Page 96 of I Think They Love You

On Valentine’s, he didn’t have to worry about couple-y red-carpet photos. He was running the show. Braylon was late. He’s been lucky that the press hasn’t given much attention to his social media posts featuring Braylon’s hands. Only his followers have.

If he poses for the photographers with his “boyfriend” by his side, they’ll be trending by morning. Braylon’s a private man. Always has been.

Denz promised not to cross that line.

“Lovebirds?” Kami inspects them. “Something wrong?”

“Could we,” Denz says way faster than he expects, “skip the step-and-repeat?”

Kami tilts her head.

Something prickly and familiar sets into Denz’s bones. He hasn’t felt it since college. When his family wanted to know everything about his new boyfriend and Denz wanted nothing more than to protect thisthinghe had with Braylon.

“I mean, I look great, but…” He waves a hand in Braylon’s direction. “I don’t want this guy feelingaveragestanding next to me.”

“How dare you,” Braylon huffs.

“Truth hurts.”

“He looks amazing,” Kami argues.

Denz gives his sister a long look. “Kami,please. Just this once?”

She scrutinizes him for a beat, then pivots in the opposite direction. “Follow me.”

Walking through the gardens is like stepping into an Alice in Wonderland daydream. The centerpiece is a wide stone fountain. Sitting on the water’s surface are lush green swirls of grass and colorful petals. Guests mingle over champagne, surrounded by towering lawn structures shaped like the Mad Hatter’s hat, the Cheshire Cat, the Dormouse. Tea candles light a path to the main banquet table where Emily and Warner are sandwiched between family and friends.

“No doves? Helicopter entrances?” Denz asks.

Kami’s mouth pinches. “We compromised.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Nope. You’ll see later.”

The music’s soft, an effortless rotation of current pop hits and country classics. People drift from the manicured lawns to the dinner area. Virginia bluebells, specially flown in, sprout from vases on each table. Not a single peony in sight. Denz is impressed with Kami’s dedication to throwing the Kenneth Carter playbook in the trash.

Denz’s stomach clenches. By the bar, his dad is watching closely. The tension from their office talk hasn’t faded.

An unexpected hand rests against the small of Denz’s back. He gazes up at Braylon, catching the pointed look he directs toward the bar.

A resigned sigh leaves Denz’s lips when he notices the aunties and uncles joining his dad. “Ready to face the wolves again?”

“Wolves? Hardly.” Braylon scoffs. “They’re pups. I haven’t yet shown them my teeth.” He flashes his canines, winking.

Denz laughs. “Who the hell are you?”

“What?”

“You’re just…” Denz shakes his head. He tries to stomp out that warmth spreading in his sternum. “Nothing.”

“We can avoid them a bit longer,” Braylon offers, rubbing the knot from Denz’s trapezius. “If you want?”

“Yes, please.”

He lets Braylon guide him away. The sea of faces is a strange mix of Warner’s rowdy teammates, B-list celebrities, and the political types. Denz is accustomed to entertaining this crowd, but he forgets how weird it must be for Braylon. He doesn’t show it, chin lifted until they’re at Kami’s side again as she animatedly gives instructions to her team.

“No problem,” Jordan says.

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