Chapter -5- #2
He’ll never admit this to anyone, but there were nights—sad, lonely, extremely tipsy nights—where his mind wandered to the man who couldn’t make eye contact with him at their college graduation.
Unfortunate nights where Denz’s hands almost betrayed him.
Almost searched Braylon’s name on social media.
For a small glimpse. Not to see how great life was in fancy London, or even if Braylon was dating anyone.
Just to know he was okay.
Even now, he can’t convince himself to do it. The wound feels too fresh. Why is heartbreak that one scar that never heals cleanly? It always finds a way to ache, no matter how long it’s been.
“If you want this to work,” Jamie says, pushing damp hair off his brow, “get to know who Braylon is now .”
“Sounds like a scam.”
“Isn’t every relationship?”
Denz’s face wrinkles. “What should I do?”
“Start by asking questions! Also, I suggest you two establish some rules.”
“Rules for what?”
“Denz.” Jamie stares at him incredulously. “How many fake-dating rom-coms have we watched together?”
At least half a dozen, and that’s just the Netflix originals.
“You need guidelines,” Jamie insists like some wise romance mentor and not the man whose last relationship ended over street tacos. “When does this end? Where are you going to show off your fake relationship? Physical boundaries—”
Denz snatches a pen and a pad of neon-green Post-its from his desk drawer. He pauses mid-scribble. “ Physical boundaries? Like hugging? Kissing?”
“Yeah.” Jamie waggles his eyebrows. “Is sex on the table?”
“Hell no!” Denz hurriedly lowers his voice. “No sex on, under, or around the table. None at all. Why would we?”
Jamie sniffs his armpits before slipping on a clover-green T-shirt, LUCKY MICKEY’S TAVERN stamped in white letters across the front. “Because you’re fake-dating your ex.”
“Elaborate.”
“ We were never going to have sex.”
“Obviously,” Denz agrees.
“But the variables have changed. You have past sexual history with Braylon. From what I remember, lots of unforgettable dicking happened between you two.”
Denz is going to set himself on fire. “Irrelevant details.”
Jamie scoffs. “Bro, you were a ten back then. You’re a twelve now. Braylon might want to—”
“He won’t.” Denz pauses, considering. “You really think he might?”
“If I ran into someone I once found hot and there was a tiny possibility they were single and—” A sharp blush flares across Jamie’s cheeks. “You know what? Never mind.”
Denz has questions. But a loud knock at his doorway stops him. It’s Kami, smiling weirdly, holding a powder-blue box.
“I’m hanging up,” he says.
“Talk to Braylon! Figure your shit out! Find out if he wants to fu—”
Denz ends the call. Kami plops down across from him.
“New local bakery we’re thinking about partnering with,” she explains, revealing a variety of cupcakes in the box. Denz reaches for a dulce de leche. Kami starts with key lime.
This awkwardness between them is new. It’s unexplored territory. Even while Denz was in Athens, he stayed in constant contact with her. They’ve always been on the same side of everything. Politics, climate change, which Jonas Brother is the hottest.
(It’s Nick and they won’t be hearing any other suggestions.)
They’ve never gone this long avoiding each other, including when Kami found out Denz told Jamie and Nic he was gay before her.
But here they are, licking frosting off their fingers in silence.
At last, Kami says, casually, “A reporter followed me into the lobby this morning.” It’s not a rare occurrence for someone to stop them outside the building, asking for a quote. “He tried to get on the elevator with me.”
Denz snaps forward so fast, he gets lightheaded.
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t worry.” Kami giggles. “Corrine MMA’d his ass. She’s quick for sixty.”
Denz peels the wrapper off his cupcake. Anything to keep his mind off what he would’ve done if he saw that reporter. “What did he want?”
“Info about Dad retiring. The next CEO.”
“Did he mention names?”
Denz wonders if he came up at all. If the media looks at him as a serious contender. The same way he’s looking at himself.
“The aunties. Some business investor who financed a hybrid car. The Carter kids.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“To mind his own fucking business.”
Denz laughs. As much as he always wants to protect his sisters, he knows they don’t need him. Kami’s four years older. She dealt with the family’s fame long before Denz recognized it existed. And Nic can throw a punch better than him.
“We missed you at Sunday dinner,” Kami mentions.
Every few weeks, Leena hosts a big dinner.
Despite Kenneth’s insistence on hiring a caterer, she spends hours in the kitchen cooking.
Uncle Orlando shows up with beer and wine.
Uncle Tevin and Auntie Eva fight over their favorite sports teams. For one night, everyone’s under the same roof, laughing and shouting for hours.
