by Laura Burton
Plus, I had a girlfriend, someone steady who was always around.
That day, though…the basic concept of other girls became foreign the moment I spotted her, honey blonde strands of hair framing that face that was still sweet and unchanged. At her name she raised a single finger to push her glasses back on her face as she looked up, unintentionally flipping the bird to the general campus. I grinned at the gesture. Ellie was adorably oblivious, still.
It was that moment awareness hit me with sudden clarity. This girl was mine and I was hers. We always had been, since we were kids playing lava floor and hide ‘n seek. It had just taken me until now to figure it out. Ellie didn’t have that same awareness yet, but that was okay. We had plenty of time.
“Madden?” Behind her glasses, her eyes widened.
“In the flesh. What were you doing here, kid?” I lowered myself to sit beside her, taking in the soft curve of the cheek that flushed at my old nickname, the swoop of hair tucked in the collar of her coat. My fingers itched to pull it free.
“I go here!” She looked up, her eyes flitting to the right. “I take it you do, too?”
Little liar. Ellie knew where I went to school. There was no way she couldn’t, what with the scouting and press conferences, the signing day hoopla. I didn’t call her on her prevarication, though. Instead, we chatted about inconsequential things until the October day grew dark and chilly, and then we went to a barbecue joint just off campus for dinner.
Neither of us wanted to say good-bye that day.
And so we didn’t. Or at least, we didn’t for very long.
It was easy to slip back into friendship with each other, hanging out and eating pizza, studying, and visiting home together on holidays.
But somehow... before I realized it... I had landed myself square in the friend zone.
I’ve been there ever since, even after retiring from football and moving to freaking Ocracoke to be near her. I was more a Paul Bunyan than a Romeo and didn’t have a clue how to tell her how I felt without sending her running for the hills. As she just pointed out, in her eyes I’m her amazing big non-brother. She’s never once looked at me for anything more.
I was her go-to for the most absurd things—social advice, the random repair, Sunday night pizza, and how to handle her “kids,” as she called them. Her eighth graders were a group of randy schoolboys, always trying to throw her off balance and make her blush. Occasionally I made it a point to bring her lunch or pick her up in the afternoon, making my size and protectiveness obvious to the little punks. Somebody had to watch out for the girl.
I looked at her as she watched Gavin cross the room with stars in her eyes. It showed how whipped I was that I sat back and allowed it, but I couldn’t help it. I felt responsible for her, and not only in a sense of her physical well-being. Maybe it was the crazy stutter she had as a kid. Maybe it was her size—diminutive compared to my Sasquatch frame. Maybe it was our history, growing up next to each other. I had this need, though, to make sure she was happy.
Gavin looked back and I watched as he caught Ellie’s eye over my shoulder and smiled. His gaze drifted back to me and he tipped his chin, the smile widening.
I lifted mine in recognition and set my jaw.
Gavin... he wasn’t awful. By most women’s standards, he’d probably be considered a catch. He was good looking, successful, well-mannered. He wouldn’t mistreat her or anything, which was a bonus for any future offspring he might have been thinking about. I could tell, though, after a few minutes of conversation, that Gavin was all about Gavin. I barely knew him in college, but I vaguely remembered that he considered himself my rival, always trying to undercut my discussions in class and make me look stupid or going after the girls I was dating. I thought it was because I had dated his former girl and he didn’t appreciate it. I ignored him and eventually he disappeared.
Ellie would let him take her out a time or two, but she was a smart kid, even if she was out there in Ellie-land most of the time. She’d figure him out pretty quick and that would be the end of it.
I twisted in my seat and winked at her, enjoying the flush of pink that rose in her cheeks.
After Gavin... maybe then it would be my turn.
Chapter Four—ELLIE
The morning of Bee’s wedding dawned clear and bright, without a cloud to mar the sky. I almost wished there was a chance of rain, as poor weather on a woman’s wedding day was a sign of a long and happy marriage. Most brides wouldn’t look at the puddles and gloomy skies in quite that way, though, so I guessed it was just as well that it was sunny.
