Faking A Groom (Marital Bliss Book 3)

by DJ Jamison

  “Texts,” Avery interrupted. “Stupid fucking messages between Gil and me. I’m sorry. This is one hundred percent my fault.”

  Rory’s hand clenched on his. “How did he get those?”

  Avery shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but I talked to Gil. He was set up. His”—Avery pulled his hand away to make air quotes—“ ‘boyfriend’ spied on his phone and turned over the texts to my father.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Exactly,” Avery said. “My father is such a bastard he hired a fake boyfriend to spy on Gil to get to me. Fuck. He probably got the idea from us. He was already convinced our engagement was a sham, and that’s my fault. I sprung it out of nowhere. Of course he didn’t believe it.”

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rory said, leaning in to hug Avery. He was tense in his arms, but this was familiar territory. “Don’t blame yourself. We can figure this out.”

  Avery pulled out of his arms, standing up and raking his hands through his hair. “No, you don’t get it. We can’t figure this out. He threatened to get you fired. He can ruin your entire career.”

  Rory’s stomach flipped uncomfortably. He’d made this agreement with Avery to save that job from the chopping block, to ensure Equal Justice League could serve their clients. He always knew there was a risk, but knowing a theoretical risk and staring down the barrel of the reality were two different things.

  “Fuck.” He wrapped his arms around his naked middle, trying not to panic. “Fucking fuck! There must be something we can do.”

  “There is,” Avery said grimly. He locked eyes with Rory, and he already knew what he was going to say. “I have to go.”

  “No.”

  “I have to placate him,” Avery said. “He threatened to sabotage the gala, your job, everything you’ve worked for, Rory. I can’t let that happen.”

  There was a resolve in Avery that Rory wasn’t used to seeing. He felt torn between his love for his career and his love for this man. He shook his head, knowing this wasn’t right. “We can’t just give in. We have to fight this bastard! Get something on him, or, or—”

  “Rory.” Avery crouched down next to the bed, grabbing his hands. One by one, he lifted them up, kissing Rory’s knuckles. “I love you.”

  Rory shook his head. Not denying his love but denying the words he knew would come next.

  “I love that you’re a fighter, but you have to sit this one out.”

  “Don’t ask me to do that.”

  “I’m not asking.” Avery kissed him gently. “I’m leaving.”

  Rory’s heart splintered. This was not the way things were supposed to end. They’d succeeded in calling Senator Kinkaid’s bluff. They’d stalled out that awful legislation. They’d found love. This was supposed to be their happy ending.

  “So marry me,” Rory said desperately. “Marry me and it’ll be true, and no one can call it a lie.”

  Rory grabbed Avery’s shirt, tugging him back onto the bed, back into his arms. “Please, Avery.”

  Avery wrapped his arms around Rory, holding him just as tight. “You know that won’t work, love. He’d just say our whole marriage was a sham.”

  “But it wouldn’t be!”

  Avery drew back, meeting Rory’s gaze. “I’m not giving up, okay? I’ll look for another way. I can’t beat him like this. I can’t out-play a player. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way, over and over. But I can’t stand by and let him hurt you, either.”

  “But he’ll hurt you instead.”

  “I hope not,” Avery said. “I’m stronger than I was, Rory. I know who I am now. I accept who I am. And that’s because of you.”

  “No,” Rory choked, his throat closing up with emotion. “No, you did that work. You take the credit.”

  Avery kissed him once more before forcibly disentangling from Rory’s grasp. “I’ll go back, make peace with my dad, and try to find a way to end this cold war we have going. This doesn’t have to be the end…but if you need it to be, I’ll understand.”

  Rory climbed out of bed, not caring that he was still naked while Avery was dressed and groomed. He looked him in the eye. “Do you really think I’d give up that easily?”

  Avery’s lips quirked. “I hoped you wouldn’t.”

  “I wish you’d stay. Give me time to figure this out.”

  “Because you’re the smartest guy in the room, right?”

