Marry Me, G. Hauser [ereader for textbooks .txt] 📗

it.” Braxton sat down and began eating the meal.

Fabian tasted the drink and shivered. “Damn, that’s strong.”

“Tell me about it. I’m toast.”

That surprised Fabian. Braxton certainly appeared sober.

When someone approached Braxton, about to disturb his

meal, Fabian blocked him with an outstretched arm, and said,

“Let Mr Todd eat in peace.”

The guest made a face of insult and left.

Braxton said between bites, “Love you.”

“Back at ya.” Fabian caressed Braxton’s shoulder

affectionately.

Fabian waited until Braxton had eaten most of his food,

sipping his drink, keeping the hounds at bay, and then the entire

party appeared to leave the room at once.

Braxton wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and said, “Show

time.”

“Are we walking to the theater?”

“No one walks in California. Even if it’s two blocks we’ll

have Scott drive us there.”

“What a crock.” Fabian laughed and finished the drink.

“Tell me about it. It’s all about appearances. Getting out of

the limo for the photographers. Remember what we do? We’re

the PR machine that makes this crap happen.” Braxton stood and

swayed.

Fabian caught him. “The food will help.”

“I hope not.” Braxton boldly held Fabian’s hand and they left

the restaurant’s private event room and lined up at the exit door

as the limousines did outdoors.

Braxton put his phone to his ear. “Where are you?”

Fabian assumed he was talking to Scott.

Braxton nodded, gripped Fabian’s hand, and bypassed a line

of people waiting to be driven to the premiere.

The minute they were outside, the crowd became manic and

Fabian was slightly afraid. Braxton held him tight and headed to

the curb where Scott opened the back door for them.

Quickly Braxton and Fabian entered the limousine and the

moment they did, Braxton went for the booze.

“Do I need to get you into AA?” Fabian asked.

“Don’t know. Maybe just before these nights.” Braxton

tipped a small shot of scotch into a glass and instead of shooting

it down, he sipped it, slouching on the seat.

The car moved slowly and Fabian had no idea what distance

they had to travel. He assumed since everything was right here in

LA it was close. He texted Naomi that he was on his way to the

premiere, but chances were she would be sitting in the theater

with her date, away from where Braxton would most likely sit.

She sent a text back telling him not to worry, and to just

enjoy.

And as Fabian expected, five minutes later, Scott parked, got

out, and opened the back door for them. Braxton didn’t finish the

drink this time, perhaps because of the comment Fabian had

made, and stepped out of the limousine.

Fabian was blinded by camera flashes and deafened by

screaming women.

He looked around to see who the hell was showing up to

cause such a reaction but it was simply Braxton Todd—the

bachelor who went for thousands at charity auctions.

Braxton clutched Fabian, without a doubt showing they were

together, but in Fabian’s mind he had no idea if the fans and

paparazzi assumed it was Braxton’s latest one-nighter.

When someone with a microphone, sporting a television logo

on it, yelled, “Mr Todd! Who’s the guy with you?”

Braxton answered, “My fiancé!” He gave Fabian a wicked

look and put his arm around him.

“Fiancé? Has the unattainable Braxton Todd finally met Mr

Right?” the reporter asked.

“Yes! Now leave me alone!”

Fabian blinked in shock as the crowd went insane, and more

camera flashes blinded him.

Once they were inside the theater lobby, Fabian felt as if he

could breathe.

Braxton spun around, got on one knee and held Fabian’s hand

in both of his. “Marry me?”

“Huh?” Fabian noticed everyone around them stop and gawk.

“Marry me!” Braxton repeated louder, tears in his eyes.

Fabian fought with the thoughts in his head. One week?

Drunk? Will fully regret the offer in the morning?

“The coaster!” Braxton said, appearing to plead. “I promise.

Fabian, I promise.”

“Yes! You crazy fucker! But it’s going to be a long

engagement!” Fabian gasped as Braxton bolted up like a rocket,

lunged at him to kiss him, holding him so tightly he could barely

breathe.

Marry Braxton Todd?

Yeah, why not? Life will never be dull.

Braxton groaned sensually and pressed his forehead against

Fabian’s. “You’re the one. You are the one.” Tears rolled down

Braxton’s cheeks.

Fabian laughed but was so stunned he didn’t know what to

say or do. Braxton held his hand and they trotted into the theater

before anyone could ask any questions, getting preferential

treatment for the premiere viewing of the new film.

Fabian sat beside Braxton on the cushioned seat and asked,

“You mean it?”

“Every word.”

“You drunk?

“Not that drunk.”

Braxton cupped the back of Fabian’s hair and kissed him. A

chorus of cheers and whistles went up around them as it was

spied.

Marry you? Oh, yes. I will. Fabian grinned at his lover

wickedly. He waited until Braxton was distracted by the man

seated on the opposite side of him, then texted Naomi,

‘ Congratulate me. I just got a proposal.’

‘ Squeeeee! ’ was sent back and she added, ‘ I knew it! find me! ’

‘I’ll try, but man, it’s crazy in here.’

‘ congrats, Fabe- he better know what he’s getting! ’

‘ yeah, he does.’

Braxton looked back at him, and then the phone. “You

okay?”

“Sharing the news with Naomi.”

Braxton smiled warmly at him. “If she’s in the theater, we’ll

make sure we find her.”

“Good.” Fabian stretched over the back of the seat, but the

place was so crowded, he didn’t even try to find her, even with

text direction. All that mattered was he was happy.

Chapter 17

Sunday morning Braxton struggled to open his eyes.

“Ow.” He rubbed his aching head and squinted at the light

coming into the bedroom. “Fuck.” He tried to recall last night.

Oh yeah. The premiere.

The movie was so good, he’d actually sat through it. That was

unusual. Then of course came more drinks and food after.

Though he was tired, Braxton was coaxed to come and celebrate

such a fabulous start to the film’s long line of openings

internationally.

But…he was dying now. He slowly moved his feet to the

floor and held his head as he sat upright. Managing to get

vertical, he walked over piles of black and white formalwear to

the kitchen, opened a cabinet and shook three ibuprofens into his

hand. With bottled water, he swallowed them down, guzzling the

water to stem the dehydration. Once the water bottle was empty,

Braxton tossed