She cuts herself off, breathing hard.
I raise my hand when she opens her mouth to continue. "I know what we’re doing here. You don’t need to spell it out like I’m a kid." My voice is low, regret creeping in. "I didn’t mean tocross a line, Olive. I really thought I was helping. I saw the letters CPX, and figured it was just some accidental alarm you set while drunk."
I shrug, the guilt crawling all over me.
She looks past me, her eyes unfocused.
"CPX isn’t just an alarm," she says quietly. "It’s for me. A reminder to take my medication." Her voice trembles. "Because if I don’t…" Olive's voice trails off, one tear slipping down her cheek. She wipes it away fast. Too fast. "I have to go."
"Olive, please wait."
"I’ll see you at the chapel." The door slams behind her before I can even move.
I drop onto the bed and bury my face in my hands.
So much for doing the right thing.
Chapter thirty
Avery
Iopenthedoorto my apartment after hearing fists bash against it.
Ryder and Orlando stand side by side, completely suited up like they're on their way to a mission or a funeral.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, eyes darting between them. "And why are you both dressed—"
"Like we’re going to a wedding?" Ryder says, pushing past me, making himself comfortable in my hotel room. I sigh and run my hands down my face, then shut the door behind them.
"Right. Wedding." I shake my head.
As if I could possibly forget.
"You know,somewould say you’re underdressed for the occasion," Orlando says, arms crossed as he surveys me like I’m the one out of place.
I glance down. Black slacks, unbuckled and hanging low on my hips, boxer briefs still on display. Not exactly company-ready, but I hadn’t planned on having any.
"Okay, first of all, my shirt’s hanging in the bedroom, freshly steamed. Second, it’s not like it’s a black-tie affair. We’re getting married by a dude in a wig and white flares who’s gonna tell me to kiss my bride, thank you very much."
I try to throw on an Elvis impression, but it lands somewhere between tragic and embarrassing. Still, I barrel ahead, because if I stop, they might say something about the wholekissing Olive in front of actual peoplething.
I mean, yeah, we’ve kissed. A lot. But this? This one feels…official and intimate. Like, more official than a kiss cam on the Jumbotron.
"And third, why are you guys even here? I thought we agreed you were skipping it."
"Youcame to that decision on your own when you didn’t invite us. Do you really think we would miss our best buddy getting hitched? The public sure as shit wouldn’t buy it. Or they would, but they’d blame Olive for driving a wedge between her new husband and the guys who have been through it all with him," Ryder says, slinging his arm over my shoulders, curling it around my neck.
Orlando raids my mini bar and pours the three of us a glass of expensive scotch. He slides them across the counter and raises his in a silent toast. "And also, I’m your manager. I kind of need to be here for shit like this."
I stare blankly at mine while my mind tries to comprehend exactly what’s happening.
Orlando takes a sip of his scotch as he studies me. "That, and Josie sent me to make sure everything runs smoothly."
Ryder lifts his glass with an arrogant smirk. "Cheers to a fake marriage that hopefully comes with real sex."
Orlando gives me a knowing look. "Here’s hoping you get to consummate your marriage before she finds out what a dick you can be."
Theclinkof their glasses rings in my ears. I grab mine, throw my drink back before either of them catches the lie I’m not saying aloud.
