Faking A Groom (Marital Bliss Book 3)

by DJ Jamison

  “Maybe,” Rory said. “I have a few questions and stipulations.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He felt like he could do little more than listen, feeling lightheaded. He’d woken with a terrible hangover, and he’d felt too awful to sleep it off, wondering what Rory must be thinking about his behavior. He’d dragged himself out of bed, but he’d eaten nothing yet.

  “This would be risky for me. My position with this organization would be on the line if anyone found out our engagement was a sham.” Rory sighed. “But my job is on the line already. I don’t see a way to raise the funding needed to keep this office open. And my clients…they need someone like me in their corner. I don’t say that to be egotistical. They’re fighting a rigged system that sets them up to fail. The work the Equal Justice League does here is invaluable to evening out the playing field a little and giving them hope.”

  “They’re lucky to have you,” Avery said.

  Rory shook his head. “Not if I can’t raise these funds. But that’s where you come in.”

  “Me?” Avery looked down at the checkbook. “You want me to pay.”

  The realization was a kick to the chest. He knew Rory didn’t love him anymore, didn’t even really see him as a friend. But he hadn’t seen extortion—even extortion for a good cause—coming.

  “No, of course not,” Rory said. “The funding gap is far too large, and that would feel too much like blackmail. Although, I suppose, you might think what I do want from you is asking too much.”

  “What is it?” Avery asked, his guard up now.

  “I want the Kinkaid Foundation to co-sponsor a gala with Equal Justice League,” Rory said.

  “That would take some time to pull together,” Avery said.

  Rory nodded. “The legislative session is over in what, three months, give or take?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Could the gala be organized in that time?”

  Avery considered it. He wasn’t in control of the foundation, but his mother had founded the organization and he could probably persuade the board president to consider a project for him. Equal Justice League was a good look. The Kinkaid Foundation was occasionally accused of caring only for vanity projects and first-world problems. This would give them a real, solid cause to get behind that really could make a difference.

  “I think I could make that happen.”

  “Then, my answer is yes.”

  Avery’s heart started beating hard in his chest. He’d thought he was coming here today to engage in an awkward apology. And now he was leaving with a fiancé.

  A fake fiancé, but as far as the world was concerned, Avery would be engaged to a man. No more closet. No more waiting for his father’s approval. He was really doing this, taking charge of his life.

  Coming out with a bang.

  He felt nauseated.

  “Thank you.” He said faintly as he stood. “I should, uh, let you work.”

  Rory crossed to him. “Are you okay? You look pale. Well, paler.”

  “Just hungover,” Avery lied. The last thing he wanted to do was scare off his new fiancé by admitting he was scared shitless of what this might mean for his life. It was way past time he stood up to his father, but he risked so much disappointment.

  In truth, that’s what had always held him back. Not fear of losing his home, his job, his family’s financial security. It would be unnerving to lose all that, but it was replaceable. No, his real fear had always been losing his father. Losing his love, his acceptance, his presence in Avery’s life.

  But he couldn’t keep living for Drake Kinkaid. At some point, Avery had to live for himself. He wanted more out of life. He wanted a real fiancé one day, someone to love as much as he’d loved Rory Fisher when they were both too young to understand what a special, rare thing they had.

  Rory came closer, smelling of aftershave and sweet, chocolate coffee. “You should go lie down,” he said almost like a real fiancé would, concern wrinkling his brow. “Let me give you my number. We’ll set up a time to meet and hash out all the details of how we’re going to move forward with this.”

  Avery fished out his phone, handing it over and watching Rory finally tap in the digits he wouldn’t give Avery the night of the gala. Because this isn’t real, he reminded himself. You might still want him, but Rory is doing this for the greater good.

  He smiled to himself. His father was fond of that phrase. They’d see how much he loved it when Rory’s sense of justice helped Avery call him out on his hypocrisy.

  5

  Rory cleaned his small house—twice—before Avery’s visit. He’d orchestrated this crazy scheme—or at least built Avery’s initial insanity into a workable plan for them both—but he wasn’t entirely at peace with it yet. Second and third and fourth thoughts circled his brain. So many things could go wrong.

  When Caleb and Julien took on Louis Chastain, they nearly lost everything. He cornered Julien, threatened Caleb enough to get Julien to leave Bliss Island. Caleb had been devastated.

  They won in the end. They’re happily married.

  But before the happy part, they were miserable.

  Surely, it was worth it—

  This is completely different, though. Avery is not Caleb. Not even close.

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  Arguing with himself was getting him nowhere so Rory uncorked a bottle of wine. Just as he poured a glass, the doorbell rang. Ricardo knew what that sound meant and went skittering under the couch, vanishing like gray smoke. His cat had never taken to strangers; he was even a little standoffish with Rory at times.

  Rory took a big swallow of wine, then inhaled deeply and exhaled. When he opened the door, he was calm—or hopefully looked it. “Avery, come in.”

  Rory wasn’t one to care about material items, but as Avery stepped inside and glanced around, he couldn’t help but see his little house from Avery’s perspective. Mismatched thrift-store furniture; carpeting that could use a good steam cleaning; the ugly green Formica countertop he’d never updated in the kitchen.

