“Why do you love Cheryl?”
He blinked. “Sorry?”
“Why do you want to be with Cheryl? Why do you like her?”
The hugeness of that question, the randomness of it—along with a shitload of prosecco and orange liquor—made it hard for him to speak.
Beth took that badly. “Is it because she’s beautiful and you can’t have her? Is it because you don’t know how to have female friends? Are you trying to prove some point to Willow and Derek?”
“No. Christ, no.”
“Then why? Because I only use my powers for good and there are a lot of girls in the world.”
“Not like Cheryl.”
“True, but you’re a twenty-three-year-old football player, and neither of those things are famed for long-lasting sexual relationships. So, spell it out for me. Why do you want Cheryl?”
Patrick wasn’t an angry guy but the way she was talking like he was some dumb kid with no sense of loyalty sparked his temper. He put his empty Aperol glasses on the railing with more force than necessary. “Who the fuck wouldn’t want Cheryl? She’s funny and smart and driven—”
“Driven?”
“Yeah, she’s always thinking, like, ten steps ahead. She never forgets anything. She remembers my mum’s birthday and how I have my coffee and she always asks about my brothers’ kids—”
“So, she pays attention to you?”
“Yes,” he snarled. “But it’s more than that. She knows me and I know her. We’re happy together.”
“Maybe that means she’s just a good friend?”
“No. Before Cheryl, I was wandering around waiting for something to happen. The second I saw her, I knew. She’s what happened.”
“Okay, that’s pretty sweet.”
But he wasn’t done. Now that he’d started, words kept pouring out of him.
“The second we were talking, it was the easiest thing in the world. We fit together. Where I’m shit, she’s amazing. Where she needs help, I can help her. We work together, and I swear she feels it too, she just fights it. And I can wait. I will wait, it’s just… it’s fucking hard sometimes.”
He turned back to the water, face burning. He’d kept what he’d just said inside for so long only to blurt it out at the wrong woman.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t… yeah. Sorry.”
“That was really beautiful.”
The watery note in her voice made him glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, she was crying. “Shit. Did I upset you?”
“In the best possible way.” Beth wiped her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m just full of hormones. Anyway, are you ready to fuck Cheryl?”
Emotional as he was, her about-face made him laugh. “There’s no way. Sorry, I like you, but there’s no way this is happening.”
“Patrick, you’re hot and tall and nice and everything, but you really don’t understand this situation. I do. Trust me.”
Still smiling, he shook his head. “Okay, I’ll trust you. What now?”
“Come with me.” Beth took his free arm and steered him toward the middle of the yacht.
He turned to look at Cheryl as he left. She was still talking to the old guy, unaware anything had happened. His stomach sank and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut to Beth. Even if everyone did know he was in love with Cheryl, at least he’d have denial on his side…
Beth led him to the main cabin, where most of the guests were hanging out. Three bars surrounded a big dance floor, and he spotted Derek and Mara swaying together, each holding a twin. The scene was so cutesy, he wanted to turn on his heels and run. “I might go talk to—”
