What was he thinking? He wasn’t attracted.
Victor shook his head and stood. “Well, I saw you sitting here and thought I’d at least say goodbye.”
She stood with him and extended her hand. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned this weekend.”
Her fingers were long, elegant. Just like the woman. Disappointment saying goodbye was an emotion he had no business feeling. Yet there it was, like a lump in his chest.
“Are you?”
Her smile cracked. “No. But it seemed the right thing to say. I am sorry for the heartache. That’s never easy, even if it’s for the right reason.”
Victor realized he was still shaking her hand and let go.
“Goodbye, Victor. Good luck to you.”
“Goodbye, Shannon.” And because it was the appropriate thing to do once you said goodbye, Victor walked away. When he turned to take a last look, Shannon sharply moved her gaze to her coffee.
Shannon moved up the beach by half a mile and settled into one of only two second-story suites the boutique hotel offered. With the uninterrupted views of the ocean and a private patio that had its own plunge pool, this hotel was exactly what she’d envisioned while staying in Tulum for a vacation. As planned, there wasn’t one familiar face from the Brookses’ wedding party. If any of the family or guests had decided to extend their stay, they hadn’t changed hotels. Most people wouldn’t. Then again, most people didn’t plan on the nefarious actions Shannon had in mind for the rest of her stay.
She was on the balcony when she heard Avery enter the room. Shannon stood from the shady spot she’d propped herself up on to greet her friend. Avery held her welcome drink in one hand and her purse in the other.
“Eeeeek. This place is the shit,” Avery said, tossing her purse aside and offering Shannon a one-arm hug.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
The bellhop placed Avery’s bag in the room and asked if there was anything else he could assist with. Shannon tipped the man and closed the door behind him.
“Look at this room.”
It was pretty nice. A king-size bed and an additional twin was the best they could do without having separate rooms. If Shannon found a baby daddy, it would do well to have a roommate to fall back on if she needed the man to go to his own room when they were done.
“Check out the balcony.”
Avery didn’t need to be asked twice. She wandered outside and tossed her arms wide. “A private pool?”
More like an oversize hot tub, but yeah. “A great place to wash the salt water off after a day in the ocean.”
“This is fabulous.”
They talked briefly about her flight and drive from the airport. Then the conversation turned toward the nonwedding.
“. . . so I had the bartender pour him several shots of mezcal, and before you knew it, he was passed out on the bar.”
“On?”
“I took great pleasure in thinking he was hungover the next day.”
They were sitting on their balcony, enjoying the ocean breeze and shade of the palapa.
“I didn’t know you had such a merciless side.”
“Me either,” Shannon said. “I kinda like it.”
Avery grinned. “You’re either getting to an age where pretending has grown old or I’m rubbing off on you.”
“I think it’s the former. I don’t want a child of mine growing up feeling like they have to hold their emotions back all the time.”
“Like we did.”
Shannon regarded Avery. “I doubt you did a lot of holding back.”
“Yeah, I sucked at it. Still do.”
“It’s served you well.”
Avery swung her legs over the chaise and stood. “Let’s find our swimsuits and hit the bar. See if there are any eligible bartenders.”
Shannon’s stomach twisted.
Avery hesitated. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“No. Of course not.”
“You can, you know. Anytime.”
Shannon narrowed her eyes. “You came here to help me find a baby daddy, not talk me out of it.”
Avery held up both hands. “I know . . . but if you change your mind, at any time—”
“I want a child, and I’m not willing to wait for Mr. Forever to give one to me when he doesn’t seem to be out there.”
Avery stood. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Shannon followed her into the room.
Let’s do this.
Victor sat on his perch, watching life go on without him.
Justin had left, the rest of his family . . . people he called friends. And he was on his honeymoon alone.
When he called his office and told his assistant to reschedule all his appointments, the ones he had no right having in the first place, Stephanie asked if he was okay. By now his whole office knew about his lack of a wife. He imagined the place would buzz with gossip while he was gone and turn to silence when he returned.
Hopefully by the time he flew home, he’d have his head wrapped around the entire ordeal and put it behind him.
He attempted to call Corrie once. Needless to say, she didn’t pick up.
Probably for the best. He wasn’t sure what he would say to her. As the days passed, he started to see the wisdom in his family’s words. He looked at pictures she’d taken of the two of them, mainly selfies she’d sent him in texts. Where he was starting to see a little wear around the corners of his eyes, she wouldn’t be looking for Botox for a good twenty years.
What had he been thinking?
His grand plan.
Get married, have a couple kids . . .
Coming home to a large, empty house every night had grown old. He’d managed girlfriends over the years, but few tolerated his busy work schedule. His ambition wasn’t solely on pleasing a woman. He treated them well, the few he’d seen a few months at a time. He wasn’t a cheater. In fact, he never dated two women at the same time, even if they were in a noncommitted relationship. It wasn’t his style.
Truth was, he didn’t have time to juggle women. Dealing with one was time-consuming enough.
Maybe Justin was right.
