Faking A Groom (Marital Bliss Book 3)

by DJ Jamison

  “I hate these things,” Avery muttered as he eyed the room of politicians, lobbyists, and campaign donors. He honestly couldn’t decide who among them was the worst. The politician who could be bought, or the agencies and wealthy businessmen who did the buying. Democracy was broken—even at the local and state levels—and while Avery had once believed people like his father could make a difference, he was no longer sure. He’d believed in his father once, in his policies and his drive to serve his constituents, even when he’d only been doing it as a sort of legacy to Avery’s mother. But the more time went by, the less certain Avery was about his father’s principles—and his ambitions for Avery to take up the mantel.

  Did he truly want Avery to serve, or did he want Avery to merely keep his seat warm while he pursued higher office? Either way, Avery didn’t want to be in the spotlight. It would just be one more reason his father would insist he should stay in the closet. It didn’t matter how many openly gay public figures Avery pointed out; his dad would come up with a reason to be patient just a little longer.

  “At least you belong,” Gil murmured, tugging at his ill-fitting, department-store suit. “I feel like a fish out of water.”

  Avery smiled sharply. “My father is going to choke on his fish when I introduce you as my plus one.”

  Gil paled. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “I’m joking.”

  Although Avery really, really wished he weren’t.

  “Good. Don’t forget, I have to work with the man,” Gil muttered as he trailed Avery to the bar set up in one corner.

  Avery winced. “I remember.”

  It was because of him that Gil worked in Senator Kinkaid’s office. He thought he’d been doing his college friend a favor, but it was beginning to seem more like a punishment as time went on. But Gil was the only man in the great state of Maine, besides Avery’s dad, who knew he was gay. He couldn’t imagine surviving without one safe confidante; he’d probably lose his mind.

  Gil continued, “And based on the legislation that came to my desk last week…”

  “What about it?”

  Gil shook his head. “Let’s just say now is really not the time to be pushing those boundaries.”

  Avery gave Gil a sharp look, wondering what that meant. It was no secret to Gil that Avery’s father knew his sexuality and accepted it, so long as it remained private. But what did that have to do with legislation. “What’s this legislation about?”

  Gil shifted his gaze, stepping forward as the line moved. “I’ll take a Moscato. Avery, what do you want to drink?”

  “Jack and Coke,” Avery said shortly before turning back to Gil. “Tell me what you meant with that cryptic comment.”

  “I was cryptic for a reason.”

  “Gil.”

  “Not now,” Gil hissed before smiling brightly at the bartender—brightly enough Avery took a second look himself—and accepting his drink. “You need to play nice with the party guests right now. Later, okay?”

  The bartender was handsome, closely shaved and smelling of cologne, but he was blond and a little too bulky to be Avery’s type. He didn’t go for the gym rat look. He wanted a guy that seemed real, one who wouldn’t make him feel bad about his own average physique. Hell, who was he kidding? He wasn’t getting a real guy, not until he got the balls to stand up to his father.

  Sometime approximately after never, the way things were going. Avery didn’t know why his dad turned him into such a damn coward, but it’d been happening since he got his first crush at fourteen. He probably never would have come out to his father at all if his mother hadn’t died. Something about watching her casket be lowered into the ground made Avery feel as if he had nothing to risk. His mother was gone, and he was already in so much pain, he figured he might as well get all of it over with. If he was going to lose his dad, he might as well do it while he was already devastated.

  His dad had surprised him with words of love and comfort, even as he suggested that it wasn’t the appropriate time to tell anyone, lest it overshadow his mother’s memorial. Avery had been so relieved that his father didn’t hate him that he’d happily agreed.

  He’d been agreeing—albeit less happily—ever since.

  “Way to be a tease,” Avery said without much heat. He suspected Gil’s news wouldn’t make him happy, so he decided to let it go. “Let’s go mingle.”

  Avery reined in his bad mood enough to shake a few hands and talk business with some key connections. A few members of the local press were in attendance, so he watched his words carefully as he worked the room. By the time he and Gil extracted themselves to grab that $100 plate meal on offer, his filter was gone.

