We all sleep in the next morning. It’s not uncommon for me to hold a private open house on a day like this, but Maxon and I both agree we have a lot going on in our personal lives, and this is one Sunday we’ll live without the potential new leads and lookie-loos.
Britta and I fix breakfast in companionable silence. There’s an easiness between us that wasn’t there before last night. But awareness also simmers in the air. She glances at me often. I see her smile my way more.
Maybe I should stop myself, but I can’t not pile on the incidental touching. A caress of her shoulder. A hand at the small of her back when she’s reaching up for something in the cabinet. A brush of her hair off her cheek. Yes, I’m pushing my luck. And I suspect where this sort of thing will lead eventually. But I want her to feel adored. I want to feel close to her. Is that so bad?
“Angel, I think we need to get Jamie a real bed.”
“We could go to the house and pick up his crib. I need to check on my houseplants and my little garden—”
“Don’t you think he’s too big for a crib? He’s almost as tall as the mattress. He climbs out of it. What’s the point?”
“You mean…a big-boy bed?” She looks distressed.
I understand the resistance. She doesn’t want her baby to grow up.
I give her a gentle smile and caress her cheek. “Yeah. Let’s go out today. I want to give him a bed he can grow into.”
“You’re right.” She concedes after a long moment. “Let me get ready. I told Keeley I would call her. She texted me earlier and said she needed a minute of my time for wedding stuff. I should be ready about an hour after breakfast.
“Perfect.” And if she’s getting us one step closer to our wedding, even better.
After pancakes and eggs, Britta disappears by the pool, phone pressed to her ear. Jamie and I have a ball trying to clean both him and the dishes at once. I put him in his room with his toys to make sure he can’t get free, at least while I hop in the shower. I’m climbing out with a towel wrapped around my waist when Britta sweeps into the steamy space and her eyes fall on me.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s fine.” I shrug. Does she think I mind her seeing me naked? “I’m just about done in here.”
But if she’s going to linger in the bathroom for makeup and hair, I can stand here—barely covered—for a while.
As I trim my beard, she doesn’t hurry through her morning routine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her take twenty minutes simply to brush her hair and put it in a ponytail. But I totally notice her gaze sliding over me again and again. If I thought she wouldn’t freak out, I would lose the towel and stalk across the bathroom, maybe lift her up and spread her legs so I could have my wicked way with her.
But I can tell by her furtive glances that she’s not ready.
Finally, I hear Jamie getting antsy in his room. The sounds jolt us out of our mutual eye-fuck-fest, and we start dashing around to toss on clothes, grab our little man, and head out the door.
Big-boy bed is first. Britta sniffles as I purchase the double-sized bunk beds. I tell her I’m buying it bigger in case he ever wants a friend to sleep over, but I’m really thinking ahead. Someday, she’s going to want more children. I’m sure of it. Just like I’m sure I’ll be the one to give them to her. Our sons can bunk together. It’s something Maxon and I did when we were little, and I loved that simple time before our dad tried to poison our minds against one another.
After we arrange delivery of the bed on Tuesday, we run errands—checking on Britta’s house, then groceries, dry cleaners, pharmacy. I notice she isn’t picking up birth control pills. I haven’t noticed her taking them anymore.
What does that say? That she and butthole have had a next to nonexistent sex life? Or that since she’s getting married soon, she’s gone off them so she can get pregnant right away?
I’m searching for the right words to broach the topic when we get back in the car. It’s none of my business—yet. Before I can find a subtle way to bring up my observation, my phone rings.
The display tells me it’s Maxon. “Hey, bro.”
“Hey,” he says over the line. “Where are you guys?”
“On our way back to the house with groceries.”
“Good. We’re headed that way. I’ve got a surprise for you. Meet you there in thirty?”
I didn’t really want company. I was hoping to talk to Britta. But Maxon on a mission is an unstoppable force.
I hold in a sigh. “Sure.”
When we pull up about twenty minutes later, we settle Jamie with a snack and unpack all the groceries. I glance out one of the kitchen windows to see Maxon’s SUV appear in the side yard. He and Keeley step out of the vehicle, wearing big smiles.
“They look happy,” Britta remarks.
I noticed that, too. What the hell is going on? Did they elope or something?
Then the car’s rear door opens and the last person I expected to see steps out.
“Harlow!” I shove the eggs in the fridge and take off running.
I haven’t seen my baby sister in three years. She’s funny, acerbic, and sharp as hell. And she’s definitely more grown-up than the last time I saw her. But it makes sense. She was an angsty undergrad finishing her degree when she left Hawaii with my parents to move back to San Diego. Now she’s twenty-five, completing her master’s, and engaged to be married—to some guy I know nothing about.
As my sister pulls a rolling carry-on from the backseat, I reach her side and hug her tight. “What are you doing here? This is a real surprise.”