  “Nice place,” Avery said.

  Rory snorted. “Yeah, way nicer than the beach mansion where you live.”

  He would have preferred to meet in Avery’s space, but since he still lived with his father—Drake must love keeping Avery under his thumb—it wouldn’t work very well to plan their fake engagement. The house was probably big enough to avoid Avery’s father from overhearing anything, but one accidental run-in with Rory, and they’d be forced to play act before they’d even gotten their story straight.

  So instead, Avery Kinkaid, heir to Kinkaid Banking, was standing in his one-bedroom bungalow nowhere near the coastline. Or Bell Harbor for that matter. Rory lived in Portland, where his working-class ass could afford to stay.

  “That house is a mausoleum,” Avery said, surprising Rory. “This feels like a home.”

  Rory fidgeted. He wondered why Avery stayed in a house that felt dead, but he didn’t want to dive too deep. If he were going to do this—and he’d said he would, so he’d keep his word—then he couldn’t allow himself to fall into the trap of trying to know Avery again.

  This was business.

  “Want some wine?”

  “Sure,” Avery said.

  “It’s just the cheap stuff.”

  “Cheap wine for a cheap date,” Avery joked. “Seems fair.”

  Rory smirked as he poured him a glass. At least Avery hadn’t lost his sense of humor. If anything, he’d gained a little wit since high school. He could almost keep up with Rory now.

  Almost.

  Rory poured Avery a glass of wine, handing it over, then pulled out a notebook and pen. “We should get to work.”

  He was playing it cool, but Avery could see his tension. So much for the wine taking the edge off.

  “Gonna make a to-do list?” he joked.

  A dozen memories of Rory hit him. Rory sitting with a notebook open, taking notes in class. Rory flipping through books at the libr
ary, eyes scanning the pages faster than Avery could fathom. He was brilliant. Avery had known that with every sharp zinger Rory sent him in the hallways, and he’d relished the secret sweetness of his kisses all the more for it.

  Rory didn’t look up from the paper, jotting down notes: How we met, why no one knew we were dating, wedding plans. Across the top of the notebook, he’d written: Our Story.

  Something about that title struck Avery, made his heart skip.

  Their story.

  It was a sad one, really. The real one, that is. Avery had blown a good thing. He’d been too cowardly to give Rory what he needed, and Rory had been too smart to stick around for half a relationship.

  But they did have a story...

  Avery tapped the first bullet item. “We met in boarding school.”

  Rory nodded. “Sticking close to the truth is a good idea, but obviously we haven’t been dating since school. I’ve had boyfriends.”

  How many? Avery wanted to ask. Did you love them? Did you ever think about me?

  He wasn’t entitled to that information. Instead he asked, “How recent?”

  That was relevant at least.

  Rory looked thoughtful. “It’s been a while. Six months?”

  Not great. How many people got engaged in less than six months of dating?

  “What about you?” Rory asked.

  He was asking for their cover story, not because he cared, but Avery couldn’t help the thrum of his pulse at what it would feel like to have Rory ask because he was interested.

  It didn’t feel good to provide an answer, though.

  “Nothing recent.”

  Rory lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

  Avery cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, some hookups while I was getting my degrees—”

  “Degrees plural, huh?”

  He shrugged. “Doubled in business and poly sci”—at his father’s urging—“then got my MBA. I’ve only been back here running the bank for two years.”

  “You’ve been busy,” Rory murmured.

  Avery didn’t answer. He felt as if he’d accomplished exactly nothing in his life. What were his degrees, except expensive paper? Yeah, he’d learned how to be a savvy businessman, he could take his family’s business into the future, but…he wasn’t exactly inspired by it. He’d done what his father expected. He always did what his father expected, down to staying in the closet and earning a political science degree he didn’t want. For a future he didn’t want.

  He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “No recent relationships,” he reiterated.

  “Okay.” Rory chewed the tip of his pen as he thought, and Avery watched his mouth, fascinated and attracted, even though he expected Rory would never want anything real with him. Not when Avery had thrown it away, refusing to let their teenage fumbling bloom into the lasting love it could have been.

  Rory glanced up, and Avery averted his eyes, but he knew he’d been busted. Rory didn’t call him on it.

  “No one knew we were dating because you’ve been in the closet, at your father’s request,” Rory mused. “We can say we’ve been on again, off again to explain away any boyfriends or hookups mentioned on social media. It wouldn’t be easy to love someone who’s in the closet. It would naturally strain a relationship.”

  Avery nodded as old guilt twisted his gut. “Yeah. Yeah, that can work.”

  Rory put a checkmark next to the first two items in the list. The next one was wedding plans.

  “We should set a date. Something far enough into the future we can reasonably break up before it arrives. But close enough this feels real. How about May? If your father believes our story, then he might want to know more about our plans, right?”

  It was winter, and May felt far away. “Good point. May is fine.” Avery wet his lips. “My father might not believe it. Or he might…”

  Rory lay down the pen. “What? Order you not to get married?”

  “He won’t order it, he’ll just—”

  He bit down on the words, chewing his lip nervously. Was he really going to do this? Could he? If he dragged Rory into this mess, he had to see it through. He couldn’t bail at the last second.

