Chapter 3
CHAD
This is just like Vegas all over again!
John is all grumbly, but he’s already letting me in by agreeing to let me stay and sleep in his bed with him.
It barely even took any convincing. I bet by the time Sunday rolls around, he’ll be inviting me to move in…
even though living in a construction zone doesn’t seem like that much fun.
I wonder if he’d let me pay someone to finish it.
“John, can I have a tour of our home?” I yell as I grab the first two big bags I’ll definitely need and start walking toward the house. If I was worried about standing on the front porch with just my body weight, I’m extra worried with these bags, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.
I can bring the rest in later when John has warmed up to the idea of me being here.
“Fine,” he grumbles when I get back in.
I’m standing in the entryway again. The staircase is right in front of the door, and to the right is the very unfinished living room.
“So, what’s your plan here?” I ask, wondering what his vision is.
“Restoring it,” he answers simply.
“What have you done so far?” I prompt, hoping it’ll get him to move this tour along.
I really want to see the bedroom, and then maybe that can lead to John letting me see his dick again tonight.
Maybe I can even touch it this time. My own dick twitches at the thought, and instead of word vomiting that info, I hold it back.
For now. It’s difficult though; I’ve never been as obsessed with anyone else’s body the way I am with John’s.
I’m not really used to holding myself back when I want something, but I think it’s kind of fun that he makes me work for it.
Delayed gratification or whatever my mom’s always talking about.
“You’ll see,” John grumbles. “Leave your bags there for now.”
I do as he says, and he turns around, walking in the direction of the living room.
This space is pretty outdated with scratched-up, dirty-looking hardwood floors.
It almost looks like he might’ve ripped carpet up.
There’s wallpaper, an old TV still in the corner, and a boxed-in fireplace with plywood in front of it.
It feels like I stepped back in time.
John doesn’t say anything as I look around and follow him into the next room, which is the kitchen, and next to it is the dining room. The kitchen has wood cabinets, white tile countertops, more wallpaper, and such old appliances that I’ve never even heard of the brand before.
“Don’t mess with the back door. The lock is broken,” John informs me.
I nod. “Are you planning to do all this work on your own?” I ask, wondering again how long this project is going to take.
“Yeah, mostly. Liam will help when I ask.”
“Have you asked yet?”
“No, I don’t want to bother him with all the wedding stuff. He’s offered, but…” He trails off.
“You don’t have to do it all yourself, you know?
I can help. Well, you’ll have to teach me, but I can also pay people to help,” I offer.
Partly because I selfishly don’t want to live in this outdated construction zone, and partly because I feel like John thinks he needs to be unnecessarily independent sometimes.
“I want to do it. It’s just me here… normally,” he grumbles. “This is how I want to spend my free time.”
“We like to spend our free time very differently, I see. This is good! We’re already learning things about each other,” I comment as I look to the dining room.
It also doesn’t look like it’s been touched with its brighter wallpaper, wood wainscoting, and an old chandelier. “Have you finished anything yet?”
“Yeah, upstairs,” he says, then walks back toward the front door to head up to the second level, but not before he grabs my bags and carries them up without a word. I love it when he does things like that; small acts to show how much he does care about me.
There are three doors upstairs that veer off from the landing. Two of them are open and one is shut. John carries my bag into the room I assume is our bedroom, so I follow him in and take a look around.
“So, you fixed this one up already?” I clarify, because while it might be slightly more updated and is in much better condition than the rest of the house, it still has a seventies or eighties feel to it.
“Yep.”
“Did you want it to still look old? Are you going for vintage?”
Instead of answering what I feel like is a simple question, John glares at me and says, “Bathroom’s the door to your left.” Then he turns to leave me in the room.
“Hey, wait, where are you going?” I call after him.
“To make us dinner,” he mutters.
“Oh my God, you cook? What are you making?”
He sighs, but I know he’s only attempting to cover up his affection. “Steak and potatoes.”
“Sounds amazing,” I say, following him. He only stops in the kitchen to grab the food then keeps walking outside.
“Wait, do you only have one steak?” I ask, trying to peer over his big shoulder.
“I wasn’t planning on a guest,” he reminds me in an irritated tone.
“That’s fine, I can just get delivery or something,” I offer, pulling out my phone.
“Good luck with that, Princess, you’re not in the city anymore. It’s fine, I’ll share. It’s big.”
“That’s what he said,” I reply automatically. John doesn’t even look my way.
He sets the food down on a small tray by the grill and reaches for the seasoning as he starts prepping the potatoes first. He seasons them, adds butter, and wraps them in foil before setting them on the hot grill.
Then he works to season the steak, giving the potatoes some time before he finally adds the meat.
“Sooo…” I say, because silence has never once been my strength. “Is this the part where you pretend I don’t exist again?”
He doesn’t look up. “You’re doing a lot of talking for someone who just invited themself into my house.”
“You let me in. And it’s our house.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“You always have a choice, John. Just like you had the choice to marry me, and you did. You said yes!” I remind him. “That was one of the best days of my life.”
“Mm,” John hums to himself, not confirming or denying it was the best day of his life too, so I’m going to choose to think he agrees with my statement.
“Do you always cook out here?” I ask curiously, thinking about all the meals he’s got to make if he can’t get delivery and the kitchen is… well, a mess, to put it nicely.
“Yep, I grill every meal.”
“Even breakfast?” I ask.
“Don’t eat breakfast. Just coffee,” he answers matter-of-factly.
“I’m already learning so much about you, Hubby.
” I smile. “What’s your coffee order? Wait, don’t tell me.
It’s black, isn’t it? You don’t like frills.
