13. Blake

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

blake

I ’D BEEN SO CONFIDENT that taking Delaney on this honeymoon was the right move…until last night.

Was she trying to fucking kill me?

I might have volunteered to be the sole audience and judge of her pre-trip fashion show, but I never imagined she’d walk out of her room wearing a dress like the one she had on last night. I never would have signed up for that kind of torture had I known.

And then she’d wanted to know if I liked it.

Liked. It.

What a loaded question that I didn’t know how to answer—at least not aloud.

Yes, Lane, I like your dress. I like that dress so much that my brain malfunctioned when I saw you in it. It made me momentarily forget that you have no idea how viscerally attracted to you I am, and I had to lean forward so you wouldn’t notice how fucking hard you wearing it made me. So yes, I like the dress. But I also hope I never see you wearing it again. Because there’s only so many times I can see you wear it before I’m on my knees, begging to take it off you.

Somehow, I managed not to say that.

But then she wanted to know if I would have asked for her number if I didn’t know her.

First of all, it was hard imagining a world where I didn’t know Delaney. But sometimes, I wished I could go back in time and ask for her number. I wished I had made it clear how I wanted to be more than her friend from the beginning. I wished I’d done exactly what I described to her.

But I also knew if I had done that, we would never have worked out how I wanted us to. Perhaps I would have found my way into her bed for a night, but then I would have lost her. She didn’t keep men around like that. She’d never had any interest in serious or even casual relationships. And if I had to pick between one night in Delaney’s bed or being in the friend zone for the rest of my life, I’d pick exactly where I was every time.

Especially where I was right now, boarding a plane with her in tow. For the next week, I got to have Delaney all to myself. I’d never been so fucking excited or terrified in my entire life, and that included taking the MCAT. All I could do was hope that I didn’t screw this up.

I just wanted Delaney to have fun. Be happy. Be cared for in a way that her family never had. Actually experience an emotion that wasn’t stress or worry or responsibility for once in her life.

At the moment, though, I wasn’t sure I was achieving that.

“Oh my God.” Delaney waved the plane’s safety pamphlet in front of her face like a fan. “I think every orifice in my body has sweat coming out of it right now. Every single one.”

How this woman could say things like that and I could still be so irrationally turned on by her was beyond me. I suspected it had something to do with the wave of perfume she sent in my direction with every flick of the pamphlet. She smelled like fucking sin. She smelled like how that dress looked. Edible. Having her near me in such tight quarters on this plane was intoxicating. Even though our first-row Comfort Plus seats had afforded us ample legroom, we were still shoulder-to-shoulder.

“It’ll get better once we’re in the air,” I reasoned. “It’s always stifling when people are boarding.”

Delaney nodded idly and checked her phone. A smile immediately stretched across her face, hinting at who might have messaged her.

“Look what Bryan just sent me,” she said a moment later, confirming what I’d suspected. “That’s his girlfriend, Makayla. She’s the sweetest.”

She showed me a picture of her brother with a young, blonde-haired woman. Sun drenched their overpowering smiles and the towering cones of melting ice cream in their hands.

“They’re cute together. Should we send a picture back?”

“Okay.” Delaney seemed to like that idea, snuggling impossibly close to me as she held out the camera to take a picture of us. “But you have to look happy.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am happy.”

She had no fucking clue about the extent of my feelings at the moment.

Which was how I planned to keep it.

“Prove it,” she said, nudging me with her elbow until a laugh slipped out of me. “There it is.”

Satisfied with the shot, she lowered her phone, and I settled back into my seat. While Delaney kept her attention on the message with her brother, I decided to mind my own business, clicking aimlessly on the TV in front of our seats. But when Delaney tried to muffle an abrupt laugh, I couldn’t help but look over at her, raising a brow when she tried to hide her phone.

“Did he roast our picture?” I asked because I knew Bryan got his sass from his sister. Or maybe it was the other way around.

Delaney shook her head. “No…not exactly.”

I laughed. “I can take it, Lane. What did Bry say?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

She waved it off, but the flush working its way up her neck had me more than curious.

I watched her closely.

She ignored me, keeping her phone tucked between her legs.

I didn’t dare try to look at it.

I should mind my own business, after all.

And not be looking between her legs.

Or thinking about things between her legs.

Or thinking about her at all, really.

“He asked if we were finally dating,” she blurted out before shrugging and clearing her throat. “Well, that was the gist of it anyway.”

I felt a grin tug on the corner of my mouth, and I was trying desperately to resist it. Delaney didn’t need to know how I felt about her brother’s question. “Had a little more flair to it, did it?”

I always liked Bryan.

“You could, uh, say that.”

