Page 5

Muir

"Here we are," Fitz says, cutting the engine on his ute.

It's Wilby and Col's big day, and we've just pulled up in the designated parking area out the back of Wilby's family home.

It's been an interesting few days.

The bucks' party itself was fun but mild. Nothing too interesting to report and definitely no strippers, much to Wilby's disappointment.

It was nice meeting Wilby's biological father, Gus, and Gus's partner, Tate; Col's dad, Hig; and Col's best friend, Brant, who also happens to be Col's dad's partner—that's a bloody story and a half.

We sat around the massive fire talking, laughing, and eating.

I kept my composure as best I could, fully aware that my behaviour has raised some eyebrows at work. But it was hard to stay cool when my insides were burning hot. And it had nothing to do with the massive bonfire and everything to do with what went down between Fitz and me before the guys showed up.

The way he latched onto my hand. The way I didn't want him to let go. The way he looked at me, with a mixture of curiosity and…something deeper lurking in his eyes.

But what?

I'm so used to being able to read his face and instantly know what he's thinking or feeling. Not this time.

As promised, he didn't freak out, but I wouldn't have blamed him one bit if he had. It's a big thing to drop into a decades-long friendship. But if he was blindsided, he certainly didn't show it.

At least not that night.

As we sat around the bonfire and shot the shit, things felt good, like they'd returned to normal, like me opening up to him about my feelings had pierced the bubble of awkwardness that had enveloped us since our trip to the Goldie.

But these past few days at work have been another story.

The lingering sense that something's not right is back. But this time, it's coming from him.

On the surface, everything seems fine. We chat. We muck around. We come up with ideas for TikTok videos.

It's all very normal, very us, but…I don't know.

I get the sense he might be freaking out but doesn't want to say that he is. I can't tell if it's because he's had time to process my revelation and it's making him feel a certain way, or if he's just sick and tired of keeping this whole situation from our friends.

I know I am.

At least that ends today, and we can tell our mates about our we accidentally got married dilemma. That'll be a load off. I've hated lying to them these past two weeks, and it's been getting harder and harder to dodge their questions about what's up. I'm not exactly the world's best liar.

"You ready to go?" he asks, watching me as if he's been doing it for some time.

I snap myself out of my thoughts. "Yep. Let's do it."

We climb out of his ute, and damn, Fitz scrubs up well. He went with a purple and pink suit today—you know, something modest that will fade into the background—and accessorised by bedazzling his beard with an array of glittery pink and purple ornaments. I went with a white linen shirt, olive blazer, chinos, and R.M. Williams boots.

"Have to say," he murmurs as we approach the gathering. "You look pretty schmicko, mate."

I beam at the compliment. "Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself."

Our eyes meet. He smiles. I smile back, and for a moment, some of the recent weirdness between us dissipates.

"My, my, my." Wilby's grandmother waves to us with a devilish look in her eyes. "Don't you two look lovely. If only I were fifty years younger…"

Fitz scoops down and gives her a peck on the cheek. "You're in luck, Polly. I've recently developed a granny kink."

"You cheeky fucker." She laughs loudly and smacks his chest before turning to me. "And where's my hug, mister? I've recently developed a threesome kink."

My mouth flies open as I hug the pint-sized dynamo. There's no mistaking this woman as Wilby's grandmother. I don't know any other eighty-something-year-old who would say half the shit that flies out of her filthy mouth.

"I need to put you two to work."

Fitz and I exchange a worried glance, and she cackles. "No. Not on me. Get your minds out of the gutter. I need you to drag Wilby out here." She points to a massive white tent. "Everything's good and ready to go. We're just waiting on him."

"Now that we can do," I say, and we make our way towards the white tent.

"Knock knock," Fitz declares as we stomp inside, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

Wilby's checking himself out in the mirror. "Can I help you two bozos?"

"We're here to round you up. The old chook's raring to go."

He smiles. "I bet she is."

Wilby looks good in a navy-blue suit, pink tie, and polished tab shoes. He's even tamed his messy mane with what looks like half a tub of gel.

It's downright adorable.

I grin at him. "Mate, you've already got Col. You can stop fussin'."

