by Lily Everett
He recoiled as if she’d struck him. “What are you talking about,” he demanded harshly.
Keeping her head down, Felicity was proud of the steadiness of her voice. “I’ll work with Miles and Greta on the wedding ceremony at the yacht club, but I’m done planning the reception. Decorate it however you want, bring in your rock stars and acrobats—hell, light the beach up with fireworks and stadium lights. Whatever you want, but leave me out of it.”
“You’re talking crazy. What about putting on the perfect wedding to impress Miles Harrington and all his fancy friends?”
Zane leaned one shoulder against the white column that supported the porch roof, a deliberately amused smirk twisting his mouth. That smirk faded quickly when Felicity finally met his eyes.
She didn’t know what he saw in her expression, but whatever it was, it convinced him she was serious when she said, “Congratulations. Goal achieved. You taught me that perfection isn’t the be all, end all of life. So plan the party on your own, and email or text me if you need help finding vendors. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
Felicity slipped by him, intent on heading upstairs to pack her bags. She’d see if her bride minded if she moved her things over to Greta’s old apartment. Forcing her numb brain to go through the motions of making a plan and executing it, Felicity was startled by the hand that landed on her shoulder.
For a brief, ecstatic moment, her heart jumped into her throat. Had she gotten through to him? Would he stop her from leaving? But one glance at Zane’s closed, granite-jawed face dropped Felicity’s heart down into the pit of her stomach.
Only a single flex of the muscle in Zane’s jaw betrayed his tension. With an easy, empty smile that nothing to warm his ice-blue eyes, he said, “I didn’t picture you as someone who gave up and walked away from something good. Guess you’re not the person I thought you were.”
The words cut deeply, but Felicity refused to let him see her bleed. “It’s always a mistake to try to change someone else into who you want them to be. I guess we both learned a valuable lesson here.”
Before he could retaliate and push her into saying something she might regret, Felicity turned and walked away.
Chapter Eight
“You know what this island needs? A bar. With alcohol. And cool people.” Zane bent over and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
Cooper Haynes paused a few steps ahead of him, further up the hill and not winded at all, the jerk. “A hike clears your head. Alcohol only dulls it.”
“Maybe I want to be dull,” Zane grumbled, straightening and glaring up at the sharp sunlight filtering through the maritime forest canopy.
“What you want is a distraction,” Cooper pointed out. “And since Leo is holed up at the Fireside Inn listening to poetry or something, and Miles is busy trying to relate to Greta’s brothers, and you struck out with your wedding planner, you’re out of options. It’s explore the island with me, or drink in Miles’s kitchen alone, like a sad bastard.”
Zane didn’t want to admit that the idea of drinking himself under the kitchen table sounded kind of appealing. Maybe he was a sad bastard. Digging deep, he pasted on a who-cares grin and said, “Where are we going, anyway? Tell me this isn’t one of those hikes that goes around in circles and is a lame-ass metaphor for how the journey is the point, not the destination.”
Casting him a look of mock annoyance, Cooper pointed up the trail to the crest of the hill where it flattened out into what looked like a rocky cliff. “Don’t be a dick, or your destination is going to be the choppy water at the base of that cliff, when I push you off it. If you ever make it to the top of this hill.”
Zane tamped down the instinctive shudder at the sense memory of cold waves closing over his head and strode determinedly forward. “Keep your shirt on, I’m coming.”
They finished the hike in silence, emerging from the trees onto a flat rock that looked out over the horizon. The ocean stretched out endlessly, like gray-blue paint smudged across a canvas, and for the first time since he was a kid, Zane could admit that it was beautiful.
Felicity had given him that. And then she’d walked out of his life like it all meant nothing.
“What’s eating you?” Cooper squinted at him through the bright winter light, his flannel shirt, dark jeans, three-day beard growth making him look like a lumberjack. “You usually can’t hold onto a bad mood for two minutes, much less two days.”
