by Jordyn White
Ashley and I exchange glances. Ashley kind of shrugs. Maybe Sam’s just distracted. She has been busy today.
“I can’t believe Isabella’s getting married,” Ashley says.
“Isabella Brooks,” I say. “That’ll take some getting used to.”
Suddenly, Sam turns toward me, tears brimming in her eyes.
I blink at her in surprise.
“How could you?” she whispers.
Instantly it’s clear: Sam knows.
All my dread about her finding out drops over me in a split second. My skin is cold with fear.
“Sam, I—”
“You’re supposed to be my friend.” A crocodile tear escapes her lashes and runs down her cheek. She instantly turns away from me and yanks a tissue from the box, dabbing her eyes. She’s being careful not to ruin her makeup. Her face is becoming a mask, as she focuses on what she’s doing.
“I saw you two,” she says flatly, still tending to her eyes. “In the hall last night.”
God, I’m a stupid idiot. And a rotten friend. And there’s no point denying any of that.
I no longer want to explain. I don’t want to say I’d met Grayson before or that I love him. Because none of it really changes what I’ve done.
“Sam, please, I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.”
I glance at Ashley helplessly. She looks tortured. “Sam, you should know—”
“No,” I say.
Ashley looks at me. “But...”
“No. It doesn’t matter.” I don’t want it to sound like an excuse. Whether I was with Grayson first or not is irrelevant. I kissed him—twice—while he was here with Sam and she has every right to be hurt about that. I’m hurt about it myself.
Sam spins on Ashley. “You knew about this too?”
Ashley gapes at her, speechless.
Sam turns back to the mirror, angry and fighting tears.
Oh God, I think. “No, this isn’t Ashley’s fault.”
“You need to tell her,” Ashley says forcefully.
“It’s no excuse.”
Sam spins around to face me, arms crossed. “Tell me what?”
For a moment I’m frozen, caught in Sam’s glare. But she’s waiting, and I realize I have to say something.
I slowly approach and go down on my knees, looking up at Sam. She looks temporarily disarmed by this, but frowns at me, as if raising her defenses.
“I met Grayson before,” I say quietly. “He’s the one I was with the night I was supposed to marry Brad.” Sam’s eyes sharpen slightly, but otherwise her expression doesn’t change and she does not move. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I should have. I didn’t know what to do. I thought...” my voice breaks, but I take a resolute breath and push on. I just need to get it all out.
“I fell in love with him that night and I know that sounds stupid but I did. It freaked me out so I ran out on him. I didn’t see him again until he came here to be with you. I thought it was over anyway and I didn’t want to ruin your week so I just—” I stop. Her expression still hasn’t changed. “I should have told you. But I...”
“You’re the girl?” Sam says. I don’t know which I hear in her voice more, hurt or anger.
I nod helplessly.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” she says sharply. “I was talking about it right in front of you and you said nothing.”
I pinch my eyes closed briefly. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you were going to react and I didn’t want to risk spoiling Isabella’s wedding. I was going to tell you afterward.”
Looking at her is too much for me. I’m a horrible friend and a coward, because the only way I can get through the next part is to look down at my hands clasped on my lap.
“I kissed him Thursday on the ship and I kissed him in the hall yesterday and I didn’t mean to betray you. I swear to God, Sam, I didn’t. But I know I did. And if I could go back and change everything I would.”
I look back up at her. She still has the same hard expression. She’s still frowning at me. But now her eyes are filled with tears. “I’m so, so sorry. God, Sam. I’m so sorry.”
I can’t even ask her to forgive me. Why should she?
As if in slow motion, Sam raises to her feet.
“I’m going to go help Isabella,” she says flatly. “She doesn’t need to know any of this right now. I’m not going to ruin my friend’s wedding.”
Then, I realize just how bad this is. Sam doesn’t call me names or rage or even tell me to piss off. I’ve hurt her so much we’re far, far past the nuclear stage. Because calm as you please, Sam leaves the room and closes the door quietly behind her.
