21. Chapter 21
Grayson
“Still enjoying being a married man?” Carlos asks, poking his head into my office.
“I’d be enjoying it a lot more if I were home with my husband,” I say, shooting him a wink.
The last few weeks have been an absolute dream, and the more time I spend with Harlow, the easier it all feels.
Our friendship has always been effortless, as easy as breathing. And even though there are still days that I’m not sure I’m gonna survive how much I love Harlow, our marriage is much the same.
We’ve settled into an easy routine. We cook together and laugh together and watch movies. It’s all so… perfect. Then there’s the added bonus of being able to hold him all night long, being able to kiss him, being able to sink into his body and forget that he’s not mine.
I teased him for being a fiend, but I am too.
There’s nothing like those moments. Harlow is already unguarded with me; he always has been.
But there’s unguarded, and there’s the way his head tips back into the pillows as he’s crying out my name.
There’s our normal, effortless friendship, and there’s the way he curls into me and toys with my hair and drums his fingers against my chest.
“When María and I first got married,” Carlos says, dragging me out of my thoughts, “we just wanted to be around each other all the time.” He smiles, his eyes softening like he’s remembering those early days. “It was amazing. Still just as in love with her today.”
I sigh. I’ve been in love with Harlow for as long as I’ve known what love is, so I can relate there. Unlike Carlos, though, Harlow doesn’t love me back. Not like that. That’s okay. I’ve always been content to have him in any way I could, and that won’t change now. It can’t.
“I can’t imagine not being in love with Harlow,” I say, since I can’t say any of that.
“It’s something special,” Carlos says, nodding. “When you find someone like that. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than by her side.”
I can’t help but smile. “I hope for many more years of happiness for you and María both.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you get out of here?”
I bark out a laugh. “I can’t. I’ve still got paperwork to finish up.”
Carlos shoots me a grin. “What are you even getting done?”
Glancing around my desk, I look at all the paperwork I was supposed to be filing. As it stands, I’ve been doing nothing for the last hour. I mostly just want to get home to Harlow. I grimace. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Dios mío.” Carlos shakes his head. “Young love. Get out of here.”
Gathering the papers on my desk, I organize them into a pile before stacking them up in front of my computer. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and I’m always ready to get home to Harlow. “Thanks, man.”
“No need to thank me. You’ll always have more work. You won’t always have more time with your loved ones.”
I say goodbye with a grateful nod before shooting off a quick text to Harlow, letting him know I’m on my way.
By the time I’m in my car, he’s texted me back, telling me to be safe and he’ll see me soon.
Driving home to Harlow is my favorite part of the day. I’ve even gotten pretty good at ignoring the ticking time bomb that is our marriage. Thinking about it does nothing but cause me anxiety and stress.
Our friendship will survive. I have no doubt about that. What I’m not so sold on is being able to package up all my feelings and pretend they don’t exist. It’s only been a month since our wedding, and already I’ve grown used to ending each day with him.
On nights like tonight, when he’s home first, he’s usually waiting just inside for me, pouncing on me the second I step inside. He’ll tangle his fingers in my hair and kiss me wildly, rambling about how much he missed me.
Does that stop when we get divorced? How am I going to survive if it does? I don’t want it to end. I don’t.
But it has to. It will. And then what? Harlow is an incredible human. It won’t be long until he finds someone else. They’ll fall in love with him—he’s impossible not to fall in love with, I swear—and they’ll ride off into the sunset.
And I’ll still be here, loving him too, wanting him too, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces knowing that someone else gets to feel about him the way I do, only they get to keep him.
Sometimes… I’d almost swear he has feelings for me too. But then I worry that maybe I’m just projecting my feelings onto him. That I want it so badly I’m making it up in my head so I don’t have to admit that he doesn’t. That he never will.
By the time I get home, my mood is pretty low, and when I pull into the driveway, I take a couple of seconds to get my head on right before I go inside.
Harlow, impatient as ever, bounds outside and rushes to my car, pulling open my door and leaning down so he can look at me. “Whatcha doing?”
God, he’s so fucking gorgeous—all big blue eyes and wild, untamed hair. “Just decompressing from work.”
He frowns. “You usually do that with me.”
And that’s true. I do. There’s nothing like it. “I know.”
With a sigh, I shut the car off and unbuckle my seatbelt, climbing out. Harlow steps back, and as soon as I shut the door behind me, he grabs my hand, leading me up the walkway toward our front door.
“My mom isn’t allowed to hang out with yours anymore. They still won’t let this idea go.”
I understand why our parents want to have a reception for us, but damn… I don’t really see the point. To be fair to them, it’s not like they know we’re lying. I mean… we’re not lying; we are married. But about being in love. It’s not a real marriage. Not in the way their marriages are real.
“I know. Mom called me about it again two days ago.”