"Technically, he doesn't have him until after the wedding. As we've discovered," Fitz blurts out, and we exchange a look.

Annnd we're back to Weirdsville.

I've already decided I'm not going to get too wasted tonight. After telling our friends about our wedding, I plan on being sober enough to have a serious convo with my bestie about where things stand and how he's feeling about my revelation.

Wilby gives us a funny look—can't say I blame him. We are acting strange—and adjusts his collar and straightens his shoulders. "Let's get me married before Col comes to his senses and changes his mind."

The three of us head out. Polly is waiting there for him, so we leave them to it.

"Are you okay?" I ask Fitz as we find our seats.

He claps his palm against my shoulder. "Yeah, mate."

I want to believe him, but the slight trace of uncertainty in his voice makes it hard.

We definitely need to talk later.

Under a wide blue sky, Wilby and Col exchange vows. The ceremony is intimate and heartfelt, the love between the two of them undeniable.

After the ceremony, we hang out with Fitz, Ryde, and the Yanks. It's fun and all, but my body is thrumming with nerves. I don't know when the right moment will be to tell our friends we've gotten hitched, and I still need to have that one-on-one with Fitz, but first…we need to congratulate the newly married couple.

"There they are," Fitz says.

We excuse ourselves and walk over to greet the smiling newlyweds.

"The ceremony was beautiful," I say.

"It was," Fitz agrees. "You guys have been surrounded by people all day so we didn't get a chance to see you earlier."

"Sorry. Getting married is busy business," Col says, prompting Fitz and I to turn to each other.

"Okay. What is going on with you two?" Wilby says. "You've been looking funny at each other all day, and you've been even stranger than normal at work. Did something happen when you went to the Gold Coast last week?"

Guess that's the opening we've been waiting for.

"Uh, yeah." Fitz scratches the back of his head. "We went away to propose to our girlfriends on Valentine's Day…"

"Yeah? And?"

"Well, see, here's the thing." I glance at Fitz, who responds with a serious nod. Okay. This is it. "Somehow we ended up getting double dumped and accidentally double married on the same night."

"Dumped by who?" Col asks.

"By our girlfriends," I reply.

Wilby frowns. "So who did you get accidentally married to?"

Fitz claps a hand over my shoulder. "To each other."

It takes a lot to stun Wilby Linfox into silence, but we've managed to do it.

"You mean, like…" Col wags his finger between me and Fitz. "To each other each other?"

"Yep." I slide my hands into my pockets to stop from fidgeting. "To each other each other."

"I need another drink," Wilby mutters, so we head to the bar, grabbing Linus and Ryde on the way so we only have to explain everything once. By the time the bartender hands us our shots, we've caught them up.

"Well, cheers!" Linus lifts his glass. "To the happy couple." His eyes meet mine, and he smirks. "Both of them."

We down one round.

Then another.

And then a third, because why the fuck not?

"Fuck." I start coughing, and Fitz claps my back a few times.

"You okay?" he checks.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"So…" Wilby glances at us expectantly. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"Didn't want to steal your thunder," I explain.

"Thanks, but…no one could ever steal my thunder."

Col smacks his arrogant new husband across the chest before high-fiving Fitz.

"What are you guys going to do?" Linus asks. Ryde's glued to his side, nodding along, like he was about to ask the same thing.

Fitz looks at me, and since this is my news to explain, I tell the guys about the conditional clause in Gramps's will.

"So, you're going to stay married?" Linus asks.

"Not sure yet," I reply since that's something we haven't discussed.

We order more booze—beers this time because we're being responsible—and as I take the first sip, it dawns on me how unfazed everyone was. Fitz and I have just told them we're married, and they barely missed a beat.

Why isn't anyone at least a little shocked at the absurdity of it all?

Oh, wait. Let me guess…

Because they know how I feel.

I skull half my beer.

How is it that everyone else seems to know when I'm only starting to catch up to my feelings now?

I guess a better question to ask is how long have I been feeling this way?

On second thought, maybe having another beer is better than answering that question.

We stand around chatting for a while, but my mind is elsewhere. Fitz has had a few days to process what I told him, and tonight, goddammit, we're going to sit down like adults and talk shit out.