“Hi, Griff. I’ve barely stepped out of the car, and you’re already trying to interrogate me.” She rolls her eyes. “I want to say hi to your way better half. How are you, Britta?” Harlow holds out her arms to my angel.
Britta steps into the sisterly embrace with a smile. “I’m good. It’s been a long time. You look fantastic.”
Harlow does. Her dark hair is in some haphazard twist that shows off the varying tones of browns, reds, and caramels. She’s looking fit in a T-shirt that reads I’M NOT TRYING TO BE DIFFICULT. IT JUST COMES NATURALLY. Truer words were never spoken. Her white shorts fit like a second skin and her wedges are beige, high, and fairly impractical.
That’s my sister.
“Thanks. You look as beautiful as ever,” Harlow says to Britta with a laugh. “If you weren’t so sweet, I’d really hate you.”
My angel giggles in return.
“Come on in,” I invite my sister. “Come meet Jamie.”
I’m so proud to introduce my son to her. There’s a swell in my chest and a lightness in my heart. I know nothing is settled or official, but I’ve made progress.
“Nice digs.” Harlow glances at the mansion. “This place is…beyond. And huge. No wonder Maxon suggested I stay here with you.”
I freeze and look at my brother. Is she kidding? By the apologetic expression working its way across his face, I’m guessing not.
Britta leads Harlow and Keeley inside, and Maxon sidles up to me. “Dude, I didn’t have a choice. The house I bought for Keeley is being painted. We planned to move in after our wedding, but it’s not habitable right now. So I’ve got twelve hundred square feet of condo, including my lanai space. It’s a bachelor pad I’m sharing with my fiancée…who’s a screamer.”
I didn’t need to know that.
Wincing, I turn to him. “I’ll make it work. It’s just terrible timing. Britta and I have resolved to spend the rest of our time together acting like a normal married couple, as long as we’re not doing anything that’s technically cheating on her fiancé. We really need privacy and normalcy and…” I rake a hand through my hair. “I’ll put her up in a hotel.”
“I offered to do the same,” he murmurs under his breath.
Neither of us wants Harlow to feel unwelcome. But shit, the timing couldn’t be worse.
“She’s not having it?”
Maxon shakes his head. “No. She says she’s on the island to take care of wedding details. She wants peace and quiet to prep for her thesis defense, which is just before her ceremony. But she’s really here to be with family.”
It makes sense but… “Shit.”
“Yeah. Keeley and I will help you all we can. So…what do you know about this guy she’s marrying?”
“Nothing. Have you met him?”
Maxon shakes his head. “I was hoping you had.”
“Other than Dad’s rude drop-in a couple of weeks ago, I haven’t seen any of the rest of the family since they moved away.”
“Me, either. Harlow tells me that Dad introduced her to this guy.”
That sets off a few hundred red flags. Finding out that Dad is hitching his only daughter to someone who is potentially similar is not welcome news.
“I don’t like it.”
My brother nods. “I don’t, either. I’m hoping I’m wrong. I don’t know anything about him but…”
“I’m not holding my breath. Simon. That’s his name. The way she talks about him, it seems as if she’s invisible to him.”
I watch her laugh. She’s not restrained in the least. Harlow is big and full of life. She’s definitely buckets full of sass and sarcasm. Why would she marry some guy who doesn’t see what’s in front of him?
“If he ignores her, how long before she does something to raise brows? How long do you think she’ll stay?” Maxon muses aloud.
I send my sister a measuring glance. She’s already dressed like she wouldn’t mind male attention, and I don’t think her fiancé is anywhere on the island. I know how Harlow thinks. If she believes she’s getting short shrift, she’ll eventually fix it. She doesn’t let grass grow under her for long. Her lack of patience is well documented. Her audacious behavior is even more legendary.
“We’re in for a bumpy ride,” Maxon whispers in low tones.
“I want to meet this guy before I pass judgment, but yeah. I suspect you’re right.”
We follow the women into the house. I catch up to my sister and lead her to Jamie, who’s still sitting on the floor. He walked away from his animal crackers and found way more amusement tossing his trucks from Britta’s organized basket and onto the tile.
I pick up the little man and hoist him onto my hip. “Jamie, this is Auntie Harlow.”
My sister flashes a big smile. “That has a nice ring. Hi, Jamie. Can I get hugs?”
He looks at her uncertainly, then slants his stare over at me, silently questioning whether she’s trustworthy. “It’s all right. She’s always going to be your friend.”
Jamie hesitates a moment more. Harlow obviously planned for this possibility and pulls a big box from her carry-on containing six utility trucks. There’s a crane, an excavator, a cement mixer… My son is going to be in heaven.
He obviously realizes it when he lunges at Harlow to get his hands on the goodies. Everyone laughs.
Maxon retrieves my sister’s suitcases from his vehicle, and I schlep them upstairs, in the bedroom farthest away from the one I’m sharing with Britta, on the opposite side of the house.
