The Twin Switch (Millionaires Legacy Book 13; Gambling Men)

by Barbara Dunlop

I wasn’t even sure I was feeling it.

  I knew he still blamed me. He blamed me for Vegas—although I’d done my absolute best. And he blamed me for monopolizing Brooklyn for all those years. The one time I brought up his outburst, he said he never had a chance. I’d never given him a chance to be Brooklyn’s soul mate.

  I’d disagreed. I’d tried to explain. But he wasn’t in the mood to listen.

  Looking back, I wondered if I should have tried harder to see his side. After all, the breakup was about him. It wasn’t about me.

  “Funny,” I said to Nat.

  “What could possibly be funny?”

  “I made the same mistake with James as I did with Brooklyn. I spent all that time trying to talk her out of her emotions. I was so focused on the logic of her marrying James that I ignored the fact that she wasn’t in love with him.”

  “You’re a math teacher,” Nat said. “It’s your job to be unemotional.”

  I supposed that was true. I mean, maybe it was true.

  “I wonder if it’s causation or correlation,” I mused out loud.

  “Huh?”

  “Do you suppose being a math teacher makes me unemotional? Or did I end up being a math teacher because I was already unemotional?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’m trying to understand myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m making a lot of mistakes.”

  As I said the words, I realized they were true. They were at the core of my funk.

  I was making mistakes and losing confidence in myself. I’d always been rock-solid in my convictions, convinced that solid logic kept you on the right path, and that I had solid logic. Emotions merely got in the way of good judgment.

  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  My phone pinged with a text message for me.

  I automatically glanced at it and was surprised to see Brooklyn’s name.

  I’d felt too guilty to talk to her right after the canceled wedding, feeling like I owed loyalty to my family. She’d seemed to respect the difficult situation, keeping her distance.

  I sure missed her.

  “It’s Brooklyn,” I said to Nat.

  Nat sat up straighter. “Has she been staying in contact?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Me, neither,” Nat said. “It was a crappy thing she did. And I didn’t really know what to say.”

  “Are you angry?” I hadn’t thought about Nat or Sophie being angry at Brooklyn.

  “A little. I mean, I still love Brooklyn, but she’s always been this beautiful windstorm of a person, swirling through life with the world laid out in front of her, oblivious to the destruction she’s left behind.”

  I blinked at Nat. I didn’t know what to say.

  I supposed it was true, at least on some level. But it wasn’t Brooklyn’s fault that the world treated her like a goddess. She could have taken way more advantage than she did. Considering the sycophantic men that sought her out, I always thought she stayed pretty grounded.

  “I’m sorry,” Nat said. “I sounded like a witch there.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I said. “You’re not completely wrong. I just think—at least on balance—she did the best she could.”

  Nat nodded to the phone. “You should check to see what she said.”

  I was dying of curiosity, so I picked up my phone from the low table in front of me.

  Her message came as a shock.

  “What?” Nat prompted.

  “She wants me to come to San Francisco.”

  “To stay for free at her new boyfriend’s opulent hotel?” There was a trace of sarcasm to Nat’s tone.

  “No. I mean, well, probably that, too. She wants me to stand up for her when she gets married to Colton.”

  James’s voice startled me. “You have got to be joking.”

  Both Nat and I turned to see James walk onto the porch. “Just like that? That fast? She’s going to take up with the jerk?”

  “He’s not—” I stopped myself.

  “It does seem awfully fast,” Nat said.

  James plopped down in a chair across from us. “I dated her for eight years—eight years. We were engaged for more than a year. And she makes a decision this fast? How does that work?”

  “I won’t go,” I said.

  “Of course you won’t go,” Nat said.

  “You should go,” James said in an irritated tone.

  “I’m not going to do that to you.” Even as my left brain made that perfectly reasonable logical decision, my right brain zeroed in on Max.

  If I went to Brooklyn’s wedding, I’d see Max. I’d love to see Max. I’d honestly give almost anything to see Max—even if he was angry, which he most certainly was.

  He hadn’t tried to contact me at all since the wedding.

  I wanted to be mad at him for that.

  I wasn’t mad.

  I didn’t know how I felt—which was the crux of my problem.

  “She’s your best friend,” James said.

  I didn’t argue that point. It was empirically true.

  He drummed his fingertips on the arm of the chair. “She’s been your best friend since you were, what, six years old?”

  “They met at my birthday party,” Nat said. She looked at me, and there was a wistful look in her eyes. “I never knew why you didn’t end up as my best friend.”

  I felt a lurch of guilt. The emotion was strong. I realized in that moment how pivotal emotion had been to the makeup of our friendships.

  I’d never thought about it before. I’d never analyzed it. Brooklyn and I just clicked.

  Nat was a perfectly wonderful friend, and I adored her. But there was some kind of inner magic with Brooklyn. I felt happy just being around her.

  “If you don’t go, you won’t forgive yourself,” James said to me.

  “It doesn’t feel right,” I said.