Anger pulsed, hot and bright, under Zane’s breastbone. “I’m fine.”
Plopping down on a rock shaped almost like an armchair, Cooper pulled the stopper out of his canteen and took a long glug of water. “Right. Because moping around with a scowl is totally normal for you.”
“So I’m not ever allowed to have an off day.” Zane crossed his arms, and turned his back on the view. “You saying you’re only friends with me because I’m a good time—and if I stop being fun, you’re out?”
Real irritation crinkled Cooper’s dark blonde brows. “Don’t be a moron.”
Coop’s scowl reassured Zane like nothing else could have. He could actually feel his shoulders drop two inches when the muscles uncoiled from battle-ready tension.
“Sorry, man.” Zane blew out a breath. “It’s been a long week. And I’ve still got a ton to do if I want to pull it out for Miles’s party.”
“The wedding planner is supposed to be helping, right? If she’s not towing her weight, sic Greta on her. That woman is fierce when it comes to people taking advantage of her fiancé.”
They smirked at each other, seriously amused at the idea of anyone daring to take advantage of Miles Harrington, the most powerful, controlled, masterful businessman any of them knew. But the man did turn into a pussycat around the woman he loved, so maybe it was a good thing Greta had claws of her own.
Zane ran his fingers through his hair. “Nah, I don’t want to ask Felicity for help.”
Looking uncomfortable, Cooper said, “Look, I don’t want to pry. And I definitely don’t want to set myself up to give you relationship advice because, dude, I’m the least qualified guy in the world, on that front. But it seemed like things were going okay with that chick.”
“They were.” Zane tipped his head back into the breeze, letting the sun dazzle his eyes. “At least, I thought they were. I guess she felt differently.”
Cooper made an unimpressed noise. “I saw you two together. Trust me, bro, if she felt anything different from you, it was that she wanted to get married and have your babies immediately, if not sooner.”
Zane’s heart rate, which had finally slowed down after the workout of an uphill climb, revved back into overdrive. “Shut up. You think so?”
Wriggling his shoulders against the rock as if he were scratching an itch, Cooper made a face. “I’m not an expert on lady facial expressions and body language. But yeah, man. She was seriously into you.”
“Then why did she walk away?”
The raw pain in the words vibrated through the air between them, making Zane wish he could swallow them back. Feeling his neck and ears heat with embarrassment and discomfort, he sauntered over to the edge of the rock to peer down at the roiling waters churning against the cliff face below.
When Cooper’s response finally came, he was using a tone Zane had never heard from him before. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”
Zane wanted to deny it. More than anything, he wanted to be able to laugh it off, to snap back that Felicity Carlson was nothing special, just one in a long line of good time girls whose names he could barely remember a week later. But the lies stuck in his throat.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, the low words nearly lost in the crash of waves below. “But I don’t know what to do about it.”
The scrape of fabric against rock told him Cooper was standing up. In a moment, Zane’s friend was at his side, staring down into the abyss with him. “Take it from me,” Cooper said, a grim light entering his pale eyes, focused on something Zane couldn’
t see. “When you find her—the one woman, the special one—don’t screw it up. Don’t let her go. Fight for her. Because if you lose her now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
* * *
Felicity consulted her clipboard and went through her checklist one final time.
“But everyone isn’t here,” Greta fretted, fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater. “Should we wait for them?”
“We always knew the entire bridal party wouldn’t be able to make it for the rehearsal.” Miles was so good at soothing his bride—the instant Greta heard his voice, her fidgeting fingers stilled and color came back to her cheeks. “The ones who are here can fill them in.”
“Who are we missing?” Felicity asked, stepping around the cluster of bridal party under the flower-bedecked arch to peer into the holding room off to the side of the main yacht club space. That was where the groom and his men would wait tomorrow while the guests arrived, but it was empty now.
She should have done a head count earlier, but she’d been reluctant to run into a certain groomsman.
