My Straight Husband by Spencer Spears
Brooklyn
Aweek after Jesse and Mark’s wedding, I was standing in front of the courthouse in Savannah, sweating.
It was only fifty goddamn degrees outside—fairly chilly, for fall in Savannah—but did that matter to my body? No sir, it did not. My body was intent on sweating like it was the freaking Fourth of July in the middle of the Sahara and a fire-breathing camel was chasing me.
Except instead of the Sahara, it was Georgia, and instead of a fire-breathing camel, it was a dangerously cute twenty-four-year-old with baby blue eyes, hair that kept falling in them, and bisexual tendencies. Or, at least, interests.
Frankly, I’d rather have faced down the camel.
It was ridiculous to be this nervous. Gabe and I had been texting all week, ever since I’d woken up the morning after Jesse and Mark’s wedding—alone, in my own bed, like a responsible adult—and remembered what we’d drunkenly agreed to the night before.
BROOKLYN: Still time to back out…
GABE: Fuck no. We’re not giving Tanner the satisfaction
BROOKLYN: Ha. Glad to see I’m having a good influence on you already
GABE: Plus I bought a plane ticket back for Friday
And then, a minute later:
GABE: Such a good influence, Mr. Miyagi
And what the fuck was I supposed to say to something like that? Was he flirting with me? He had to be flirting with me, right? That wasn’t something you said if you didn’t want me to suddenly flash back to our aborted night together.
I’d meant it when I told Gabe I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the first guy he hooked up with. That first night at the bar, I hadn’t cared. He’d been cute and interested, and I’d been too tired, too drunk, and too full of Jeff’s terrible advice to want to think too hard.
But the ensuing twenty-four hours had sobered me up and convinced me that going down that road with him would be a bad idea. I’d already been someone’s first gay experience once. And it had ended…not well. I didn’t need to set myself up for more failure.
And yeah, I felt like a bit of an ass once Gabe had cleared up the misunderstanding with his brother. Well, like a lot of an ass, to tell the truth. But I still wasn’t sure that meant we should pick up where we’d left off.
Hooking up with someone new could be an intense thing, even when it was the gender you were used to. And being a guy’s first time, being the one to introduce Gabe to the world of dicks touching, was hot to fantasize about, sure. But the reality of the matter would probably be a lot more complicated.
And then this insane marriage bet had reared its misshapen head before I’d had a chance to really let things settle. To decide what I wanted to do with this whole Gabe situation. To decide whether I wanted to do anything with Gabe at all.
The guy was cute. Too damn cute. And funny and energetic and just generally too adorable for his own good.
Goddammit, I liked the idea of spending more time with him. But that was half the problem. Between the cuteness and that somehow-not-annoying puppy-dog energy, I was liable to get myself in trouble. Correction: get both of us in trouble.
And yet, I’d said yes. I’d agreed to this absurd deal with Tanner, though I still couldn’t quite fathom why he’d even proposed it, and here I stood, sweating like a fourteen-year-old trying to hide a boner in the locker room. Which was to say, a fuckton.
What if, at the last minute, Gabe decided not to show? He was supposed to be flying in from Chicago this morning and he’d texted from his layover in Atlanta. But if he’d landed in Savannah and decided to bail?
I wouldn’t even be able to blame him. What we were doing was crazy. Getting married just so I could get money for Human Nature? There had to be a better way to secure funding. But last Saturday night, I hadn’t been able to think of anything.
I heard a car pull to a stop and looked up to see Gabe jump out of a taxi. He was wearing a pair of khakis with a pink button-down shirt and a woven belt, with a blue blazer slung over his arm. He grabbed two monogrammed leather weekend bags from the backseat and shut the door with a bang.
Dammit, even in the bro-iest of costumes, he still made me think about what it would be like to feel him underneath me. Again. And maybe with fewer clothes on, this time.
He smiled as he rushed up the steps to meet me.