  Wow—another emotion pushing me to make a decision. I was losing it.

  Logic told me I was Brooklyn’s best friend. Best friends went to each other’s weddings. James was hurt, but it wasn’t Brooklyn’s fault. If she wasn’t in love with him, she wasn’t in love with him. It was marrying him under those circumstances that would have been the worst wrong.

  “You have to go,” James said.

  I looked to Nat.

  She gave a shrug. “It’s Brooklyn. And you’re part of the world that falls in line for her.”

  James looked surprised by Nat’s words.

  But Nat didn’t look annoyed. She looked accepting.

  Nat was right. James was right. Logic was right.

  “I’ll go,” I said.

  I closed my eyes for a brief second and Max’s image came up behind my eyelids.

  He didn’t enter into the equation. I was positive on that. I knew I’d never be selfish enough to use Brooklyn as an excuse to see Max.

  But then the image sharpened inside my mind, along with a wave of scents and sounds and tactile memories. The thought of Max brought such a wave of joy and anticipation that I had to wonder if I’d finally mastered the art of denial.

  * * *

  Brooklyn met me at the San Francisco airport.

  I’d worried on the plane that it would be awkward. But we hugged, and it felt perfectly natural.

  When she drew back, her smile was as ordinary as ever.

  “Good flight?” she asked.

  It had been a fantastic flight. “You didn’t have to fly me first class.”

  Between the first-class lounge, preboarding, the big comfy seat and a mimosa with breakfast, I couldn’t have been more spoiled.

  “Colton insisted,” she said.

  “Quit trying to make me like him.”

 
“Oh, you’re going to like him all right. I can guarantee it.”

  “Bold,” I said. “He can’t buy my love.”

  Brooklyn flashed a really big diamond ring. “He bought mine.”

  “Yowza,” I said. And I meant it.

  I held her hand still and stared at the multicarat solitaire in a swirl of gold. The big stone was flanked on each side by two small emeralds. It was nontraditional, and it suited her.

  “Let’s go grab your bag,” she said. “I’ve got a driver waiting.”

  “A driver? Like in a suit and a cap?”

  She seemed to ponder that as we started walking. “I don’t think he had a cap.”

  “Is that how you live now?” I fell into step in the crowded concourse. “Big diamonds and luxury sedans?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  I realized too late that I sounded judgmental. I didn’t want to be judgmental. I wasn’t judgmental. And I wasn’t jealous.

  At least I wasn’t jealous of Brooklyn’s new wealthy status. I might have been jealous of her happiness.

  She looked really happy. And that made me think Colton must not be all that bad.

  Brooklyn could have had James. And James was quite a catch. So if Colton was better than James, then he had to have something going for him.

  If he was anything like his twin brother, he had quite a lot going for him.

  I was going to see Max today.

  I was going to see Max...

  “Layla?” Brooklyn’s voice sounded hesitant.

  “What?” I gave her my full attention.

  “I haven’t changed.”

  “I know you haven’t changed.” I linked my arm with hers.

  “Not really,” she said. “Not how it counts.”

  “You quit your job?” I thought that was an easy assumption.

  “I did.”

  “What will you do here, or in Vegas, or, you know, everywhere. You can’t go to the spa every day.”

  “I’m not going to the spa every day. I might go every week. It’s free for me now. Free for you this weekend, too.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be going to the spa.” That wasn’t where my head was at, at all.

  “You can,” she said.

  “What are you going to do?” Now that we were talking about it, I was pretty curious about what rich people did all day.

  “The Kendrick hotels have boutiques. I’m still going to be a fashion buyer, and maybe some other things, too.”

  “They had an opening?” I was willing to bet the owner’s wife got a job whether there was an opening or not.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “It’s a valid thought.”

  “I expect they’ve created a special position for me for now. And everyone’s going to think I’m a dilettante. And they’ll probably hate me.”

  Her assessment seemed accurate. Although, I didn’t think anyone had ever hated Brooklyn in her life. I wasn’t sure how she’d cope with that.

  “I’m going to have to prove myself. I’m prepared for that.”

  “You’re prepared for people not to like you.”

  “I’ll win them over,” she said.

  I believed her. And I was feeling proud of her for throwing herself into an uncomfortable situation. She could have simply gone to the spa and shopping every day. I doubted Colton would have minded.

  We skirted a family pushing a huge luggage cart.

  “Speaking of hating me...” she said.

  “James?” I guessed.

  “Is he doing okay?”

  “He’s getting there.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly, I think it’s going to take a while. He is back to work. And he’s playing tennis on Saturdays. And he did tell me to come here to be with you.”

  “I’m glad you came,” she said.

  “So am I.”

  Brooklyn pointed. “Carousel three. That guy there is our driver. He’ll get your bag.”

  “It’s blue and silver,” I said.

  “Like I won’t recognize it.”

  Of course she’d recognize it. She was with me when I bought it. I felt silly having described it.

  “I’m still me,” Brooklyn said.

  “I know that.”

