Oh shit.
Whatever was between them felt less like sexual convenience and fake dating all the time. Nate had made himself believe he didn’t want another relationship, wasn’t ready to fall in love again.
Then he’d gone and done it anyway, and he’d put himself into a position where he couldn’t tell Aubrey about it.
“I’m happy for him,” Nate stumbled to cover. “It’s not like my biological clock is ticking. I have time to figure out what I want.”Which is great, because it’s apparently right in front of me and I didn’t notice, and now I’m fake dating it.“It turns out I wasn’t really completely ready to retire anyway.”
Aubrey was giving him a calculating look, but he didn’t overtly call bullshit. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type to take well to sitting around doing nothing.”
“Spoken like someone without a six-month-old niece.”
Aubrey made a face. “You know what I mean. Going from working and traveling October through June to stay-at-home husband and dad is a pretty big shift.”
“Yeah,” Nate conceded, because Aubrey was right, even if Nate suspected that the B and B plan would have involved a lot of work for him in some capacity—landscaping or cleaning or greeting guests. Maybe giving horseback tours. Marty had always wanted to keep a stable.
“Anyway.” Aubrey plunked his wineglass down on the counter with emphasis. “We should eat something, because that turkey is starting to smell incredible, and my stomach is telling me that the Corn Pops were not a sufficient base to layer wine on top of. And then we should make a plan to deal with all ofthat.” He gestured to indicate the cornucopia of vegetables on the counter. “Because we still have work to do.”
“I see your point.” Nate’s stomach growled again. “Let’s see what I can come up with.”
In the end they resorted to breaking into the charcuterie board Nate had ordered as an appetizer, because neither of them felt like fast food or freezer meals.
“Oh my God, this mustard,” Aubrey enthused as he spread a thick layer on a baguette and topped it with a chunk of cured pork.
“We could just eat all this and skip dinner.” Nate eyed the platter, then chose a delicate pickle to pair with his manchego.
“Fuck you. I didn’t peel every potato on earth for nothing.” Aubrey snagged the last pickle.Oops.Nate had meant to save some of those for his parents. Oh well; if they ate all of them, his parents would never know they’d missed out. “Besides, potato pancakes.”
“You’re very fixated on the pancakes.”
Aubrey shook the pickle at him and then popped it in his mouth. “I’m goal-oriented.”
Nate’s ears warmed. He was very aware of how goal-oriented Aubrey could be. “Yeah, I know.”
Their eyes met across the table, and he could tell Aubrey knew exactly what he was thinking—and that Aubrey was thinking it too. Nate’s parents probably wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half. And they already knew Nate and Aubrey were sleeping together.
Nate licked his lips. They’d finished the bottle of wine, and now he was feeling a little parched. Should they open the other bottle of wine? Or just—fall into bed again and—no, that was a bad idea. Nate needed to process his emotions instead of his biological urges—
The timer dinged.
“Shit. I’m supposed to baste the turkey.”
The corner of Aubrey’s mouth quirked up. “No comment.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“Your mom thinks so.”
Nate rolled his eyes and went to attend to the bird.
They never did open the second bottle.
With Aubrey’s help, he managed to get everything ready for a respectable five thirty mealtime. At quarter to five, Aubrey slipped upstairs to shower and change just as Nate’s parents came in, pink-cheeked and laughing. Nate had just enough sense to be glad Aubrey had thrown his apron in Nate’s laundry pile. His mom didn’t need an excuse to make any more embarrassing insinuations, no matter how warranted.
AUBREY SHOWEREDand shaved and spent the time it took to dry his hair considering his wardrobe for the most appropriate first-Thanksgiving-with-boyfriend’s-parents outfit. It was stupid, and it wouldn’t really matter what he wore, but if he wore a comfortable sweatshirt with holes in it, at least he’d be wearing a physical reminder of the truth. But he wouldn’t disrespect Nate’s parents like that, and even Nate didn’t really deserve it. He didn’t know he’d hurt Aubrey by asking him to play-act a scenario he longed to be real.
So he chose nicely tailored jeans and a button-down shirt in a deep iridescent blue and packed a few more bottles of wine in a cloth bag to bring downstairs. “Just in case,” he said at the door as he nearly ran into Nate, who stepped aside to let him in.
“I see you were concerned about the dangers of holiday sobriety,” Nate’s dad said dryly.
