"Are you asking if he's a generous lover?" Shay waggled her eyebrows back.
"Ew, God, now it's my turn to be creeped out."
"Serves you right." Shay grinned, and then her iPad lit up with a message.
She turned her attention to the screen and flicked her finger across it.
"New email from Lou," she told Andy, and Andy scuttled over to read over Shay's shoulder.
Instantly, Shay regretted the decision to tell her what was going on.
Shay,
Just got back from the last contract meeting. Looks like there's too many stars coming out of the colleges right now to take the chance, especially since there's already been a relapse. Next year we'll try again, but for now, the Sharks have agreed to take Matt on for another season.
Speak soon.
Lou.
She set the iPad down and blinked. Matt was in the minors. Again.
A whole new season without the major league backing he'd been working so hard for.
She tried to imagine his face when she told him, but she couldn't come up with what Matt would look like when he was sad or disappointed. She couldn't even imagine Matt angry. Matt was just... Matt. Which, somehow, only made her feel worse.
"You want me to handle it?" Andy asked softly.
Shay shook her head. "I'm the lead on the case, I should take care of it. But I think I'll wait until after the wedding. There's too much going on."
"I don't know, Shay. He's waiting for that call. If it has come, I think he deserves to know about it. Rip the Band-Aid off and let the wound heal. Or something like that."
"The timing just isn't right. If I had to tell him now..." His smile would fade. She wouldn't get to laugh and play with him, to let him help her forget about her troubles.
If she shared this burden with him, the reality of their relationship would sink in. They'd share a hardship. They'd be... committed.
And that wasn't what she'd signed on for. Not now, not ever.
"Shay—" Andy tried.
Shay held up a hand. "Look, I'll think about it. Everything is going to be okay. But for right now, let's focus on this cake, okay?"
They set back to work, and for the rest of the afternoon, they went on in companionable silence. All the while, Shay's mind was whirring, thinking over all the reasons to tell Matt or to avoid telling him. Really, it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. But in the end, she kept coming back to the image of his smile faltering. And whenever she thought of that?
Her heart broke just the tiniest bit.
* * *
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Matt groaned but didn't move from Shay's earlobe.
He'd had her tangled in his sheets for the better part of the morning, and despite all her protests about needing to get ready for the wedding, he was pretty sure he finally had her where he wanted her—right between her—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
"Can't you turn that damn thing off?" he asked, and made to shove the phone from where it buzzed against the bedside table, but Shay caught his wrist in midair.
"Just ignore it," she murmured, and then, stiffening, she added, "You know what, you're right. I should get up and answer it and—"
"Don't you dare." He pressed her onto her back and slid between her partially parted thighs.
He loved this, to feel her naked skin still exposed from the night before, to kiss her sleep-warmed skin. He snaked beneath the blanket, ready to start her engine purring, and then—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
"Goddammit," he said.
She stroked his hair and then pulled his face back up to her own. Reluctantly, he followed.
"We can't do this," she said.
"You keep saying that. Last night was the first time I've had you in a week. And I didn't get to cover all my bases—" He tried to duck beneath the covers again, but she scooted out from under him and closed her knees. She even pulled them up to her chest so that he could only see the smooth, sleek lines of her arms and legs; the swell of her breasts denied him.
"You can cover your bases after the wedding."
"I thought we were done after the wedding?" He quirked his eyebrow, but a little corner of his heart beat faster. He knew it. Knew she felt the connection, too.
He'd been waiting until after the wedding to say something, but when she was already here and warm and staring at him with those perfectly almond-shaped green eyes.
"There's two more days on the island after the wedding." She shrugged, and then she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and he watched with a throbbing need as she bent over and grabbed his shirt off the floor.
"Please, baby, come back to bed."
"Baby? It's baby now?" she asked.
"What, you don't like it?"
"It's not that. It's just—"
The buzzing of the phone on the counter apparently broke her concentration, and she reached for it just in time for Matt to snatch it away again.
"No. Come on, talk to me. Come back to bed."
He pulled the sheet back to reveal his waiting length, and she stared down at him with dark, hungry eyes.
"Maybe..." she said. "But first there's something I think I should—"
The phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down at it, reminding himself not to throw it across the room.
Shay shook her head. "Look, I'm getting in the shower, and you are too."
"I'll take it." Matt grinned.
"Separately." She stared him down.
"Not fun," he complained.
"It doesn't have to be fun, it just has to happen. We need to be on the beach in less than five hours. I need to help Andy get ready."
"Okay, even with all of that, I see a solid four hours and thirty minutes for us to fuuu"—he glanced down at the shaking screen again, and the vibrations sent a tingle up his arm—"uuuck this phone."
"Go get your clothes together. I'll see you when I get out of the shower." Shay grinned and then disappeared behind the bathroom door.
God, what he wouldn't give to be on the other side of that door. Hell, at this point, he'd take it if he simply got to watch her undress. Or if he stood outside the door while she described undressing. Maybe if he asked politely...