I laughed, wanting to pry more. But I could tell something about it had embarrassed her, so I didn’t. Instead, I asked, “You haven’t told him about the marriage?”

Delaney shook her head. “I haven’t told my mom yet, to be honest. I want things settled with my grandparents’ executor so she can’t meddle. And I won’t ask Bry to lie for me or keep that from her.”

“You think your mom will try to mess things up?”

“I know she will,” Delaney said with certainty.

“I’m not good enough for the upper crust?”

I might come from a family of doctors, developers, and professional athletes, but I knew I had nothing on the elitism of Delaney’s background.

“It’s not even that,” Delaney insisted, and I could tell she wasn’t just saying that to make me feel better. “She wants the money, so I’m sure she’ll try to find a way to get it.”

“Didn’t your parents also inherit something when your grandparents passed?”

“They did.” She pursed her lips with annoyance. “But it’s never enough, is it? Frankly, I wonder if they’re in a bad spot. I think my mom got a little too carried away with her spending, and my dad’s investments aren’t making as much money as they used to. But I think they’re trying to hide it because it would be the end of them socially if they did something wild like noticeably cut back on their lifestyle choices.”

I frowned, not liking the sound of that. People who were used to having money didn’t do well when that money was taken away from them. “Is Bryan still doing okay living with them?”

“I think so,” Delaney said, but the words fell from her mouth slowly, a clear demonstration that she wasn’t entirely sure. She started waving the makeshift fan in front of her face again, more vigorously this time.

“I need to visit soon so I can assess everything better. But he seems happy whenever I talk to him. I will say that my parents have connected him with a lot of excellent programs that will support him as he moves into more competitive job opportunities, and Makayla’s there, too. Otherwise, I’d be thinking more seriously about if he should move in with me instead. At least until he felt comfortable living independently or in a supported-living arrangement. Because as of last summer, he is officially an adult, and I think he can absolutely do that if he wants to. I mean?—”

She gave me a sheepish look, like she forgot that we were married. I couldn’t blame her for that, not really. “Obviously, we would have to rethink our living arrangements if that happened, but I don’t think it will anytime soon.”

“We would make it work,” I said without thinking twice. “If it came to that, if you thought it was best for Bryan to be with you, we’d make it work, Delaney. Nothing to rethink.”

I’d thought about it before. Of course I’d considered how a future with Delaney would involve Bryan to some extent, and I had absolutely no problem with that. If it meant we’d need to upgrade to a bigger apartment or find a house that would be better suited until our fake marriage was called off, I didn’t care. We’d make it work.

“I think he’s doing well where he is, but maybe I’ll ask him.” She looked down at her hands, fiddling with her thumbs. “He can make his own decisions, of course. I just, you know, want what’s best for him.”

“I know you do.”

She gave another little nod of acknowledgment and then crossed her ankles, jiggling both of her feet impatiently. The movement reminded me of something I’d meant to ask her before our flight. Preferably before we’d left the apartment, but today had been more hectic than I’d expected, and after she’d retreated to her room last night, I couldn’t risk talking to her again. For the sake of my dick, I’d needed a break from being in her presence. I thought if I took the night off from thinking of her or talking to her or breathing in her air, I might survive this flight.

I was most definitely wrong about that.

“Are you on the pill, Lane?”

Delaney’s brows furrowed as her eyes cut over to me, giving me a look like she couldn’t believe I’d just asked that question.

But I knew she’d understand in a second.

“Yeah, why? Afraid you’re gonna come back from this honeymoon with a baby on the way, too? Trying to budget exactly how many extra bedrooms we need?”

Her eyes popped wide the second her words were out of her mouth.

“Please forget I just said that,” she groaned, covering her face with the safety pamphlet.

No, I would never forget that she just said that.

Because now I was, once again, thinking about things I really shouldn’t be. Like fucking Delaney until she was pregnant.

Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me?

“It’s the heat.” She dropped the pamphlet and began waving it in her now bright red face again. “It’s doing things to my brain.”

I shook my head with a laugh, letting her know she didn’t need to be worried about it.

“First of all,” I started. “That wouldn’t scare me.” Delaney’s movement stilled, and she glanced over at me with those wide eyes again. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. I should have just stuck to the point of the conversation. I cleared my throat and tried to get back there. “Second of all, which pill is it?”

Delaney gave her head a little shake as if she were trying to clear it. “Ocella.”

I nodded and ran through the mental notes I had from pharmacology.

But Delaney got to the point before I did.

“Ohh.” She patted me on the leg reassuringly. An innocent touch that affected me in not-so-innocent ways. “The answer is yes, Blake.”

“Yeah?” I felt instant relief. “Show me.”

Delaney understood, reaching down to tug up the hem of her athletic pants and show off her flower-printed compression socks.