Maybe Victor needed to take a hard look at his life and see exactly where his priorities were.
Work.
It fulfilled him. Excited him to make deals and watch his portfolio explode.
It wasn’t like he’d grown up poor. His mom and dad gave them a comfortable life. Yearly vacations, sometimes road trips and camping, a few times they’d flown to his uncle’s home in Idaho.
When was the last time he sat in front of a campfire and watched the stars?
He’d liked that . . . once upon a time.
What happened?
He leaned over the railing of his balcony toward the party going on at the beach bar below.
People of all ages, families . . .
He heard laughter and found his eyes tracking the sound. Large-brimmed hats hid the features of two women sitting at the bar. They wore cover-ups over bathing suits. Long, tan legs peeped out from under the bar.
He liked long, tan legs.
What kind of asshole was he to think like that just days from when he was supposed to have gotten married?
He’d turned to walk away when he heard that laughter again.
A second look and Miss Tan Legs glanced around, exposing her face.
“What the . . . ?”
No way.
Chapter Nine
The bartender was cute, but not baby daddy cute, nor baby daddy tall. So since the man pouring the drinks was off the list, Shannon relaxed and enjoyed something fruity with coconut while Avery stuck to tequila.
After all, Avery had repeated several times, they were in Mexico.
It felt good to relax and have a friend close by who had no problem talking with complete strangers. Avery was all kinds of social diva. Where Shannon prided herself on the same task in the political, black-tie kind of events, Avery had the b
ar thing down.
Half-dressed and dripping in suntan lotion lowered all inhibitions. Or maybe that was the coconut thing Shannon was drinking.
The bartender was out, but the two men sitting next to them were both exceptionally good-looking and had all the right parts to give Shannon the baby she wanted. Except for the fact they were married . . . to each other.
Erasmo and Dylan were from Portugal. They were celebrating their two-year anniversary. Like most Europeans, they spoke English fluently.
“Who proposed to whom?” Shannon asked, her head more than a little buzzed from the sugar, rum, and heat.
Erasmo pointed a finger at his chest and Dylan softly smiled at his husband.
“He tries to be a hard-ass,” Dylan said, calling Erasmo out. “But inside he’s all mushy.”
Shannon had so many questions but kept her filter in place. She liked to think she had a diverse group of friends, but she didn’t know a happily married homosexual couple. Not personally, anyway.
Avery, on the other hand, had no filter. “How do you know which one of you is the one to ask?”
They turned to each other and laughed. “We get that question a lot,” Erasmo said. “I asked Dylan out after we met with a group of mutual friends, and we fell into that pattern.”
“Erasmo is more assertive than I am. It isn’t any different than any other relationship in this century.”
Shannon disagreed. “The hetero world still has the man asking the marriage question in the majority of relationships.”
“I would have asked if he hadn’t,” Dylan said. “Now we’re working on an adoption plan.”
Avery glanced at Shannon, paused, then smiled. “Adoption, huh?”
Shannon glared back. Adoption wasn’t an option . . . yet. She wanted the whole experience . . . and since she was a woman with a few fertile years left, she could get it. Or at least she thought she could. Not that she’d tried, and there was always a chance it didn’t happen.
“Oh, yeah. We love kids. What about you?” Dylan asked Avery.
“I can wait a little while. I just got married.”
“Liam doesn’t leave you alone,” Shannon reminded her friend.
“There are a lot of factors to getting pregnant. You should know that,” Avery teased.
“I’m aware.”
“Did you try with your ex?” Erasmo asked Shannon.
Shannon shook her head and sipped her drink. “Not at all. I could tell we weren’t going to last long.” Mainly because the contract she had with the man lasted two years, or less if he didn’t make the office. But that didn’t stop her from dreaming once their relationship became physical and she fell for the man.
“Ohhhh, something unpleasant just ran through your head,” Dylan said.
“You’re a mind reader?”
“Was he that bad?” he asked.
“Stop prying, Dylan.” Erasmo placed a hand on Dylan’s arm.
Shannon put her drink down. With a lack of information and facts, people made up their own minds about what the truth was. “He wasn’t bad, just not right for me. Coparenting would have made the breakup worse. So I’m glad it didn’t happen, even if I wanted kids.”
“You still have plenty of time. The right guy is out there,” Dylan offered.
Shannon tried not to smile at Avery, feeling as if by doing so she’d give away their ultimate goal for staying in Tulum.
Shannon felt an itch on the back of her head and turned to look behind her.
With purposeful strides, Victor Brooks walked straight toward her. “What is he doing here?”
“Who is that?” Avery asked, following her gaze.
“Victor.”
“The asshole groom?” Avery smirked.
“What groom?” Dylan asked.
Victor moved closer.
Shannon waved off the question. “Tell you later.” Giving Victor a long look up and down, she determined the man truly hadn’t packed for the beach. Black pants, a short-sleeve dress shirt—unbuttoned—and loafers. “What are you doing here?” she asked when he was close enough to hear her.
“I wanted to ask you the same thing. You said you were leaving.”
