I tilt my head and study Fletch. He runs a hand through his hair.
"What's worrying you so much?" I ask, setting my hand down on his arm. When he doesn't pull away, I smile softly. "It can't be that bad."
Fletch exhales. "The normal stuff. Things that I'd rather leave in the past."
Like me. He wants to leave me in the past. My heart sinks, and I remove my hand.
"Are you sure you don't want me talking because I might say something scandalous?"
"Ellie, don't."
But my pulse is racing, and I can't stop myself. "Scandalous like you and me running off together? Like your dad disowning you shortly before his death? How if he hadn't died, you would have been cut out of the family?"
Fletch grabs my hands, fear ripples across his face. "Shhh. Elle. Not here." He pivots his head. "You never know who's listening."
"Is that what you're hiding, Fletch? That you were never meant to be the CEO of GroundFloor? That you didn't want it until I convinced you?”
He sets his jaw, and his breathing comes heavy.
My heart is racing. What's wrong with me? It's not like me to badger people. Still, I can't stop. "You don't want me talking to that reporter, do you? You're trying to play cool, but you're afraid of what I'll say."
Fletch takes a step backward. "If anyone finds out…"
"It wasn't your smartest move to kick me out of your life, was it?"
"Ellie, don't."
"Stop saying that to me. Don't what? Talk about you? Talk to you? What?"
"What can I get the two of you?" the bartender asks.
Fletch composes himself and rattles off the drink order while I sulk against the side of the bar.
When he turns toward me, the firelight illuminates his green eyes, making them appear to glow.
"You sold your soul," I accuse.
"No, I didn't. You just didn't want me around when things got tough."
A snappy retort lodges in my throat, and I can barely breathe. "Stop doing that," I order. "Stop turning everything back on me. It isn't going to work."
"That's not what I'm doing, Ellie."
A warm offshore breeze brushes over my skin, and I shiver. All I want, in this very moment, is to run away. Lock myself in my room until the wedding Saturday night. I want to avoid Fletch – and Calista – and all the drama. I don't want reporters hounding me, or Michael texting me emojiis. I just want out.
The bartender slides our order across the bar. Fletch and I divvy up the beers and carry them back to our group. Or more correctly, his group. It's like he never left them, the way they've accepted him back into their lives, picking up right where they left off.
Me? It's like high school all over again. I'm still standing on the outskirts, waiting for Fletch to notice me.
Chapter Six
The waves crash hard against the shoreline, sending spray up toward the bonfire.
"Excuse me," I say after pounding my beer. I drop the empty bottle in the sand and walk out of the glare of the fire toward the water's edge. Coming here was a bad idea, but if I hadn't, Brady would never forgive me.
Away from the fire, there's a chill in the air, and I wrap my arms around myself to ward it off. As the waves run over my toes, anger fills me. I don't know who I'm more pissed at: Brady or Fletch. Brady clearly is trying to get Fletch and me back together, while Fletch is doing everything he can to confuse me.
"You okay?" Brady says next to me. His words have a slight slur to them. I didn't hear him sneak up, but I'm grateful he's here – even if I'm mad at him.
My insides quiver. No. Nothing is okay. But I have to put on a bright smile for Brady. "It's all good."
"You know he still cares about you, right?"
I raise my hands, as if to stop him. "Brady--"
"Ellie, if anyone knows Fletch it's you. The two of you have a connection I've never seen before."
I turn my gaze downward and watch the ocean rush over my bare toes. "That was a hundred years ago. I don't know who he is anymore. And I don't think I want to."
Brady spins me toward him so that his face hovers above mine. "He's trying. Can't you see that? He's just doing it in his clumsy Fletch way."
"All he's done since the airport is yell into his phone, insult me, and try to convince me not to talk to reporters. That doesn't seem very caring to me."
"You don't see it, but he lights up when you're around."
"No, he doesn't."
Brady grabs me by both shoulders. "I'd shake you, if I could. Let down your walls, Ellie. Let them down."
I blink, trying to keep my tears inside, but it does no good. "Those walls went up two years ago."
"Right. After Fletch's dad died."
"Everything before that was another life."
"It doesn't have to be."
I kick at the water, sending a spray arcing away from me. "He locked me out when all I wanted was to be there for him."
"Fletch pulled away from all of us, Elle. It wasn't just you."
"Except Calista. He always had her."
Brady tenses. "You know how it is between them. She's like his sister."
"The incestuous sister."
"Not nice, Ellie. Not nice."
I squish my toes in the sand. "But true."
Suddenly, I'm aware of how me-centric this whole conversation is. We should be talking about the wedding or something. Not the trials and tribulations of Fletch and Ellie. I'm doing exactly what I promised Brady I wouldn't do.
Maybe it's the two beers and the slight buzz I have going, but it makes me brave. "Why are you marrying Sophie? What is it that made you know you wanted her and no other? Because let's be honest, you're not exactly a one woman type."
Now Brady hesitates. Like I've asked all the wrong questions.
"What is it?" I ask again.
"The truth?" Brady asks.
"Always."
"Sometimes, you have to do the right thing."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Brady shrugs. "She's cool, and I love hanging out with her."
