This was the same man who avoided him like the plague at social functions he’d attended with said dates. Who, when asked who Heath was, claimed only that they’d gone to school together.
The one time they’d kissed, Christian had been blind drunk and later denied it furiously. He’d had to stand there and smile and act like he wasn’t being gaslit by a man who only hours before had whispered against his lips how desperately long he’d wanted to do that.
Heath buried his face in his hands to muffle the sob that torefrom his throat. He’d fucking disappeared with some woman whose name Heath didn’t even know, and hadn’t bothered to mention he’d canceled the vacation.
“Heath?”
The sound of his name, his actual name on Evan’s lips pulled him from the spiral. He stood several feet away, clad in swim trunks and a billowy tank top, his eyebrows pinched with concern.
Shit. No. He couldn’t handle this right now.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine!”
Instant regret hit his stomach like his grandmother’s dry, tasteless meatloaf at the surprise in those emerald-flecked eyes.
He wanted to apologize and take it back, but chose not to. What he wanted didn’t matter. Heneededto be alone. Specifically, he needed this beautiful enigma of a man toleavehim alone, and if that meant being an asshole, so be it.
Why couldn’t he hate Westin? It should be so easy. He was just like all the others, wasn’t he? Nothing more than a plutocratic philanderer.
The man lived in a world where $100,000 watches were a casual purchase—oh yes, he’d looked it up. His smile stole the bones from Heath’s legs, and a single muscle flex put them back somewhere entirely too prominent. The bastard made him laugh and behaved like a normal person. Possibly even aniceperson. Just hearing him say his name raised goosebumps across his skin.
“I’m hitting the beach. Want a ride?”
“No.”
His eyes burned. His sinuses felt three sizes too big, and there was no doubt his face was a red, splotchy mess. He didn’t want to be around other people. Besides, beaches were for fun, and he wasn’t supposed to be having any of that.
“You want me to leave the cart?”
“I’m staying here.”
He would stew in his petulance. Let the wind and waves fold in some salty misery.
He heard Evan draw a breath and waited for an argument, but all that came was a long sigh and the patter of sandals.
“Suit yourself.”
twelve
. . .
“What have you done with Heath?”
A full day had now passed since Evan had seen Lennox in the flesh. When he’d returned from the beach on breakdown day, the only sign of his hubby was a cup in the sink and six more built into a tower on the island, with the bath towel elephant housekeeping had left on the bed balanced on top.
He’d taken that as a pretty obvious sign Lennox’s state of mind hadn’t improved, and resisted checking in on him. The grumbling and shuffling he heard from behind the door provided satisfactory enough signs of life.
The scowl on Isabella’s face suggested she wouldn’t be so easily appeased.
“I haven’t done a thing. I swear.”
“Then why isn’t he down here with you?”
“He doesn’t drink.”