“Zane can’t make it,” Miles announced, looking up from his phone. “He just texted to confirm. He’s got too much to do on the reception, last-minute stuff.”
Guilt twisted Felicity’s belly. She should be helping him—it was her job, she was being paid for it. But since that day on the porch, she hadn’t heard a word from him. She could only assume he was using his own staff to sort out the myriad problems and inevitable issues that arose with event planning.
Clearing her throat, Felicity raised her voice to command attention. “All right ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to get started.”
But even as she issued directions to the assembled family members and friends, consulted with the officiant about the order of things, and kept track of everything in her binder, Felicity was aware of a yawning emptiness inside her. Even the gorgeous fairy tale she’d brought to life inside the bare bones of the old yacht club couldn’t comfort her. Zane wasn’t coming.
This was stupid. She had walked away from the reception and Zane in order to protect herself from having to be around him. So why was she dismayed and deeply disappointed not to see him here tonight?
It was only that she’d worked herself into a tizzy about it, she decided, smiling a little as Greta and her mother sashayed down the aisle. Felicity had done her best to prepare herself for the expected shock to her system of coming face-to-face with the man she’d been on the brink of tumbling head over heels for. But she’d braced for a blow that didn’t come, and now she was having a hard time unclenching her muscles.
It had nothing to do with missing him. That would be ridiculous, since they barely knew each other.
Ignoring the tiny voice inside that protested whenever she tried to lie to herself, Felicity nodded to the matron of honor to go through the motions of taking the bride’s bouquet so Greta and Miles could join hands under the arbor.
The bridesmaids and the bride’s brothers stood silhouetted against the backdrop of the ocean view, which would be even more magical tomorrow, with late afternoon sunshine pouring in and sparkling through the dozens of cut-glass prisms Felicity had strung from the ceiling. Even now, in the violet gloom of twilight, the yacht club almost glowed. The walls, covered in shimmery pale gold fabric, reflected the dancing light of the candles they’d lit to get a sense of how it would look on the day of.
Objectively, Felicity knew she’d achieved her goal. Stepping into the ceremony space was like stepping into a dream of joy and love. She’d poured every ounce of romance in her soul into this room, and it showed.
Maybe that was why she felt so hollowed out as she gazed around at the results of her work. But her job wasn’t done yet.
Once the officiant took over, describing what would happen during her part of the ceremony, Felicity finally did a quick head count. With the two younger Harrington brothers as co-best men, and the two billionaire bachelors from New York as Miles’s groomsmen, plus the absent Zane, there would be six on the groom’s side. They’d planned for even numbers, so there should be six on the bride’s side … but with the bride, her two future sisters-in-law, and her two brothers standing up with her, there were only five. Which meant they were even at the moment, missing one person from each side. Huh.
Felicity consulted her notes and breathed a sigh of relief. They were still on track—the last bridesmaid wasn’t scheduled to arrive until late that night. A quick check of the flight tracker app on Felicity’s phone showed that Vivian Banks’s flight from New York was running on time. Everything was going according to plan.
Felicity should be happy. She usually loved the wedding rehearsal. High spirits and nerves combined for wedding parties that made jokes, laughed, and buzzed with excitement through all the last-minute organization and instructions. Felicity loved to watch the way family members teared up when they first saw the bride and groom staring into each other’s eyes in the very spot where they would become husband and wife. She also appreciated the chance to keep an eye out for any potential problems on the horizon—disgruntled guests, groomsmen too intent on partying it up, that sort of thing. She’d confiscated more than one flask from a groomsman’s pants pocket in her day. No groom was showing up late and hungover for his wedding on Felicity’s watch.
Forcing her attention back to the action, Felicity tuned in just as the officiant said, “And then I’ll tell you to kiss the bride.”
From her spot off to the side of the gold-carpeted aisle, Felicity had a perfect view of Miles Harrington’s face. He arched a brow at Greta and reached for her with both hands. “We should probably rehearse that too.”
“It’s the only responsible thing to do,” Greta replied with a slightly breathless laugh.
