder. Proof that kissing me meant nothing to him.

"Miller?" Brody murmured, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, maybe a nap isn't a bad idea," I said. I grimaced at Carina. "Sorry."

She chuckled. "It's okay. Hope you're feeling better before dinner tonight."

Dinner?

We had to attend a dinner?

Jesus.

"See you there," Brody said as he waved her off and led me back to the elevator. He leaned me against the wall and his eyes met mine, clearly concerned. "That Mo?t really hit you hard, didn't it?"

It wasn't like I could tell him this was me freaking out, not me drunk.

Whatever.

"Mm. I think I need that nap."

In our suite, I made a beeline for the bed and fell onto it, lying on my back and pulling the pillow over my face. Brody lifted one of my feet and pulled my shoe off, then the other, and I hated that he looked after me like that.

The bed dipped, and I didn't need to look to know he was sitting beside me. "You okay under there?" he asked, his voice soft and sweet. I hated that he spoke to me like that too.

Everything he did messed with my head. He was one hundred percent boyfriend material. The perfect boyfriend for me. He was caring, sweet, supportive, funny, gorgeous...

And straight.

And one hundred percent not my boyfriend.

Certainly not my husband.

"This is going to end so badly," I mumbled.

"It'll be fine," he replied.

I wasn't talking about the likely legality of it all. I was talking about us.

Not that I would tell him that.

"We did okay back there, right?" he asked. He sounded so insecure; it made me pull the pillow away so I could see his face. He looked as uncertain as I'd ever seen him. He was normally confident in everything he ever did. "I mean, the kiss." He grimaced. "Was it okay? I think we did okay. Without practice or without warning, or anything, really. I mean, we talked about it, but actually doing it was okay, right?"

Seeing him so unsure hurt me physically. I sat up and nudged him with my shoulder. "Are you okay with it?" I asked. Then, because I liked to inflict more pain on myself, I added, "I might even think it wasn't the first time you've kissed a guy before."

He laughed, his cheeks pink, and he ducked his head. "Well, yeah, of course it was."

Lord, his cute reaction almost did me in.

"Well, you fooled them both."

His eyes met mine. "I think it was the forehead thing you did that convinced them."

"The forehead thing?"

"Yeah, when you pressed your forehead to mine. Like you did in the photo."

Oh god.

Yeah, that was me trying to savor every moment and not expire at the same time.

I fell back on the bed and put the pillow back over my face. "One of my many moves," I joked. "It's called The Forehead Thing. Works every time."

Brody was quiet for a moment, and that sleepy, heavy feeling was settling over me. That nap was starting to sound really good. I patted the bed on the other side of me. "Nap time."

Brody climbed over me and lay down beside me, his arm resting heavily across my belly. "Thought you'd never ask."

"Since when do you ever wait for me to ask?"

"Well, now that we're married, I thought I'd try it."

I gave him a shove, and he laughed, but never moved his arm. I pulled the pillow off my face and shoved it under my head, but I kept my eyes shut.

Pretty sure he was looking at me.

Damn sure I didn't have the guts to look at him.

That stupid voice in my head told me to enjoy the moment. Enjoy the feel of his arm on me, enjoy the feel of him beside me in bed, because it was all I'd ever get.

After this weekend, I was sure of that.

The wheels would fall off at some point.

They had to.

Because my heart was nearing the finish line. I had to make a clean break and move on with my life and my unrequited love and get over Brody Molina, once and for all. This weekend would be the end.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

No, it's not real. It's all fake for some contest and a free weekend in Vegas. But all that shit in your head that you dreamed up over the years wasn't real either, so what the hell.

Enjoy this as a last hurrah, a fond farewell, a last goodbye.

Sure.

I'll consider myself the conductor of the band that played on while the Titanic sank.

Like he was a mind reader, Brody pulled me into his arms and held me. "You okay? You're mumbling to yourself again," he said.

I was going to protest but he felt so good against me. He smelled incredible and his arms were strong, his chest warm against my cheek.

So yeah, I could give myself one last weekend.

And the band on the Titanic continued to play.