Chapter 18
The ceremony is a little surreal.
Sam, Ashley, and I go through the motions pretty believably, I think. Sam smiles at Isabella like she couldn’t be happier. I smile, too. It is a beautiful ceremony, made even more beautiful by our friend. Isabella’s in a stunning custom-made dress, with a flared trumpet silhouette cut. The entire dress is covered in delicate lace, has Swarovski crystals adorning the bodice and train, and an open back showing her gorgeous, dark, Mediterranean skin. Shane is dashing in his black tux, and the tender look of love he gives Isabella when she comes down the aisle probably makes every woman present swoon.
I couldn’t say, myself. Inside I feel nothing. I’m numb and feel like I’m watching the whole thing unfold without really being part of it.
Like I’m already on the outs.
Surrounded by the most perfect weather anyone could ask for, with a gorgeous view of the ocean, everything goes off without a hitch. At the conclusion of the ceremony, we all file into the Grand Ballroom for the reception. It’s like something out of a fairy tale. There are flowers and lights everywhere, and a false ceiling made of graceful bands of silk. The tables are set with fine china, crystal goblets, and delicate silver flatware. There’s not one, but two ice sculptures, and a string quartet playing at the far end.
We stand in the receiving line as people come through to give their well wishes and make their way to the tables. Ashley is standing between me and Sam in the line. Sam hasn’t looked at me once.
Eventually we all join Isabella and Shane at the bridal table at the front and an army of waiters and waitresses proceeds to serve us a four-course dinner. I feel like I’m being swept along by the tide. I hear the dinner is excellent, but I wouldn’t know. I’m eating dutifully, but I can’t really taste it.
At last the meal is over, the quartet packs up, and the DJ takes over. Isabella and Shane head to the open floor in the center to have their first dance. When they’re finished, the tide that’s swept me along so far will be over. There will be no more obligations.
Then I’ll be able to talk to Sam, if she’ll hear me.
When the dance is over and the DJ invites the rest of us to join in, I turn toward Sam, two seats down from me.
But she’s gone.
Thirty minutes goes by and Sam doesn’t come back. That’s when I go looking. I find her out in the hall, alone. She’s sitting on a padded bench, leaning against the wall and chewing on her thumbnail.
I approach tentatively. Half way there, she notices me. I stop. She looks at me and drops her hand to her lap, saying nothing. I continue on until I’m to her, but I don’t sit down.
She looks forward, still not talking. She looks so resigned and defeated. I would much rather she rage and tell me she hates me than see her like this.
“You can yell at me if you want,” I say.
She looks at me and furrows her brow.
“Or call me names?” I suggest.
She rolls her eyes and looks forward again. “Sit down, Chloe.”
I slowly lower myself to the edge of the bench.
“Have you told me everything? You know... everything?”
I’m not sure she really wants to know everything, or that I want to tell her. Haven’t I said enough? “I don’t want to give you excuses.”
“Yes, yes.” She rolls her eyes again. “But this isn’t about you, okay? It’s about me. Have you told me everything about you two or not?”
I press my lips together and hold my breath a moment. “No,” I say quietly.
“Well then.”
Now I remember what Jack said. He said I should tell Sam the whole story. And Sam is, after all, asking.
So I comply.
I tell the entire thing, leaving nothing out. I tell my story the way I told it to Ashley. The way I would tell my friend. After a while, Sam watches me, but her impassive expression doesn’t change.
When I’m finished, she faces forward again and sits there for a while.
“I’m so, so sorry, Sam. Please believe me.”
She looks at me then. “Thank you for explaining,” she says quietly, then gets up and walks down the hall without another word.
Eventually I go back into the ballroom. I don’t know if Sam is in here or not. I don’t look for her. I find a table on the edge of the room—inhabited by elderly guests who seem perfectly content to watch the younger ones out on the dance floor—and park myself there.
