Chapter -5-
Outside Kingfisher & Redbud, the city glitters like a smashed disco ball.
Flashing streetlights wink off towering glass skyscrapers.
Neon signs reflect in the tinted windows of a waiting SUV.
Denz jams his hands into the pockets of his wool peacoat, puffing out foggy breaths as his mom hugs Braylon.
“Thank you for coming,” she says. “We don’t get out much with other couples. Or at all—” She stops short, smiling stiffly when Denz raises an eyebrow. “It was nice seeing you.”
Braylon beams. “It was lovely seeing you.”
“Don’t keep this one out too late.” She smacks Denz’s arm. “We want him rested for his next big career move, right?”
Braylon nervously scratches his jaw. “Oh, um. Right?”
“Can you believe he’s trying to be the next CEO of the family business?”
“Hardly.” Braylon’s snort is more surprised than anything.
There’s a distrusting gleam in Kenneth’s stare. Denz’s brain scrambles for another lie, but Braylon says, “We all know how superstitious he is. When Denz really wants something, he never talks about it out loud. Bit ridiculous, innit?”
“Excuse you, I—”
“That’s him!” Leena cuts in with a cackle. “He didn’t change his boxers for a week while waiting on his UGA admissions letter.”
“Mom!”
She’s wrong. He didn’t change his favorite socks, the same green polka-dot ones he wore when he made honor roll and aced his AP Lit and Composition final. He’s a firm believer in routine, that’s all.
“LeeLee.” Kenneth touches his wife’s elbow. “We should go.”
After helping Leena climb into the warm, spacious back seat of the SUV, Kenneth pivots to Braylon. His mouth’s a hard line.
“Just so we’re clear,” he begins—for a second, Denz had thought they’d avoided this moment—“I want what’s best for my kids, always.”
Braylon swallows.
Denz chews the inside of his cheek as the cool night air descends on them.
“I don’t know what’s happening between you two,” Kenneth continues, “or how you ended up back together, but my son says he’s serious about you.”
“Mr. Carter, I—”
Kenneth holds up a hand. “I haven’t forgotten what you did.” He casually fixes his coat’s lapels. Squares his shoulders. “It’s going to take more than one great night out to trust it won’t happen again. So, I expect to see you at the mayor’s gala. All the other events too.”
Braylon hesitates. “Of course.”
“Prove me wrong.”
Kenneth turns to tug Denz into a half hug. After, he joins Leena in the SUV. Its red brake lights disappear into traffic.
Ten seconds pass before Denz remembers to breathe. The city’s loud around him. Cars pouring music into the streets. People laughing, searching for their next drink, next party, next break from a long week. Underneath it all, Denz feels like it’s only him and Braylon on the sidewalk.
Brow deeply furrowed, Braylon stares into nothing. “Wow,” he whispers. “I forgot how intense your dad is.”
Denz’s laugh uncoils the tightness in his chest.
“That’s every Carter.”
“He’s gonna proper murder me.” Braylon’s eyes track a pack of college-somethings bottlenecking into an upscale bar across the street. “He’ll hire a professional. An ex-CIA or former MI6 agent. While he’s chatting with Oprah, someone will be fishing my body out of the river.”
“He wouldn’t.”
Braylon whips around to face Denz. “He hates me.”
“Can you blame him?”
Fuck. Denz didn’t mean for those words to come out. Well, he did. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it a dozen times tonight. But he didn’t want it to be like this.
He yanks his coat closed. The cold tints Braylon’s cheeks pink. Or maybe that’s the embarrassment.
“Thanks for tonight,” Denz says. “For—”
“Suffering through Coldplay?”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Nails on a chalkboard. Stepping on a cat’s tail. Country music. All things that sound better than your singing.”
Denz’s lips part, ready to snap, when a crooked grin slides the left side of Braylon’s mouth up. A snort shocks Denz. He shakes his head.
“Thanks for that too.”
“So,” Braylon says after a beat of silence, “care to explain what all of that was about?”
Denz winces at the cloudless sky. He doesn’t want to discuss it, but he owes Braylon. Big. Sighing, he launches into the full story. Everything from the retirement announcement to the aunties to Kami’s cutting words and nearly kicking down his dad’s office door.
Once Denz finishes, Braylon says, “Hmm. Seems like quite the dramatic reaction to what your family said.”
“Gee, thanks. Always nice to have you validate my stupid ideas.”
“You’re welcome.” Another tiny smile from Braylon.
Denz lets out a smoky breath. “Sorry you had to deal with my dad’s— you know .”
“Threats of bodily harm if ever I hurt you again?”
“More or less.”
“I had my own agenda.”
“About that,” Denz says. “You don’t have to come to the Valentine’s gala. The mayor’s close with my family. I’ll get you a one-on-one. No need to keep lying to save my ass.”
