PROLOGUE
“The limo will be herein a few minutes, Jules,”Brandon said, walking from the living room into the small bedroom. A wave ofnervous nausea rolled over his stomach, as he fumbled with the cufflinks,biting his lip as he struggled to get them fastened. “Christ, I am not cut outfor this shit. Tuxedos and cufflinks, and whatever the fuck this thing is …” Hetouched the cummerbund at his waist.
He checked the mirror over the dresser he andhis fiancée shared. His hair—God help it—had reached an awkward stage and thewaves seemed to have a mind of their own. Brushing against the tops of hisears, the strands flipped in this way and that, and he groaned to himself, ashe tried to fix it by pushing it back with both hands.
“Babe! I need some of that hair stuffyou—Jules?” He glanced into the living room to see his fiancée, the tall,blonde bombshell of a woman, emerging from the bathroom. His eyes narrowed atthe sight of her long legs; not because he particularly cared to stare—althoughthere certainly was that, made evident by the stirring inside his uncomfortablepants—but she was still wearing those little shorts she wore to bed. “Uh, whyaren’t you dressed?”
Julia was silent, and she didn’t bother lookingat the man she had spent eleven years with as she dropped herself onto the oldgarage sale couch. Her hand reached for the remote and tucked her legs underher bottom, making herself comfortable to spend a night watching TV.
“Jules, what are you doing?” She continued hervow of silence, as the behemoth of a man approached her in thatstupidtuxedo. She twisted her lips in disapproval when he snatched the remote fromher hands. “Isaidthe limo is going to be here in a few minutes.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes up at him.Standing over her, she saw the beautiful face of the man she lived with.Chiseled jawline, deep blue eyes in the dim light of the seedy apartment,straight nose that would have been perfect had it not been for that deviatedseptum; a feature that she had once overlooked, but lately it screamed at heras a spotlighted imperfection. But still, there was no denying that he wasgorgeous, and her body agreed with her mind with a rush of passionate warmthbetween her legs.
The chill in her heart was another story.
“I decided I’m not going,” she announced,reaching to wrench the remote from his hands.
“What?” Julia watched as Brandon’s facefell with immediate concern, and he eased himself down on the arm of themismatched recliner. “Are you okay? You feel alright?”
“Yes, I’mfine,” she replied. Her voicecarried an edge that brought him to wince.
The room was brightened by the blue glow of theTV; the flat-screen he had bought a few years ago, with one of his checks fromFIT. He had landed himself a pretty good deal as a nude model, one the girlsand gay guys could appreciate. Julia remembered a time when she would laugh athis stories of being hit on, and she would swell with pride, knowing he hadcome home to be with her.
Shecouldn’t remember when it was she began to wish he’d stop coming homealtogether.
Brandon reached over to touch the back of herslender neck. She flinched at his touch, and he noticed with a bite of his lip,but he said nothing.
“You know this is a big deal for me.” He spoke gently,ignoring his rapid heartbeat. “I really need you there.”
Julia snorted a laugh. “Oh, I think you’llmanage just fine.”
He recoiled, holding his hands in his lap. Hisbrain raced, trying to remember the last time she smiled at him. “So, are yougoing to tell me what’s wrong, or …?” How many times would he ask that questionbefore he finally got a response, he wondered, and ran a hand through hisannoying hair.
Little did he know, he was about to get hiswish.
Julia shot a stone-cold look at him, her mouthtwisting with bitter anger. “If you stepped outside of yourself once in awhile, then maybe you would know what’s wrong.”
“I’m not a fucking mind-reader.”
“Well, that’s for damn sure.”
He looked to the ceiling, regretting he everbrought it up. The limo would be there to pick him up at any second, and he’dhave to leave. Alone.Goddamn her,he thought, as his fists clenched onhis lap. The Julia he once knew would have never asked him to do something likethis alone. “Is it … Is it the wedding? Are you stressed out about that,because I told you, I’d—”
“For fuck’s sake, Brandon, it’s not the goddamnwedding, okay?” She catapulted off the couch and stomped toward the bedroom,where she proceeded to slam the door that never quite closed. It boomeranged,opening as soon as it was shut, and she growled in frustration as she threwherself on the bed. “Goddamn that fucking door!”
He stood up, walking slowly into the room andexamined the door. “It’ll be nice once we’re in our new house, right? I swear,all the doors close.” He smiled down at her weakly, hoping that she could findthe strength to smile back. “I checked.”
She gripped the edge of her pillow, and hermouth twisted around the angry words that felt so good to say. “Yournewhouse, Brandon. I didn’t sign a fucking thing.”
His mouth fell open with a sudden realization.“Is that what this is all about? The money?‘CauseJules, I told you, it’s—”
He was verbally poking her; prodding, probingfor the information he was desperately seeking. He wanted to fix things. Hewanted to see her happy. He wanted her to smile again. He wanted her to talk tohim. He wanted to shower with her, to have sex that didn’t feel like a chore,to eat dinner that wasn’t shrouded in silence.
He just wantedher.
“I don’twantto be supported byyou!”Julia bolted upright in bed, shooting daggers in his direction with eyes thatwere once filled with so much love. “Maybe if you weren’t so fucking busykissing the ass of your precious publisher, you would know whatthisisall about.”
Brandon’s eyes squinted at her, shaking hishead with disbelief. “Kissing ass? What the fuck are you talking about?”