The song the DJ is playing is a raucous one, and the dance floor is hopping. Isabella and Shane are really getting into it. Turns out, the professor knows how to move.
I couldn’t say how long I sat there before I see Sam marching across the room, heading straight for me. I sit up straighter.
Oh God, here it comes. She’s gonna go crazy on me right here and now. I’ve been wishing she were mad instead of so hurt she can barely talk, but now that my friend is apparently descending on me in all her nuclear glory, I’m as terrified as any sane person would be.
I stand as she gets closer, take half a step back, and flinch when she grabs my hand. But she’s not wailing on me. She’s leading me across the room.
“Uh, Sam?”
“Wait for it.”
Maybe she’s taking me where there won’t be any witnesses. Somewhere she can hide the body?
We weave through the crowd and exit the ballroom. “Sam?”
She doesn’t slow. She takes me straight to—
“Grayson?” I breathe.
He’s standing in the hall and he’s... smiling?
Sam and I halt directly in front of him. She grabs Grayson’s arm, then puts my hand in his.
“There,” she says.
I can only gape at her.
“You owe me fucking huge,” Sam says.
I blink.
With a perfectly straight face, she gives me a wink and starts to walk away. “I swear. The trouble I have to go through just to get you a date for the reception.”
Still stunned, I look at Grayson. He’s giving me a tentative smile. “Can I have this dance?”
“I—” I hold up one finger. “Hang on.”
I spin and hurry after Sam, launching myself and giving her a huge hug from behind.
“Oof! Get off me, woman!”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I say, still hanging on to her.
“Okay, okay.” She disentangles herself and turns toward me.
She’s giving me a sort of, “What am I going to do with you?” look.
“Do you forgive me? Really, truly?”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay missy, let’s just get it all out, shall we?”
I clasp my hands together and nod, looking at her meekly.
“Yeah, I was hurt. Obviously, okay? I mean, what a dumb ass move.”
I nod my head vigorously. Captain Dumb Ass. That’s me.
“But there’s one thing that got me more than anything else. Why didn’t you just tell me from the beginning?”
I raise my hands helplessly. “I don’t know. Because I’m a stupid idiot? I probably should have told you. But once I realized that, I thought it was too late to change it, and then he kind of, you know, became your property and—”
She raises her eyebrows incredulously. “Say what?”
“Well, because I didn’t tell you. That kind of made him yours. Doesn’t that make sense?”
“Fuck no,” Sam says, but she doesn’t look upset. “You could’ve just explained.”
“I know. I should have. I was just... so afraid of losing you as a friend. And then I started thinking about what happened with Loni.”
“Loni? Who the hell’s...” Sam halts, then gets a dawning look on her face. “Oh that girl?” She rolls her eyes again. “God, Chloe, did you really think you mean so little to me? I wasn’t as close to Loni as I am to you. That lunatic kinda drove me nuts anyway.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Sam sighs. “Just... stop saying you’re sorry. I know you’re sorry.”
“I really am.”
She gives me a sharp look. “I am going to smack you, woman.”
I press my lips together.
Her expression softens and she sighs. “You love him, right?”
I nod.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her brows furrowed. “You know, I can’t guarantee his effectiveness in the sack.”
I snort and give a tentative half grin.
“Can’t hold his liquor either.” Sam’s starting to grin herself. “And his idea of fun is to strap himself to this teeny, tiny rope and go careening down a mountain like a crazy person. Oh, hell, what am I saying? You two nut jobs are probably perfect for each other.”
I smile and throw my arms around her. “Thank you, Sam.”
I expect her to call me a lunatic and tell me to get off, but she doesn’t. She squeezes me back.
Chapter 19
When I go back to Grayson, I have so many questions. So many things I want to say. I don’t say any of it. I just launch myself into his arms and we grip each other tightly. Being in his arms, I feel my entire soul sighing with relief.
He squeezes me tighter and lifts me onto my tiptoes.