He’s not sure how he’ll fix this shitstorm now. If his dad doesn’t see Braylon again, he’ll know Denz was lying. The entire family will know. But he can’t force Braylon to continue pretending. Not without a good reason.
He yanks out his phone. “Let me just—”
“I’ll be there,” Braylon interrupts.
“You’ll… what?”
“The gala. I’m coming.”
“But my family.” Denz shakes his head. “They’ll have questions. A lot. If you think my dad’s bad, wait until you meet my aunties.”
Braylon shrugs. “I’m not worried.”
Denz’s eyes narrow. “Is this because you don’t believe I’ll get you a meeting with Mayor Reynolds?” It’s not like he’s the one who ghosted Braylon. Who moved to another country. If anyone should have trust issues, it should be him.
The restaurant’s door swings open. A handsy couple stumbles out to their idling Bentley. The driver shuts the door before pulling away from the curb.
“I trust you,” Braylon says.
Denz ignores the small spark of warmth in his chest. It’s his body’s natural reaction to the cold. Not those three words.
“I still want to be there,” Braylon clarifies.
“Why?”
“I don’t have any Valentine’s plans.” Denz’s questioning eyebrow lift is met by an eye roll. “If you show up without your ‘boyfriend’”—Braylon’s air quotes are offensive to Denz—“on the most romantic day of the year, what will your family think?”
“The same as always.”
Denz is incapable of taking anything seriously, including dragging his boyfriend to what is potentially the biggest event of his career.
Somberly, he says, “You don’t have to—”
“We’ll discuss details later.” Braylon plucks the phone from Denz’s cold fingers. “Here’s my number. Text me yours.”
Denz reluctantly sends Braylon a message: hello.
“Well, um,” he says around the tightness in his throat, “see you soon?”
Braylon nods once before walking away. Denz strolls in the opposite direction. He doesn’t peek over his shoulder. Refuses to check if Braylon’s watching him, scowling. Or maybe smiling again.
On the way to his car, Denz does something he hasn’t done in a very, very long time:
He saves a man’s number in his phone.
“Wait! Hold on!” Jamie frantically waves his hands at the screen.
Thankfully, Denz has one wireless earbud in, so no one hears how loud he is.
Still, he lowers the volume on his phone just as Jamie says, “ The Bray Adams? Ex-boyfriend Bray? Lives-in-London Bray? Your ex-boyfriend who lives in London, that Bray Adams?”
“That’s him.”
“And he just appeared out of nowhere?”
“Kind of?”
Denz props the phone against his office monitor. On the FaceTime screen, Jamie’s toweling off in their apartment’s gym locker room. As distracting as random appearances from shirtless men passing by or the occasional gym-bro flexing for a mirror selfie is, Denz manages to stay on topic.
This is his first opportunity to tell Jamie about Friday night.
“And he agreed to be your fake boyfriend? For dinner with your parents?”
“Something like that,” Denz says with a sigh.
“Plot fucking twist.”
Denz hides his amused grin behind his knuckles. It’s been five days since Braylon played Prince Charming for Denz’s parents. Five days since Denz found Jamie under a blanket on their sofa with red-rimmed eyes and a fumbling apology.
“I couldn’t do it,” he admitted. “Lying to your family. Pretending we were more than inseparable, platonic soulmates who hate Made of Honor with our entire existences.”
(Denz still wants all one hour and forty-one minutes of his life back from watching that Patrick Dempsey abomination.)
Denz understood Jamie’s reasoning. On the drive home, he realized his plan wasn’t fair to his best friend. He’d selfishly coerced Jamie into helping him. Jamie gained nothing from lying. At least with Braylon, there’s a trade-off.
“Bray the Boyfriend—”
“Actually, it’s Braylon.” Denz cringes. When did he become so defensive about a name he never even used until recently? “He, uh, prefers Braylon now.”
Denz considers throwing his phone in the trash the moment a scandalous grin splits Jamie’s face.
“So this is a thing?”
“It’s a plan B,” Denz modifies. “He pretends to be my boyfriend. I get him a meeting with Mayor Reynolds for his job.”
“Where does he work?”
“A nonprofit.”
“Which one?”
Denz bites his lip. He didn’t ask. “A good one?”
Jamie towels sweat off his face, eyebrows pinched. “Where’s he living now?”
“Atlanta?”
“Bro.” Jamie exhales. “You haven’t seen each other in years . Not since he bounced across the Pacific—”
“Atlantic.”
“—and you haven’t taken five minutes to ask him the most basic icebreaker questions?”
“To be fair,” Denz starts, then stops. He’s got nothing. It’s not that he isn’t curious about Braylon’s life since the breakup. It’s just that…