Bee, Vern, and I were already at the salon to make ourselves beautiful for Bee’s big day. One woman worked on Vern’s hair, while another carefully made up Bee’s face. I sipped a cup of coffee as I waited my turn to be prettied up.
Bored, I scanned through my notifications. Amid the usual junk, one email stood out and I clicked to open my account.
From: [email protected]
To: Me
Subject: Tired of this
What the heck? Intrigued, I opened up the email.
J,
You’re being thick so I’m emailing to put this to you plain as I can once and for all. I’m not interested. At all. In anything. Ever. Your behavior last night was embarrassing for both of us.
I’m sorry if this hurts your feelings, but something tells me you’re the kind of woman with a backup plan. Please don’t contact me again.
I sat back in my seat. Wow. I was not the mysterious “J,” but that was some message. On the one hand, how rude. On the other, dramarama.
“Vern. Psst.”
She looked at me without moving her head. “What?”
“Look at this.” I held the phone so she could read the email. “I’m thinking about emailing them back. I should let them know they didn’t actually email the right person, right?”
She snorted. “Absolutely. That looks like a message that J needs to receive.” She studied the phone. “Who is plyr87?”
“I have no clue.”
“Did you check your contacts?”
“Doh.” I scrolled through my contacts until I found what I was looking for. “It is here…plyr87 is…” I started giggling. “This is too funny. It’s Madden, Vern!”
“Oh, Els. Madden’s having girl trouble. What are you going to do?”
“Answer his email, of course.” Smirking, I tapped on my phone for a few minutes and then cleared my throat. “Okay…so how does this sound? ‘Dear Plyr87, I am sorry to inform you that your message went amiss and did not reach its intended target. I am ‘E,’ instead of ‘J.’
I must tell you, furthermore, that if I received a message such as this, I would be heartbroken and embarrassed. I hope that is your goal—otherwise, you may wish to alter your tone a bit.” I looked at Vern. “Is that all right?”
Vern frowned. “It’s a little stiff. And is that all? This is a perfect opportunity to prank him.”
“Okay.” I studied the message for a moment. “How about this? ‘Plyr87: new phone, who dis? In all seriousness, you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m sorry to hear you’re so having so much trouble with one little female. Maybe you should sic another woman on her? Surely you have a friend that could take care of that for you?’”
“Ooh, yes. That’s perfect.”
Then it was my turn to have my face made up, so I took my seat and in no time, the email was forgotten.
All I had to do is walk. Down the steps of Bee’s beach house and along the shell-edged path that led to the flower arch a few yards down the beach. Hold the bouquet of lamb’s ear and peonies level with my belly button, and smile.
I took a deep breath and adjusted the bouquet a touch, lifting it to the proper height. I can do this. One foot in front of the other, focus on the sand slipping between my toes. Don’t look at the people watching from their seats, all of those eyes on me and me alone as I walk down that sandy aisle.
I felt my face heat and cursed the self-consciousness
I was blessed with.
Bee’s lucky I like her.
Another deep breath, and then I placed one foot in front of the other.
Several yards beyond the softly undulating row of beach grass, the scene opened before me. The small group of attendees sat in rows of white wooden chairs, some whispering to one another. Inside the bounds of an arching lattice formed of vines and flowers, Rafe stood with Gavin by his side. Both had their hands folded in front of them, gazes fixed forward to where Bee would emerge behind me in a few moments. They were dressed in cream slacks and tailored white shirts, the cuffs rolled up to reveal the strong, tanned forearms on both men.
Bee told me that Rafe and Gavin went way back. They had attended the same prep school and Gavin’s brother had married one of Rafe’s cousins. He was, according to his stepmother, the only acceptable choice for best man.
