His Fake Wedding Date: A Small Town Fake Relationship MM Romance by Waters Elle

Author:Waters, Elle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-08T00:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

The wedding is set for late afternoon. Hunter’s only job is to show up and look happy. He stares at his reflection in the guest room bathroom mirror and tries on a smile. Disaster. He looks manic and fake and he doesn’t know why this is so hard and Devin is supposed to make it easier and he’s been weird all day and Hunter’s not sure if he can do this and⁠—

“Hunter? You all right in there?”

Devin’s voice on the other side of the door; Hunter almost sags with relief. They’d sort of missed each other all day—Devin had gone out to run an errand in the car just as Hunter came back from his post-run shower, then didn’t return until it was time to start getting ready. He took his suit down the laundry room to de-wrinkle it, and Hunter has been in the bathroom donning his old black suit and trying to get his shit together. And failing, obviously.

“I can’t tie my tie,” he says. He’s too far gone to worry about seeming helpless.

There’s a silence. Then, “Can I come in?”

In answer, Hunter twists the knob. Devin stands on the other side, and he looks—Hunter takes a moment to find the word he wants—resplendent. His suit is charcoal gray and made of some soft material in what seems like a perfect weight for a midsummer’s evening wedding. His white shirt is crisp and clean underneath, and he’s got a matching gray waistcoat to pull the whole thing together. His tie is dark blue, identical in color to the little pocket square on his left breast. His hair and beard are neatly combed. Hunter’s gaze falls on Devin’s black dress shoes.

“No sneakers?”

“I left my dressy ones at home. Now, what’s this about your tie?”

Hunter backs up to let Devin into the small space and holds up a strip of black fabric. It’s wider than Devin’s, probably horribly out of fashion. “It’s been a while since I had to wear one of these,” he says weakly, as Devin surveys his outfit wide-eyed.

“Apparently. You said your suit was older than your wedding to Jillian, but I didn’t think you meant truly vintage.”

Hunter swallows, closes his eyes. “It was my dad’s. We were about the same size. I wore it to his funeral.” Why hadn’t he taken the time to buy something new? Devin looks like he stepped off the pages of British GQ and Hunter’s going to look like a kid wearing his father’s suit to the school dance.

Devin doesn’t say anything, and Hunter opens his eyes. Devin’s mouth is a hard line. He’s either trying not to laugh or trying not to cry. Hunter’s not sure which would be more humiliating. He starts to push past, to forget about the tie and just go, but Devin puts a hand on his arm. “Wait. We can work with this. Just give me a second.”

Hunter stops. He lets Devin tug him out of the jacket.

“It’s a new shirt, at least,” Devin mutters. He puts a hand on his chin like a sartorial schoolmaster.

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