  “A buffet,” Avery said with disgust as he moved through the line. “You know, if they’re going to wine us and dine us, they could at least feed us better food.”

  Gil wisely kept his mouth shut, shuffling forward in the line to add a baked filet of fish to a bed of rice.

  A throat cleared behind him, and Avery glanced over his shoulder and winced. Rory Fisher stared him down, his sharp features and narrowed eyes as familiar as his own image in the mirror, despite the years that had gone by since they’d spoken. He’d seen Rory a few times—enough to know he lived in the Portland area—but always from a distance. He couldn’t fathom why he’d be here, though.

  “Is the gourmet meal not up to the standards of your privileged gut, Avery?”

  Gil choked on what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

  Avery glanced down at his stomach. He might not be rocking a six-pack anymore, or ever, but his stomach was mostly flat. He could stand to lose ten pounds, possibly. Certainly, he didn’t have the paunch of Charles Deels, one of the older businessmen moseying along in front of Gil.

  “I didn’t…that’s not what I—” He huffed, his bad mood only growing darker. “If we’re so privileged, then why are we gathering at a buffet line like cows at a trough?”

  Rory clucked. “It’s tragic.”

  Gil did snicker out loud this time, the traitor.

  “I’m just saying, for an event of this level, with all these, these…influential people.” He waved an arm toward the room at large. “I’d think there’d be, I don’t know, a chocolate fountain or something.”

  He was only digging himself in deeper. He didn’t even know why he was arguing with Rory of all people, except that it was something they’d always done. Back in school, he and Rory had argued in the hallways and gotten off together in dark corners. Heat flushed through him at the memory, and the urge to drag Rory into a closet and fall to his knees was strong.

  “No chocolate fountain?” Rory smirked. “You are deprived, aren’t you? Tell you what, maybe if you learn to do a few tricks, you’ll actually deserve a treat.”

  Was that a sexual innuendo? Probably not. Avery would be more than willing to perform a few tricks to revisit the sexual chemistry they’d had together.

  He glanced Rory over, wondering why he was at an event like this, especially with his dislike of privileged schmucks like Avery. Like most of the men in the room, Rory wore a suit, though he managed to look casually elegant rather than formal. That’s where the similarities ended, though. Rory’s hair was long enough to brush his shoulders, whereas most of the other men—Avery included—wore theirs conservatively short. With the long hair and sharp cheekbones, Rory looked more like a fashion model than a… What the hell was he, anyway? He’d prattled on about law school back in high school, but Avery would know if he were practicing. Despite his dislike of networking, he got around.

  Gil nudged him. “The line’s moving.”

  “See you later, Silver Spoon,” Rory said, a nickname he’d assigned Avery back at private school.

  “Looking forward to it, Soapbox.”

  Rory smirked, his eyes skimming over Avery from head to toe, lighting him up inside. “If that’s true, come find me later.” Just as Avery’s heart skipped, he said, “I’m here stumping for a cause. I’ll give you a soapbox demons
tration that will make our high school days look like child’s play.”

  Rory walked off, leaving Avery staring after his retreating form.

  Of course he was here for a cause. Knowing Rory, it would be a really good one, something altruistic and wonderful that would put Avery to shame. Being connected to politics and wealth had never felt so dirty.

  Rory was exhausted and ready to call it a night when Avery came toward him, a drink in each hand, wearing a calculating smile. Rory still couldn’t believe he’d actually invited Avery to find him, but as much as seeing him played havoc with his insides—attraction, animosity, and longing all colluded to disorient Rory in his presence—Avery was a Kinkaid. He came from wealth and privilege: in other words, everything Rory hated. And, also, exactly the thing Rory needed to raise funds for the Equal Justice League.

  “You’re still here,” Avery said smoothly before glancing down at the few crumbs left of Rory’s blueberry pie. “And apparently not above enjoying the privileged desserts they’re serving to us silver spoons.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t the one disparaging the food,” Rory said. “Besides, I paid for my place here, same as everyone else.”

