“Must be that hurricane,” Betty says. “I sure hope it doesn’t turn for New Orleans.”
“I never heard about a hurricane,” I say, while Easton, beside me, pulls out her phone to check.
“How could you not have heard?” Betty asks. “It’s been all over the news for two days straight.”
Easton and I exchange a glance. “We were kind of checked out,” I tell Betty. “Where’s it heading?”
Easton scratches her chin. “I think this, today, is just a regular rainstorm...the hurricane’s too far away at the moment, but they expect it to strengthen once it hits the Gulf, at which point it either turns toward Cancun, Fort Myers, or New Orleans.”
“Shit,” I say quietly.
“Kelsey should call it off right now,” says my grandmother, who’s been unusually subdued in her hatred of Easton today. “What if everyone flies in and gets trapped?”
“Nonsense,” says Betty. “She’d cancel, and then the storm will turn and it’ll all have been for no reason.”
They continue to bicker between themselves. Easton’s lovely mouth is pressed tight, her eyes worried.
“What’s up?” I ask quietly.
“Kelsey’s been planning her wedding since we were seven. I mean, I’ve never seen any little kid more focused on this than she was. I hate that it might be ruined.”
I glance at her again. “You seemed pretty focused on getting married yourself as a kid.”
She gives me the most half-hearted smile in response. I suspect because the person she wanted to marry was me.
This is what I’d tell her if I could: I wanted it too. I still do.
But a lot of things would need to change for me to say it aloud.
We arrivein New Orleans just after five. I half-expected Kelsey to be irritated—she’d planned to distribute the welcome bags before everyone arrived—but she’s too happy to have Easton here to care.
“I can’t believe you had to endure over a week with my awful brother,” she says as soon as we step into the Boudreauxes’ massive foyer. “Did he make you lift with him every day? He’s so annoying about that.”
Easton’s gaze meets mine, and her mouth slips into a smile. I assume she’s thinking of yesterday, which was extremely active though not in any traditional way. “He wasn’tespeciallyawful. What can we do to help?”
“We need to distribute the bags,” Kelsey says, giving me a look. “Oncesomebodyhas brought everything inside.”
“Damn, Kelsey,” I reply. “Not even married to a billionaire but already got the Marie Antoinette act down cold.”
Her mouth opens to object when the back door opens. Hawk and a guy about his size walk in, wearing polo shirts and shorts.
“Oh!” Kelsey cries, grabbing Easton’s arm. “The boys are back from the driving range. Come meet Aiden.”
I follow, as if Kelsey wanted to introduce me too. I’m pretty sure she didn’t.
Hawk shakes my hand while Kelsey introduces Easton and Aiden. “You just missed a very wet day on the driving range,” Hawk says. “Aiden, this is Kelsey’s brother, Elijah.”
We shake hands before Aiden’s attention darts immediately back to Easton. “Kelsey says you’re studying longevity,” he says. “I’ve got so many questions for you. I was just reading this thing about creatine, and I want your opinion.”
Did I ask her a single fucking question about her research or the shit she cares about? I don’t think I did, and I actuallywantedto know. I was just too scared to show my ignorance, to accidentally remind her of one of the reasons she belongs with Thomas instead. And here Aiden is, proving that there might still be a few good men in the world, but that I’m not one of them. He pulls up an article and she tells him what another study has found. I remain by her side like a fucking oaf, saying nothing, because I just want to stop whatever’s occurring here in its tracks.
“Elijah,” Kelsey sighs. “I need thebags.”
“I’ll help you bring everything in,” Hawk offers, so I’ve got no choice but to go.
We head toward the driveway, Hawk laughing under his breath. “Aiden didn’t waste any time, huh?”
My responding laugh is entirely forced and comes out sounding more like: “Hmmm.”
