9. Chapter 9
Grayson
Stay married? God, that’s literally all of my dreams come true, but not like this. Not while it’s fake. Not while it doesn’t mean anything to him. Being married to Harlow is everything I’ve wanted my entire life, but I really only want it if he feels the same as me.
“You’re not saying anything. Why aren’t you saying anything?”
What am I supposed to say? I should be saying no. There’s no way I’ll make it out of this with my heart intact. “What does that look like?”
“Being married?” Harlow’s nose scrunches. “I don’t know, Gray. As you’ll recall, I’ve never been married.”
I don’t know what to say.
“We can pretend, right?” Harlow asks.
The word sends pain spiraling through my chest. Pretend.
“Like around people? Fake it or whatever.”
I’ve spent the last ten years trying to pretend I’m not in love with Harlow. To switch that up now and “act” like I’m in love with him. Fuck, that would destroy me.
“We obviously have the chemistry,” he says, rambling on. The less I talk, the more he feels the need to fill the space with chatter. And for once, I wish he’d just be quiet. “I mean, it seemed like it anyway. Can’t really remember. We could try again, though, and see.”
“Try what again?” I blurt out, finally finding words.
His eyes are shiny, and it’s breaking my damn heart.
“Kissing and stuff.”
Goddammit. It makes me feel like an awful, terrible person that my very first thought is fuck yes. But the more logical, smart side of me understands that allowing myself to kiss Harlow is wrong. For him, it’s pretending. For me, it would be everything.
I can’t do that.
“No.”
He hangs his head, inhaling a deep breath, so I grip his chin and tilt his head back up so I can look into his eyes. “We can stay married.” Relief floods his features. “But we can’t kiss.”
He blinks at me, his lashes fluttering. “That’s weird, though, right? Not kissing your husband?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay. Fine. We can pretend, but only in front of other people. When we have to.”
Surely that’s okay, right? It has to be.
If he’s going to sell getting married right after he was supposed to be marrying someone else?
It’s gonna have to be convincing. At least in front of the people that it needs to be.
I saw those comments on his post. I know what people are saying.
And he’s probably right. Having our marriage annulled after that would cause more harm than anything.
Harlow’s eyes fall to my lips, and my heart nearly stops, but he darts them away just as quickly, his throat bobbing. “Okay.”
I’m equal parts relieved and disappointed but if we’re going to do this, it’s the best way. The only way.
“Should we go home?” Harlow asks. He sounds sad, and that makes my heart hurt.
“No.” I can’t help but laugh. “We’re on our honeymoon. I say we enjoy it. What did you have planned for today?”
He still won’t look at me, but after a second, he sighs. “A massage.”
Honestly, that sounds like the perfect thing to do today. Once I get some food in my stomach and we’ve called our parents and dealt with… all that, I’m sure I’ll need it to relax.
“Okay.” I realize I’m still holding Harlow’s chin, so I drop my hand and take a step back. “I’m gonna order food, and then we can call our parents. Whose first?”
Harlow’s face twists into a grimace. “Uh…”
“Mine, then.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. Sitting down on the bed, I grab my phone. Harlow climbs in after me, and his stupid tux shirt rides up his thighs, exposing them fully. Ugh. “Please put pants on.”
Face flushing a deep pink, Harlow climbs off the bed and walks to his suitcase. It’s nothing personal. I just still have images of his mouth on mine playing on a loop in my head and the sound of him moaning ringing in my ears. It’s not an easy thing to deal with.
Still can’t fucking believe I finally, finally got to kiss Harlow.
He’s got his back to me, so I lift my fingers to my lips, pressing the tips to the spot his tongue flicked.
I’m not someone who often wrestles with morality.
I like to think I’m a pretty good person, and that it’s not something I have to fight to be.
But fuck, the little angel on my shoulder is telling me not to take advantage of the situation, and the devil is telling me to take what I want, that Harlow wants it.
That he asked for it. Said we could do it again.
But he doesn’t know what I know. He doesn’t know how much it would mean to me. How much it would hurt to have it, him, and then have it taken away from me.
He doesn’t know how much I yearn for it. How much I fucking want it. To him, it’s nothing. A few kisses. Testing chemistry. But I can’t let myself go there.
God, how am I gonna be married to Harlow?
“Better now?” he asks, flopping down on the bed beside me with a glare. He’s got a pair of baggy sweats on under his stupid tux shirt now.
“Yes.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes. God, I should just tell him. Should tell him he’s beautiful, and I’m losing my fucking mind because I want to kiss him again. I want to slow down time while I do it. So I can memorize every single millisecond in hopes that this time I won’t forget it.
“We should make calls,” I say instead.
He nods. “Alright.”
I press my mom’s contact. She answers before the first ring is even done. “About time you answered.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Harlow leans closer to me. “Hey, Momma Ren.”
She scoffs, and I smile. “Don’t you dare Momma Ren me.”
He chuckles, and so she does. He’s always had her wrapped around his finger. I used to joke that my parents liked him more. Not a soul alive can deny those beautiful blue eyes a single thing.
“So,” she says. “Do you boys have something you need to tell everyone?”
I mute my phone quickly. “I feel like we should have talked about a plan first.”
“I’ve got this.” Harlow unmutes the phone. “Yeah, we’re married.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Yeah, I think everyone under the sun has seen that. What I don’t understand is why you did it in Las Vegas. With none of your friends and family around. Oh, and also twenty-four hours after your last wedding.”
And right on cue, Harlow’s teeth sink into his lip, his eyes widening. He’s got this, my ass.
“Well, you see… it’s…”
“And a better question,” Mom says, cutting him off. “Is why your ex-fiancé is defending you to everyone who dares say something negative about you. What’s going on here, boys?”
Yeah, the Josh thing is confusing to me too, honestly.