  There was a budget built in at the Justice League for events like this because the fundraising and connections he could make far outweighed the cost, extravagant as it was. Rory probably could have snuck in under the radar, given that Caleb owned the venue, but he’d never want to put his friend in such an awkward position—or risk shining an unfavorable light on the Equal Justice League. They were a private nonprofit agency, so Rory had a certain amount of freedom, but he still relied on the public’s goodwill—and generous donations—as well as state and federal grants.

  “May I sit?” Avery asked.

  Rory pushed out a chair with his foot. “Here, let me help. Looks like you’re two-fisting it.”

  Avery laughed and held out a wineglass. “No, this is for you.”

  Rory eyed the glass warily. “What is it?”

  “Don’t worry, I asked the bartender to hold the arsenic.” Avery chuckled nervously. “No poison; just wine.”

  Rory accepted the glass, taking a tentative sip while Avery sat down. Chardonnay. Not his favorite, but it would do. He nodded toward Avery’s much darker drink. “What are you having?”

  “Jack and Coke.”

  “Ah, so you don’t care to make good judgments tonight.”

  Avery snorted. “Maybe I can hold my liquor.”

  Rory smirked. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

  He could see in Avery’s eyes the moment he remembered throwing up massive amounts of green liquid after too much Apple Pucker in their junior year. He pulled a disgusted face. “Can you blame me? That was like downing a thousand Jolly Ranchers.”

  Afterward, Rory had checked on him, getting him water and aspirin, helping clean him up. His only thanks had been Avery’s worried request for him to leave before morning so no one got any ideas. He’s still ridiculously handsome, but don’t forget who he really is.

  Rory took another sip of chardonnay. “How did you know I’d like wine?”

  “Wild guess.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Do you want to get out of here?”

  And there it was. The same old Avery, looking for a discreet hookup that he’d no doubt want to forget about as soon as it was done.

  “No, thanks.” Rory pushed back his chair. “I should really go—”

  “Wait,” Avery said, leaning forward but stopping just short of touching him. Luckily for him. Rory was not in the mood to put up with a handsy jerk, even one he’d once thought was the sexiest guy alive. “Please. You mentioned a soapbox spiel. That’s why I came over.”

  Rory resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It is, huh?”

  “I know I sounded like an asshole earlier. I was in a bad mood, and I’m not fond of these schmooze fests, but I’m not as disgustingly spoiled as I seem.”

  “You’re a Kinkaid.”

  “Okay, yes. But…I’m a Kinkaid who works for a living. I earned a business degree, and manage the operations of the banking business—

  “You mean the degree your father paid for,” Rory shot back. “And the business already owned by your family?”

  Avery threw back the rest of his drink, his throat working as he swallowed, and Rory averted his eyes. Despite giving Avery a hard time, he wasn’t immune to him. Avery had always been his Kryptonite: classically handsome, intelligent, charming when he wanted to be, and so sexy it should be a crime. He’d also been all wrong for Rory. They lived in two very different worlds.

  “Okay, fine, I’m privileged as hell,” Avery said, giving in. “But maybe I can help with this soapbox cause of yours? With my many sordid, rich connections?”

  Rory fought a smile. “Okay, but you asked for it.”

  “I did.”

  “I’m the director of the Equal Justice League,” Rory said. “Have you heard of it?”

  “A bit.”

  “We work to provide quality legal aid to people who need it, particularly minorities, LGBTQ individuals, and other people who are at risk of not receiving the best legal representation.”

  “You deal in mostly criminal cases?”

  “No, it’s a mix,” Rory said. “We have a fair amount of family law situations. Domestic abuse, custody battles, adoption…”

  Avery straightened. “Oh, yeah? Tell me more.”

  So, Rory did.

