Page 18 of Mr. Brightside

Jake

Hesaidyes.Hefreaking said yes.

I squeeze him as hard as I can, pouring every ounce of my gratitude into this hug. He smells like citrus and honey, and it takes everything in me not to burrow into his neck and give him another whiff.

I’m just so grateful.

And relieved.

Now that I’m not stressed and anxious, I realize I’m bone-achingly tired.

Exhaustion slams into me while we’re still hugging, my body threatening to collapse now that I can breathe after what might have been the most nerve-racking forty-eight hours of my life.

I finally loosen my grip, then pull back to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind in the last ten seconds.

He gives me a sheepish smile, looking up at the exposed beams of the vaulted ceiling and running his hands over his face and through his hair.

“This is crazy,” he mutters quietly. I know his words aren’t for me. For as long as I’ve known Cory, he’s been a rule follower, the type to play it safe. That aligns with what I know about him. He’s one of my most dependable employees. I can always count on him to be early, stay late, and pick up a shift when needed. He’s a really good guy. Now I get to find out what kind of husband he’ll be.

He’s still gazing at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief.

Now that things have calmed down, awkwardness creeps in. Since I lured him over here by implying we were going to hook up, I’m a little unsure of what my next move should be. It would be weird to fool around now, considering I just asked him to commit the next two years of his life to being with me. But it’s also weird to pretend like this isn’t a life-changing moment.

Do I offer him a tour of the place? Do the get-to-know-you thing? Circle back and offer him another drink?

Maybe it’s the bartender in me, but the drink seems like the safest bet.

“I’m gonna have one more,” I declare, holding up my almost-empty beer bottle. “Want one?”

He meets my gaze and nods so adamantly that I have to hold in a smirk. My instincts were spot on. We both need something normal to cling to in light of what we just agreed to do.

I grab the beers, pop the caps, and hand him one before clinking the necks of the bottles together.

“To us,” I pronounce. “To helping each other out and making the most of the next two years.”

He puffs out his cheeks, blows out a long breath, and looks at me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am. But we’re both about to have our lives changed in big ways. This moment is too important to gloss over.

“To us,” he finally relents before taking a long sip.

I watch the way his lips encircle the opening of the bottle, mesmerized when he lowers the glass in slow motion. He’s got this perfect mouth—a mouth I remember so clearly in my mind, a mouth I’m craving to taste again soon. But not tonight.

I really am tired, and although I didn’t give it much thought before, I think it’s best to take things slow. Physically, at least. Emotionally, for sure. Just because we’re having a shotgun wedding doesn’t mean I expect him to open up to me or want to hop into bed right away. That’ll come with time. It almost happened tonight, so it’s safe to say it’s a foregone conclusion. But for now, I need to make sure he’s okay with what’s happening and how this is all about to go down.

“Come on,” I urge, slipping my hand in his and pulling him farther into the condo. “Let’s at least sit down while we drink these.”

I guide him into the living room but don’t bother turning when I hear his gasp. The view is breathtaking. I live on the third floor of the building, and I have these massive floor-to-ceiling windows lining one wall. The windows look out onto a grassy picnic area and the train bridge that cuts through town. Beyond that are the tops of the buildings of downtown Hampton, plus the clock tower on the green. At nighttime, it almost feels like I live on an island that overlooks the ocean, with nothing but stars and sky and twinkle lights interposing on the darkness.

“It’s really pretty during the daytime, too,” I tell him as I plop onto one side of the leather sofa. The thing is almost as wide as it is long: like a daybed masquerading as a couch. I sprawl out like usual, then adjust my posture to sit up a little straighter when Cory perches on the edge.

He’s turned to face me with one leg crossed over his knee, the beer bottle cradled in both hands. He looks adorable, but I’m acutely aware of how uncomfortable he is.

“What can I do?” I question, jutting my chin in his direction. I’ve never been in a relationship, but I’ve been around Tori and Rhett long enough to know how to play the part. At least in some regards. If he’s uneasy, it’s my job to figure out why and to comfort him however I can. I think.

“How long have you lived here?”

I sit up straighter still. He’s mentally freaking out right now; I can see it in his eyes. I’ve had some time to wrap my head around things, to plan how this will go. But he hasn’t had the same processing time. If he has questions, I want to give him answers. I’ll do whatever it takes to ease his mind and make him feel better about this situation.

“I moved out of my dad’s house right before my senior year of high school.”