"Do you feel like a better version of Brady Pearson when you're with her?"
He shrugs. "Not really. I just feel like me. Should I?"
"I don't know. If I did, I'd probably be married."
"So Fletch made you feel like that?"
The thought of Fletch and me being married makes me snort. But Brady is right. He did make me feel that way. I wrap up on myself again, holding all the pieces of me in their proper spot.
"I can tell you that my current boyfriend doesn't."
"Then why are you with him?"
I've asked myself this a hundred times. Why do I stay with Michael when I know it's going nowhere? "Because it's better than sitting around crying about Fletch."
There. I said it out loud. I can't take it back now.
"Hey." Brady unwinds my arms and takes my hand. "Do you love him?"
"Michael or Fletch?"
"Fletch."
I blink back tears. "I love who he was, Brady, but that boy is gone. We don't even know each other anymore."
"Oh, Elle." Brady draws me into his arms and presses my head against his chest. "Why didn't you tell me this before? I never would have put you in that car together if I knew how hard it would be on you."
I shrug against him. "How am I supposed to move on? I keep trying and failing. I see him everywhere. It's impossible."
"That's why there's an endless parade of guys through your life – you're trying to forget Fletch?"
I sniff and drag the sleeve of my cardigan across my nose. "Besides, he left me. He's made it clear he doesn't want me anymore."
Brady shakes his head. "There are so many things you don't know, Ellie. The two of you should really talk."
"About what? He did what he thought was best."
Brady kisses the top of my head. "That he did."
"And that was leaving me."
I shiver in the cool night air. Not even Brady's warmth ca
n stave it off.
"I'm sorry I'm making this all about me."
Brady laughs. "Hey, it wouldn't be a real party unless someone cried. And I'd prefer that it not be my bride."
I force out a laugh. "Fair enough."
"Come back to the fire," Brady says. "It's too chilly out here."
I surrender and let him guide me back to the fire. Everyone is still sitting in their small group, except Sophie, who I assume is mingling with her other guests.
They're all laughing at something Reid did. He's straddling two Adirondack chairs and singing at the top of his lungs. He's so high it seems almost dangerous.
"Did Reid only smoke pot?" I ask.
"What you see before you is a man enjoying life, Ellie,” Brady says.
"What I see is a drunk and high Reid."
"Yeah, well that too." Brady punches me lightly on the shoulder. He looks around, and realizing Sophie's missing, says, "Excuse me, guys. I've got to find Sophie and socialize a little bit."
He leaves me standing between Paige and Fletch, who is on the phone. Again. The empty, vacant feeling from earlier rushes back to me. Now that I don't have Fletch, I don't exactly fit in. Paige and I know how to make polite small talk, but it's not like we ever had a close relationship. Reid is, well, Reid. I can never take him seriously. As for Calista, she hates me.
And then there's Fletch.
I'd probably do better talking to Sophie's French family and friends than this group.
I take a step back because the fire feels almost too hot after standing in the cool night air.
"Ellie, sit down. No one is going to bite you, I swear," Paige says. "Well, not unless you ask for it."
Reid laughs and jumps off the chairs. "Maybe I'm a vampire and am in need of my next meal.” He turns toward Paige, she jumps up and starts running the other way.
Reid chases after her, leaving just Fletch, Calista, and me sitting before the fire.
At least Brady's matchmaker attempts seem to be working for one couple.
Fletch says, into the phone, “I don’t care. I already told you what we’re going to do.”
Calista places her hand on Fletch’s back, and I have to turn away before the tears come.
Fletch hangs up the phone. “Sorry. Work call. It never stops.” He says this apologetically.
“It’s okay, Fletch. I know how important GroundFloor is to you,” Calista purrs.
I want to throw up. I also want to get as drunk as possible so I can pretend none of this is happening. Denial and drunkenness are powerful weapons.
Something cold presses into my hand, and I grasp it. A beer. From Fletch.
"You looked like you could use it," he says.
If he only knew. The top is already off and I take a swig. "Thanks." I swallow my pride along with the beer. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I know reporters are the bane of your existence."
"And I'm sorry for my behavior in the car. We should have talked."
I don't tell him that the last thing I wanted in the car was to make small talk with him. Instead, I say, "Thanks."
I catch Calista's eye, and she smiles tightly at me. Like she's daring me.
All you have to do, Ellie, is get through two more nights and three more days. You can do this.
Paige and Reid collapse in a heap next to me, and I jump in surprise. They're rolling over like two puppies, screeching and laughing. If Brady were here, I’d make a bet about how long it’s going to take for the two of them to fall back into bed.
I lean against a chair, and I have to admit, it feels comfortable now that I'm not seething at Fletch. In fact, everyone is having a good time.
Fletch’s phone rings again, and he fishes it out of his pants pocket.
“Jesus, Fletch. Can’t you turn that thing off for a few hours? The world won’t end if you’re not tethered to you’re phone,” Reid says.
Fletch stares at the screen, and the phone rings again. “I have to take this. Excuse me.” He steps out of the glow of the fire and into the darkness.
Reid stares at me.
