CHAPTER TWENTY

RILEY

Other than the awkwardness of Walker being on board and catching him staring at me anytime I glance in his direction, the intimate wedding and afternoon on the yacht has been perfect.

Walker’s declaration that he cares about me has me more confused than a chameleon in a bag of Skittles. My heart tells me to leap into his arms and pick up where we left off when things were wonderful and perfect.

I close my eyes and sink into the lounge chair and curl my legs to my chest. They were never wonderful and perfect. Our relationship—or whatever label we want to stick on it—was based on lies. My lies. My deception.

As far as I’m aware, Walker has always been upfront and honest with me. The parts of himself he kept from me had nothing to do with deception and everything to do with protecting himself. And I can’t blame him. Not even a fraction of shame can I cast on him.

Yet, here he is, putting his heart on the line, forgiving me and wanting to move forward with us. I’ve never been one to be led by the heart, and this is the first time I’m upset at my head for being logical and rational.

Walker said some hateful words to me, but they were spot on. He may think he wants to forgive me and move on, but he doesn’t want to have a family. Children aren’t in his long-term plans, and I can’t be with a man who won’t put his family first.

I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he accused me of trapping him into a pregnancy. It was pure hate. Pure rage. Pure distrust. I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me physically, but he’d transformed into a different man; one I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with.

But he’s a good man at heart, which is why he came around. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want to be like his father and abandon his child. That’s nice and all, but I want the father of my future children to want them, not to concede to step up into the role because it would be wrong not to.

It’s like apologizing only because you got caught. I don’t want Walker to be caught. I want him to want to be a father. To have a family. But that’s not something I can control or change. The best I can do is be friends with him since he’s Jackson’s brother. He’ll be in my life, but I need to keep my heart at a distance.

“You asleep over there?” Kendall asks from the chaise lounge to my right.

“I was.” I straighten my legs. “We should probably change. The sun is starting to set, and it’s going to be cool out here.”

“I was waiting for the newlyweds to wake up from their nap before going inside.”

“Good call,” Rowan says from the other side of Kendall. “I smell grilled fish. I’m guessing dinner will be served on the lower deck soon.”

“I’m starving.” Kendall gets up and looks over the railing. “Well, hell. The view from over here is spectacular.”

Rowan jumps to her feet, and I follow. Stretched out on two loungers are Walker and Charles. Where Charles is long, lean, and toned, Walker is tall, buff, and muscular. He has abs upon abs, and the definition between his shoulders, biceps, and triceps is clear even when he’s not flexing.

The tapering of his waist to his V line is one I’ve had the pleasure of running my hands and tongue along many times. It’s not something you ever forget or get enough of.

“Holy shit, Riley. You got to touch those muscles?”

“She did a lot more than that.” Kendall elbows my ribs. “She rode that stallion—”

“Enough.” I elbow her back much harder than the gentle nudge she gave me.

“Taylor’s brother’s a smoke show as well. I can’t believe he’s been hiding Charles from us for all these years.” Rowan rests her elbows on the railing, and I can practically see her drool dripping down her chin and onto the lower deck.

“To be fair, Charles lives in New York and they both have crazy, busy schedules. As do you.”

“Mm.”

I chuckle, never having seen Rowan this enamored with a guy before. “We’ve been on this yacht for two hours and you’re just now realizing how hot Charles is?”

“For one, I’ve been too caught up in witnessing the love between Jackson and Taylor. And two, I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s social tension or sexual tension between you and Walker. I haven’t had time to think about Charles.”

“Oh, it’s one hundred percent sexual between Walker and our girl here. Even on this crystal-blue-sky day in the sea breeze, we need the wedding cake knife to cut through the sexual chemistry between these two.”

“We have a history. And it’s just that, history.”

“Bullshit. You’re a suckass liar.”

“Hey!” I don’t mean for my voice to carry, but carry it does, and both men look up. When Walker sees me, the corner of his mouth hooks up, and even with his eyes covered with his sunglasses, I can feel the way they burn into me.

“Get a room, you two,” Kendall says, none too softly.

I turn away from the railing and head toward the stairs. “I’m going to change for dinner,” I say over my shoulder. The next hour is busy with food, laughter, and Jackson eating up being the center of attention.

I purposely placed myself at the opposite end of the same side of the table as Walker so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at him. I’m afraid I’ll cave too easily and agree to giving us another chance. While being in his arms again is a dream of mine, not at the risk of obliterating my future dreams. I might as well have married Jackson and kept Walker on the side. That arrangement, if Walker was aware of it, would have been perfect for him.

No fear of commitment or expectations that I’d ask anything more of him.

After dinner, we all return to the upper deck to watch the fireworks. The oversized U-shaped outdoor couch seats the seven of us perfectly. I stake my claim immediately next to Jackson, not wanting to be pushed next to Walker, but my traitorous friends sabotage me by asking me to get another bottle of champagne.

It’s not until I’m halfway to the lower deck that I remember there’s a full staff to fetch things like champagne. As soon as I turn around, Kendall plops down in my seat and pulls Charles next to her, and Rowan sandwiches him in, leaving the two end spots open.

Walker is still leaning against the railing staring into the sunset. He was quiet during dinner, and he’s even more aloof this evening. Sighing with resignation, I return to the sofa and prop my feet up on the table in front of us like I’m not annoyed or onto their stupid ploy.

“Champagne?” Kendall holds out her empty flute.

“We have staff for that,” Jackson says, and a man in a black suit instantly appears with a bottle, refilling our glasses.

There’s more conversation and laughter, mostly from Jackson and Kendall, who love to entertain, telling stories of some of their recent shenanigans. I can’t help but glance at Walker and wonder why he’s staying away. This is his brother and his new brother-in-law’s wedding. He deserves to be here and part of the group just as much as I do, if not more.

Pushing myself off the sofa, I cross the deck to Walker. “Hey.” I lean my hip against the railing, not too close to him but close enough to catch his soapy, woodsy scent. “Are you going to join us?”

He squints his eyes for a second then relaxes his face, now void of emotion. “I’m glad my brother has a close-knit circle of friends outside his job.”

“I’ve seen him in his element at work events. CFO Jackson is not nearly as fun or real as normal Jackson.”

Walker nods. “Sounds like you all have an arsenal of stories. It’s...nice.”

And then I get it. Walker feels like an outsider. From the little he spoke about his life in California to what I’ve read online, I don’t think he has much of a social life. If there’s a circle of friends, he’s extremely private about it, which doesn’t surprise me.

More laughter erupts behind us, followed by an explosion in the sky. Bright red, white, and blue fireworks fill the sky and reflect off the ocean water. I’ve seen the firework display from the park, but never like this.

Never in such a romantic setting. I half expect Walker to move closer, to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me into his side. Or hold me in front of him, cocooning me with his arms.

But he doesn’t. He’s respecting my request to keep his distance, even though I can tell by the tightness in his jaw that he wants to touch me.

My body betrays me and leans to my left. When my subtle movement catches his attention, I scoot back. If only we wanted the same thing.

He wants the physical. I do too, but I need more.

He says he cares about me, and I believe he does, but not in a forever kind of way.

Not in the marry me, have my children, grow old with me because I’m madly, deeply in love with you way like I am with him.

If only.