“Yeah, join us,” Huxley adds, pushing off the counter. “I would love to get to know you better. I feel like we’ve barely spoken.”

“Oh, I don’t want to cut into whatever business you need to discuss.”

“Nah, there’s nothing too pressing. Plus, we can talk while we have dinner,” JP says just as the doorbell rings.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get that.” Ryot sets his drink down on the counter. “Boys, why don’t you head to the back patio and make yourselves comfortable? I put a cooler back there with drinks as well.”

“Cool,” JP says as he and his brother move to the back porch.

As Ryot approaches me, he says, “Can you have dinner with us? I didn’t know they were coming over until ten minutes ago.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” I shoot back at him.

“I thought you were sleeping in your room. Hell, you’ve been holed up in there and I didn’t even think you’d come out. I’m not entertaining in the dining room because I know that’s your space.”

“Are you trying to be sarcastic when you need me to pretend I’m in love with you?”

He pauses, his spine straightening as he turns toward me. Brows tilted down with a furious expression, he speaks through clenched teeth. “You are fucking in love with me. I don’t care how much you try to hurt me with your denial. You do love me. So no, you’re not going to have to pretend. You just have to act civilly as if you enjoy being around me.”

“Well, that’s not the case.”

“That much is obvious.”

He keeps pushing toward the door so he can grab the pizzas while I grab plates and napkins from the kitchen. Could I tell him to go fuck himself and not join his little meat parade in the backyard? Probably, but I also know we’re in a battle of wills. And even though I would love nothing more than to grab a slice of pizza and go back to my room, I know that will only add fuel to his fire, and the last thing I need is for him to be pissed at me. Who knows what he’d do?

He brings the pizza into the kitchen, and when I turn to face him, he says, “No more than twenty minutes, then you can fake a headache and leave.”

“Planned on it,” I say with a sarcastic smile.

And then together, looking like the epitome of a happy marriage, we head to the patio with bright smiles on our faces and gracious host mentalities.

“I’ve never tried this place before,” Huxley says as he grabs a slice of pepperoni pizza. “What’s it called again?”

“Big Sal’s,” Ryot answers. “Myla found it. She loves looking up the best places to eat in a city. Big Sal’s had huge reviews, and we hadn’t been able to find a decent slice of pizza since being out here.”

“This isn’t deep-dish, though,” JP points out. “Being that you came from Chicago, I would have assumed you were eating deep-dish.”