“That’sexactlywhat you sounded like,” Colt agrees, an effortless grin playing on his lips. “And you...” He points at me, “...spare us the details.”
“Okay, fine. Fast forward a bit. We agreed to casual sex, and Blair insisted we revert to nothing more than politeheys in passing. No kissing, no sweet talk, no talk at all. We were just supposed to use each other in bed.”
“But that backfired, didn’t it?”
“Big time. We were casual for a while, but before I knew it, what I didn’t want to happen to her, happened to me. I caught feelings. I tricked her into kissing me, locked her in my condo, and didn’t let her leave until she ate dinner with me...”
Conor rolls his eyes. Too bad he’s not so prone to keeping his stories PG-rated whenever he talks about Vivienne.
“When did you decide to take it up a step?” Colt asks.
“Last week. Just before the bachelor party.”
“I fucking knew it!” Conor booms, his voice carrying over the pristine lawn. “You were so fucking happy, and you barely looked at any girls all weekend. Damn, I’m good.”
Colt, more composed, raises a questioning eyebrow. “And the wedding? Quite risky bringing her here, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I know, but to be perfectly honest, I was dying to see your faces when you saw us walk in together.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” He exhales a long breath, looking up to the star-studded sky, theatrically mouthingthank you. “I was freaking out you’d kept quiet because you’re as stupid as Logan and thought we’d stop talking to you.”
We all chuckle, remembering the name-calling that went down when Logan proudly announced he was in love with Cassidy and would choose her and—unborn at the time—Noah, no matter what we thought.
“Maybe if that situation with Logan never happened, I would’ve been more worried,” I admit, passing Colt my shot glass. “I remember what Nico said, so I know that nothing, least of all love, would make you turn on me.”
“Say what you will, but I think we turned out better than they did,” Conor muses, raising his shot glass higher as if making a toast. “We learned from their mistakes, didn’t we?”
“We sure did.” Colt’s face softens. “Way to drive the point home, though. Big-headed as always,” he quips, clinking his shot to ours. “So what happened today? Why isn’t she here?”
The tequila burns going down, warming my chest. Too bad it doesn’t dull the ache ripping my heart open all over again. “That’s the thing. You’ve got as much information as I do. B was nervous all week but woke up excited this morning. I left her in the departure lounge for five fucking minutes while I went to buy coffee. She was gone when I came back, and some random guy gave me that napkin.”
“Sounds like she got cold feet, bro. She’ll probably apologize when you get back. You’ll be fine.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s something else. It’s not me. At least I don’t think it’s me.”
“Time.” Colt makes a T using his hands. “We need another bottle. Hold on a sec.”
However many drinks he had before we started the Patrón are showing in his steps as he zig-zags toward the hotel. He’s quick, though, back inside three minutes with two bottles.
“If we drink this, we’ll end up sleeping right here,” Conor says but still downs his shot with a grin. “Alright, so how does Ana factor into all this? Last-minute decision? Is she the reason you had to take another flight?”
“Yeah, Blair bolted forty minutes before take-off.” I fall back, lying flat on the wooden platform, staring at the flowers, chiffon, and stars. “I shouldn’t have brought Ana here. I called her two minutes after I read Blair’s note. I hadn’t processed what it said, and on our way here, I realized this can’t be it. There’s something I’m not seeing.”
We keep talking while the second bottle of tequila empties at a steady pace. By the time my wristwatch reads three in the morning the world blurs and sways as we stumble into the hotel lobby.
We’re trashed.
I can’t remember the last time I was this drunk, but I’m feeling a little better now that I got everything off my chest. Now that Iknowmy brothers have my back no matter what happens. It’s been a while since we had a good heart-to-heart. I fucking missed spending quality time with them. After all, that’s what family is about. We stick together through the highs and the lows.
“Fuck, I sure hope we’ll be up in time for the ceremony,” Conor mumbles while an imaginary tornado in the lobby tosses him about. “I’m so drunk. Vee’s not gonna be pleased.”
“We’ll be golden,” Colt slurs, phone in hand.
He stops by the stairs, narrowing his eyes at the screen, his feet spread for balance, upper body swaying wildly.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Shut up. I can’t see when you talk.”
