Chapter 11
ELEVEN
CASSIUS
As we waved off my parents, who’d dropped us off at Dylan’s place while they headed home with a sleeping Mikey, I side-eyed Dylan. “Shouldn’t we be carrying each other over the threshold or something?”
“Each other, huh? How’d you expect that to work exactly?”
Armed with a smirk, I angled fully toward my best friend.
Scratch that. My husband. The thought, let alone the reality, was fucking weird, but we’d had a blast tonight, so I rolled with it.
“You can just piggyback me if you want.” I bounced my brows for good measure.
Not to say I wasn’t totally up for clambering on Dylan’s back.
Pausing from unlocking his front door, he glanced over at me, a smirk already forming. “As long as you’re not expecting bridal style, we can do that.”
“Fuck yeah.” I jumped onto his back before he could change his mind.
“Oomph… fuck, Cass. How much are you pressing these days? Or is that extra slice of cake I saw you inhale to blame?”
Chuckling, I clung on, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. While Dylan wasn’t as tall or as toned as I was, his chest was broader. He could most definitely handle my weight without breaking a sweat.
That and clinging onto Dylan in any way was never a hardship. Not with the familiar traces of the aftershave he used still lingering, and the light hint of his natural scent that I’d easily recognize in a crowded room.
It was all comfort and eased the part in me that usually felt a little antsy.
“Stop your complaining,” I sassed, planting a kiss on his cheek for good measure, ignoring how the kiss was nothing like the one we’d shared after our “I dos.”
He huffed out a laugh as he stepped into his home, a modest three-bedroom town house on a quiet street near a couple of great walking tracks.
Once in the hallway, he tilted his head to peer back at me. “Comfortable there?”
“You betcha.”
He grunted, his grip on my thighs firm as he hitched me up a little. Settling my chin on his head, I yawned, ridiculously at ease in Dylan’s familiar home and surrounded by his calming scent.
“I’m beat.” Another yawn tore free. It had been a bizarre, long, but strangely incredible day. Between a ceremony that had made me more emotional than I expected and partying hard while not drinking myself silly, I was beyond ready for bed. “Can we go straight to sleep?”
Still holding me tightly, Dylan nodded. “Let me just lock the front door.” He turned and flicked the lock. The click echoed around the unusually quiet house.
“It’s odd Mikey not being here,” I whispered, for no other reason but feeling like I needed to be quiet.
“Yeah. Mama T and Pop insisted on having him overnight.”
I nodded, knowing this. Just like I knew Dylan had balked a little, not a fan of spending too much time away from Mikey.
“It’s weird now, but I know I’ll appreciate it when he’s not throwing himself on my bed at five in the morning.” He took steps toward the staircase, but my huff stopped him. Once again, he peered back at me. “Really?” Amusement laced his tone.
“Just get to it and stop behaving like you’re even a little surprised.”
After spending so many years sharing a room and often a bed with Dylan, I was the first to admit that I slept a whole lot better when I shared Dylan’s space. I wasn’t the slightest bit apologetic. His sleep noises were familiar and calming.
Without a word, he bypassed the staircase that led to two upstairs bedrooms and a bathroom and headed down the hallway, past the sitting area and the kitchen/dining room, and through the door to the master bedroom.
Backing up to his bed, he released me, dumping me on his mattress. I landed with a chuckle and a happy sigh. “You have the best mattress ever.”
“It’s exactly the same as yours.” He shook his head and went to his side of the bed, because after twenty-plus years, of course we had dedicated sides of a mattress.
He also spoke the truth.
I’d deliberately bought the exact same mattress as Dylan’s. “It doesn’t feel the same,” I complained. It seriously didn’t. As he pulled off his jacket and reached for a coat hanger, I turned on my side and watched him. “You looked great today, in the suit.”
Dylan paused his movements. “Thanks?” He arched his eyebrow, the word lifting into a clear question. His gaze dipped to my chest for a moment before our eyes met. “You looked great too.”
“I think the photos are going to look fucking awesome.”
While his lips twitched, he didn’t respond, focusing instead on undressing. I couldn’t look away, even knowing I was being fucking weird.
In the process of tugging off his slacks, Dylan paused, the lack of movement tearing my gaze away from his hands to his face. His brows almost touched his hairline as he asked, “You okay?”