The spray of the shower sounded on the other side of the door, and he leaned back on the bed.
Fuck.
He had a decision to make. Apparently, Shay still hadn't felt the pull between them that he had. Or, if she did, she was doing a pretty fucking great job of hiding it. That, of course, left him with two options—to stick to their arrangement and never see her again, or to man up and tell her that he wanted more than just a fling.
The odds of her taking him seriously were slim, and the odds of her going along with his plan were even more scant than that. But, well, what could he do? Could he really go back to San Diego and work with her after he'd been with her this way? Could he ever be in the same room with her again without picturing her splayed out naked and beneath him, moaning along with his every command?
Not a fucking chance.
Then again, if he went back to the majors, he'd be touring a lot. Distance made the heart grow a lot less fond in his experience, and where Shay was concerned, he couldn't think of anything else that might dull his need to pin her up against any sturdy object and have his way with her.
"Shit." He groaned, and then pulled himself out of bed and made to get dressed. His suit was hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and he put it on with only half his concentration.
If he got drafted to the minors...
He buttoned and then shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Even if his improvement had stagnated, that didn't mean it couldn't skyrocket again with the right incentive. They'd know that, the coaches and the owners. They'd be willing to take the chance. He was worth the chance.
He straightened his vest and then glanced at himself in the mirror.
Stop kidding yourself, he thought. There is no choice to make.
After the wedding, he was going to t
ell Shay the truth. And that truth was...
Shit. He could hardly bring himself to think it. How the hell did he expect himself to say it out loud to her?
I'll just pretend she's here, that's all. I'll look her in the eyes, and then I'll say, "Shay, I love you."
The shower dripped to silence, and then Matt grabbed his phone off the bed and made for the door.
Chapter 11
It was the most beautiful wedding Matt had ever been to. It wasn't saying much, of course, since he'd only attended a handful of them, but there was just something about the simplicity of the beach, of Andy's dress, or the crowd that made it feel like nothing would ever be quite so beautiful again.
Then again, the company may also have had something to do with it. He glanced from the corner of his eye at Shay in her lavender bridesmaid gown and smiled while his sister pledged her love to Logan. Shay met his gaze for a fraction of an instant and then turned away, focusing on the couple in front of him. Was it his imagination, or was there a tear in her eye?
Weddings. You never knew how people were going to react.
When it came time for the reception, he followed the throng into the tiny white tent just beside the reception area and made for the head table. Logan and Andy had opted against big entries and announcements—they figured there would be enough of them in the paper to last them a lifetime. And, based on the number of flashes and journalists swarming around the happy couple, they were right.
"Do weddings have to be like this for celebrities?" he mumbled, and apparently Shay heard him because she shrugged.
"It's easy work. You're going to have the party and look good anyway. May as well."
"I guess." Matt studied his sister, clinging to her husband and grinning like she'd been born to do it. Like she was comfortable in front of the cameras now.
And maybe she was. After all, it wasn't like their courtship and engagement had been a quiet affair. Between the accident, their dates, and then their engagement, the media had been almost as much a part of Andy and Logan's relationship as themselves. Still, they were happy. They made it work.
"I wouldn't want that," he said.
"Why not? Andy looks—"
"I know, I know. Andy looks happy. But you know Andy as well as I do. She hates this crap."
"But she does it for Logan." Shay shrugged.
"Unfair, don’t you think?"
"I don't know. Life isn't fair. Why should love be?"
The music started to swirl overhead, a low, soft fifties tune that had been a favorite of their father's. Matt smiled.
"You look great in that dress, by the way. Did I mention that?"
"Three times." She nodded and then stiffened and said, "Hey, uh, I'm going to grab a drink. Want anything?"
"Old Fashioned," he said, and she disappeared into the crowd.
Wading through the sea of photographers, Matt took his seat at last and was met within moments by a grinning Logan.
"Let's get a picture of you two," one of the photographers called to them, and Matt shook his head. "Please, today is about my sister."
"How does it feel to know your sister married the man who ruined your career?"
Matt opened his mouth and then closed it. A pang shot through his heart.
He would have thought he'd be used to that question, especially since it was such a natural one. But the part that intrigued them—that his best friend had married his sister, that that same man had also been the cause of the most catastrophic event of his life, didn't faze him. It was that last part that always felt like a sucker punch to the gut.
Ruined his career.
Like he was already done. Finished.
Logan's grin vanished. "This is a private event. I'll remind you that you can be dismissed at any time." He practically spat at the reporters, and Andy, apparently sensing the tension, rounded on them with a too bright smile stretched across her face. "You guys only have a few more minutes," she told the journalists. "Why don't I show you to the cake? I think you'll find it makes a great feature."
She led the crowd away and left Logan and Matt alone at last.
"Sorry about that," Logan said, and then slugged a beer Matt hadn't noticed until now.
"Hey, if I'm not used to that, then I have no business being a baseball player." Matt shrugged.