  Chagrinned, Rory opened and closed his mouth. Avery chuckled, sounding almost lighthearted. How was he not falling the fuck apart? Rory felt like he was going to dissolve into dust the second Avery walked out the door. He’d become such a big part of Rory’s life. They had meals together, slept together, argued over world events. Avery teased Rory about his soap boxes, always supporting his passion, and Rory celebrated each step Avery had taken to embrace himself fully.

  There was going be a massive Avery-sized hole in his life, and he didn’t know what to do.

  “It’s okay,” Avery said. “You usually are the smart one. But I spent most of yesterday thinking about it, and there’s just too much at stake, Rory. You love your job. You live for helping people. If he sabotages the gala, think of all the people your agency won’t help. If you lose your job, it’s about more than a paycheck. I can’t—I won’t—let you be the one to suffer my father’s anger. This is my fight now.”

  Rory didn’t want to back down. He wanted to drive across town and tell Drake Kinkaid he was a selfish, undeserving bastard. He wanted to call Mal and order him to do a hit piece—not that he took orders from Rory, but that was beside the point. He wanted to eviscerate Avery’s father with a hunting knife, a violent fantasy that was a little disturbing in its visceral detail.

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” Rory demanded. “It’s my job to lose, right? I knew this was a risk when we started down this road.”

  “And what about the gala? If he sabotages the fundraiser, it won’t just be you suffering. There are all the clients your agency won’t be able to help. Can you really live with that?”

  “Goddamn it, Avery,” he said, defeated. “I want to argue with you, but you’re making it really hard.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I know.”

  “What if you never come back? What if he gets you under his thumb again, and you never get out? I don’t like it, Avery. I don’t like it. I don’t like it!”

  Somehow, Rory ended up in Avery’s arms again, being comforted when he wasn’t the one who’d be returning to a toxic relationship with a controlling man. Rory didn’t know how to deal with a situation he couldn’t fight. He didn’t know how to deal with a guy playing the hero. That was supposed to be his job.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said, feeling helpless. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

  “I know, love. I know.” Avery kissed his hair, then bent over to scoop up Ricardo, who’d edged out from under the bed with a concern mrrow, clearly picking up on the negative energy in the room. Avery scratched behind his ears, dropped a kiss on his head, and handed him to Rory.

  While Rory cradled Ricardo against his chest, the fur tickling his bare skin, Avery picked up his suitcase.

  “We can talk, right? Calls? Texts?” Rory could hear the desperation in his own voice, and he hated it. He hated Drake Kinkaid even more. “You can go back, stall for time, and we can figure a way out of this together.”

  Avery shook his head. “I can’t guarantee my father won’t find a way to spy on my phone like he did Gil’s. He’s probably going to be monitoring every move I make. I need to be careful, Rory. Especially at first. If he suspects I’m trying anything, he might go through with his threats anyway.”

  “I’ve got a threat or two for him,” Rory muttered.

  “Promise me that you won’t do anything crazy,” Avery said. “Don’t give him a reason to hurt you. I couldn’t handle that.”

  Rory nodded, even though he didn’t know how he’d handle sitting ba
ck and doing nothing. He wanted to beg Avery to stay, to just give him time to think. But he knew Avery was right. There was no escaping those texts that Senator Kinkaid had in his possession. Rory had no idea how incriminating they were, but if Avery was leaving, he suspected they were convincing enough that Rory’s employer really would cut him loose.

  It wouldn’t end well for him if Drake Kinkaid made good on his threats. But the alternative didn’t end well for him either, did it?

  Avery said a soft goodbye before walking out of the bedroom.

  Rory put down Ricardo and collapsed onto the edge of the bed, head in his hands. When the front door clicked quietly, he flinched as if it had been a gunshot.

  Too fast. It had all happened too fast. Avery’s drunken proposal, Rory’s business proposition, the love they felt—it was a whirlwind. But this? The sudden emptiness of a house, the emptiness of his arms, his heart, it was too fast to process. Rory fell back on the bed, curling up on his side, and screamed into his pillow.