“Uhm—” I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Just zoned out.” Angling away, I sat and clambered off the bed, wondering what the hell my problem was. Seeing Dylan in any stage of undress was nothing new. But the moment he’d lowered his zipper, a swirl of awareness had caught me by surprise.
Those sorts of reactions needed to remain locked away in the box I’d shoved them into all those years ago.
“How come?”
The creak of the floorboard pulled my attention to him.
When we made eye contact, I released a shaky breath, reassured by the familiar look staring back at me. Curiosity and concern. I knew the signs well. With my shoulders relaxing, I admitted, “Just thinking about today and what it means.”
He nodded and sat on the mattress. “It was a lot.”
“Yeah, but it’s also, I don’t know, fucking great.”
Dylan huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it was a good night.” A soft smile settled on his mouth, drawing my attention to his lips.
I struggled to pull my gaze away, remembering the kiss we’d shared. Remembering seemed like an understatement. Hell, I still felt the pressure and warmth.
Still tasted him.
“You’ve zoned out again.” This time his Adam’s apple bobbed after speaking.
Flicking my gaze up to make eye contact, I parted my lips to tell him exactly what was on my mind.
Secrets between us were the worst. I hated the couple I had with a vengeance.
It didn’t help that they were so huge. We always talked shit out.
Shared so much of ourselves with each other.
“I’m going to grab a bottle of water. You want one? ”
I couldn’t do it. The words refused to tumble free.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to brush my teeth.”
I hightailed it from the room, my brain a jumbled mess.
The fuck was my problem? So what if I thought the kiss was hot.
He’d kissed me back. I didn’t imagine his tongue tangled with mine.
Beyond the almost silent exchange and agreement we’d had on draft night, we’d always been able to talk about stuff like this.
Were probably a little too vocal at times with our oversharing.
Today had pissed all over our silent agreement. Though officially it was what I’d promised myself: to not go there again and definitely not do anything to mess up our relationship.
It was the most important one I had, and I valued it more than anything.
But to be fair, our getting married had made the promise a little blurry. It wasn’t like we couldn’t share a kiss to seal the deal.
But you didn’t need to shove your tongue in his mouth or cling on for dear life.
That was also ignoring how he would react if he knew the truth about Paula’s and my agreement.
Fuck.
I shook my head, trying to untangle my thoughts and stop the way my dick kept twitching.
You’d have thought my swirling thoughts and the twist of guilt in my gut would be enough to calm me down and get my head out of the gutter.
But kissing Dylan had been necessary and admittedly hot.
That didn’t mean it would or could happen again.
Getting married was an arrangement and all about Mikey.
Not only that, but kissing could also lead to more complicated developments. Sure, Dylan knew my hang-ups. He was the only person who truly did. No way would I subject him to that.
Not again.
I wasn’t convinced I hadn’t traumatized him the first time around.
I tugged open the refrigerator and grabbed a couple bottles of water.
I’d drink this, brush my teeth, and get my tired ass to sleep.
Between the high emotions of the day, it was understandable that I was overthinking.
I took a gulp of water, letting the cold liquid calm me. After a good night’s sleep, life would make sense again. Just the thought made me breathe a little easier.
Dylan and I had been through everything together. Of course we could make this work without entangling our feelings, all while making sure Mikey always saw the best of us.
I woke with Dylan’s arm draped around me and his face buried in the crook of my neck. Smiling at the familiar position we tended to be in when sharing a bed, I closed my eyes, luxuriating in how well rested I felt.
No doubt I slept so much better not only when at Dylan’s place but also when we snuggled against each other. It had always been this way.
My heart panged for Dylan. His fuckheads of parents had done a number on him over the years. The man being touch starved was just one of the many reasons I hated them.
The moment Dylan stirred, his breathing changed, letting me know he was awake.
“Morning, husband.” For sure, it still sounded weird. Even more reason to lean into it.
He grunted in response, still tangled around me. That he didn’t scramble away, despite this not being how we’d first drifted to sleep, settled something in my gut. Left me feeling perfectly content.
“You sleep okay?” I hadn’t budged once, not even when at some point in the night, he’d plastered himself to me.
“Yeah.” His mumbled answer against my neck sent warm breath over my skin. The sensation tickled, and goose bumps pebbled. “It’s not time to get up, right?”