Timothy’s heart was thudding in his ears when he stopped the car by the sidewalk outside Rush’s house in Foolshope. The square, white, one-story house was way cuter than anything Timothy had ever lived in and at odds with his image of Rush.

Several people were moving around on the street, so Timothy stayed in the car. He was already on edge and didn’t want to risk having to talk to anyone. Rush knew he was coming. Sooner or later, he’d peek out a window and see him there.

While he waited, he reached into the glove compartment for a bag of cashews. He’d packed as many snacks as he could in there, different kinds, to help him live through the trip.

When the passenger door was yanked open, he almost screamed. He hadn’t seen Rush coming.

“You want me to drive?” Rush peeked into the car but made no move to climb in.

“No.”

Rush grimaced. “Maybe it’s better if I drive. If something—”

“I’m going now. Are you coming or not?” He turned the key in the ignition, and Rush slipped into the passenger seat while giving Timothy a narrow-eyed look.

Rush turned around in the seat and tossed a ratty backpack into the backseat. Timothy was biting his tongue not to talk, but… “Don’t you have a suit?”

“Of course I do.”

Timothy curled his fingers tighter around the steering wheel, making the satin stretch over his knuckles, and glanced at the cashews. His skin was tingling as if Rush’s emotions were dancing on it. “In the backpack?”

Leaning back on the seat, Rush gave him his trademark flirty grin which had Timothy’s gut tying itself in knots. Idiot.

“No, not in the backpack, Timmy.”

Timothy ignored the shiver traveling his spine and focused on the road. The last time someone other than Rush had called him Timmy, he’d been eight or something. He hated being called Timmy. It made him sound like a kid, and he wasn’t a kid. Rush was only three years older than he was.

“You’re a fucking idiot, did you know?”

“You keep reminding me.” The gravelly drawl didn’t help the situation in the least, and Timothy swallowed a growl. Five hours and seventeen minutes was all he had to survive, according to Google. He could do this. For Nico, he could do this.

“Did you check out the castle?”

Timothy shook his head, but of course, he’d checked out the castle. Olivia wanted a fancy wedding, and they’d booked a castle in the countryside. It was beautiful, and Timothy had studied the floor plan to know where he could slink off to when he needed a break… or have a complete breakdown. Had to plan for those.

“If I ever get married, I’m also renting a castle. So cool.”

Timothy stared at him, slowly lifting the foot off the gas pedal, though he wasn’t aware of doing so until the car behind him honked. He shook himself and got them moving again. “Married? It means monogamy.”

Rush scowled. “I know.”

“Though I guess it depends. If you write your vows, you can perhaps add: And I promise not to cheat more than once or twice a week. Maybe they’ll be okay with that.”

“I’m perfectly capable of being in a monogamous relationship.”

Timothy snorted. “Yeah, right.” A laugh bubbled out of him. “Mr. Manwhore who fucks everything with a pulse will settle down one day. Ha!”

Rush’s gaze burned trails on his face, and Timothy reached for a cashew. He hated getting salt and grease on his satin gloves, but he needed to keep the snacking up or this trip would turn into more of a disaster.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, Rush, I don’t believe you. I think you’re a serial cheater, a walking STD, and one day soon, when you lose your good looks and bad boy charms, you’ll find yourself in a cold, lonely bed.”

“So, simply because I’m not a virgin like you, I can’t love someone?”

Timothy gave him a quick glance before turning out on the highway, taking them away from Foolshope. It got a little easier to breathe as the roofs of the houses disappeared, but it would be a short respite since half the town would be at the castle.

“I’m thirty-four. You don’t seriously believe I’m a virgin, do you?” He’d sounded serious, but Rush was never serious. He was always making fun of people, and right now, Timothy was his only option. “And love? No, I don’t think you’re capable of love. Or I think you love Nico, but it’s a friendship kind of love.”

“Who have you been with?”

A black car was coming up fast behind them, making Timothy frown. “What?”

“Who have you slept with?”

He chanced a quick glance at Rush, who looked furious, but quickly focused on the rearview mirror again. “What the fuck are they doing?”

The black car was getting closer and closer, and Timothy tightened his hold on the steering wheel again.

“Who, Timmy?”

“The car—”

Rush turned around and looked out the window. “Shit! Go faster.”