  For five minutes. Until Ricardo jumped up beside him and head butted his ear, as if checking that he was okay. Rory pulled himself together enough to smooth a hand down Ricardo’s spine, all the way to the tip of his tail.

  Then he showered and got ready for work. If he was going to lose everything for it, then he should fucking well make sure it was worth it.

  Avery went to work as usual, moving through yet another day in a distracted haze, then returned to his father’s ridiculously large house afterward. Before going home, though, he made a stop at a department store to find the frilliest blouse he could. If he was going to return to his father, tail tucked between his legs, he wanted to start as he intended to go on.

  Which meant he’d no longer be hiding himself. Not now. Not ever again.

  He still had a key, so he let himself inside, carrying his one suitcase across the foyer and through the great room, which could hold most of Rory’s house all on its own. He’d grown up here, and he’d always known the house was big, but it struck him as an egregious symbol of wealth now. The marble floors, the lush carpeting in the bedrooms, the expensive art on the walls: it all left him cold.

  Empty.

  It’d been tempting, really tempting, to let Rory fight this battle and take the hit so he could stay where he felt warm, loved, safe. But it was time Avery stood on his own two feet. He hadn’t lied to Rory. He would be looking for a way out of this house and back to Rory every second of every day.

  He’d left a lot of things at Rory’s, taking only the one suitcase he’d arrived with. He’d have plenty of clothes here. And some part of him had wanted to remain at Rory’s. He couldn’t bring himself to clear out every last sign of himself.

  His father emerged from the hallway leading to his study. “You’re back.”

  Avery paused in the middle of the great room. He had to cross it to reach the sliding doors that led to his backyard cottage. “Yeah.”

  “Christ, what are you wearing?”

  Avery refused to let his father’s lip, lifted in a disgusted sneer, faze him. “Oh, this? I just bought it. I think it’s pretty.”

  “Pretty,” his father said, his tone one of disbelief. “If this is how that despicable…man has influenced you, it’s a good thing you’re here.”

  There was just enough of a pause that Avery suspected “man” wasn’t his father’s first choice of words. He hardened his heart. “It’s not a good thing, but you got what you wanted.”

  His father chuckled. “Well, not yet. I’ll call my campaign manager. We’ll come up with a plan to start repairing the damage you’ve done. There are some ground rules, Avery. No contact with Rory. That goes without saying. We’ll do some events, some photo opps in suitable attire, father and son, then maybe a press release…”

  He droned on, and Avery didn’t want to hear it. He turned toward the doors.

  “Oh, and Avery?” his dad called. When he turned, Drake nodded his head toward the stairs. “You’ll be staying in your childhood bedroom, and you’ll be returning home directly after work. Fail to do that, and I’ll think I can’t trust you. Rory’s future is in your hands now.”

  Avery couldn’t even feel the outrage that should have coursed through him. He was numb. His father could do anything now, sink to any level, and Avery didn’t think he’d be surprised.

  Avery reversed course and didn’t acknowledge his father until he was to the second floor. Then he turned and looked down on him. Drake Kinkaid was still a handsome man. One of those men who aged well. Avery expected he’d look like him in a couple of decades. His hair was a steel gray, his eyes sharp. But his smile was as empty as his heart.

  “Mom would be ashamed of you.”

  His father’s smile faltered. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not the man she loved.”

  Avery headed for his old bedroom at the end of the hall, ignoring his father’s enraged bellow that followed. “You’ll damn well respect me in my own house, Avery! Avery, do you hear me?!”

  Avery allowed himself a small smile. His father might have him under his thumb, but Avery would never again be the devoted son who worked so hard to deserve his love. Avery knew now he was worth more than that. His father could make Avery return and play dutiful son for the cameras, but he’d never again have his trust, affection, or loyalty.

  Work was rough to say the least.

  Rory could barely focus. He finished phone calls without any memory of what had been said by either party. He stared, eyes unfocused, at the screen of his computer for as long as an hour before his administrative assistant interrupted to ask him to help unjam the copy machine. He did it on autopilot, then returned to his blank screen gazing.