“Should we—” He paused and laughed awkwardly. Fuck, had I really missed his laugh? I didn’t think I had, but now that I heard it again, it was like it was filling up a cavity in my chest I hadn’t even noticed was empty until now. “I feel like we should hug? I don’t know if that’s weird, but considering what we’re about to do…”
My turn to laugh nervously. “Yeah, no, a hug’s okay.”
I planned on making it a quick, one-armed thing, but Gabe really went for it, putting both arms around me and making me feel like it would be rude not to reciprocate. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten any less attractive in the past week, and he didn’t feel any less amazing in my arms, his warmth pressed up against my chest. I let him go before my body could get any ideas of its own.
“You dressed up.” I gestured to the blazer. That seemed safer than saying, ‘You look good,’ though that was true, too.
Gabe laughed, relaxed now. “It’s actually just what I would wear to work anyway. And I had a video meeting during my layover, so I figured, why not?” He looked me up and down, blinking like he noticed how I was dressed for the first time. “You did too, though.”
I was wearing gray wool trousers in a slimmer cut that I knew emphasized my ass, a button-down shirt, and a vest. I’d hemmed and hawed over the vest this morning, wondering if it was too nineties, but decided to go with it in the end. It matched the pants, and the suit jacket I’d since taken off in an attempt to stop sweating so damn much.
“Yeah, I feel kind of overdressed, actually. But I thought maybe I should do something to mark the occasion. You only get fake-married once, you know?”
“Real-fake-married, though. And I certainly hope you’ve never done this before. I’d be hurt to find out I wasn’t your first.” Gabe flashed a grin that threatened to tug something loose inside of me. “And don’t feel bad. It looks good.”
I tried and failed not to warm at the compliment. It looks good. Not, ‘You look good,’ but suspiciously close. This confusing almost-flirting was more exhausting than outright come-ons would have been.
We walked into the building and across the marble floors to the clerk’s office at the end of the hall, joining a line of four other couples I assumed were there for the same reason we were. I fidgeted—I couldn’t help it.
“Nervous, boo?” Gabe asked. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’re gonna be fine. Sure, our families might have warred for ages, and our star-crossed love is threatening to tear our very lives apart, but with you and me together, nothing can stop us.”
“It’s hard to take you seriously when you have little whales embroidered on your belt.”
“I’ll remember that.” Gabe grinned. “Next time, I’ll wear the one with lobsters.”
I snorted. “Lobsters are much more serious, you’re right.”
Gabe gestured to the line in front of us. “I just can’t believe there are this many other people wanting to get married on a Friday morning.”
“I think most of them are probably getting married later.” I raised an eyebrow. “We’re probably the only crazy people getting our license and getting married in a two-hour window.”
“What can I say, I just couldn’t wait for you to make an honest man out of me.” Gabe’s eyes sparkled. “That and eleven a.m. was the only slot our minister had open.”
Finally, we got to the front of the line.
“You have your forms?” the clerk asked, barely looking up from her desk. We passed them over along with our IDs. She gave everything a quick glance, then started filling out the blank license in front of her. It wasn’t until she noticed Gabe’s travel bags that she looked up.
“Elopement?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Promise not to tell our families?” Gabe said, favoring her with another one of those smiles. It must have had a similar effect on her as it did on me because she grinned right back at him, no trace of her earlier disinterest. “He’s the scion of a family that made its fortune selling cling-wrap, and my father owns the biggest tin-foil manufacturing plant in the country, but not even a centuries-old blood feud could come between our love. Right, babe?”
He turned to me, his eyes so wide and earnest that it was a struggle to keep a straight face.
“It’s true.” I nodded. “We’re on the run. If they catch up to us, I’ll be sentenced to twenty years of hard labor in the cling-wrap factory, and Gabe will be married off to a Tupperware heir.”
The clerk was laughing openly now as she handed us back our IDs, documents, and the completed license. “Well, Savannah is a good place to lay low for a while. Nice slow pace of life down here. Good luck to the pair of you. And congratulations.”