Miles never took his eyes off her face. And when he cupped her cheeks in his big hands, his mischievous grin melted into something softer, deeper, and intensely private. Miles leaned in and brushed their noses together, making Greta laugh, and in the instant before he kissed her, he whispered, “Thank you for taking a chance on love.”
Felicity caught her breath. She was the only person standing close enough to overhear, and every word shot through her like a dart.
Then the entire wedding party broke into applause and cheers as Miles swung Greta around and dipped her low over his arm in a wild parody of a movie kiss. It was a big, dramatic moment that called for swelling music and fireworks, but all the fireworks were exploding in Felicity’s head.
Taking a chance on love.
Wasn’t that what she’d had the opportunity to do? And she’d thrown it away, too afraid to take that risk and put herself out there. But if love wasn’t worth risking it all, then what was?
And as the bride’s mother cried and the bride’s bothers rushed the laughing, kissing couple to pretend to beat up the groom for smooching their little sister in front of them, Felicity stood motionless amidst the happy chaos and wondered …
Was it already too late for her and Zane?
Chapter Nine
The first time Felicity caught sight of Zane again, it was ten minutes before the start of the wedding. All morning, as she’d raced around the yacht club pinning hems, directing photographers, corralling bridesmaids, and finding the music stands the string quartet needed for the ceremony, Felicity had shoved her burning need to speak to Zane down into the bottom of her chest. It was all she wanted, but it was likely to be one of the most important conversations of her life—if he’d even speak to her at all, which she wasn’t sure of—and she couldn’t have that conversation in the middle of the final countdown to the vows.
Impatience chafed at her like a wet swimsuit, but she’d made a commitment to Miles and Greta, and their happily ever after had to come first. There would be time later to sort things out with Zane … she hoped.
It all came down to how he reacted when they were finally face to face for the first time since she broke up with him. Felicity held onto the idea that she’d be able to t
ell from one glance into his eyes whether she still had a chance with him or not. That notion was all that got her through the inevitable semi-disasters that accompanied any wedding, from the underskirt of the wedding gown tearing and needing to be patched and filled out with the plastic bags the bridesmaid dresses had arrived in, to applying adhesive sandpaper to the yacht club steps to make sure no lady guests slipped in their delicate high heels.
Felicity narrowed her focus and bulled her way through the morning and afternoon, the entire day of preparation passing in a whirl of flash photographs, laughing bridesmaids—the last one arrived in time and perfectly prepared, thank goodness—makeup, hair styling, and tearful moments of excitement and anticipation. Everything was going smoothly, and Felicity had the satisfaction of knowing that whatever insane spectacle Zane had made out of the reception, at least the wedding ceremony itself would be exactly what Greta and Miles had envisioned.
And then, at last, it was time. The guests had arrived, oohed and aahed over the sprays of white hothouse orchids that turned the cozy old room into an exotic, otherworldly bower, sparkling with rainbows from the crystal prisms overhead. They’d settled into their gilded ladderback chairs and watched the string quartet set up off to the side of the arbor, which was made of two gracefully twisted pillars of driftwood that had been hand painted in shades of gold and silver.
The officiate entered from the holding room door, concealed behind the shimmery bunting swagged diagonally from the top of the arbor, and smiled at the assembled guests. With a wave of her white-and-gold robed arm, the groom and his groomsmen walked out, single file, to stand in front of the arbor.
Six tall men in impeccable black tuxedoes, each incredibly handsome in his own, unique way with the vast glory of the sunlit ocean visible through the picture window behind them. A ripple of feminine appreciation sighed through the wedding guests, but Felicity had eyes for only one man.
Standing second to last, between Leo and Cooper, Zane Bishop outshone even the groom to Felicity’s hungry gaze. His dark brown hair waved back from his chiseled cheekbones and high, broad forehead. The flash of his bright, sky-blue eyes was visible even across the rows of seated guests that separated them.