“What?”
“He’s doing it because of you. He doesn’t know how to just be with you around.”
I grit my teeth. A lot of things are my fault, but blaming me for Fletch’s obsession with his phone is something else.
“Reid, don’t,” Paige says. “Ellie doesn’t know.” She turns toward me. “It’s okay Ellie. Fletch will be back soon.”
“What don’t I know?” I ask, glancing around the group. All of them look sheepish. Except Calista. She's shooting me death rays.
“What?” I say to her. “What about me offends you so much?”
Calista curls in on herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.”
Paige and Reid have fallen silent.
“Are you still smarting over our little talk in San Francisco?” Calista asks, her eyes wide with innocence.
She can’t be serious.
“Our little talk?” I say, trying not to spit out my words. “I was minding my own business, and you sauntered up to me. You forced the conversation and made it very clear I was to stay away from Fletch. That he didn't want to see me. Which was fine. I was in town on business, not for socializing. “
Paige gasps. “Cal, you never told me that.”
“Because it’s irrelevant. Just like Ellie.”
My face flushes hot. Is this what they really think of me? Is it what Fletch thinks of me? That I’m irrelevant?
My shoulders rise and fall, as I try not to cry. Everything makes sense now. It explains why the gifts, emails, and phone calls stopped.
Fletch thought I wasn’t good enough.
Chapter Seven
Fletch stumbles back to our little group of misery. He must sense something’s wrong because he immediately looks at the ground and drags his foot through the sand.
“Sorry,” he says. “I had to take that. Work call.”
It's late - past midnight – and I’m exhausted. Brady and Sophie have returned, and Brady eyes me.
I wrap my arms around myself, tighter and tighter, until I’m nothing but a small ball.
“What happened?” Brady asks.
No one answers him.
Part of me wants to tell him everything: how Calista more-or-less confirmed my suspicions that Fletch rejected me. But the saner part of me knows that doing so will destroy the good mood Brady is trying to foster. I don’t want to ruin his wedding with my dramatic bullshit. What I need to do is suck it up and put on a happy face.
I stretch my arms overhead. "I'm going to turn in. See you all tomorrow."
Brady stands up and leans in close to me before whispering, “Don’t let Cal get to you.” He kisses my cheek. "Get a good night's sleep. You're going to need it for golf."
“I'm the world's worst golfer,” I say. “I have no business on a course.”
“I doubt that,” Brady says. “Have you seen Reid or Fletch play?”
“You’re just doing this to humiliate me, aren’t you?" I say. “What if I don’t want to play? What if I need my beauty sleep?”
Reid laughs. “Ellie, you really don’t want to play, do you?”
“Not particularly.”
"But you will because I know you never back down from a challenge, and I'm challenging you to play,” Brady says.
I lift my eyebrows and snort. "Just remember, you asked for it."
He wraps a bear-like arm around me. "Good-night, Ellie."
"Good-night," I say to everyone.
"Let me walk you back to the house." Fletch stands near my left shoulder. What's with this guy? He doesn't contact me for nearly two years, and now he's all over me like glue. And everyone is blaming me for his bad manners. I don't understand.
"I…I don't think that's necessary."
Brady clears his throat, and Calista presses her lips into a hard, thin line.
Fletch shrugs. "I know a sh
ort cut."
How short could it be considering the house was just on the other side of the beach? "I'm good," I say. "It's a not long walk."
He tilts his head and studies me for a moment. "It would give us a chance to talk."
My heart skips a beat. As much as I want to talk to Fletch, I'm not sure I'm ready for it. Best to keep things friendly, but not overly so.
"Not yet," I say. "It's late, and we've been drinking. Plus, you've had a little weed. Anything you say, you’ll forget in the morning."
Fletch nods his head a little. "You know, Ellie, I'm surrounded by people everyday that would kill to see me this vulnerable. I'm opening up to you, the least you can do is let yours down for me."
"Maybe when you're sober."
He gnaws on the inside of his lip. "Okay. If that's what you want."
"It is."
I start off down the beach, away from the bonfire and the house. I need to clear my head, and I’m never going to sleep if I have these thoughts ruminating in my mind.
"Ellie, wait!"
Fletch jogs up next to me. "I can't let you go that easily."
"Why? You have before."
Fletch's shoulders sag. "It wasn't by choice."
"So someone forced you to forget about me."
He sighs. "Ellie Jacobs, how could anyone ever forget about you?"
It's pretty words. Words I wanted to hear for so long, but I let them slide off me. Now isn't the time for those kinds of words.
We have so much to discuss: why he left, Calista's role in his life, my broken heart. It hardly seems right to be doing it on the beach with a party happening just yards away.
"I have to go. I'm tired, and we have an early morning tee time, remember?"
Fletch opens his mouth, as if to say something, but snaps it back shut. He darts out his right hand, grabs mine, and kisses it. Then he turns and runs back to the bonfire.
What was that?
I fall back into the sand and allow the gentle whooshing of the waves soothe me. Cool ocean air washes over me, and I pull my cardigan tighter.
I have three more days to get through. That's it, I tell myself. Just three more days.
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