“I did leave . . . the other hotel. What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m on my honeymoon.”
Dylan leaned forward. “Congratulations.”
Victor glanced up briefly. “I’m not married.”
“But you just said—”
“She left him at the altar,” Avery informed their new friends.
Victor glared at Avery. “Do I know you?”
She extended her hand. “Avery Holt.”
“I don’t know you.” Victor shook her hand, his eyes hard.
“I’m Shannon’s friend. She told me about the marriage mishap. Sorry ’bout that.”
“Right.” He released her hand, focused on Shannon. “So you go around telling everyone about my personal life?”
It was Shannon’s turn to squirm. She always prided herself on being professional, and being caught talking about a client smacked of indecency. There really were no words to excuse herself. But that didn’t stop her from trying. “I never thought I’d see you again. Or that Avery would put a face to my explanation of my weekend.”
Victor placed his hands behind his back, rocked on the heels of his loafers.
“I’m sorry.”
Avery shoved Shannon’s shoulder. “Oh my God, Shannon. What are you sorry about?” She turned her attention toward Victor. “I knew she was coming here to shoot a wedding. What would you expect her to say when I arrived and asked how it went? Lie?”
“You were really left at the altar?” Erasmo asked. “That’s rough.”
Victor continued to stare at Shannon.
Her eyes didn’t leave his . . . much as she wanted to crawl into a corner somewhere. The thought of people knowing her personal life, without her telling it, had her feeling sorry for him.
“Ease up.” Avery turned in her chair, almost blocking Shannon’s view of Victor’s quiet anger.
And the man wasn’t happy.
“What are you drinking?” Dylan asked in an obvious attempt to break the ice.
“I’m not.”
“That might be your problem,” Erasmo surmised.
Right before Shannon felt a second apology on her lips, Victor released a sigh. “Anything but mezcal. Seems I don’t tolerate that particular liquor very well.”
Shannon tried hard not to grin and failed.
“Don’t take this personally . . . but we need to take you shopping tomorrow. This office on the beach look thing isn’t working for you.”
Victor was pretty sure he was being insulted by a gay man he’d just met.
“I’m glad you said it,” Avery jumped in.
Shannon shrugged.
“Tell me you packed something appropriate for the sand.”
Victor blinked.
Dylan wouldn’t have it. “Okay. First thing tomorrow, we shop. Lucky for you, I know what I’m doing. Even for hetero men. So don’t worry.”
“I, ah . . .”
Shannon finally spoke, after nearly an entire drink and a shot. “If you hate the clothes, you can always burn them when you’re back in LA.”
Victor glanced at his pants . . . pants that were sticking to him with the heat and humidity smoldering in the air. Unlike any other hotel he’d stayed at in the past, this one didn’t have a dry cleaning service.
“Fine.”
“Good call.” Avery lifted her glass and ordered another round.
Seemed the five of them were taking up residency at the bar while most of the crowd found lounge chairs on the beach. Victor couldn’t remember the last time he’d met complete strangers and drunk with them at a bar just for fun. Anytime he was in a social situation with people he didn’t know, he had an ulterior motive. Finding new contacts, learning more about his competitors, finding clients on both the buying and selling ends o
f the recyclable goods . . . these were his top reasons for drinking in bars. He would meet with his brother every once in a while, or his buddies, but never complete strangers with no connection to his working life.
Yet here he was.
He’d learned that Avery was in estate sales for the wealthy. And that she’d recently married.
Erasmo was an investment banker in Portugal and Dylan was a physical therapist.
Then there was Shannon . . . the wedding photographer who sat across from him but avoided eye contact. She seemed genuinely embarrassed when caught talking about him. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. He might as well get used to it. He wouldn’t avoid the talk when he returned home.
“Why wedding photography?” Dylan asked Shannon.
“I’ve always wanted to be a photographer. Weddings just kinda happened in the past couple years. I had a studio before my marriage but couldn’t keep up with it.”
“Why not?” Erasmo asked.
“Shannon was married to a governor,” Avery explained.
Victor had somehow forgotten that since he’d first learned of her political husband. He had a strange desire to look up her ex and see if he could find any pictures of the two of them together.
“That had to be exciting,” Dylan said.
“Sometimes,” Shannon told them. “Most of the time it was full of fake smiles, fake friends, insincere accolades from strangers, and a whole lot of gossip.”
Dylan reached over and patted Shannon’s hand. “Good thing you didn’t have kids with him.”
Victor watched a smile come and go from her face.
“A very good thing,” she said.
“Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
Shannon looked at Victor briefly, then played with the straw in her drink. “No.”
“The men in California must be blind and stupid,” Dylan said with a wink.
“Hey,” Victor said, reacting to the direct insult on his location and gender.
Dylan waved him off. “You don’t count. You were engaged.”
That made him feel marginally better. He considered Shannon with a tilt of his head. “I bet you intimidate a lot of men.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“You speak your mind. Have no trouble telling strangers they’re rude . . . and we know you’re sassy.”
Faking Forever (First Wives Book 4) Page 8