” He grunts, and I’m relieved that, even after such a short reunion, I’m still able to decipher his grunts and mumblings enough to know that means I’m correct. I smile, pleased with myself.
“Don’t call me that,” he groans instead of confirming I’m right.
“Call you what?” I ask innocently.
“You know what.”
I sure do, but I wanted to hear him say the word. So I play dumb and ask, “John?”
He gives me an unamused look, obviously knowing I’m messing with him. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”
Once again, it makes me smile. “Of course I am. You’re feeding me and letting me stay with you in your bed. Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’ve been waiting for this for two months. Dreaming of this very moment.”
He scoffs. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Nope. If I did, we wouldn’t be married.”
He puts the spatula down and rakes a hand over his face.
“Fucking hell. Chad, why do you want to be with me so badly? If you’re into guys, wouldn’t you prefer to find someone in the city?
Someone with money like you who can fit into your life.
Someone who is actually looking to be in a relationship and will give you all the attention you so clearly desire. I can’t do that.”
I roll my eyes, still smiling. “Because, John,” I start, not needing to think about my response, “you make me feel safe, and valued, and important. I don’t care about money.
You treat me as an equal, and you do so many little things for me that I don’t even think you realize you do.
I know right now you don’t want to let me in, but your walls don’t deter me.
I just know in my heart, we can be something special, and I don’t want to give up on us before we even get started. ”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just focuses on the grill before pulling the steak off and setting it on a clean plate, giving the potatoes a few more minutes.
As soon as he adds them to the plate and turns off the grill, he takes a knife and cuts the steak in half, nodding toward it. “This done enough for you?”
It’s the perfect amount of pink. “Yup,” I answer, hoping that if I don’t say anything else, he’ll respond to what I said a few minutes ago, but he just plates our food… and walks away.
I eagerly follow him to the patio table and look at him expectantly.
“Sit,” he commands, and I pull out the chair next to him and drop in, still just looking at him. “Do you need me to instruct your every move? Eat.”
Right. I’m not sure why this man has me in such a trance, but I cut off a piece of steak and bite it, letting out an involuntary groan. “Oh fuck, my hubby can cook. That’s delicious.”
“I trust you know you need to chew, right?” John says dryly, and I can’t help but laugh.
“See, you’re always looking out for me, even when you’re being sarcastic,” I point out, because what doesn’t he get? We work well together. I help him lighten up, have fun, and he takes care of me in a way that makes me feel so special.
He grunts in response, but I’ll take it.
John’s steak really is phenomenal, so I don’t talk for a few minutes while I eat it all. “Thanks for sharing,” I say when I finish. “I can buy more groceries for us.” He nods at me as he chews. “I think I’ll go to Blake’s tomorrow to tell him I’m here and ready to help with anything he needs.”
“Okay,” he says simply.
But I want more from him. “What did you get them for their wedding gift?”
“Something from their registry,” he mutters.
I groan. “But that’s so boring.”
“No, it’s practical. What was I supposed to get them? Something they didn’t ask for?”
“Well, yeah. Registries are for distant relatives, not best friends. Blake’s rich, so he and Liam can buy anything they want, so I really got thinking, what can you give someone who has everything money can buy?
Then I thought: love. But they already have each other, so I thought deeper about what Blake loves, and besides me, it’s animals. ”
“No, Chad.” John cuts me off, but he hasn’t even heard my idea yet, and it’s really good.
“You didn’t even let me finish! But, yes, as long as he says yes, I’m going to give him a new puppy!”
“Jesus, Chad, you can’t just buy people pets! That’s like giving a kid a puppy for Christmas. It’s very frowned upon.”
He says this like I didn’t think of everything.
“I know, which is why I only put down a nonrefundable deposit at the shelter. The puppy is too young to be adopted yet anyway. I’m going to show Blake a photo first, and if he wants the puppy I picked out, which I think he will, then I’ll go and get it for him.
If he or Liam says no, then I’ll probably shed a few tears because I’m already kind of in love with the dog, and I want to be its uncle, but then I’ll tell the kind lady that she can pass the puppy onto the next home.
But I think Blake will say yes, they do live on a farm after all, and they only have one dog.
Lucky needs a friend. All the other animals have one. ”
He stares at me for a long moment before finally responding. “Wow. At least you didn’t already get the dog, I guess.”
The smallest bit of praise from him lights me right up. “Of course. I’m not irresponsible.”
John still looks skeptical, but he must decide to move on, because he gets up to bring the dishes to the kitchen sink without a word, and I do the same, following him.
The kitchen seems to be fine, it’s just outdated, and I really can’t imagine that any of the appliances work.
The numbers on the oven are all on dials, and I have no idea how to get that to even turn on, not that I ever cook, but it seems like it’s at least fifty years old.
He quickly handwashes our plates and silverware, and then turns to look at me. “I’m going to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
“Great, I’ll come too.” I smile, excited for us to get into a routine together even though he claims I won’t be here with him for more than a few days.
I follow him upstairs to our room, but after quickly grabbing some clothes, he turns back to the hall. “I’m going to shower.”
“Oh, is that an invite? Can I come?” I ask, hopeful as ever.
“No,” he scoffs, but once again, I’m used to him being dismissive, so it doesn’t sting. I’ll try again later. He’ll break down for me sooner or later; I know it.
I strip down into my boxer briefs and climb into bed. I showered this afternoon before I drove here, so it’s fine. I wiggle into bed, eagerly awaiting his return. I can’t help myself; I sniff his pillow, smiling because it smells just like him, and the reminder instantly calms me.
I hope he cuddles me all night tonight like he did in Vegas.