“Great,” Alice said briskly after a beat. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Great,” I repeated. Another beat. This one longer, worse, than the previous. I couldn’t stand it for much longer. I turned to go. Where exactly I wasn’t sure, as long as it wasn’t here.
“Wait a minute,” she said.
I turned, raised an eyebrow.
“What was last night?” she asked. That look was back on her face, fixed there, not fleeting, yet still just as unreadable.
What did she want me to say? What did I want to say? I remembered reaching for her in the darkness, feeling the still-warm indent where she’d once been. Waking up alone. It was fine if I expected it.
But I never again wanted it to come as a surprise.
“It was fun,” I said, shrugging. “I’d be up for it again. But I hope you don’t think…” I trailed off as she shook her head emphatically.
“Of course,” she said. “Yeah. It was fun.” She was silent. So was I.
“Well, I’ll see you around,” I said.
“Of course,” she said again.
I turned and walked away, not looking back, feeling a cavernous ache more painful than a bat to the head. Shit. This was what I was trying to avoid, goddammit. I needed distraction. Immediately.
I turned the corner and ran directly into Margot. Good god…
She had her hands on her hips and mouth open, ready to tell me something that I was sure was supposed to make me tremble in my boots. I raised a hand, cutting her off.
“Not in the mood,” I said. “There are about a thousand rich guys you could go bother. Please leave me alone.”
I brushed past her and walked quickly down the hall before she could try and stop me. I hoped she finally got the hint.
My feet found the rest of me a bar. It was one I hadn’t stumbled upon yet and reminded me of the dark Irish pubs back home in New York. I chuckled a bit at the thought as I ordered a glass of my own label and put a foot on the rail. Back home in New York. When had I stopped considering Ireland my home? When had the American knock-off of an Irish pub become the standard in my mind?
It was probably somewhere around the time when I realized there was nothing left for me in Ireland. Just angry, thieving siblings, a drunk and disappointed Da, and friends that I didn’t even recognize any longer.
The latter shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. The boys had been wild, young and reckless. We’d felt invincible, but we were far from it. Just kids trying to beat back the world from encroaching on our own.
And once Sammy, the de facto leader, up and split with his girl, it was like all our luck went with him.
Charlie got nabbed by the cops after a robbery gone bad and got sent up river for twelve years at Portlaoise. Dan Boy got shot in the head after a wild night turned a fight into murder. Looking for firm leadership, Freddy Three Fingers and Squash got more and more wrapped up in the local chapter. At first I was right there alongside ‘em. Until Squash bungled a drop and got beat so bad he ended up a vegetable and then dead himself.
I was only nineteen and two of my best friends were dead, and a third might as well have been. I was done with the life. Didn’t want to be the next in the casket. Freddy and I had gotten into a drag-down, knock-out brawl when I told him I was heading out and that he would come with me if he knew what was good for him. He accused me of being a coward. I’d set him straight and walked out of Dublin on foot with seven euros to my name.
And over a decade later, here I was. Rich. Successful. Happy, more-or-less. I supposed that Charlie would be getting out of prison soon, if he hadn’t already. I wondered if he caught up with Freddy. I wondered if Freddy was even still alive.
And Sammy? Sammy had gotten three years after he beat wifey’s new boyfriend half to death with a tire iron. Afterward, he’d gone back to the old neighborhood, became another drunk useless adult until his liver gave out. My sister had told me he died right before asking for a new car. She’d gotten one in exchange for the rest of the information.
I’d thought a lot about Sammy since his death. Did he ever realize that he’d screwed us all over by leaving? That none of us had been prepared to face the world on our own? He had to have known I’d made it out. I supposed I should be thankful he never came calling for money like the rest of them. On the other hand, it would have been nice to talk to him one last time. Even if it was telling him to feck off.
I drank my scotch glumly. I’d grown a lot since those days. I was a successful man, confident and wealthy. Sam’s marriage wasn’t going to kill me. And I didn’t think any of the Knights were going to wind up with a bullet in the brain anytime soon. But they’d been what I’d been searching for ever since those late-night poker games and wild young-kid dreams faded to empty promises and lost causes.
Could I find something to replace them once they were gone? Could it be someone with auburn hair and sparkling brown eyes? Or would that just lead me back to the lonely road I walked from Dublin?
“If your face got any longer, it’d be sitting on the ground.”
I glanced to my left. It was Twain, of all people. He had a habit of appearing whenever and wherever you least expected him. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday at the pool and was surprised to see he looked almost civilized, wearing a gray sports coat and jeans.
“Shouldn’t you be getting fitted for something with the rest of them?” I asked. I wasn’t in the mood for teases and insanity.
Twain shrugged and waved for a drink. “Probably,” he said. “If I gave a shit.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“What? I didn’t gain any weight in the past two weeks since we got the damn things fitted in New York. All they’re doing is wasting time.”
“Cheers to that,” I said. He knocked his beer to my rocks glass.