“Do you know how far it is to this address?” Gabe asked as we walked back out to the lobby. He handed his phone to me, pulled up to display a map of Savannah with a pin by our minister’s house. “Everything important I own is in these two bags, so they’re a bit on the heavy side. If it’s more than a mile, I’d rather not carry them to the next stop on foot.”
“Sure thing, babe.” I shot the pet name back at him, laughing. “Looks like we should take a cab to this one, too. It’s not too far, but it’s humid enough that we’d be gross by the time we got there if we walked.”
“I trust your judgement.” He grinned. “I’m in your hands.”
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up outside a small, wooden house with lime green shingles, lavender shutters, and a yard full of garden gnomes and plastic flamingos. A rainbow flag waved jauntily from the front porch. I looked at Gabe, my eyes wide.
“You’re sure a minister lives here?”
He shrugged. “According to her website. She’s definitely gay-friendly, that’s for sure.”
The door opened only seconds after we knocked, and a grandmotherly woman greeted us with a big smile. There were streaks of orange and magenta in her otherwise gray hair.
“You must be the happy couple!” She beamed at us. “I’m Charlotte. Welcome.”
My eyes went wide. Gabe had mentioned her name before, but always in the context of her being a minister, so I’d never made the connection.
“You own the Flamingo!” I said, still standing on the doorstep.
“That I do.” She grinned. “I take it you’ve visited a time or two?”
“More than that,” I told her. “My best friend, Jesse, used to work there.”
“Oh, Jesse!” Charlotte exclaimed. “What a sweetheart. I was so sorry to miss the wedding. Couldn’t get away. How was it?”
“Really lovely. I’m sure he’ll be bombarding you with pictures soon enough.” I glanced at Gabe and saw him looking between Charlotte and me with confusion. “Charlotte owns the bar Jesse used to work at—the Flamingo.”
“Oh,” Gabe said, still sounding slightly confused.
“I didn’t realize you were a minister too, though,” I said to Charlotte.
“I did one of those ordination thingamajigs online years ago, so I could officiate for some friends of mine, and since then, it’s turned into a bit of a hobby. I especially love doing queer weddings.” She shrugged, then waved us inside. “Come on in. Your friend is already here.”
Our friend?
We hadn’t told anyone about this. At least, I hadn’t. I’d come around to the idea that this marriage wasn’t the kind of secret you needed security clearance for, but I still wasn’t shouting it from the rooftops. About the only people I would have told were Jesse and Mark, and they weren’t back from their honeymoon yet.
Then I saw Tanner stand up from an armchair in Charlotte’s living room, looking perfectly groomed and as obnoxious as ever, and it made sense.
“Oh. It’s you.” I didn’t bother to try to hide the surprise, or displeasure, in my tone, but Charlotte either didn’t notice or didn’t let it phase her.
“Like I would miss this?” Tanner said, a sugared sincerity coating his voice. “My favorite couple, finally tying the knot? I can’t wait for you two to start your life together. I just know you’re going to go the distance.”
“Love,” Charlotte said, smiling broadly. “There’s nothing like it. Now, where do you two want to do this? Inside? The back garden? Your choice.”
I surveyed the living room, trying not to look too flabbergasted. It was covered in old movie posters and more paint-by-numbers paintings than one person could have done in a lifetime. It was also a bright teal. The dining room, which was visible through an archway, was canary yellow and filled with decapitated dolls’ heads.
“I, uh, think we’d prefer outside, if that’s okay. I’ve always wanted an outdoor wedding,” Gabe said tactfully.
“Perfect.” Charlotte clapped her hands together like a drill sergeant. “Then let’s get this show on the road. I’m sure you two can’t wait to make it official.”
Tanner stood up. “Charlotte, we just have one quick paperwork issue to get out of the way first.” He pulled a file folder out of his briefcase.
“Paperwork on their wedding day?” Charlotte looked taken aback. “I hope you’re their lawyer or something.”