A few hours later, the party has peaked and is starting to mellow. The bright, blue sky gave way to a muted dusky orange as dusk fell, and the temperature is starting to cool.

Polly's still tearing it up on the dance floor. I think the old chook has danced with every bloke here, and a few chicks as well. The Yanks have paired off. Wilby and Col have disappeared, probably off having a newlywed root somewhere, and Linus and Ryde are talking with some folks from town.

"Here you go." I slide a soft drink into Fitz's hand. He's standing off to the side, taking everything in. I switched to lemonade and water about two hours ago. I'm very much sober and awake.

And ready to talk.

There's an empty blanket on the ground a little bit away from everyone. "Wanna sit down?"

Fitz's eyes follow my gaze, and he nods. "Sure."

We make our way over and rest our drinks in the dirt, then stretch out, gazing up at the stars appearing in the orangey-purple sky.

We make small talk about how nice the ceremony was, the probability of Wilby and Col fucking somewhere, and the likelihood of Linus and Ryde hooking up at some point.

"The holdout is Linus," Fitz says.

"Remind me why that is again?"

"'Cause Ryde is Linus's best mate's son."

I roll my eyes. "Talk about complicated."

"Exactly." I watch as Fitz brings the bottle to his mouth, his throat flexing as he takes a swig of lemonade. "Poor bastard."

"Who?"

"Ryde. It's clear he's into Linus."

"How is it clear?" I shift on the blanket. "You don't know what's going on in Ryde's head. Maybe he just really admires Linus, or wants to learn from him, or is trying to be a good employee."

Right on cue, a holler from the dance floor gets our attention. We turn our heads in time to see Ryde, who's clearly had one too many, grinding and twerking up on Linus.

"Yeah," Fitz mutters. "Looks like he really wants to win employee of the month."

I shake my head, biting back a grin. "Read between the lines, Fitz. I'm not talking about Ryde."

He takes another sip of his drink. "Yeah. I know, mate."

A red-tailed black cockatoo lets out its deep, distinctive ka-ka-ka call in a nearby tree.

"Why have you been acting weird?" I ask, staring straight ahead. "Has the non-freak-out period expired and now you're firmly entrenched in freak-out territory?"

He lets out a warm chuckle. "You're the overthinker in this rel—relationship, not me."

I turn my head, and our eyes meet. And yep, he doesn't look like he's freaking out. Just me, then. Good to know.

I hear a squawk and think it's a bird, only to see that Polly has now joined Ryde and an increasingly mortified-looking Linus on the dance floor.

"I'm sorry if I've been acting differently," he says, his voice deep and steady. "I guess I've been taking stock."

"Of what?"

"Of us."

"I have no idea what that means."

"You know, we've always been…close."

I'm still staring straight ahead. "Uh-huh."

"People talk, mate. We both know it. Heck, we do it ourselves about others." Over on the dance floor, Ryde appears to be attempting to do the splits. "I've been thinking about what you said, about how being married to me isn't the worst thing in the world."

That draws a small smile out of me. "I probably only think that because I don't have to deal with your morning death breath."

"That's nothing compared to my morning farts. They're fucking deadly." We both laugh. "Seriously, though," he says, as we both turn to face each other. "I have to say, being married to you isn't as weird as I thought it would be either."

"It isn't?"

"No." He runs his fingers along his beard, finds an ornament, and starts fiddling with it. "The joke my parents love to say is that you and me, we're like an old married couple."

I roll my eyes. Fitz's parents are…special. "Are you going to tell them?"

"Yeah. I will. Eventually." He doesn't sound thrilled at the prospect. "I'm not looking forward to their reaction, but we've told our friends, your grandpa knows, so it's only right to let my folks know, too."

I bob my head slowly. "I can be there with you when you do it. Might make it easier for you."

"Thanks. I'll need the backup." He straightens his legs out in front of him. "But back to what I was saying, I'm sorry for being withdrawn these past few days. It's nothing bad, I assure you."

"Okay." I'm still not clear on where we stand, though, so I hedge, "What does this mean for us? For our legally wedded status?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "If you're in no rush to end our marriage, then neither am I."