He drank and I watched him from the corner of my eye. Once he put his glass down, he gave a long sigh. “Fuck you, Mac,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said. “Fuck you. I’ve known you for, what, two years now? And don’t get me wrong, you’re a cool guy. A bit stuffy for my taste, but that’s to be expected at your age.”
“Wait a minute—”
“But,” he continued over me, “I never thought you hated me until now.”
I kept silent. It was better to just see where the hell he was going with this.
“Why is it that you have to plan the greatest night in the Knight’s history for the one time I’m not there?”
He rolled his eyes at my confusion. “Did you or did you not really have seven strippers in Beck’s suite? And the girls. Did they or did they not walk in on the party?”
I snorted at the memory. Not my proudest moment, but leave it to Twain to find that the best story ever. “Yeah, that’s about right.”
He groaned. “I was hoping Henry was exaggerating. Please tell me you at least got video?”
“Nope. It lived and died in the moment,” I said with a grin. “It was good too. Well, no it sucked. But I’ll never forget it.”
He shook his head. “Of course,” he said miserably. His eyes narrowed. “And I hear you and Alice are a thing.”
I sobered instantly. “That’s not true,” I said.
“Okay, let me clarify. I saw that you and Alice were a thing. Remember, I was there in Tuzas. I saw the two of you at that bar.” He leaned closer and whispered like it was a secret. “I saw the way she looked at you.”
I grunted. “Well, it’s her mistake then. She should know better. I’m completely unavailable.”
“Are you now?”
“Yes!” I said loudly. Why did he have to bring this up? Couldn’t we have just talked about the strippers?
He raised an eyebrow at my outburst.
I sighed and shook my head, looking down at my glass. “I won’t become one of those sad, divorced idiots at weddings who glower at their barstools the entire time.”
Twain looked at me carefully and then chugged
the rest of his beer before standing up. He slapped my shoulder and pointed across from us, at the mirror behind the row of liquor bottles. “Like that guy?” he asked.
He disappeared a moment before I realized he was pointing at me.
20
Alice
I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to turn over and snuggle against that strong, broad chest and pretend that Mac was the man I dreamt about. That he was my future, my forever. The Sam to my Beck.
But the fantasy couldn’t go on much longer. I was an adult woman with a career and my own blender, not a little girl anymore, and I needed to face the facts. I needed to stop chasing the unobtainable.
The moment I closed the door softly on Mac’s sleeping form, I threw myself back into the wedding with unbridled fervor. It wasn’t hard. Though the resort was handling a lot of the larger details, there was still plenty to do — last minute alterations for the wedding dress, unloading to oversee, fires to put out, and, of course, so many guests to greet.
Before we’d started planning back in New York, I hadn’t known that Beck and Sam even knew so many people. That had prepared me somewhat for today, but no stack of wedding invitations could compare to the physical hoard of guests that came pouring into the resort this morning. Every time I went anywhere with Beck, people swarmed, offering congratulations to the point that I felt like a bodyguard to a celebrity, telling them that “the bride has places to be” as Beck tried to thank them while moving.
I finally had to confront Mariana — and by confront, I meant see her in person for the first time since that fateful initial day. Obviously there was absolutely no way I was going to bring it up, so after some initial awkwardness, we fell back into our previous roles and everything was more or less fine.
The morning was busy, and by noon everyone came to help out. Kylie, Sarah, even Jules, dragging Keegan behind her like she didn’t want to spend time alone with us. Mason and Henry helped too for a bit before going with Sam to get their tuxes fitted one last time. Even Twain hung out for a bit though he did much more talking than helping. Only Mac was absent.
At some point Margot Lorne appeared on the scene and chatted up Beck while I watched her with a side-eye. She was unbelievably polished. Young, blonde, attractive. It was obvious what Mac saw in her. She fit his lifestyle much better than I ever would.
Beck, Mariana, and I went to show her the wedding cake, and when we came out Mac was there. It was an awkward moment, him standing there in front of Mariana, Margot, and me. The tension was so thick I was almost relieved once we were alone in the hallway
And then that conversation.
Mac wasn’t happy that I’d left. I think. Or maybe he was happy. Now he didn’t have to deal with cutting me loose.
I stood where he’d left me in the hallway, processing what he’d said. I leaned against the wall and pressed my fingers to my temple. His smell lingered behind, filling the passage with memories of our night together.
I tried to breathe through my mouth.
I had no idea what to make of Mac. His face had been set neutral, almost completely unreadable. I say almost because I could tell one thing for sure: He was bracing himself.
But for what I wasn’t certain. Was he happy with my answer? Was I happy with my answer?
Yes. I was. I had to be. Because it was abundantly clear that even after a summer of abstinence, I was falling back into my old habits. I was, once again, reading far too much into a man who’d told me who he was at every turn. I needed to trust him.
I would not create Mac Walsh in a false image. I would not let him break my heart.
“What was that about?” Kylie muttered to me as I rejoined her at the table where I had been helping her fold the last of the placement cards.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Seriously don’t worry about it.”
I hoped Mac was able to sneak out this morning without running into any of the girls in the suite. None of them had mentioned anything though, and even Jules wasn’t giving me shit about disappearing last night. I was grateful. I didn’t know if I could handle disapproving stares.