I wanted to fan myself with my flowers. Gavin was even better looking than I remembered from the rehearsal dinner last night. Vern would say he was hawt. The thought made me grin to myself and I lifted my eyes from the sand for another look.
Ohmygandalf, he’s looking at me. I tried to meet his eyes with casual aplomb. Mature-like, instead of the ball of nerves I was coiled into. I ended up flicking my gaze over the waves behind him, the flowers in my hands, the assembled guests—anything else, instead. There was Madden in his seat near the front, watching me with steady eyes as I edged closer. His lips twitched at the corners and I knew that he knew what a mess I was.
He always knew. Madden had been the best friend I’d ever had in the past several years, and the most unlikely one. It still amazed me I could be myself—superstitious to the max, awkward, and plain weird—around this gorgeous brute of a man, without the nerves and panic that assailed me with other men. If only we liked each other like that. And if I could trust him to be mine, and mine alone. He’d be kind of perfect. Although we probably wouldn’t be friends if that were the case.
That ship had sailed a long time ago, back in high school when I was experiencing the bite of a painful crush. Madden was a senior and a heavily scouted cornerback on our football team.
Practically overnight, I was noticing his abs and arms and rear end—especially in those snug pants he wore for football—and feeling things I’d never felt about this person I’d always considered my best friend. He didn’t notice me in quite the same way, though.
At the beginning of his senior year, Madden went and got himself a girlfriend. She wasn’t just any girlfriend, but Emily Schumacher, one of the most devoted mean girls our high school offered up. That was when I understood Madden and I would never be more than friends. It was clear that we were interested in very different kinds of people. If Emily Schumacher was Madden Cahill girlfriend material, Ellery James was the opposite.
Madden’s eyes widened, bringing me back from my side-trip down memory lane, and he half-rose from his chair. At the same time there was a whoosh of air and the flap of wings above my head. One of the little space buns that Vern had fashioned for me gave a sharp tug and the hair started to slip from its loose coil. A sharp cry escaped as I raised my hands to shield my head.
Beneath the cacophony of air and the shriek from a woman in the small gathering, I realized that I was being assaulted by a seagull.
A freaking seagull.
It flapped around my head, cawing with piercing volume right next to my ears.
“G-Get it off! Get it off me!” I did some cawing of my own, aware of the guests around me either running away or dashing to my rescue. The music died a jarring death, the musicians sitting in the background ceasing to play as they watched the scene unfurl. Gavin and Rafe sprang forward, arms waving and faces masks of dumbfounded horror as they tried to shoo the beast away.
It was Madden, though, who got the bird off of my head and down the beach with a strong fling. His hands cupped my face, roving with quick, tender precision as he checked for wounds. “Shhh… it’s gone. You’re okay,” he said.
I realized that I was still making a scene, gasping as I caught my breath. With difficulty I reined it in and stilled. “Did it pooh on me?” I whispered, turning my back to the crowd. “Is there bird pooh in my hair?”
“No bird poop,” he said. “Your hair-do is… undone… but here, let me fix it.” His fingers raked through my hair and I closed my eyes. I could only imagine what I looked like and groaned.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” I knew it. “It was the cat. And the salt. I must not have gotten to that in time.” Madden pulled the second bun out and finger-combed my hair until it hung in loose waves down my back, his thick fingers catching and pulling in places.
Gavin laughed and I realized that he was still standing there. His laugh grated on my nerves and I cracked one eyelid at him. “You think this is funny?”
He sobered, but a hint of stifled mirth lingered on his face. “No! Not at all!” He held the look for a full thirty seconds before he cracked, bending at the waist and laughing hard and long. “But you should have seen your face, Ellie—”
“Ellery.” Madden said, the words clipped. “Her name is Ellery.” Gavin frowned, but Madden’s attention was full on me.
“Sure. Ellery. You got to admit, it was funny—”
“Should we try for a re-do, Ellie?” Madden cut him off and tipped my chin up as he peered down at me. “I’ll walk you down.”