  “He’ll just what?” Rory asked, gaze intent on Avery. He knew Rory wouldn’t let him avoid the question.

  “Convince me,” Avery said. “Tell me all the reasons this is a bad idea and make me feel, um, selfish? I guess.”

  “You mean he’ll manipulate you,” Rory said flatly.

  “More or less,” Avery admitted. “May is good. The legislative session will be over by then. So, there won’t be any need to carry on.”

  Rory nodded. “Good, and my fundraising goal is the end of March. So, we’ll need to set up that event before then.”

  Avery nodded. “Will do.”

  Rory placed a check next to wedding plans.

  “We can say we’re having the wedding at Bliss Island. That way if there’s anything in the news, Caleb can cover for us.”

  Fuck, the news…

  He’d known that it might be newsworthy. Reporters would probably want to talk about Senator Drake’s gay son in relation to his political position. He’d known, and in his angrier moments, he’d wanted that. To back his father into a corner. But now it just made his skin prickle and his breathing stutter. He wouldn’t just be coming out; he’d be inviting a spotlight. He’d be discussed and scrutinized, and if this did hurt his father’s career, if he wasn’t re-elected...

  “Hey.” Rory touched his arm. “You okay?”

  Avery swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

  “We only have to deal with the news if your father doesn’t agree to pull support of the bill, right? Maybe it won’t come to that.”

  Avery smiled wryly. “You don’t believe a word of that.”

  “Maybe not, but…I’ve been wrong before.”

  Avery blew out a breath. He wasn’t sure Rory had been wrong about a single thing in his life. But he couldn’t give up now. Not when he was so close to finding his backbone. “I have to try.”

  “Good.” Rory looked him in the eye. “And you’ll still do the gala with me even if this whole scheme fails to change your father’s mind? And see it through, get the news coverage needed to make a difference with this legislation?”

  “I’ll see it through,” Avery said. “I promise.”

  Rory nodded once. “I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but this is bigger than your relationship with your father.”

  “I know,” Avery said. Rory’s heart and conscience would be with fighting the legislation and serving his nonprofit. He wouldn’t expect anything else. If it stung a little that Rory wasn’t doing it for him, well, that was his own self-importance talking—and the quicker he shed that, the better.

  Avery cared about the bigger picture too. Even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t pass up a chance to spend more time with Rory. Even if this whole thing blew up in his face, he’d gotten a second chance to know him, and he didn’t want to squander it.

  Rory looked at his notes. “Okay, then. We start by talking to your dad. Then we can decide our next move based on how that goes. If he agrees to pull his support, I leave it up to you how the rest of this plays out. You don’t have to come out publicly, not if we’ve accomplished the goal. There’s no pressure.”

  “I think I should,” Avery said. “Otherwise, my father will continue to push me to be discreet. And do you know what discreet really means?”

  “Careful? Secretive?”

  Avery shook his head. “Practically celibate.”

  Rory’s eyes widened. “Surely you still hook up?”

  Avery felt his neck heat. “Only rarely. I have to be so careful. Kinkaid is a well-known name in this area, and if someone were to recognize me and hold that knowledge over me?”

  Rory winced. “I guess that’s one drawback to being rich.”

  Avery snorted. “Yeah, but I know I have dozens of advantages. So I should stop whining, right?”

  Rory didn’t rise to t
he bait. Not like he did when they were both in school. “Doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone.”

  Avery’s chest tightened, and fuck, his throat ached. He didn’t want to break down in front of Rory. He was being sympathetic, but Rory had always spoken up for people who had it a hell of a lot worse than a controlling father and a wealthy, connected name.

  Maybe Avery would have been better off if he’d been less discreet, gotten caught in the act and outed on social media or a blog. It might have been easier than this orchestrated performance. But he would have found it humiliating, having his personal life splashed around. At least this way, he controlled the narrative.

  Thankfully, the doorbell rang, saving Avery from embarrassing himself.

  Rory frowned. “Sorry. I’m not expecting anyone.”

  He got up, walked to the door, then shot a look over his shoulder. “It’s a friend. She looks upset.”

  Avery stood up. “I guess we’re done for now.”

  He grabbed his jacket, but Rory hesitated. “Stay and meet her. We can have a quick practice run.”

  Avery paused in the act of drawing on his jacket. “Now?”

  Rory smiled ruefully. “Might as well dive right in.”

  Avery took a bracing breath and nodded.

  Then Rory opened the door and a whirlwind of a redhead with a tequila bottle, a bag of limes, and a running dialogue hit like a monsoon.

  “I’ve just had the shittiest day. You won’t believe what Tim did this time, and ugh, don’t say it — I know I should leave.” Her eyes hit Avery. “Aaaand you have a hot man in your living room. I’m a total cock block right now, aren’t I?”

  She threw the bottle and limes into an armchair and thrust out a hand. “I’m Holly, Rory’s dysfunctional friend. Wow, you really are gorgeous, aren’t you?” She flashed a look at Rory. “I thought you swore off handsome men. Something about them being too much trouble?”