“Dylan? I’ve gotta go.” Harry squashed down the lid on his suitcase and ran the zipper around it. “Did you move your car?”
From somewhere else in the house, Dylan called, “You want me to move it again?”
“What?” Harry hefted his suitcase and left the bedroom.
“I moved my car from behind yours the last time you asked. Do you want me to--”
Heading down the stairs, Harry mumbled, “All you had to do was tell me you did it already.”
“I did, hon.”
Dylan leaned against the wall beside the front door. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, putting his tattoos on display. Crazy-kinky, auburn hair down over his shoulders and a beard reaching for his navel, Dylan looked like trouble on a Viking level. There was even a twinkle in his blue eyes that said he might poke at Harry’s last nerve just for the fun of it.
Harry set his suitcase down and sighed. No stupid fights. Not right before he was set to leave on a stupider visit to a client who couldn’t make a decision without extensive hand-holding.
“Okay,” Harry said. “I guess I didn’t hear you.”
Dylan shrugged, the line of his mouth disappearing behind the hair on his face.
“You’re starting to disappear in all that hair.” Harry blinked at himself. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
But Dylan gave a laugh and came over to cup Harry’s cheeks and peck his lips. “Have a safe trip. Call me when you get in. And I’ll see you Saturday.”
Harry frowned. “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, but we agreed to spend the night before apart.”
“Night before?” Harry’s whole body jolted as he remembered. “Oh, shit, we’re getting married on Saturday.”
Dylan’s bushy eyebrows sprang upward and his mouth popped open. Clearly he hadn’t forgotten.
How the hell had Harry nearly managed to? His wedding! There had been nonstop talk and planning for months. And he really did want to get married. He did! What was wrong with him?
“I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes and ducked his head.
Familiar hands made him look up again. “Just meet me at the chapel on Saturday, okay?”
“Yes. Completely, yes.”
So Dylan kissed him again and shuffled him out the door. Harry didn’t want to go even more than before. He hadn’t broken anything between them, had he?
Missy Welsh writes gay, bi, and trans erotic m/m romance short stories, novellas, and novels.