Page 20 of Honeyed

Setting them on the bed instead, I try not to notice that she’s changed into comfy clothes since arriving home from work. That lasts all of two seconds, though. Because who could ignore the way those white sweater-material pants hug her petite legs and luscious hips? How could I tear my eyes from her cleavage encased in a matching sweater, the white of it doing sinful things to the peachy color of her skin? She looks innocent and lust-driven all at the same time, and I hate that I can’t stop my cock from twitching with interest.

Then my gaze drops to the smirk she wears on her mouth, which is still painted with the deep mauve lipstick she wore to the pizzeria today.

Every time I see her now, I can’t help but think about the kiss we shared in the courtroom. It had been so quick, you’d miss it if you blinked. But it confirmed everything I had been denying to myself for ten years; I am hopelessly in love with my best friend, and no amount of lying or distance I put between us is going to change that.

I kissed her, and the world made sense. Our lips met, and all the unanswered questions about my life disappeared. Every cell in my body felt right the moment her mouth was on mine.

“And make some room on the bathroom counter?” I tease her, knowing that’s an absolute no.

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Your skincare consists of a bar soap and water. No. I’m really going to regret not buying a house with a second shower, aren’t I?”

The street she lives on is made up of smaller homes when considering the whole of Hope Crest. While Alana’s house is pretty and well-built, it’s only a two-bedroom compared to the sprawling stone mansions along the river. Of course, those aren’t considered high-priced homes compared to the new builds that city couples were coming in to construct. Knocking down whatever is on priceless lots and putting up their faux farmhouses or modern boxes. They aren’t my abode of choice, but they are interesting to look at.

Still, I prefer Alana’s home at this stage in life. It’s not like she has children to fill a huge house with or needs so much space. Yes, having to walk into her bedroom to shower is going to do nothing for my traitorous hard-on, but I won’t be here forever.

The thought has something ugly and twisted settling in my stomach and gnawing at my heart. I push it away as I unload some more clothes into the guest room dresser.

“You’re used to me in your hair. It’ll be like sophomore year of high school all over again.”

I lived with the Ashtons briefly when Arthur and Clara had to attend to some business in Ireland for a few months.

“Sophomore year when you left a cereal bowl in the guesthouse so long, ants started building a hill in it?” She shudders.

I cringe. “Ew, I’d forgotten that. But I’m a grown man now, you know I don’t do shit like that.”

Her eyes flash when I say grown man, and I can practically see her thoughts. But Alana recovers. “The other day, I found four empty Gatorades in the back seat of your car.”

That has me laughing. “Okay, fine. I’m kind of a slob and you know it. I promise I’ll try harder while I’m living here.”

Alana comes in and sits down on the bed. “Eh, it’s whatever. Between you and my brothers, I’ve seen enough boy filth that is doesn’t shock me anymore.”

We’ve been under the same roof before. Plenty of times. We even shared tents a few times when our group of friends went on trips. But this is different. We could both play it off like it isn’t, except the truth is staring us in the face.

That truth? That I can’t resist fantasizing about what would happen if I pushed her back on the bed right now. What would happen if those beautiful breasts spilled to the sides, taunting me from the inside of that soft-as-fuck sweater?

Jesus, I really need to fucking stop. It’s bad enough that I made her my wife.

“Speaking of your family, we have to tell them.” The guilt is getting to me, especially after Patrick came into my office today.

“Let’s just tell them after dinner rush tomorrow,” Alana huffs out.

“Breaking the news over a dining room of your father’s lasagna special as if you just bought a new sofa and didn’t get married to your best friend? Yeah, that’s going to go over well.” The woman is the most spontaneous of the brood, but it would end badly if she announced it this way.

“How else should we do it? I’m not doing some cheesy social media post or sitting them down solemnly, like I have some terminal illness. This way, everyone knows at once, they get their thoughts and shock out of the way, and we get leftovers to bring home even if everyone is pissed.”

Not everyone, just her father. I made him a promise that I specifically broke.

“Plus, we have to do it as soon as possible. We only went to the courthouse in Truesdale two days ago, and I’m surprised no one in town has caught wind yet. It’s only a matter of time.”

She’s right, even though I hate to admit it. We chose the town over to not draw attention to ourselves at city hall, but it isn’t like the residents there don’t know who the Ashtons and Alana are. Or me, come to think of it. Everyone in the surrounding areas knows my name one way or another, even if I don’t want them to.

Alana’s parents and siblings getting word about our wedding before we tell them ourselves would be detrimental.

“Fine, you’re right.” An anxious knot forms in my throat.

She hops up. “Good. Now, what are you making me for dinner?”

“Ah, now I understand why you agreed to this.” My chest feels lighter than it has all week.

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