I mute the phone again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Harlow nods. “Are you?” he whispers. “This is your out if you really want it.”
God, I’m gonna fucking regret this. “No. I don’t want an out.”
“Boys,” Mom snaps. “I know you have yourselves muted. I’ve been watching you try to get your stories straight for over two decades. Y’all haven’t gotten any better at it.”
Harlow reaches forward, unmuting her once again.
“The truth…” He settles brilliant blue eyes on mine, then sighs.
“The truth is that we love each other. I think we always have.” My heart nearly stops.
They’re the right words, but they’re all wrong, wrong, wrong.
“And maybe we shouldn’t have gotten married like this…
and maybe not after everything with Josh, but… I don’t regret it.”
I clear my throat, my pulse hammering. “Me neither.”
His lips quirk up into a grin, and my mom sighs. “I love you both very much, and you know we all support you no matter what.”
“Thank you,” I breathe. I think my mom, at least, has suspicions about my feelings for Harlow. She’s never said anything outright about it, but I still think she knows. “We’ll talk to you later. I love you.”
She hums. “Make sure you call your mom and dad too, Harlow. Enjoy your honeymoon.”
She says that part with a laugh that I can’t help but echo. Friend trip to honeymoon in a matter of a single night. I wish I could remember what happened. God, I hope I’m not the one who suggested it, but it seems like something I would do. Drunk me has a harder time keeping my feelings to myself.
I really hate that I don’t know for sure.
“I’m so glad our parents took it well. Feel kinda bad for lying to them, though,” Harlow says as we walk into the massage parlor.
Ugh. I feel bad for lying to them too, and just like I suspected, this massage is right on time. My back is full of knots, and I could really use some tension release.
“What do you wanna do after this?” Harlow asks, bouncing on his toes.
I wonder if going back to the room and taking a long nap is a good option. Things seem to have settled some between us. After we talked to Harlow’s parents, who took things as well as mine did, we ate breakfast—lunch, really—and then put both of our phones on Do Not Disturb.
The notifications were absolutely wild, and even though most of them were good, there were enough nasty comments that we decided to protect our peace. The most important people in our lives can reach us, and that’s really all that matters.
“Take a nap, maybe,” I suggest, and Harlow nods.
“Yeah, sounds good to me. I’m getting to the dead tired part of my hangover, and I’m sure this massage is gonna make it even worse.”
“Perfect.”
An older man with white hair comes around the corner. “Hello, gentlemen. How can I help you?”
“Uh, yes,” Harlow says, stepping up to the counter. “I have a couples massage booked. Harlow Young.”
He types something into the computer, then nods, his brow furrowing. “Alright. I’ve got you here. If you want to follow me.”
Harlow reaches behind him, and for a second I’m not sure what he wants, but then he grabs my hand. It’s not even anything new. We’ve held hands. We’ve cuddled. But everything feels different now. For me anyway.
I slide my fingers through his, and when the man spots them, he grins.
“Sorry,” Harlow says, not sounding apologetic at all. “We’re newlyweds.”
My heart skips a whole-ass beat in my chest, and the older man laughs. “Yeah, we see a lot of those around these parts. Congratulations.”
Harlow shoots me an indulgent grin over his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”
The older man leads us to a room, and we step inside, then he smiles at us before closing the door behind us.
There are two massage beds in the center. There’s soft music playing, and the lights are turned down low. The whole atmosphere is kind of… romantic. Which I guess makes sense.
It’s totally fine as long as I don’t think about how this was supposed to be for Harlow and Josh.
“Wow,” Harlow breathes, running his fingers along the soft-looking drape over the bed.
There’s a knock at the door, and two women walk in. “Hi! I’m Mara, and this is Lita.”
After going through a quick assessment with us to make sure we don’t have any health issues, injuries, or concerns, Mara informs us that because this is an oil massage, stripping fully nude is preferred to avoid soiling clothing, but it isn’t necessary.
Harlow smiles. “Okay, perfect. Thank you.”
Mara nods. “We’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed and under the drape, and we’ll be back.”
When they walk out, panic sets in. I have to be naked for this? I have to be naked and very, very close to Harlow? Fuck.
Harlow, unashamed as ever, strips his shirt over his head and carefully folds it. I try to keep my gaze averted, but it’s hard. His chest is smooth and hairless, his nipples peaked from the cool room.
I finally get my shit together and look away when he slips his pants off his slim hips and shimmies to get them down his legs.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I stare at the wall and strip my clothes off.
When I’m down to just my boxers, I get closer to the table, fingers gripping the waistband.
“If you don’t want to take them off, you don’t have to.”
Harlow’s voice startles me, and I jerk my head up. He’s already under the drape. “Are you watching me undress?”
He shrugs, but his cheeks are pink. “No. But I’m not, not watching. I mean, you’re right there. It’s not like there’s a whole lot else to look at.”
Great. Harlow is watching me undress, but only because there’s nothing else to look at.
Why do I even care? I shouldn’t. I don’t.
I shift a little, pushing my boxers down my legs with a quick exhaled breath. I’m not shy or ashamed of my body, but I’ve also never showed it to Harlow before, and I can feel his eyes boring into my back. Which means he can also see my ass.
A shiver runs through me, and I quickly slide onto the bed and pull the drape over my lap.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling.
Harlow giggles. “This is gonna be fun. I love getting massages.”
“I’ve only had a few. Never an oil massage.”
“Ugh,” Harlow groans. “It’s so good. You’re missing out.”
I smile up at the ceiling. “Well, I won’t be for long.”
There’s a soft knock at the door, and Harlow calls out for them to come in.
I take a deep breath. It’s just a massage. I’ll close my eyes and relax, and then when we’re done, we’ll go back to the hotel and take a nap. Dressed. It’ll be okay.