"Really?"

"Really." He pauses. "I'm not saying we should stay married until your grandpa croaks?—"

"I'm not saying that either."

He grins. "I know. But since it feels like we may have some unresolved business, let's focus on getting that sorted out first."

"And by unresolved business you mean what I told you before the bucks' night?"

His grin morphs into a smile. "Correct."

I lean back, staring up into the darkening sky and twinkling stars overhead.

"Hey, speaking of your grandpa…"

I smile. "We weren't. But go on."

"Maybe not directly, but his will is kind of a factor in what we're doing, right?"

Heat rises up the back of my neck. "True," I concede.

"And you told me to remind you about some Vietnam story."

"Oh, yeah."

I tell Fitz what Gramps told me, about how he'd kissed a guy while on duty.

"Did he like it?"

"Not really. I got the sense he doesn't regret doing it, but it showed him he wasn't that way inclined."

"I see."

"And then he suggested—" I stop myself, inhaling sharply.

Oh, shit. I shouldn't have said that.

Maybe Fitz didn't hear? Maybe I mumbled it, or he'll dismiss it as nothing and not follow up.

"Suggested what, Muir?"

Fuck.

"Uh…" I turn to face my bestie. He's unbuttoned his suit jacket, and his beard ornaments glimmer in the last of the fading light. Might as well come right out with it. "He suggested we kiss to see if that helps me figure out my feelings for you a bit. Don't worry about it. It's stupid."

Fitz smirks. "Your grandfather is a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them."

My brow furrows. "What are you saying?"

He props himself up and moves in closer. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

I nod, because yes, he fucking does.

He chuckles, low and rusty. "Fine, I will. I think you and I should K"—he slides his hand up my arm—"I"—past my bicep—"S"—over my shoulder and to the nape of my neck—"S." He then hooks his fingers under my chin and lifts it slightly so that my eyes meet his. He crooks a bashful smile. "What do you reckon, mate?"

"I… I… I don't think I've ever loved Gramps as much as I do right now."

Fitz lets out a laugh. "The old fella knows what he's doing."

"Do you know what you're doing?" I check.

"Is that your way of telling me you're a shit kisser?"

"I'm a brilliant kisser. If there was a kissing award, I'd be the national champ. Trust me. You don't have to worry about it. You're in for a trea?—"

Fitz grabs the sides of my face and launches his mouth onto mine, shutting me the hell up. A waterfall of warmth cascades down my body all the way to my toes. His lips are firm but soft, way softer than I expected a man's lips to be, and for a long beat, we stay like that, connected and unmoving.

We've been physically close many times—with hugs, backslaps, that one time I had to smear body glitter all over his back for a video—but this is the first time that we're being intimate.

Fitz slides his tongue gently along my lower lip, like he's testing the waters. My heart's racing, every part of me alive and electric. The soft scratch of his beard adds texture to the kiss, a strange mix of warmth and roughness that somehow makes this feel more intense, more grounded. As the bristles brush my skin, there's a surprising comfort in the unfamiliar sensation.

Fitz slides his tongue tentatively against mine as his fingers brush up the side of my face and into my hair. Fireworks are going off inside me, but the euphoric rush of what we're doing is balanced by this inordinate sense of calm. Of…of rightness.

My eyes flutter shut as the kiss deepens, the burn of tension that's been simmering between us finding release. We find a good rhythm, our mouths moving in sync. My senses kick into overdrive, flooded by the feel of him. So close. So real.

But then a tiny doubt breaks into my head, niggling at the back of my mind. Is this a mistake? Is he going to regret it? Will this ruin our friendship?

I do my best to ignore the questions I'm too afraid to face, determined to enjoy this moment while it lasts.

The kiss ends, and he pulls away. His eyes search mine with a mix of uncertainty and something else I can't quite read. My heart is still racing, and the air between us feels thick, charged.

"So," he rasps, then clears his throat. "Did it work?"

I frown. "Work?"

"Yeah." His eyes drop to my lips then move back up to meet my gaze. "Did that give you any more insight into your, uh, feelings for me?"