Harlow laughs and tugs me inside. “I think we might have to do it.”
My heart thumps. “A reception?”
“Yeah.” He waves a hand through the air. “I feel like it makes it more suspicious that we’re so against it.”
Of course. That makes sense.
Before I have a chance to spiral, Harlow puckers his lips. “No kiss for me, husband?”
He’s been doing that a lot lately. Calling me his husband, and I know that’s what we are to each other.
But Harlow… He says it like it’s a term of endearment.
Instead of baby or babe or love, I’m husband.
It fills me with equal parts dread and happiness.
“What are you gonna call me after our divorce?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.
Some of the light leaves his eyes, and I want to suck the words back in. “I don’t know, really. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I try not to think about it at all.”
That’s not the first time he’s said that, either. “Do you wanna call your mom and tell her to get something planned?” I ask instead of acknowledging his words.
“I guess.” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him do the nervous gesture that it makes my heart ache.
“Hey,” I whisper, tugging his lip free before planting a soft kiss on it. I try to keep it short and chaste, but Harlow uses the opportunity to sink his fingers into my hair and tug me closer.
Truth be told, I want to soak up every kiss and touch that I can, so I wrap an arm around his waist and kiss him back, cupping his face.
I caress his cheek with my thumb, lingering on some of his more prominent freckles. I know their placement by heart. I can’t keep my eyes—or my fingers, for that matter—off them.
Harlow sighs against my mouth, opening for me. Unable to resist, I slip my tongue past his lips, sweeping it into his mouth and tasting him. My heart thumps and my stomach flips.
I want to do this forever. I always want to savor it, commit it to memory, but somehow I never can. I’m far too lost in it—in him.
He breaks away with a grin. “Now that’s the proper way to greet your husband.”
I can’t help but smile. “Noted.”
Rolling his eyes, he steps over to the couch and sits down, tugging a throw blanket down and wrapping it around himself. “So you think we should let them do the reception thing?”
I shrug, joining him on the couch. “It’s not like they’re going to give it up.”
He shifts, moving until he can crawl into my lap and wrap us both up in the blanket.
It’s a little warm—a little much, really—with him curled up against me and the blanket too.
But I’ll never not want him close to me, so I wrap my arms around him and pull him in more, pressing my lips to his temple.
“No, they aren’t,” he finally mumbles. “I don’t want them spending too much money, though, so we should tell them nothing extravagant. And nothing that’s gonna take too long. I’d hate for them to plan something that doesn’t happen until after we’re already divorcing.”
“Yeah,” I breathe, my heart threatening to crack down the middle.
“We can call them tomorrow,” Harlow says, burrowing deeper into my arms. “For now, I’d just like to spend more time with you.”
I run a hand up his back, brushing my fingertips along the hair at his nape. “I’ll always want to spend more time with you.”
He pulls back enough to look at me. “Me too. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”
Humming, I press a gentle kiss to his lips. “And you’re my favorite person in the whole world.”
Dipping his head, he snuggles into my arms, tucking his face against my throat.
My cock swells when he brushes his lips along my pulse point, and when he sucks lightly on the skin, my hips rock up on their own. “You love this, huh?” he murmurs into my skin.
“What?” I croak out.
Harlow makes a breathy noise. “Me in your lap, my mouth on you, your cock under my ass.”
I do. So much. But it’s not just sexual. I just love having Harlow with me. In any way. “Yeah…”
He drags his lips up and down my throat, dropping kisses along the path he’s making. My head falls back against the couch, a groan spilling from my lips as he grinds against me.
“I’m not the only one who loves this,” I whisper, tightening my grip on him and helping him along.
He slams his mouth onto mine, sucking on my bottom lip before nibbling on it. My breath catches, and I shift him until he’s lined up on my cock, and I can thrust against his ass.
“You’re not,” he mumbles against my lips. “I have an idea.”
“What’s your idea?”
Harlow dips his fingers into my hair, tugging on the strands as he shifts his hips over my aching cock. “How about you take me to bed?”
Tightening my grip on him, I drag him over my cock, grinning when he whimpers, and his head falls forward, resting against my forehead. His curls are tickling me, and I love it. I love everything about him. “And what am I gonna do when I get you there?”
“Anything you want, husband,” he whispers against my lips.
I thrust against him, and he grinds his cock into my stomach. I’m sure I’ll never tire of this. Of having him this way. Of hearing him whisper husband and listening to his breathy moans. “And if I want to fuck your pretty face and come down your throat?”
Harlow moans, his breathing growing erratic. “Then I’d ask why we’re not already in the bedroom.”
Without another word, I push to my feet, cradling Harlow against my body. He bites down lightly on my skin as I carry him off, whimpers exploding from his throat as he rocks his hips and grinds against me. He’s so responsive, so perfect.
So mine.