“Good girl.” I sank back in my seat. “You’ve been hydrating well this morning, too, which is excellent. If you didn’t come prepared, I was going to make you put on the extra socks I packed in my backpack.”

“I thought I was bringing the husband version of Blake London on this trip, not the doctor version.”

I frowned. “Doctor and Husband Blake are equally worried about his wife’s health. The clotting side effects of birth control are not something you should take lightly on a long-haul fli—” My words went dry in my mouth when I realized the way Delaney was glaring at me. “Right, you know that.”

“We did take pharmacology together, honey ,” she said in an overly sugared voice.

“I know, sweetheart. Just…” I looked down at her legs. “Make sure you pump your feet every once in a while. And get up to walk around a few times on the flight.”

“Blake.” She dropped the fake wife voice. “Besides the pill, I don’t have any other risk factors for blood clots. It’s going to be okay.” She pointed to my feet. “Are you wearing socks? Or do I need to shove some on your feet?”

“I’m wearing some,” I said.

“Good boy.”

Her satisfaction about that tickled something inside me.

“But I’m not the one on birth control.”

“That’s good. I’d have some questions if you were.”

“Mr. and Mrs. London?”

I looked up with surprise at the flight attendant who had approached us and couldn’t help but notice how quickly Delaney had reacted, too. I mean, sure, maybe it had more to do with someone appearing next to her aisle seat, someone who was clearly talking to us, but I chose to believe it was the name, my name, our name, that drew her attention.

“We’re so happy to host you on your flight today,” the attendant went on, flashing a pearly white smile at us that confused me. But her following words cleared everything up. “As the New England Knights’ official airline carrier, we’re so happy to have our favorite quarterback’s family on board with us.”

I smiled back politely. “Thank you. We’re happy to be here.”

She nodded enthusiastically at my minimally enthusiastic response. It was rare that random people in public connected me to my brother, but it did happen on occasion. People’s questions and interest in Noah lately usually revolved around Gemma or Delilah, and like hell was I going to give anyone insight about them beyond the fact that they were his entire world.

“We meant to catch you earlier,” the flight attendant started, her tone regretful in a professional, robotic sort of way. “So I apologize that you’re already settled in, but we’d love to upgrade you to first class for your trip to Amsterdam today.”

“Oh, that’s not?—”

“I insist. Your brother wanted to ensure you had an excellent start to your honeymoon.” She blinked at me, trying to convey unspoken words with those eyelashes. It was like a new form of Morse code, but I understood it completely. I’d only make her life more difficult if I refused. And while I certainly didn’t think it was necessary to fight being upgraded, there was something weird about getting special treatment because of your brother’s job.

But this seemed less like preferential treatment and more like Noah called in a favor.

And I’d be more grateful—especially considering Delaney would probably get to recline and put her feet up now, which was better for her circulation—if I didn’t feel so damn guilty about it, considering it was not my actual honeymoon.

“That sounds wonderful, thank you,” I said, flashing another congenial grin.

“Thank you so much,” Delaney echoed, pocketing her safety pamphlet fan and grabbing her bag from beneath the seat.

“Excellent.” The flight attendant clapped her hands together. “Do you have any carry-on luggage in the overhead compartments?”

“I have a suitcase,” Delaney answered.

The attendant nodded. “Perfect. I’ll lead you to your seats, and Marcus here can grab Mrs. London’s belongings if you point them out.”

“I can grab my wife’s luggage,” I assured her with a tight smile, starting to feel a bit useless and like I was losing control of the situation. Which was ridiculous, I knew. But still.

Delaney wore a tilted grin and avoided my eye contact as she stood, following both flight attendants to the front of the plane. I retrieved her carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin before I joined them. Delaney was settling into a cushy first-class seat by the time I reached her, and Marcus directed me to a spot beside her, separated by what appeared to be a retractable wall.

I couldn’t believe I was saying this, but I was grateful for the slight separation from Delaney that these seats would give me. Maybe by the time we deplaned in Amsterdam, I’d have my shit together where she was concerned.

It was probably too much to hope for, but I tried. I spent most of the next seven hours in the air trying to catch all of the inaccuracies in episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and not peek over at Delaney’s sleeping form every ten minutes. Surprisingly, time passed quicker than I expected, and we were landing before I knew it.

As soon as the wheels were down, I checked my phone, wanting to confirm the train details leaving from the airport. But I found a message from the host of the vacation home I booked instead.

A message that said there was an issue with flooding in the downstairs of the house.

A message that said that, because of that, they would be upgrading us to a nicer property.

It looked beautiful—the kind of place where honeymoons were supposed to happen.

But it made my stomach flip for two reasons.

One, it looked over the rolling North Sea.

And two, it only had one bed.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.