“Or something,” Tanner said, his grin surprisingly disarming. It was disconcerting, watching him turn off his usual predatory charm and dial up the sweetness instead. Like seeing a grizzly bear nuzzle a baby. “It’ll only take a minute, but it’s very important to get this squared away before their married life begins.”
“Well, you boys sign those, and I’ll go call Eleanor down.”
“Eleanor?” I asked, blanking on whether I was supposed to recognize that name or not.
“An old friend who’s staying with me for a bit,” Charlotte said. “I figured she could be your photographer.”
As Charlotte bustled out of the room, Tanner handed Gabe and me each a contract to sign. I scanned it, feeling more than a little ridiculous, but reminded myself why I was doing this. Money for Human Nature. That was what mattered.
I bent down to lay the contract on the coffee table and scribbled my name quickly. Gabe was taking his time reading through it line by line—probably something I should have done, too—but finally he signed and handed his form back to Tanner.
Tanner smirked. “Excellent. Let the games begin.”
We headed through the kitchen—bright pink and full of cuckoo clocks—and stepped outside. I did a double-take when I realized the backyard was full, chock full, of plastic flamingos. Flamingos wearing sunglasses, flamingos wearing Hawaiian shirts, flamingos wearing Santa hats. They peeked out of bushes, straddled the back fence, even clustered around some rocks next to a koi pond like they were gossiping. Gabe nudged me and pointed to one that appeared to be clutching a margarita glass with its wing, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m beginning to see where the bar gets its name from,” I murmured.
The backdoor of the house opened again, and Charlotte stepped out, followed by another woman with perfectly coiffed white hair and pearls at her ears, who wore a pale gray, tweed skirt suit. They couldn’t have looked more different from each other if they’d tried.
“Gabe, Brooklyn, this is Eleanor,” Charlotte said.
“Charmed,” Eleanor said, extending her fingertips like she was doing us a favor by allowing us to shake her hand.
Her smile was cool and reserved, like she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be here, but the look she gave Charlotte after our introduction was much warmer. Maybe she was just nervous about taking pictures. That warmth slid off her face, replaced by suspicion, when she glanced at Tanner, which made me like her approximately two million times more.
Charlotte guided Gabe and me over to a Japanese maple by the koi pond. “Do you have the rings?” she asked. We both nodded. “Any questions before we begin?” We shook our heads. “Alright.” She grinned. “Let’s get you fellas hitched.”
And just like that, it was hard for me to focus. There was no reason for me to be nervous. Nothing was physically changing. I was the same Brooklyn now as I would be in five minutes, when this was done.
But my body didn’t seem to understand that. My breath was coming shorter and faster now. Why was I freaking out? This wasn’t real. Well, I mean, it was, in that it was a legally binding agreement in the eyes of the state of Georgia. But it wasn’t like Gabe and I were in love. It wasn’t like this meant anything.
The sweating was back. Oh God, my hands were going to be dripping wet by the time we had to exchange rings. This was so embarrassing. Who got nervous at their real-fake-wedding, as Gabe had put it? Who freaked out about something like that?
Me, apparently.
It was just that somehow, I’d never expected to get to this point. Not since college. Not since everything had gone up in flames.
Back then, I’d been ready to take this step. Ready to throw everything away for the man I loved, to vow to love, honor, and cherish him, all that dumb, sappy crap, only to realize how stupidly, mortifyingly wrong I’d been. In the aftermath of that debacle, I’d made a vow to myself instead.
Never again would I put myself in a position to get hurt like that. Never again would I give someone that kind of power over me. Never again would I relinquish control over my own happiness.
But this wasn’t relinquishing control. This absurd, mercenary marriage to a guy I barely knew wouldn’t put me in danger of losing myself. So why did I feel like I was handing Gabe my heart, giving him the power to squeeze it and destroy me?