  She sobered. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “I know that, too. I’m sorry, Brooklyn.”

  She looked puzzled.

  “I’m sorry I pushed so hard for you to walk away from Colton. I was wrong to do that. You knew what you wanted, and I wouldn’t let you tell me how sure you were.”

  “I wasn’t sure,” she said. “I got scared. I took the easy path. Marrying James was the easy path.”

  “It didn’t end up as the easy path.” I spotted my suitcase. “There it is.”

  Brooklyn signaled the driver and pointed to my bag.

  “I try not to think about that day,” she said.

  I understood that. “All those guests, the flowers, the dresses. All that food.”

  Brooklyn looked puzzled again. “Oh, yeah.”

  “What were you thinking?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on. Give.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “This is me,” I said.

  She pursed her lips, then her tone changed. “I was thinking I almost let Colton go. And that terrifies me.”

  Something shifted in my stomach—a burst of fear and regret.

  I had let Max go that day. I sure didn’t like to linger over that. When I thought about it, all I saw was the disappointment on his face, the disappointment that turned to anger as he had backed away.

  Eleven

  Colton’s parents, David and Susan Kendrick, were gracious and welcoming. Colton was cordial, clearly giving me space. Brooklyn’s parents seemed tense and uncomfortable. But they were there to support her. I admired that.

  There wouldn’t be a church or a walk down the aisle this time. The intimate ceremony was to take place in the Kendricks’ private villa at the top of the Archway Hotel.

  It was a magnificent suite with high ceilings, soaring windows and an expansive concrete patio where we’d all have a wedding dinner later on.

  I was struck by the difference between this wedding and the one we’d spent a full year planning. Brooklyn had changed into a V-neck, tea-length ivory dress with a lace-covered bodice and see-through lace three-quarter-length sleeves with a full, flowing chiffon skirt. It was pretty, but hardly dramatic.

  I had gone with an off-the-shoulder, teal-green satin. It had a beaded front and an asymmetrical hemline that dropped at the back. My hair was half-up, while Brooklyn’s flowed in smooth waves over her shoulders.

  It was clear I was more extravagantly dressed than the bride, but nobody seemed to care.

  We were sipping champagne and making small talk while the hotel catering staff arranged a table and some flowers in front of the windows that overlooked the bay. A female reverend wearing a lovely cream-colored stole was lighting some candles on the small table.

  The bell sounded in the villa, and what I guessed to be a butler opened the door.

  I held my breath, waiting to see if it was Max.

  It was, and energy rushed through me at the sight of him.

  He was in a black suit, not a tux. But the effect was the same.

  He looked sophisticated, handsome and confident, in his prime and at the helm of his world.

  Then I saw there was a woman beside him—a beautiful blonde woman in a strapless burgundy cocktail dress. A wide band with ornate silver beading glittered beneath her bust. The two-layered skirt landed a few inches above her knees.

  It was a perfect dress for dancing. And she was the perfect date for Max.

  “M
ax, Ellen,” Susan called out. “You’re right on time. Come and say hello to Brooklyn’s best friend, Layla.”

  Susan seemed to know Ellen. She seemed to know her quite well.

  I felt like a fool. I’d been pining away for Max, assuming I’d angered him or hurt him, maybe even broke his heart by not leaving with him from the church that day.

  Instead, here he was out on the circuit again. Or maybe she was an old girlfriend. Maybe they’d reunited. That would explain Susan’s friendliness.

  Whatever it was, I was totally in Max’s rearview mirror.

  I was never going to learn.

  I took a long swig of my champagne, pulling my attention from Max and vowing not to look at him again until this was all over.

  “Are we ready then?” asked the reverend.

  “I’m more than ready,” Colton said, and he took Brooklyn’s hand.

  She looked relaxed and happy—glowing like a bride should be glowing.

  I took my place beside her.

  Max or no Max, I was going to spend the rest of the evening being happy for Brooklyn. She deserved it.

  The sun was dipping down as the reverend spoke of love, respect and commitment.

  The clouds turned pink while Brooklyn and Colton said their vows.

  I keep my attention firmly focused on the happy couple and the wonderful view.

  Max might as well have not been there.

  Except that he was there.

  And I knew he was there.

  I might not have been looking at him, but I was aware of his energy with every fiber of my being.

  I wished my being wouldn’t do that.

  I wished with all my heart that I could ignore him standing there, and that I could ignore Ellen sitting behind him on the French provincial chair next to Susan and David.

  Max had a girlfriend.

  Short weeks ago in Vegas he’d asked me to see where our relationship might go.

  I’d said no, and he’d bounced back in a heartbeat.

  By the time Colton kissed the bride, I was angry with Max, and I wondered what I’d ever seen in a man so shallow.

  I was mad at myself, too. I had a flawed gene or something. Eligible men made my brain turn to mush. And this eligible man had been the worst of the worst.

  I glanced his way, and caught him looking back. I was mentally catapulted into his arms, into his bed, plastered against his slick naked body, which had taken me straight to Heaven.