  Just now, his job didn’t feel worth the agony ripping through him. His thoughts went careening down various alleyways, searching for a way out of this fix, but he hit dead end after dead end.

  When the day ended, he picked up his phone and froze in the act of texting Avery about dinner. There would be no more shared meals after work. There was no need to ask if he wanted to cook at home or get take-out.

  Rory wasn’t hungry anyway. He drove straight home.

  The moment he stepped inside, he knew he couldn’t stay. Ricardo wound around his legs as he took a few halting steps into the living room. He bent down, scooping him up into his arms. Ricardo didn’t always love that, but today he put up with it, and Rory nuzzled his face into soft fur, closing his eyes.

  Where was Avery now? Would he sit down to eat with his father? Pretend the months with Rory had never happened?

  His stomach clenched.

  No. It wasn’t like that. Avery might have to pretend for his father, but he wouldn’t enjoy it. He wouldn’t just forget Rory. But an insidious voice in his head whispered that Avery had gotten by just fine without him after the first time they’d broken up. Rory did his best to push away the thought. He’d been the one to leave Avery back then. If he was going to blame anyone, it should be himself.

  No, it should be Drake Kinkaid. Poisoning Avery, making him feel he couldn’t be open about his sexuality. Making it impossible for them to have a relationship.

  Ricardo squirmed until Rory loosened his grip, then jumped to the floor. He flicked his tail and sauntered away as if to demonstrate he was too regal to be cuddled.

  Rory went to the bedroom, eyes flicking around the room. There were signs of Avery everywhere. His gauzy wine-colored robe was draped over the open closet door. His water glass from the night before remained on his bedside table. His pillow was still indented, and when Rory leaned close, he could smell Avery on the sheets. He’d spent every night there for weeks. How was Rory supposed to sleep here alone? That seemed impossible.

  The walls began to close in, making it difficult to breathe.

  Rory quickly grabbed a duffel and packed up a few things. He hesitated only a moment before snatching Avery’s robe and adding it to the bag. Then he gave Ricardo extra food and water and checked his litter box. He’d been fine for
a couple of days on his own, but he’d call Holly to check on him. Rory would return the favor by feeding her fish next time she went out of town.

  That done, he shouldered the bag and walked back out the front door. He didn’t have much of a plan; he just knew he couldn’t take sitting in his house aching for Avery. He went the place he always did when he needed an escape: Bliss Island.

  This time, it would be both a blessing and a curse. His best friends lived there, so he knew he wouldn’t be alone. But even there, he had so many memories of Avery. Every home Rory knew—his house in Portland, Caleb and Julien’s resort, his family’s home in Vermont—had been touched by Avery. Every part of Rory, too.

  How was he supposed to go on alone, with no idea if or when Avery would ever come back to him?

  24

  Avery seethed with rage as he read the email his father’s campaign manager had sent over. He wasn’t making his gubernatorial announcement for weeks yet, but the campaign machine was already hard at work—and putting words in Avery’s mouth. He wasn’t necessarily angry about that. It was the nature of the beast. It was the particular words being attributed to Avery in a press release coming out of his father’s office that was making Avery see red.

  He picked up his phone to call the senator’s office, then realized he’d actually have to look it up. In the past, he’d always connected with Gil, but he was still fired. Avery had offered to try to get his job back, but Gil didn’t want it, and Avery couldn’t blame him. His father had crossed so many lines when he played with Gil’s personal life to get the goods on Avery.

  Avery couldn’t think about that, or he’d never get through campaign season with his father. They’d had a tense meeting of the minds shortly after Avery’s return. Avery would remain under his father’s roof and make himself available for interviews and political rallies, but he would not be playing happy son, would not be eating dinner with his father, would not be doing anything more than what was required to repair Drake Kinkaid’s image.

  Drake had tried to persuade Avery to acknowledge the engagement was a hoax, but he steadfastly refused. He’d returned to protect Rory’s reputation, not tarnish it. But now he saw that his father had found another way to make Rory the villain.