Denz passed on his mom’s invitation because: (a) she’d expect Braylon to join and there was no way he was upending Braylon’s life twice in less than forty-eight hours; (b) he was in no mood to answer the eight million questions about the “new boyfriend”; and (c) he’d promised Jamie a Will Thacker Night —Moonstruck and thin-crust Hawaiian pizza.
“How’d it go?”
Kami grins. “Same as usual.”
“Mom yelling at Uncle Tevin for trying to help in the kitchen.”
“Jordan ignoring everyone after losing during Spades.”
“Uncle Orlando teaching Nic a new old-school dance,” Denz says.
“She didn’t know what the Electric Slide was!”
Denz takes another bite. “Mikah showing Dad his cartwheels.”
“Auntie Eva hating what I was wearing,” Kami says. “It was a Comme des Garcons sweater.”
Denz shrugs, amused by her irate expression. “And I bet Auntie C.C. wanted updates on everyone’s love life…” He trails off, not meeting Kami’s pointed gaze.
“Braylon?”
He stuffs the rest of the cupcake in his mouth. Fuck, he didn’t mean to go there. The family group chat has been nonstop since Saturday morning. Thanks, Mom . He’s surprised it’s taken Kami this long to bring it up.
“When? How?” she asks him. “Wasn’t he in London?”
Denz swallows. “Yes. But we ran into each other. At a bar.” Almost the truth. There is a bar at the coffee shop. Not the kind that serves alcohol, but… semantics. “Months ago.”
“Months?” She searches his face for something, a crack in his armor. Denz clenches his ass cheeks so hard he feels it in his nostrils. “You haven’t mentioned him. Or brought him around at all.”
“ You haven’t mentioned or brought Suraj around.”
“Fair point.”
“You know how our family is,” Denz says, leaning back in his chair. “Especially about him .”
Kami nods. “You wanted time to enjoy it. For yourself.”
“Y-yeah.”
He hates the lying. Hates that tender piece on the inside of his heart that knows why Braylon was the worst option to begin with. Their history’s too complicated. Too tangled between the Denz he was and the one he is now. It’s the very reason he avoids relationships.
“Look at us.” Kami smiles at him. “Two Carters with secret romances.”
“Do you think Nic has one too?”
“Ha! Does the one she has with her phone count?”
“Bet the aunties and uncles have a side group chat just to talk about us.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised at all,” Kami says before finishing her cupcake.
“It’s not…” Denz pauses. “Weird, right? Me and Braylon?”
Deep down, Kami’s nothing like him when it comes to romance. She doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. He never caught her crying over Matthew. She probably did, but her focus and drive and one-relationship-doesn’t-define-me badassery outshined any tears.
She smirks. “What isn’t weird about our lives?”
He laughs hoarsely.
“Are you happy?” she asks.
God, Denz wants so bad to tell Kami he fell headfirst into this mess because he wanted her to believe he wasn’t who everyone says he is. Because he wants to believe it too. Instead, he says, “Braylon’s great.”
“Good.” She stands after checking her phone. “Sorry. Fourth video call this week with Emily Sedwick in five minutes.”
“But it’s only Wednesday.”
“She’s the youngest princess of a multimillion-dollar family who wants doves released during her entrance at an engagement party. Not wedding. Engagement party . She doesn’t care about my time.”
Denz chuckles. The irony isn’t lost on him. Kami, who wants nothing to do with wedding planning, has her future hinging on an engagement party. Meanwhile, Denz the Noncommittal King is pouring all his potential-CEO energy into a Valentine’s gala. It’s ridiculous.
Multicolored Post-it Notes hang from all over his monitor. A decoupage of reminders: sign venue contract, call florist, schedule meeting with baker, review menu, and no flamingo-pink decorations —a special request from the mayor’s team.
Which reminds him…
“Hey,” Denz says, “would you go with a DJ or a live band for the gala?”
“DJ,” she immediately replies.
“Is that your event-manager answer or your secret way of sabotaging me?”
“Denz, you’re not a big enough threat for me to sabotage.”
“Ouch,” he gasps, fake wounded. “Good luck with your call! I’m sure you’ll have no problem convincing Emily to go with the peonies .”
He’s not sure what’s louder: his exploding laughter or Kami slamming the door on her way out.
Today 4:13 P.M.
we should meet to discuss things
hi! this is Denz btw in case you already deleted my number
Formerly Known As Bray
Bold of you to assume I saved it in the first place.
hahaha! were you always this funny?
Formerly Known As Bray
What would you like to discuss?
how we’re gonna pull off this fake relationship? entanglement?
Formerly Known As Bray
Sounds problematic. I have an early meeting tomorrow. I can be free round 11.
Crema?
umm suuuuuure?
Formerly Known As Bray
See you at 11, Unknown Number that’s texting me.