CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RILEY

“Jackson,” I gasp. “It’s huge!”

“That’s what he said.” Jackson drapes his arm over my shoulder and guides me up the ramp to the biggest yacht I’ve ever seen.

Not that I’ve seen many. From afar, sure, but I’ve never been on one. He and Taylor are getting married this afternoon with only Charles, Taylor’s brother, Kendall, Rowan, and me as witnesses.

He’d given me the heads up that he invited Walker, but he’s too busy dealing with whatever shit he has to deal with in California before relocating to Massachusetts. Not that I know this firsthand.

Jackson and his brother have been in contact for the past month, and I’m happy for him. I am. But my heart is too broken for repair. After our scene in the parking lot at the doctor’s office, he texted me that night to apologize again and I blocked his number.

It’s been four weeks, but the hurt hasn’t gone away. Yes, I blocked his number, but if he really wanted to get ahold of me, he could call me at work. Or stop by when he’s in the city, which I’m fully aware of because of the media attention, and because Jackson isn’t quiet about letting me know when he’s meeting his brother for dinner.

He hasn’t tried to reach me, that I’m aware of, which is good. The only way to heal my broken heart is with time, and if I see him again, those stormy eyes and hands that have brought me to more orgasms than any other time in my entire life will only delay the process.

“You look stunning, by the way,” Jackson says as he takes my hand and helps me over the threshold onto the yacht.

“I’m wearing a white sundress over my bathing suit.”

“Which is exactly the wedding attire we requested.”

“Well, you look dapper yourself, but you do every day.” I kiss his cheek and run my hands down his white short-sleeve linen shirt pretending to smooth out any wrinkles.

I’ve never seen a hair out of place or a wrinkle in any of his clothes. Getting married on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic on the Fourth of July is sure to cause a little ruffle in his hair.

Who am I kidding? Jackson probably paid Mother Nature for this cloudless, windless, eighty-degree day.

He gives me a quick tour of the yacht, and by quick, I mean twenty minutes. There are three bedrooms, three bathrooms—like, full size—a kitchen bigger than the one in my apartment, a dining room that can sit twenty, and two living rooms. And that’s just the inside.

We walk the perimeter—the starboard? I don’t pay attention to the yacht terms and instead imagine what it would be like to live a day in the life of the super-rich. While Jackson and I have been friends for more than a decade, we keep our outings and meals on the simple side.

He knows I don’t care about the opulence, and he isn’t one to show off or boast about the buckets of money he rolls around in every day. But for his wedding, the one where he gets to marry the love of his life, he doesn’t hold back.

Granted, the farce of a wedding we were supposed to have five weeks ago set his family back a pretty penny. From what I’ve heard, more than a quarter of a million dollars. A drop in the bucket of money the Bankeses play with on the daily.

Which makes me think of the fifty grand an anonymous donor gave to my fundraiser.

When we’re back inside, Jackson guides me to a plush barstool and sits across from me, trapping my legs between his. Walker and I have sat the same way, but Jackson’s thighs pressed against mine don’t cause butterflies to flutter around my belly. He’s the brother I never had, and I love him dearly.

Though not in the same way I love— loved —his brother. If it was ever really love. I was enamored. In lust. Smitten. Love? Maybe. Possibly. Probably.

Fucking totally.

“I don't want you to be upset when I say this.” Jackson squeezes my knees.

“What a lead in. Now I’m freaking out and already upset. Please tell me your parents aren’t coming.”

I can’t even begin to imagine how much they despise me, even though the lack of a wedding last month was not my fault. Jackson’s been quiet about it, but he doesn’t ever bad mouth his parents. I’m sure they hate me and accuse me of not being good enough for their precious son, which was why he wound up gay.

His father’s words. Not mine. I overheard him when I escaped out the back door of the church.

“Sebastian and Lydia are still in France.”

“Are they aware you and Taylor are about to become Mr. and Mr. today?”

“Yes. Hence why they extended their stay in Europe.”

“I’m sorry.” I cover his hands with mine. “Is he taking away your trust or your role at the company?”

Jackson shakes his head. “After coming out the way I did, it would bring more shame on him and Bankes Inc. if he rejected me because I’m gay. It wasn’t my intent, but my public announcement has garnered me even more support from the board. Father would look like a complete ass if he reneged on the agreement.”

He is an ass.

I don’t say the words since Jackson and his father are close. As close as anyone can get to a piranha.

“And Taylor? He’s still okay leaving the firm?”

“He’s more than okay about it.”

“So your parents aren’t coming. What other news would upset—” My eyes and mouth widen and my face flushes. “Jackson. You told me he couldn’t make it.”

“He can’t. Walker’s still in California as far as I know.”

Relief and disappointment settle in my chest. “Well, out with it. Everyone will be here in a few minutes.”

Jackson tilts his head to the side and gives me a sad smile. “Walker and I have been talking almost daily. Well, texting, but that’s more than we’ve ever done.”

“I’m happy for you.” I really am. Even though Walker and I are over, it doesn’t mean it has to be for Jackson.

“He feels terrible about the things he said to you.”

“He told you?”

