Page 4

Fitz

"Feeling nervous about the big day?" I ask Wilby.

It's my third day back at work. Muir and Ryde are in consults and me, Wilby, and boss man, Linus, are enjoying a rare mid-afternoon reprieve in the staff lounge.

Wilby smiles, and it's the smile of a dude who's well and truly in love. "Nah. Col's living with me now so I know he'll show up. That's all that counts."

"Doesn't mean he can't still escape," Linus says, taking a sip of tea, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Or call the cops saying he's been kidnapped and is being held against his will."

Linus smirks as he flips the page. "He could get the US Embassy involved. Call in to 60 Minutes. It'd be a huge story. An international scandal."

"Fuck you both." Wilby plucks his phone from his pocket, and judging by the way his face instantly lights up, twenty bucks says he's texting the uptight, grumpy New Yorker he's been in love with for over a year now.

I'm happy for them both. I am. But I'd be lying if I said there isn't a small part of me that's jealous of what they have.

I thought I had that with Erin.

Then again, I'm not sure my face ever lit up the way Wilby's is as he's texting back and forth with Col.

I did love Erin, but what Wilby and Col have is next-level. Maybe it's because they had to fight for it? They had obstacles to overcome such as distance, on-off hating each other, and of course, Wilby's personality.

Erin and I never had that same passion, that burning fire, those two do.

We met while I was in Brisbane at a veterinary summit two years ago. I thought it'd just be a one-night thing, but we kept in touch. She came out here a few times, met my family and the locals, and despite that, decided to give it a shot and relocate here.

It never worked. Right from the very beginning, she struggled to adjust to life in a small outback town. She tried, I know she did, and we both pretended it was fine, but it just wasn't for her.

I was upfront from the very start and said I'd never move to Brisbane. That didn't stop her from trying to make me. It's the only thing we argued about, and our fight a few months ago was a real doozy. We both said some stuff we couldn't walk back, and even though we made up, the damage was done.

The only thing I could think of to get us on track again was getting married, which yeah, now that I think about it, wasn't the smartest idea. In fact, it was up there in the all-time top five worst ideas I've ever had.

It might sound silly, but I want the kind of big, all-consuming love you see in movies and read about in romance novels. I want to be swept up in something that's overwhelming, fiery, passionate, and deeply emotional. I want to have that irresistible pull towards another person. I want to overcome obstacles and misunderstandings and ultimately, triumph in the end and live my happily ever after with my soulmate.

I want to feel all the things, get so caught up in someone they become my entire world. I want that big love.

I've never had that with anyone I've dated…probably because that shit never happens in real life. So I need to get my head out of my arse and wake up because this is the real world, not some romcom.

Although…if Wilby can find it, why not me?

Muir enters the lounge, freezing for a split second when he notices me on the couch. I don't know why he seems surprised to see me.

He heads over to the kettle. "Hi."

"Hey."

There's an awkward tension between us that's never been there before. He hasn't been able to shake off what happened at the Goldie, and I think I know what's bugging him. In the sober light of day, he's realised the colossal mess we've gotten ourselves into.

Getting married is a big deal. All of Scuttlebutt is pitching in to help Wilby and Col with their wedding. Friends and family are flying in from all over the country, from all over the world. Marriage means something.

And here we are, two dumb-arse dinguses who went out, got shitfaced, and can't even remember tying the knot.

To each other.

Not the girlfriends we'd unsuccessfully proposed to.

To top it all off, we can't breathe a word of this to our friends since we don't want to steal the thunder from Wilby and Col leading up to their big day.

At least no one's picked up on the weirdness.

"What's up, Muir? You're acting weird," Linus says, flicking the newspaper in half and resting it on his lap.

Okay. Shit. They've noticed.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Muir busies himself making a cuppa, which gives him an excuse to not look at Linus directly. Good thing, too. Muir's a shit liar, and Linus would clock it right away.

Knowing this, Wilby gets off the couch, strides over, and positions himself right next to Muir.

"You've been acting differently since you came back." He casts his gaze over at me. "You both have. And I think I know what's going on."

Muir's shoulders tense. "You do?"

Wilby grins like an idiot. "I do. And I couldn't be happier."

"Really?" I say.

My eyes flick to Muir. There's no way he would've said anything. It was his idea to keep this quiet. So what the fuck is Wilby going on about?

"Yes, really. You got strippers."

Linus sputters, spraying tea everywhere. "What?"

"For the joint bucks' night tomorrow night," Wilby explains.