With a glance around, I saw everyone had returned to their seats. I nodded, and with one last frown, Gavin returned to his place beside Rafe. Madden led me a few steps back to where I had entered from behind the sea grass, and the musicians resumed as we stepped in time with the music toward the arch.
My hand trembled as it rested on the crook of his arm. His sleeves were rolled up, like Rafe and Gavin’s, and his crisp arm hair tickled my fingers. It was masculine and oddly attractive, and my fingers flexed the tiniest bit on his skin. “Here you are.”
Madden turned me to face the audience and patted the hand on his arm before releasing me and returning to his seat. He patted me. Like I was a toddler. Dissatisfaction twisted my stomach in a knot, but I ignored it, watching instead as Bee made her entrance, and everyone stood.
There was no reason for me to be dissatisfied. No reason to expect anything else.
The rest of the wedding went off without a hitch, Rafe and Bee stating their vows in quiet voices that the wind caught and carried down the beach. We could see their love, though, shining bright for each other in their unwavering gazes. We didn’t need the words.
Chapter Five—MADDEN
Although Rafe and Bee limited their wedding ceremony to a few close friends and family, they had rented a restaurant for the reception so they could party comfortably. Rafe had hired a local’s construction company to construct a dance floor on the outdoor pavilion, with custom lighting and scattered flora creating a magical atmosphere.
The reception, like the wedding, was on the low-key side for someone as loaded as Rafe. I had to wonder if his richey-rich friends were disappointed that it wasn’t as high tone an event as they were accustomed to. I guess technically I fell into that richey-rich category, too, but me…despite making millions during my time with the Panthers, I could care less.
It was small and romantic, rather than heavy on ceremony and trappings. Bee’s hand in the decision-making was evident. Despite that, everything about the reception was a testament to Rafe’s status in a way the ceremony wasn’t. Wait staff circulated unobtrusively, silver trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres in their hands. A stringed quartet played from a raised dais in the corner. Tables, inside and out, were piled with tiny cakes, caviar, and other delicacies.
I held Ellie in my arms as we swayed to the music, wishing I had the guts to pull her in more snugly against me. More definitively, claiming her as mine. I didn’t have that right yet, though, so my hold was loose. I wasn’t much of a dancer, not doing much more than shifting my weight from foot to foot. Ellie didn’t seem to mind, taking it as an opportunity t
o trod without remorse on my toes.
“The wedding was nice, hmm?” she asked, tipping her face up to mine. “Except for that one unfortunate incident.”
I tried not to laugh and failed, especially when Ellie pouted. “It was unforgettable,” I agreed. “But yes, it was very nice. I’m happy for them… Bee and Rafe. They look good together.”
“Did you hear about the tattoo?”
“Hmm? You mean Rafe’s bee?” I had seen that a time or two when we’d spent time on the beach.
“Bee got a matching one, on her wrist. I’m having trouble with it, honestly. Everyone knows that tattooing something permanent about a significant other is a surefire way to sign the death certificate on a relationship.”
I tuned her out and tipped my chin at the couple dancing across the room, moving with the minutest of swaying motions. Bee had her cheek pressed against Rafe’s chest; he had tucked his into the swell of her hair. Their eyes were closed, and my chest tightened. Maybe it was weird for a guy, but I was thirty-three years old and I was tired of the single life. I wanted what they had.
I had retired with a knee injury from the NFL over five years ago, but the lifestyle proved harder to shake. There was always an event or party or evening out with friends, and it was great. I liked the fast lane. That changed when I made the decision to move to the island. That’s where Ellie had ended up, and I wanted to be close to her.
Although she was my impetus for the move, Ocracoke proved itself to be home in all the ways that mattered. I subbed out the parties for friends that weren’t concerned with whether I played football or not; traded the constant need to be ‘on’ for relaxation. I exchanged the women who were always there, ready and willing, for my friendship with Ellie; swapped out the fast lane for slow days and quiet evenings.