  For the next hour, as the banquet room cleared out, Rory gave Avery the longer version of the pitch he’d thrown out to dozens of potential donors all evening. He’d grown tired of hearing himself speak, but it was different with Avery. He just talked to him, the same as he would with Caleb. He was passionate about his job, even though he was struggling right now to meet the fundraising goals the league had set, and he believed in the work they could do.

  His voice grew hoarse, his drink only serving to dry out his mouth, and eventually he trailed off, realizing the place was nearly empty. “I think I got carried away,” he said with a laugh.

  Avery’s eyes were intent on him. “It sounds like important work,” he said. “It’s a perfect job for you.”

  For as long as it lasted anyway. Rory’s expression must have given him away.

  “What?” Avery asked, straightening up from the slumped position he’d gradually fallen into while they talked.

  Rory shook his head. “Nothing. The agency is just struggling this year, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Rory forced himself to ask the question he dreaded. “Do you want to make a donation?”

  Avery smiled enigmatically. “Maybe. Can I have your number?

  Rory narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t some ploy so you can make a booty call, is it?”

  “Jesus, does anyone still use that term?” Avery said, glancing around a little uneasily. Yep. Still in the closet, as Rory had expected.

  “Answer the question.”

  “I thought we could meet and talk some more…”

  “About the Equal Justice League?” Rory clarified.

  “And whatever interests you…” he said evasively.

  Yeah, he could just imagine how that conversation might go. Shaking his head, Rory stood. “I don’t think so, Avery.”

  He turned away, but Avery dogged his steps. “You’d shut down a potential donation?”

  “I don’t think money is the kind of donation you want to make,” Rory said dryly.

  Avery didn’t seem to a follow for a minute, and when the penny dropped, so did his jaw. He laughed roughly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Maybe I deserve that,” he said. “But seriously, Rory, that’s not what I was picturing…”

  He trailed off, eyes growing distant, and Rory slapped his arm. “You’re picturing it right now.”

  “Because you put it in my mind!” he protested. Lifting his hands as if to ask for a truce, he said, “Look, I thought we could catch up, but I’m not jerk
ing you around. I do have some funds earmarked for donations. I’ll need to take a look at the budget first to see what I can do.”

  Rory hesitated. He still didn’t entirely trust Avery’s motives. “I’ll give you a call at the bank. I can Google the number.”

  “Rory—”

  Rory softened his tone. He didn’t want to alienate a fundraising source, even if seeing Avery again made him anxious.

  “Goodnight, Avery. Thank you for listening.” Rory kept his expression carefully neutral. Professional. “It was good to see you again.”

  Avery smiled, bright and charming. “Somehow, I doubt that, but it was good to see you. I’ve missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

  Their eyes met, and Rory’s heart ached, just for half a second, at what might have been between them if only they’d both been brave enough to fight for it.

  3

  Avery read the legislation that had landed in his email nearly a week after Gil had first mentioned it, then reread the offending paragraphs again. His gaze jumped from phrase to phrase, not liking the message he was reading between the lines. Code words like freedom of religion, government interference, and sincerely held beliefs.

  “What. The. Fuck.”

  Gil, who was on the other end of the phone line while Avery read the piece of trash in his inbox, groaned. “I know, right? It’s not good.”

  Avery pushed away from his computer. He didn’t want to look at the bill his father was supporting in state congress. On its surface, it was a great piece of legislation that expanded funding for foster care and adoption agencies. But it was smoke and mirrors because there, hidden in the middle, was the language that opened the door to discrimination against LGBTQ individuals.

  Individuals like him. Like Gil.

  “What are you doing about it?” Avery asked.

  “Me?” Gil sounded astounded. “What can I do?”

  “You work in his office,” Avery pointed out.

  Gil scoffed. “Only because you got me the job. If anyone has more pull with your father, it’s you.”

  Avery had to wonder. Because he’d been biding his time, behaving like a good, closeted son until it was convenient to his father for him to come out. For six years, it hadn’t been convenient — and it never would be, Avery had come to realize. He’d been able to live with it because his father had always sworn that he accepted him and loved him. He’d never supported anti-gay legislation before. But this…