“Picked me up at Stella’s. Got it.”
“Where was our first date?” Tru asked.
I glanced sidelong at him. “I don’t know, where?”
“I’m asking you,” Tru said. “Don’t make me do all the heavy lifting here. This is me doing a favor for you, remember?”
“One I didn’t ask for,” I shot back. “I don’t know, though. I don’t really go on dates.”
“Never?” Tru asked. “Bleak. No wonder you’re wound so tight.”
“That’s not—” I groaned and focused my attention on the road. “Like serious dates. I’m not a monk.”
“Hookups only. Got it. So our first date was in the bathrooms at Stallions?”
“Tru,” I said long-sufferingly. I couldn’t even deny it, though—I’d had more than a few hookups that started at the gay club in Monterey.
Tru started laughing. “So you have been there.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “This was such a mistake. I’m turning around.”
“I’m just messing with you,” Tru said, still laughing. “I’m glad you’re getting some action, even if you’re not going on ‘serious dates.’ So if you were to take someone on a serious date, where would you go?”
“I don’t know,” I said, a little frustrated. “Never thought about it.”
“Never?” Tru pressed.
“No point,” I muttered. “There was never any chance that I’d be able to bring someone home to meet the folks without all these layers of disappointment and passive-aggression and judgment, so why go through the trouble? Better just to focus on my career. Since my career and my failed marriage disappointed my parents enough.”
I laughed a little self-deprecatingly, and something sad flickered over Tru’s face.
“That’s bullshit,” he said. “So you’re out, but you can’t really live your life like you’re out?”
“I can,” I argued immediately. “Relationships just aren’t really my thing. Why upset the family if I don’t have to? I’m happy as things are.”
“Right,” Tru said with a slow nod that looked exceedingly unconvinced. “Totally.”
His disbelieving, almost pitying tone annoyed me. Like he was judging me for taking my family’s well-being into consideration. “That’s why this is a one-time thing,” I said firmly.
Tru set his jaw and glanced out the window. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to be someone’s dirty little secret, anyway.”
“That’s not—” I started, but snapped my mouth shut. I was doing too much of that today, trying to correct the things I’d already said. “Whatever. Listen, let’s just get through this, okay?”
“I’m following your lead,” Tru said coolly.
I nodded and tried to shove away the guilt that was threatening to overwhelm my nerves. Tru didn’t deserve to be chewed out like that. I was just anxious, and frustrated, and ready for this whole fiasco to be over. But this was how it always happened when a guy started to get a little too close—I’d throw up walls immediately and push them away.
No one had ever broken through, not really, and every guy who’d tried had quickly gotten frustrated. It was only a matter of time before Tru got fed up with me, too.
Which is why this was only a one-time thing. Get through the wedding, and then things would go back to normal. And both of us would be better for it.
“We’ll say we went to dinner,” I said shortly. “Italian.”
“Great,” Tru said. “That’s believable.”
I sighed. Believable. That’s all this had to be.
7
Tru
I stepped into the reception hall with my hand tucked into the crook of Beau’s elbow. The venue was gorgeous. I’d expected it to be in a church, but the wedding was at a winery south of Junee, all rolling green hills and beautiful stone architecture. The ceremony had been outside, but the reception was inside the winery itself: high ceilings, wood floors, and enormous windows that opened to show the beautiful view. The space was dotted with round tables covered with white tablecloths and elegant centerpieces, and the guests milling around with glasses of wine looked just as expensive and elegant as the decorations.
We’d arrived at the ceremony close enough to the start time that we’d only had time for quick greetings and introductions before we were ushered to our seats and shushed. The reception was where the real fun was about to begin.
For the first time in a long time, I felt a little out of my depth.
As soon as we walked in, a handful of the guests glanced over at us, and I felt their eyes travel over me appraisingly. At least this part I was familiar with. Being sized up. It was a different context, sure, but it wasn’t all that different than the way I’d been sized up as a teenager—Beau’s family was trying to figure me out from looks alone.
When I was younger, those kind of sizing-up looks had usually led to snide comments, or even punches thrown. I hadn’t been that good at defending myself then, but I’d still resisted my parents’ efforts to get me into Muay Thai. I didn’t want to be even more of an outsider with my weird sport that would only add to the exotic bullshit people loved to spew at me. Eventually I’d relented, though, and once I’d started training, the sport had quickly taken over my life. I’d loved it. Still did. When I was growing up, it’d given me the self-confidence and discipline I needed to make it through school, where every day was a new kind of punishment.
I’d met Dare at fourteen, and we quickly became thick as thieves, especially once he started training at my gym as well. It was a natural progression for me to prospect with the club at eighteen, moving side by side up the ranks with Dare. It’d been years since I was an anxious, skinny kid, trying to shove my way through the high school hallways without getting noticed.
But looking at all the people in the reception hall—elegantly dressed, quietly murmuring with glasses of fine champagne in their hands—made that old feeling of inadequacy come roaring back.
“Come on,” Beau said, tugging me forward where my feet had stilled in the entrance to the hall. “We’re at the family table.”
The family table. Fuck.
The round white table was set for seven, right at the front of the hall and slightly elevated, so all the rest of the guests at the reception could see the bride and the groom when they arrived. The rest of Beau’s family was already seated: Heather and her husband, as well as Beau’s grandmother. Beau and I sat down at our assigned seats, and I smiled politely at the rest of the table as the band played quietly as the guests filtered in.
“Lovely ceremony,” I said.
“Mm,” Heather agreed demurely. She took an elegant sip of her champagne. Beau’s father nodded in agreement.
Luckily I was saved from further awkwardness by the band leader taking the microphone to capture everyone’s attention. “Please welcome the newlyweds… Miles and Anna Carignan!”
The hall filled with pleasant applause as Anna and Miles stepped into the room. Anna was glowing, her round cheeks flushed, and Miles had a broad smile across his handsome square face. They looked lovely together. The picture of a normal, happy couple. Suddenly I felt itchy in my seat. Beau had been right—I definitely didn’t belong here.