Jackson shakes his head. “Not the specifics. Just that he was an ass.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Riles.” Jackson rubs my knee. “But looking at things from his point of view, you have to understand how—”

“Oh my God, Jackson. Please don’t do this. Please don’t put him between our friendship. I haven’t said anything about him these past few weeks because I want you two to rekindle your relationship, but I don’t want to be involved. The topic of me is off the table for both of you, understand?” I hop from my chair. “Just because he’s a part of your life doesn’t mean he’s a part of mine.”

“I’m sorry, Riley.” Jackson folds me into a hug. “No fighting on my wedding day. I love you and want to see you happy. You were once, and I want that back for you.”

Yeah, I was once. A few months ago. And then I wasn’t.

“Enough.” I pull away from him and tap his cheeks. “This is your wedding day. You’re marrying the love of your life. Today is about you. You love being the center of attention, so enough about me.”

“I love you, Margaret Riley.”

“Call me that again and I’ll pray to the wind gods to mess your hair up during your vows. Maybe even call in a monsoon. Or a tsunami.”

“Yikes. Put the daggers away. I expect that from Kendall, not you.”

“Yeah, well, the daggers have recently become a staple in my life.”

He kisses my forehead and looks over my head with a grin. “There’s the rest of the crew. Time to go up on deck and get the party started.”

I give Kendall and Rowan a quick tour of the yacht and they drop their bags in one of the bedrooms, as I had done earlier.

When Kendall sees the bar, she rushes to it. “We pregaming?”

Earlier, there was no one behind it. Now a nice-looking older gentleman stands behind it, black tie and all. Only the finest for the wealthy.

“I suppose one drink can’t hurt.”

“Champagne?” the bartender asks.

“Hells yeah.” Kendall loops her arm through Rowan’s and mine and we don’t waste any time drinking from the crystal flutes.

“Celebrating without us?” Taylor asks, coming down the stairs, followed by Jackson and, who I presume to be Charles, Taylor’s brother.

Charles is just as handsome as his brother. Maybe a few inches shorter than Walker and lean instead of muscled like him. His eyes are dark brown instead of stormy gray, and his hair is as dark as his eyes.

I inwardly berate myself for comparing him to Walker. Yes, he’s handsome, quite so, but he doesn’t stir the dormant butterflies in my belly. I don’t miss the murmurs coming from Kendall and Rowan as they check him out.

“Please tell me he’s straight,” Rowan whispers.

“You must be Riley,” Charles steps forward and takes my hand in his, bringing my knuckles to his lips.

“Fuck me,” Kendall mutters, not too quietly, which garners a grin on Charles’s lips.

“Um. Yeah.” I don’t loosen my hand from his and introduce my two drooling friends.

“I’m single. I mean, Kendall.” She holds out her hand and Charles lowers mine to give Kendall’s knuckles the same treatment. If she were the knee wobbling sort, her knees would have given out.

“And Rowan?” He turns his attention to Row, who’s as scarlet as her bathing suit peeping out from under the straps of her light blue sundress.

“Yes,” she whispers, and hell if it doesn’t sound erotic, even to me.

My girl is flustered. Both my girls are.

“Taylor, you’ve been holding out on me,” Charles says to his brother over his shoulder.

Jackson and Taylor are paying us no attention, lost in each other’s embrace.

“Sir, if you’re ready,” the captain, who is also a justice of the peace and will be marrying Jackson and Taylor, says from the opposite end of the lounge.

“Oh. We’re ready.”

We follow them up the stairs to the front part of the ship. Boat. Yacht. Cruiser. Whatever it’s called. Charles takes my arm and threads it through his as we walk down the side.

When I glance at our joined arms, he says, “I’ve never been more excited to be the best man. It means I get to dance with the maid of honor all night, right?”

I chuckle. “I don’t know about all night.” We stop a few feet from the captain and the wedding couple, and Kendall and Rowan stand on either side of us.

I can’t help giggling when they both elbow each other out of the way as they argue over who gets to stand by Charles and who has to stand by me.

Charles brushes my hair out of my face and peers down at me. “You have a gorgeous smile.”

“Thank you.” I haven’t smiled in weeks. Not since my last date with Walker.

“Looks like I got here just in time.”

I snap my head to the side and gasp. Walker, dressed in cargo shorts and a white linen shirt, looks like a mountain man trapped at sea. His facial scruff has grown into a short beard, and his hair is long enough for me to clutch and wrap around my fingers.

But it’s not his appearance that has me in a trance. It’s the way he’s glaring at me. Or rather, at Charles, whose hand is still on my face.

“Walker. I didn’t think you were able to make it.” Jackson glances back at me and shakes his head, promising me with his eyes that he had no idea Walker would show.

I trust my best friend. I used to trust Walker. But after he destroyed my heart that is still under construction, I’m keeping a protective barrier around it.

Charles lowers his hand to our joined arms, resting it on my forearm. Walker’s gaze travels to where we’re touching, and I don’t miss the way his nostrils flare.

“Walker. Good to see you again.” Taylor steps forward and shakes his hand. Guess they’ve become buddies as well. “When did you get into town?”

“Flew in less than an hour ago.”

“This is my brother, Charles.” Taylor introduces the man who’s become glued to my side during this encounter.

I can’t tell if it’s Charles smooshing his body into mine or me molding myself into him. Either way, I’m not comfortable. And I’m not sure if it’s because of Charles’s presence or Walker’s.