Page 135 of I Think They Love You

“Don’t lie, asshole.”

Jamie knows him better than anyone. He knows Denz loves to shove things into a dark corner, hide all his insecurities and failures.

Sometimes, pretending the worst things in your life never happened is how you survive. But sometimes, you have to shatterin order to figure out how to piece yourself back together. So you can heal.

Jamie’s phone pings on the coffee table. He releases Denz’s hand but doesn’t reach to check his notifications. “You’re gonna let him go? Even though you’re in lo—”

“Stop using that word!”

“After all this, you’re not even gonnatry?”

“What’s the point? I’m still going after the CEO job,” Denz says firmly. He stares at the Jägermeister, considers pouring another shot. “I have a chance to prove to everyone who I am.”

“Making things work with a great guy is proving something too.”

“Yeah? What?”

“That you care about yourself. That you’re doing something foryou.”

Fuck, Denz really hates that sympathetic tilt to Jamie’s lips. The honesty in his voice. “How dare you.” He laughs roughly at the wild parkour move Jamie does dodging the pillow he chucks at him.

“I’m just saying,” Jamie says from the floor. “Why can’t it be both?”

In all those dreams from Denz’s childhood, the ones from college, he never considered having both. Being as amazing as his dad and managing a relationship with the man he loves.

Should he ask Braylon to try?

No. That’s not fair. After seeing the light in Braylon’s eyes while talking about Skye’s the Limit, what this means to him, Denz can’t propose him staying. He can’t let Braylon rip his heart out again when he inevitably chooses California over Denz.

He knows what heneedsto do: throw the best party Atlanta’s ever seen. Impress his dad. Continue the family legacy. Dedicate the rest of his energy to making Braylon’s event a success. Then let him walk away without a word.

The next morning, Denz wishes it was the sun waking him. Or Jamie blending one of his breakfast smoothies. Maybe his alarm,the one he forgot to set after that final Jäger shot last night. Perhaps a warm, sleepy man with scruff on his cheeks and jaw, strong hands, a tolerable British accent next to him in bed.

It’s none of the above.

He’s startled awake by his phone chirping noisily. It’s like a jackhammer drilling through his skull. His mouth tastes like licorice and remorse. He either needs to pee or vomit in the next five minutes. Quite possibly both.

He peeks one eye open to check his phone. There are three missed calls. It’s 10:12A.M.

Fucking shit.

He’s late. Dead-on-arrival late. As in, they’ll never find the body because Kami will set his corpse on fire, bury his ashes, and salt the earth for good measure.

His phone rings again. Nervously, he answers.

“Denzel,” his dad says. His voice is somewhat distant like he’s on speakerphone. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

Denz clears the sleepiness from his throat. “H-hi, Dad. I was… at the gym?”

“At ten in the morning on a workday?”

Denz nods, then remembers Kenneth can’t see him. “Wanted to make sure I looked, y’know,fit. In my suit tomorrow.” He laughs weakly. “Can’t have the press dragging me for looking a hot mess on my big—I meanyourbig night.”

Kenneth lets out a deep exhale. Underneath that, Denz can hear the city’s noise in the background.

“Is something wrong?”

“We have a major issue at Vista de Atlas,” Kenneth says, frustrated.

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