Marcus lets out a low chuckle.
Declan leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “Hands on her hips. Gentle. Respectful.”
Connor nods eagerly. “And then he says—” he clears his throat and drops into a terrible imitation of Rhys’s voice, “‘I’m sorry. I’m getting married.’”
The entire cabin erupts.
Rhys groans. “I hate all of you.”
Connor wipes tears from his eyes. “She thought he was joking.”
Declan smirks. “She tried again.”
Connor points. “And he stopped her again.”
“I wasn’t going to cheat on my fiancée at my bachelor party,” Rhys snaps.
“Cheat?” Connor repeats. “She was dancing. It’s Vegas.”
Rhys doesn’t budge. “Doesn’t matter.”
Misha nods solemnly. “Good man.”
Connor stares at him. “You’re not helping.”
Declan studies Rhys for a moment, something quieter settling into his expression. “I would’ve done the same thing, man.”
Connor leans back, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is insane. The man had a hall pass from God himself and said no.”
Rhys shrugs. “Didn’t want it.”
Declan laughs under his breath.
I move past them toward my seat, the familiar rhythm of their voices wrapping around me like armor.
Connor points at Rhys again. “You’re ruined.”
Rhys doesn’t look remotely ashamed.
“She’s everything,” he says simply.
The sincerity in his voice shuts everyone up for a second.
Even Connor.
Even me.
Because we all know it’s true.
Rhys Kincaid, notorious playboy, completely destroyed by one woman.
Elara.
He pulls out his phone, probably checking for a message from her.
Then Connor’s glare lands on me. “And where the hell did you vanish to last night, Cap?”
“Yeah, Jake,” Declan rumbles, grinning. “We were at the club, the shots were flowing, I turned around to tell you Hayes almost threw up on a go-go dancer, and you were gone. Ghosted. Poof.”