“I missed you so much,” I breathe into his neck.
“Since yesterday or since nine months ago?”
“Yes.”
He loosens his grip enough to kiss me. We open to each other and kiss deeply. Again, my soul sighs, satisfied. But the rest of me is just getting started.
“We have to go in there,” he says lowly.
I nod, rubbing one hand up his chest. “Okay.” I kiss him again, and this time he takes me with more hunger, cupping my face with one hand. I kiss him eagerly, my body lighting up.
He pulls back, still holding my face, his eyes smoldering. “I’ve been instructed to make sure you dance tonight.”
“Okay.” I return to his mouth. I don’t want to know if Sam gave him any other instructions about what to do with me tonight. Besides, I have my own ideas.
As our tongues search each other, I press myself firmly against him. I feel him growing against me. It’s all I can do not to wrap a leg around him right now.
Maybe a more reasonable person would wait until later, but, yeah. I’m totally not waiting.
I’m about to suggest we take a detour to my room when he’s suddenly steering me backwards, still kissing me. He pulls away briefly, quickly checks the hall—still empty thank God, since we apparently have no brains—and opens a door behind me.
We slip into a small, dark conference room and he backs me against a wall. What little restraint we were exercising in the hall is completely gone now. Frantically kissing each other and breathing hard, I undo his belt buckle and zipper while he shimmies up my dress and slides off my panties. The second we’re both exposed, he hooks his hands under my shoulders and lifts me easily.
Throbbing and ready, I wrap my legs around his waist. I gasp as he presses me against the wall and enters my wet channel in one smooth move.
Oh my God, how I’ve needed this man.
He thrusts into me eagerly and I allow a moan of pleasure to escape before remembering where we are and biting back further sounds. The bass of the music in the ballroom resonates through the wall. Gripping his shoulders, I arch my head back as he takes me again and aga
in. “Grayson,” I whisper. “God, yes.”
As my slick channel tightens around his hard shaft, I feel every ridge of him rubbing against me. I tuck into his neck, and he tucks into mine. The sound and feel of our hot breaths surround me.
“Chloe,” he says thickly.
“Yes,” I breathe, clutching him tightly as he rides me hard. As the hot ecstasy pulsing in my clit starts to flow outward, bathing me in pleasure, I clamp even harder around his cock.
“God, Chloe.”
“Take me,” I whisper. My chest is flushing hot as his movements intensify. I try to bite back a cry, but it escapes as a desperate whimper. He pushes me high and hard. The pleasure in my body spikes and I throw my head back.
I’m about to come and his cock is so hard that I know he is too. He thrusts me furiously and I almost go over. I claw at his back as he thrusts me again, and I damn near come undone as my orgasm explodes at last.
I arch back, practically climbing up the wall. He comes too and the contractions of his climax press against mine and amplifies the waves of pleasure tearing through me.
“Grayson,” I gasp. My body contracts with pleasure and I bite the fabric of his shirt in an effort not to cry out.
At last I’m released from the peak and waves of pleasure slowly bring me down to the tingling conclusion. He slows too, and we’re left still and panting against the conference room wall.
He presses against me gently, his hands supporting me as my body starts to relax and my legs lose their strength. He keeps us there, his cock still inside me, as I release into his arms.
He’s still tucked into me, but kisses me gently on the neck. Little ripples of pleasure dance away from the place his lips touch me.
“I...” he says kissing me softly again, “am so...” he lifts up and kisses me on the temple, “in love with you.”
I look at him and he holds me firmly, keeping me safe and secure right where I am. He smiles and I smile back.
“I love you, too,” I say. “So much.”
His smile widens.
I’m starting to be aware of the fact that we’re in a rather compromising position in an unlocked room and start to lower my legs. He gently slides out of me, then carefully helps me get back on my own two feet. There’s nothing graceful about the redressing and hair fussing that follows, but we can’t stop grinning at each other and our little burst of passion feels impossibly romantic to me anyway.