"You aren't... you know, bothered by this, are you?"
"Little late now, don't you think?" Matt nodded to Logan's shining golden ring.
Logan offered him half a smile. "Yeah, guess so. Still—"
"No, I've said it before. You and Andy were meant to be."
"Like you and Shay." Logan cocked his head toward Shay. Her slender hip was jutted up against the bar, and her sleek black hair was pulled into a little knot at the top of her head. Even with the bride so close by her, she was still the most beautiful woman in the room.
"Yeah," he said. "Like me and Shay."
"Finally he admits it. And hey, this thing with the minors is only going to be a small setback. One more year and you'll be up there again with me. I can't even believe they're—"
Every drop of blood in Matt's body froze over. "What?"
"I said it's just a setback. Look, I know you went through the physical therapy, but I think you need a more rigorous trainer. I'll give you some numbers and—"
"What are you talking about?" Matt said, his voice gruffer than he'd meant for it to sound.
"I..." Logan glanced over to Shay, and Matt followed his gaze, seeing her now in a whole different light.
He saw the worry lines around her mouth. The way her shoulders were hitched up nearly to her earlobes. And how, even with her hip so casually jutted out, there was a rigidity to her body that had never been there before.
"I was drafted to the minors again," Matt said, and he knew it was the truth even before he saw the look on Logan's face.
"I thought you knew. Andy told me last night."
"Last night? So this has been..." He shook his head. He couldn't think about how long Shay had known, how long she'd kept it from him.
Fuck, had she known that night? That day they'd gone to see his mother? Had she known when she'd made love to him? Had it just been a pity fuck?
His stomach twisted, and he scanned the room for his sister. She was standing beside the baseball-themed wedding cake, gesturing wildly for the reporters.
Shit, the reporters. They were going to ask him about the draft. About his reaction.
He had to get the fuck out of here.
"How long before the best man speech?" he asked Logan.
Logan shrugged. "It's cocktail hour. You've probably got some time."
"Okay, good. Don't let them start dinner without me. I need some air."
"But—" Logan started, but Matt ignored him as he shoved out of his chair and went through the fabric encasement of the tent. He needed to be away from people for a while. Needed some time to think and to shake off this hovering, all-consuming ache of disappointment and regret.
Before long, he knew the thoughts would set in. The regrets, all the things he should have done differently. The wish that he'd never been in that goddamn accident to begin with.
But most of all, he needed to be away from Shay.
Shay, who had known all this time and hadn't told him. Who'd allowed him to walk into a snake den without so much as a word of warning. Shay, who he'd thought...
No, it didn't matter what he thought. She'd made her intentions clear, and he should have listened to them.
Business and personal were separate as far as she was concerned.
It was just a matter of coincidence that she'd fucked him on both accounts.
* * *
"Where's Matt?" Shay sat the Old Fashioned down in front of the best man's empty place setting, but Logan only blinked up at her, his mouth contorting between a grimace and a frown and back.
"What?" she asked again.
"How long have you known about the draft to the minors?" he asked.
She blinked. "I... about a week."
"A week. And you didn't think to tell him before the wedding?" Logan snapped. She'd never seen this side of him before. So defensive, so angry.
"I thought it would be better to wait. Look, can you just tell me where he is?"
"No, he left. I have no idea where he is, and if my wife finds out he's gone—"
"He's gone? But what about his speech? What about—"
"My question exactly."
"I have to find him."
"Losing the maid of honor on top of the best man is the last thing we need right now."
"But if I can just explain to him—"
"Shay, I'm telling you. Stay."
"No. I have to find him." Cursing herself with every passing moment, she shoved through the fabric flap of the tent, kicked off her flip-flops, and sprinted through the sand, searching front and back for any spec of a person in the distance. She had no idea how much time he had on her, or where he might have gone. Hell, for all she knew, he could have gotten in his car and headed back to the house. Still, she had to find him. If she could just spot him, if she could just explain—
Then there he was. A faint silhouette in the distance, walking so close to the waves that they were probably lapping at the edges of his tan suit.
"Matt!" she shouted, and the figure turned and then walked away, faster and faster.
Her jog became a full-on run, and soon she was out of breath, her hair falling free around her face from the force of the wind. "Matt! Stop!"
He didn't, but it didn't matter. She was gaining on him too quickly for him to outpace her now, and when she finally reached him, she gripped the collar of his suit jacket and yanked him to a halt.
Panting, she doubled over and said, "We need to talk."
"I don't want to," he said, and the usual edge of laughter in his voice was gone. Abandoned for something icier.
"If you'll just let me explain—"
"I said no."
"Matt—"
"Why does this have to be on your terms? Why do you have to be in control?"
"I—"
"No, do you know what this is like? What it's like to work your entire life for something and have it ripped away from you because of something you can't control? Then have little threads of that control pulled away from you bit by bit like you're some fucking cat playing with yarn? You don't know."
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