"Mate, we didn't get you strippers," I tell him.

"You sure?"

I nod. "I am. We're all in a group chat, remember? Col made it very clear: no strippers. He wanted something quintessentially Aussie, so we're having a campfire at my place."

"Wait. That's not a cover?"

I roll my eyes. "It's not a cover."

"Huh. Okay." He ponders for a minute. "In that case, if the bucks' night is sorted, then why the fuck are you bozos acting strange?"

"We're not," we say at the same time, which doesn't help allay his or Linus's suspicions.

"You sure?" Linus checks. "Because you both seem a little…stiff. And, Wilby, I'll remind you you're an almost married man, and that is not an open invitation for you to grab anyone's crotch."

That earns a chuckle out of us and lightens the mood a little. Thankfully, my next appointment is up, so I have an excuse to leave.

As I walk down the hallway, I remind myself to call the solicitor and get things moving. I haven't heard anything from her in a few days.

I really hate the way this is affecting Muir, so hopefully ending our marriage will help pull him out of whatever funk he's in, and he'll be back to his old self again.

"Thanks for coming over early," I say, opening the front door to let Muir inside.

"Yeah, no worries," he replies, dashing past me, carrying a cooler.

Normally we greet each other with a hug, but since he's clearly still not okay, he's already heading for the back door. It's not like I'm going to run after him and insist on one.

I have to say, I'm starting to get a little irritated by his behaviour. He was even weirder at work today, and we were yet again forced to deflect and lie to our friends that nothing is going on.

I get that he's wound a little tighter than most people, but it's me. Why can't he tell me what's going on?

That's why I asked him to come over early, before everyone else arrives for the campfire bucks' night, so we can have a chat and get things sorted.

I don't like it when things aren't right with us. I may be the more out there one, but that's because I've got him in my corner. He doesn't realise how much I need him. How much his presence helps calm and balance me. How when, on the odd occasion things are off between us, it sends me into a tailspin.

Muir is my rock. He always has been. We need to talk and resolve whatever his issue is so we can go back to normal.

"This looks great," he says once we're out in my backyard, eyeing off the four rustic wooden benches that encircle the fire pit.

I've got a two-acre block, the surrounding landscape a mix of red earth and native bush. There's a faint scent of eucalyptus in the air.

He drops his esky next to my three coolers. "Bought all the ice in Scuttlebutt," he says with a hint of amusement.

I grin. "Yeah. Col was pretty insistent."

He only mentioned it, like, fifty million times in our group chat. Apparently, Americans can never have too much ice, and since his dad and best friend, as well as Wilby's dad and his partner are American, I asked Muir to get some more, just to be on the safe side.

"Need help with the BBQ?" Muir asks, tipping his head towards the Weber.

"No, thanks. I've got it covered."

He rubs his hands down the sides of his legs and walks over to the grill.

He's nervous. Why is he nervous around me?

"See you've stocked up on marshmallows," he says when I join him.

"Yeah. And Col's dad is bringing the Graham crackers. Keen to try a s'more. Never had one."

"Yeah. Me, either." He turns around and walks back to the fire. "Hey, the video is doing well."

I posted the video of me inspecting Tilly's ears yesterday. "Yeah. It is." I take a seat on one of the benches.

Muir looks at me and bites his lower lip, like he's seriously considering whether to share a bench with me or sit on another one.

I inhale deeply and remind myself that getting frustrated with him won't help. I want a resolution, not a confrontation.

He chooses to sit on the same bench but keeps the maximum possible distance between us.

"So, how are things?" I ask.

"Yeah, good."

"How's Sid?"

"Gramps is fine."

"Work today?"

"Busy."

"What's wrong?"

His mouth opens but no words come out. I don't say anything either, giving him some time to formulate a response.

Eventually, he says, "Don't suppose I'll get away with saying Nothing, everything's fine?"

"That's right. You won't. What is it, mate? What's bothering you? Tell me. Please."

He shifts on the bench, looking sheepish and uncomfortable. He avoids eye contact—because of course he does—then quietly mutters, "I don't know how to say this."

"Take your time. There's no rush."

"You have to promise not to freak out."

"Done. No freak-outs. Guaranteed."

He looks up and forces a small smile. He sighs once, then a few more times. "I'm okay with us being married."

I tilt my head, trying to make sense of what he just said, but I'm missing too many dots. "I'm going to need more."

"I shouldn't be okay with it. But I am. Which makes me not okay."