I was barely conscious of saying the marriage vows. My voice sounded strange to my ears, and I paid more attention to that than the words. I, Brooklyn Dakota Abrams—thanks to my hippie-dippie mother for that name—take you, Gabe, to be my husband. For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health…
Was it just me, or was Gabe looking at me funny? Then again, what was even a normal way to look in a situation like this? How were you supposed to look at someone you were real-fake-marrying? Were your eyes supposed to be that big, that focused on your soon-to-be-husband’s face? They were so blue and honest that I was afraid I might trip and fall into them.
“I, Gabriel Evelyn Hastings,” he flushed, “take you, Brooklyn, to be my—” I tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but the sounds faded to a faint background noise while I just watched his lips move.
God, he had such perfect, pink, kissable lips, just plump enough to make me want to push mine against them. Again. Because try as I might, I couldn’t forget how hot that first night had been with him.
“I now pronounce you married.” Charlotte’s voice pulled me back to myself. “How about you seal it with a kiss?”
I flushed, feeling as though she’d read my mind, and glanced at Gabe to see what he wanted to do. It felt weird to kiss, but it might be weirder not to. Would he want to—
Apparently, the answer was yes, because before I could even finish the thought, Gabe grabbed me, pulling my face down to his and placing his lips on mine. They were just as good as I remembered. My hands slid around his waist, and I closed my eyes in spite of myself.
Nothing about today made sense, but suddenly, kissing Gabe, that confusion fell away. The running commentary in the back of my mind stilled like the sudden hush of birds that chattered until you walked under their tree. It felt simple, good, and right.
I pulled back.
Right? Kissing Gabe wasn’t supposed to feel right. Kissing Gabe wasn’t even something I was supposed to be doing. And yet I’d found myself starting to slide my tongue along his lower lip, feeling him begin to open up. What the hell was I thinking?
Gabe stepped back, looking flushed, and gave me an unreadable look. Fuck, he was probably mad at me for pushing things. Why couldn’t I keep my tongue in my own damn mouth?
“Perfect,” Charlotte said, once again immune to any tension. I wondered if she walked around in a glow of good cheer all day or if she just really loved weddings. “Ellie, did you get some pictures of that?”
Eleanor smiled, mouth closed—the merest quirking of her lips—but evidently, that meant yes, because Charlotte nodded like that was the answer she’d expected.
“Excellent.” Charlotte smiled at both of us. “So where are you off to now? Exciting honeymoon?”
I laughed. “Uh, home, actually, I guess?” I turned to Gabe, cocking an eyebrow in a silent question.
“Yeah, home.” He grinned at the word. That stupid fucking grin. It made me want to turn cartwheels.
It was almost anticlimactic, getting back in a taxi after it was over. Tanner had driven off almost as soon as the ceremony was completed, and Charlotte had mentioned needing to get over to the bar. Everyone else was just getting on with their days. We might as well do the same.
“So we didn’t talk about this,” I said as we slid into the back seat of the cab, “but what do you want to do for the rest of the day? Wanna get lunch or something?”
Gabe grimaced. “I’d love to, but actually, I have some work to finish up.”
“Right. Yeah, no, that’s fine. I have some stuff I need to do too. I’m supposed to go to Summersea this afternoon to help one of the teachers at Adair Elementary with a project. And I should do some dissertation stuff before then.”
Stupid me. It was ridiculous to assume that Gabe had put his life on hold for this. He was the one who’d convinced me that being married wouldn’t have to change anything for either of us. It looked like he’d been right.
I flushed, trying not to think about the kiss in Charlotte’s backyard. There was no reason to think that it had meant something. In fact, I should have been happy that it didn’t. Wasn’t that what I wanted? It was cleanest, clearest this way. Firm boundaries would be good for both of us. Keep us out of trouble.
“But how about tomorrow?” Gabe turned that dazzling smile on me. “Because it does seem like we should celebrate this somehow, right?”
Heat flashed through me, leaving an afterglow as warm as the summer sun.
“Sounds perfect.”
Dammit.
I was in trouble.
That hadn’t taken long at all.