Page 10 of You Are Cordially Invited

I covered his mouth with my hand. “Oh. My. God. Enough. We are not going there.”

He licked my palm until I freed him. “I reckon there’s an untapped market right there,” he said. “I should talk to Sandy.”

“You do that.” I kissed him on the nose. “Just as long as I don’t have to hear about it.” I tucked a few strands of silky black hair behind his ear, which was still sporting a small rainbow gauge from the night before, and lost myself in those eyes. “But I’ve noticed you keep reminding me it’s not too late to run. Areyouhaving second thoughts?”

His brows drew together. “No, of course not. I’m all in, rain or shine, whatever fuck traps life throws at us. I just...” His gaze slid sideways, then back, but a little less certain. “I just don’t want you to regret anything. I don’t want you to feel this is a done deal, that you have no choice. I want you to live your dreams,allyour dreams—”

I kissed him to shut him up and rolled us both to our sides, not letting go until he melted against me. Only then did I lift my lips and tip his head back so we were eye to eye. His worried expression had me falling head over heels for him all over again.

This soft sweetness was the Cam no one saw except me. The vulnerable, unsure, truth minus sass, snark and barbs—all prickles flat, not a wall in sight. I got to have this side of him, and it made me the luckiest man alive. I’d treasure this gift and the man who gave it to my dying day.

I cradled his face and skimmed my lips across his. “This love we have, baby, this is the real deal. Forever. So, no more thinkingforme, okay? No worrying that I’ve got any questions, cos I don’t. I am one hundred percent in this, with you, for as long as I’m lucky enough to have you. And if you don’t know that by now, then it’s my fault for not making it crystal clear. We went through hell to make this happen, and nothing, nothing is going to take you away from me. You’re it as far as I’m concerned. You and Cory, and those other kids we have planned down the road when I retire from rugby. I wantyou. I want it all.”

He stared and I knew he was weighing the truth in my words. It might’ve hurt if I wasn’t already kicking myself for not seeing this coming. I should’ve guessed. Cam had been left as second-best before, when he’d discovered a long-term boyfriend had actually been married with a family. It had almost crushed him at the time. He’d fought all his life to be true to himself, and I knew he still sometimes struggled with the whole macho rugby thing; the looks he occasionally got; the occasional aggressive arseholery from fans and other players; the innuendo; the snide comments; the media attention both good and bad.

And some of it had been really bad: social media trolls; anonymous ‘presents’ in our letterbox—once even literal shit wrapped in gift paper; threats to Cory, to me, and a lot to Cam; churches publicly praying for us; even some professional rugby players in other countries calling us faggots and sinners, evil and sodomites; people calling for Cory to be removed from our care; picketers outside Cam’s ER, calling for his removal.

Cam put on a great show, rolling with the punches, giving as good as he got, brushing it off with a slice of wit or a killer look, but I knew he worried about me, about whether he was negatively affecting my career, holding me back, even hindering Cory, who had enough going on just learning to live life on the spectrum without adding a media spotlight. We both understood that. But I was exactly where I wanted to be, Cory and I both were, and I should’ve told Cam that more often.

Rugby wasn’t my dream, not anymore. Cam and Cory were my dream. It might’ve taken me too long to figure it out the first time around, but when I did, there was no going back. Rugby was amazing, fulfilling, and exciting, but it would never top having those two men in my life.

Cam never voiced any of his concerns openly, of course, but I’d always known on some level—a look he sent my way or when he read something less than flattering about us, or him. I did try to raise it in conversation once or twice, but he just waved it aside as a non-issue. He was coping, and the rest of the world could go to hell. And I’d wanted to believe him. It was easier that way.

But as I stared into those soft welling eyes, I knew I’d let him down. My baby hurt and I needed to step the fuck up.

If he wasn’t going to ask, I needed to tell him.

“This stops now,” I whispered against his trembling lips. “The only thing in this world that I wouldeverregret is letting you slip away from me. Now, maybe someday, you’ll have had enough ofmysorry arse and decide to leaveme, but I really, really hope not, because it would kill me, baby, and I don’t know how I’d ever recover. But it will never, ever be me who leaves, understand? I choose this life. I choose you. I choose Cory. We’re in this together. You’re stuck with me.”

His eyelids fluttered shut and he sighed and snuggled against my chest. “I’m sorry. It’s ridiculous, I know.”

“It’s not ridiculous.” I nuzzled his hair. “Fighting the world gets tough sometimes. But you’re not the only one who gets worried.”

He raised a furrowed brow.

I smoothed it with a finger. “Do you think I don’t worry about all the shit the game and the celebrity puts you through? That maybe you’d be better off without me. That you’ll come to your senses and see that you could live a quieter life, an easier life, without me, without having to consider the eyes of the world all the time—”

He shut me up with a fierce kiss. “I never feel that way,” he said against my lips. “I never want anything other than what we have. I don’t want easier or quieter; I just want you. You and Cory.”

“And I want you.” I cupped his cheek and he turned into the touch, kissing my palm. “But maybe I’ll always worry a little,” I said softly. “Just like you worry about me. So let’s pinky swear to stop hiding all that batshit stuff from now on. As long as I’m in this game and maybe even for a good while after I leave, the pressure is gonna be there. We need to keep talking about it. This fucked-up circus that surrounds us isn’t going to pull us apart, but not talking about it might. Agreed?” I held my little finger in the air and he wrapped his around it.

“Agreed. I fucking love you, Reuben Taylor.”

“I love you too, Cameron Wano. Now, I really think you need to get in that shower because, phew wee, there’s more alcohol in the fumes coming off your body than in Michael’s cocktail menu last night, and Craig is dropping Cory back in an hour. Oh, and Miller texted to say Sandy is looking a lot like you, I think.”

Cam rolled his eyes, then froze. “Oh, god, it’s all coming back to me. Sandy’s suspender belt. The striptease. Son of a bitch, I gave you a lap dance, didn’t I?” He blanched. “In front of everyone. Fuck.” He covered his face with his hands.

I snorted and pulled them aside. “You sure did.”

He winced. “Was I any good?”

“The best.”

He straightened and narrowed his gaze. “Damn right I was.” He wriggled to a sit and his face turned a little green at the edges. “Oh shit, I’m gonna throw up.” He fled to the ensuite, slammed the door shut, and I rolled onto my back and listened to the dulcet tones of him regretting the night before, several times.

It was hard to keep the smile off my face, so I didn’t.

“You do realise I have a final fitting tomorrow?” he croaked through the closed door, and the water turned on. “My face looks like the freaking surface of the moon, and I’m carrying a million extra kilos of fluid on my hips and waist. It’s never gonna clear in time. And how the hell did I get eyeliner down my neck? Jesus Christ, did I mention this is all your damn fault—oh fuck—”

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