I huff out a breath. Fuck. And I thought women were complicated. "I don't understand, Muir. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying"—he turns to look at me—"that I'm weirdly okay with being married to you. I'm sure you're wanting to get annulled or divorced or do whatever it takes to end this?—"

"That's not true," I interrupt. "I've been chasing down my lawyer because I figured since it's most likely my fault we're in this predicament, I should be the one to get us out of it. I've seen how you've been these past few days, and I thought that's what you wanted as well."

He shakes his head. "It's not."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

So he's not freaking out that we've wound up married, but the fact that he's not freaking out about it is freaking him out. Have I got that right?

"I'm going to need something more."

He tips his head up towards the dusky orange sky and lets out an almighty sigh. "Is your barometer still set to non-freak-out mode?"

"Let me check." I pause. "Yep. I'm all good."

He lowers his head and aims those intense blue eyes right at me. He visibly swallows, then says, "I think I might have feelings for you."

"What sort of feelings?"

He sighs. "You know, more than friend feelings."

My heart starts beating a little faster. "Uh-huh. Right."

"Apparently everyone can see it, too."

"They can? And who's everyone?"

He sighs again, a little louder this time. "Everyone. Gramps. One of the gay dudes at the club. Maisey."

"Maisey?"

He nods, his brow tightening. "That's why she said no. She reckons I've got…feelings for someone else."

I poke my chest. "Me?"

He nods, then quickly averts his gaze.

I promised him I wouldn't freak out, so I ignore the pressure building in my chest and keep my voice as steady as I can. "What gay dude at what club?"

"On our bender. We went to a gay bar, remember?"

"Vaguely."

"You went off dancing, and the others all followed you except for one guy. He asked me about my feelings for you."

"Did you say something to him?"

"No. He could just tell."

"How?"

Muir shrugs. "No idea." He runs a hand through his hair. "I spoke to Gramps about it when I got back."

"And?"

"He was really good about it. Remind me to tell you about his Vietnam adventures another time. But he did say something that's pertinent to this situation."

I lean in a little closer. "I know I said I wouldn't freak out, but you using the word pertinent just gave me chills."

He gives a small grin, finally relaxing just a touch. "Shut up because it's quite a story, and you're going to have to pay attention."

I listen as he explains his grandfather's plan to leave the house to him when he dies, and his mother's threat to derail that, and try my best to keep my expression neutral when he gets to the part about needing to be married to ensure a better shot at winning when his mother contests his grandfather's will.

"Obviously, I don't think that's realistic, and I have zero expectations of us staying married for that long. Gramps isn't going anywhere any time soon." He's starting to speak a little faster and is getting flustered. "And my feelings about you have nothing to do with my inheritance. They're two completely separate issues. I just wanted to give you the whole story so you know why I've been acting the way I have lately."

"I'm glad you did." I reach over and, without thinking, take his hand in mine. His gaze drops, and his lips part.

Shit. Should I not be touching him?

But I want to touch him. I want to assure him that everything is okay. That nothing he's said was bad or wrong or whatever else he's been worrying himself it might be.

I go to pull my hand away, but he stops me, curling his fingers around mine. He slowly lifts his head. Our eyes meet. We stare at each other in silence, our fingers entwined.

My stomach flutters, and a tingling sensation spreads throughout my entire body.

"Still not freaking out?" he asks, staring intently into my eyes.

"Still not freaking out," I reply, even though my mouth has gone dry, and I'm hyper-aware of every sensation in my body.

His body slants towards me, and I mirror the movement, leaning in closer to him. He raises his free hand and brings it to my face, gently scraping my jaw with the edge of his fingers. Then he angles his face in a tell-tale way that a kiss is coming, and I do the same. His warm breath fans across me, and we're a breath apart when––

"Oi. What's up?" Linus's voice rings out. "We've been ringing the doorbell for ages."

Muir jerks back, but I stay frozen in place, my mind struggling to process the moment that was just ripped away from me. I was on the verge of kissing my best mate.

Slowly, I turn to see Linus and Ryde approaching from the side of the house. Ryde whispers something to him, and they both stop in their tracks.

"We can give you a few minutes," Ryde calls out.

It's too late.

Whatever that moment was has been broken. I don't think Linus and Ryde disappearing is going to change that.

I check in with Muir. "Are we good?"

He locks eyes with me, swallowing hard. "Yeah. We're good."

"Come on, fellas." I wave the guys over, trying to summon some enthusiasm in my voice. "Let's get this bucks' night started!"