“Where’d Margot go?” I asked, noticing the blonde was no longer with us.
“She had some stuff to do,” Beck said, joining us at our table.
“Which is more than I can say,” Kylie announced, putting a crease down the last of the cards. “All done. What next?”
I shrugged and looked at Beck, who mirrored my gesture to Mariana. The wedding planner opened her binder and ran a finger down the list.
“Fittings. Check. Set up. Check. Everything was shipped and is waiting for the staff to unload and begin. All the odds and ends… Check.” She enunciated the last ‘check’ by making a large mark with her pen. “Looks like all that’s left is to get ready for the rehearsal later.”
“No,” I said. “There has to be something else. What about decorating the hall?”
Mariana laughed. “The resort will handle that. And I’ll be on hand to make sure it’s in line with the bride’s vision. In fact…” She checked her watch. “I should go talk to the Director of Events and see what the timeline looks like. As for the rest of you, I’d suggest something relaxing. Tonight and tomorrow will be very busy!”
She left. And suddenly, again, I was adrift.
“We’re gonna hit the pool then,” Jules announced immediately. She dragged Keegan out of the room before any of us could say anything.
“There has to be something else we can do,” Sarah said.
Beck shook her head. “You girls have done plenty. Go enjoy the last afternoon. Get a massage or something.”
It didn’t take too much convincing to get Kylie and Sarah off. I was a different story.
“Come on, Alice,” Beck insisted. “There has to be something you haven’t done yet that you wanted to do.”
I shrugged. Screwing Mac had been on the top of the list and now that it was done and he was out of my system (officially and completely), nothing really sprung to mind. “Not really. What are you going to do?”
She bit back a grimace. “I think I need to go greet the guests.”
“I’m pretty positive you need me there for that,” I said. “We don’t want you getting trampled less than twenty-four hours before the big moment.”
“It won’t be a lot of fun.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Beck. You know I hate fun. Let’s do it.”
We lasted about forty minutes, which was about twice as long as I would have lasted if I’d been on my own. We fled back to the banquet hall and, seeing it occupied, further into the industrial kitchen where we weren’t in the way of Mariana and the resort workers.
“Well that sucked,” I said, saying what was on both our minds.
“I don’t know any of these people,” Beck moaned into her hands. She sat on the gleaming floor, her back against an industrial refrigerator.
“I got that impression,” I said from where I sat perched on a prep table. “Who are they? I don’t recognize any of them either.”
She shrugged and stared at the floor. “Most of them are people Sam knows through work. He felt obligated to invite people whose weddings he attended and then that snowballed into half of Manhattan’s real estate sector.” She started to say something, but then swallowed it.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Beck. Get it out.”
Beck shook her head. “Honestly, most of them probably just came for a free vacation or to schmooze to Sam.”
“When are your aunts and uncle getting here?” I asked.
“I honestly have no idea. They could already be here. Even with them, I know they only came because Sam’s footing the bill for all of it. I don’t really know them that well.”
“What about your foundation friends?” I asked.
She shrugged. “They’re nice enough. But they’re coworkers more than anything.” She chewed her lip. “Do you want a big wedding?” she asked s
uddenly.
I frowned at the question. I supposed most girls, at one point or another, considered a wedding to some degree. What was it that I wanted? I tried to picture a guest list and a venue, but all that really came to mind was a black tux and the man inside it. His face wasn’t quite as blurry as it had been in the past, coming into focus around green eyes and a cocky grin. I banished the traitorous thought.
“Yeah, why not?” I said, just to say something. I redirected the conversation off me. “Look Beck. Tomorrow is going to be one of the best days of your life. The resort is perfect and everything we’ve done for it is perfect. Okay, so Sam had to invite all his business friends and they’re a little unbearable.” I slid down so that I was sitting on the floor next to her. “Beck, you get to marry the love of your life tomorrow. It’s going to be fantastic.”
Her eyes lifted from the floor and she gave me a slight smile. “I’m just glad you could be here,” she said.
“I’m glad I could too,” I said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. She rested her head against my shoulder and we sat there together for a while, listening to the sounds of the perfect wedding being handcrafted on the other side of the wall.
Beck was having those last-minute jitters; it happened to everyone. Or I’d read that at least. She’d be fine. My quiet friend just disliked being the center of attention. Once she was staring at Sam at the altar on the beach, everything would be all right.
As for me, I just needed to keep my vision tunneled on the wedding. Everything would be all right for me too.
Once I was on the plane back to New York.
The rehearsal (and the wedding tomorrow) was held in a gazebo on a quiet stretch of beach far from the noise of the resort. Tomorrow, the guests would be driven in a fleet of limos out to where the crystal waves crashed against a white-sand beach. The wedding would be in the early afternoon, but the rehearsal was done in the evening and the sky behind where Beck and Sam were instructed to stand was a painter’s canvas of blues, pinks, reds, and purples.
The Groomsman: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Billionaires of Club Tempest) Page 19