As I head back down, I see everyone congregating in the kitchen, sipping iced tea, and eating raw veggies and sliced fruit with yogurt dip. There are smiles, jokes, laughter. It’s really nice to have all the Reed siblings together. Well, the legitimate ones. Dad has two others close to our age, whom we’ve never met, and another one on the way. He’s always paid for his children but never cared about any of them. I have no idea why—if he’s going to fuck around with every assistant he hires—he doesn’t get snipped.
Because he’s a fucking idiot. And he married someone every bit as self-absorbed as he is.
I join the group and take the tea Britta proffers in my direction, then grab a slice of mango she cut off the tree out back earlier. “So how long are you staying, Harlow?”
Everyone laughs, my sister most of all. “You are so transparent. I’ll try not to be a bother here in your palatial love nest. But I’ll be here for about a month. I have to take care of wedding details before all this shit gets away from me. Simon can’t help, and I’m over Mom and her ‘boyfriend’ right now. He’s a young leech who wants her money but has no trouble hitting on me.” She shudders. “I had to get out of there. I figured I can prepare for my thesis defense anywhere, so why not come to paradise?”
Why not? Except that a month is most of the time I have left with Britta. Still, I can’t turn my sister away. It’s great to see her, and I have the feeling she needs some time to decompress. Under her usual fun, flirty demeanor, she seems tense.
“Will we get to meet your groom before your big day?” Britta asks.
I’m glad she’s quizzing Harlow. It saves me from asking the same question, and I’d probably sound a lot less polite since I don’t like the sound of this guy.
“The way it’s looking now, I don’t think he’ll make it to the island until the day before our wedding. He’ll be working on a big deal in Amsterdam for the next few weeks.”
I don’t want to paint him with Dad’s brush simply because they know one another, but showing up the day before tying the knot and not lifting a finger to help seems like a dick move and something Barclay Reed would do.
“Sorry to hear that. What does he do?”
“International finance. He brokers deals between overseas players, gathers consortiums for construction or infrastructure projects, finds investors from all over the world. That sort of thing. It’s all boring to me.”
Basically, what our father does, just on a global scale. I’m shocked Dad doesn’t consider him a competitor.
Unless… “Is his firm bigger than Dad’s?”
She shakes her head. “Smaller. Simon’s company has only been off the ground a couple of years. He’s gone a lot because he says the face time while he’s establishing his business is critical. He’s sure it will taper off soon.”
Yeah, and monkeys will fly out of my ass before that happens. Dad wants to gobble up his new son-in-law’s company. I’ll bet you anything. Then he’s going to send junior on the road indefinitely to make him more money. And Simon must like the travel. He might even like the exotic pussy he can sample all over the world. If he didn’t, he would stay home more. Or at least stay home enough to make Harlow a priority. Sure, he’s put a giant rock on her finger, but that doesn’t hold her when she’s sad or had a terrible day and needs a shoulder. And good ol’ Barclay doesn’t give two shits about his daughter’s happiness. He’s really only ever cared about money and sex.
Shallow. Trite. Predictable.
Even Britta smiles like she doesn’t really believe my sister’s line of crap. I’m worried, however, that Harlow does believe it—or is trying really hard to. What woman doesn’t want to be happy with the man she’s going to marry?
I suspect that’s Britta’s issue with Makaio…
The conversation wanders, and Britta leads the other ladies on a tour of the house. I kiss the top of Jamie’s head as I set him down and help him dive into his box of new toys.
“Did you get all that?” I ask my brother.
“Oh, yeah. So much shit. How are we going to stop this?”
“I don’t know right now, but I think we need to.”
“Absolutely. I’ll find some time to take her around the island and introduce her to people I know.”
In other words, other agents and brokers. I can’t think of any quality individuals who are currently single that I’d want to pair up with my sister, but I’m thinking that even the biggest dirtbag we know would be better than her current fiancé.
“It will do double duty,” my brother continues. “She’ll meet new people and I’ll give you and Britta some privacy.”
I appreciate him doing what he can. “I’ll try to think of some people, too.”
“Hey, what if we introduce Harlow to Makaio?” Maxon jokes.
If Britta is more woman than he can handle, my sister will run him over. Then back up, roll over him a few times for good measure, and leave him for dead. While that’s appealing on some level, I don’t want Harlow wasting her time.
“Ha ha.”
Light, feminine laughter drifts downstairs. Maxon’s face creases into a grin. “At least they have each other.”
I smile myself. “Aren’t you frightened, at least a little, by the mischief the three of them could get into?”
When his eyes go wide, I see he’s finally realizing the possibilities. “Oh, that’s bad. You and I need to marry our brides fast.”
I couldn’t agree more. I’m just not sure it’s going to help. A sinking feeling in my gut tells me these three together will be very tight—and could cause a lot of trouble.
Late Monday morning, Britta disappears. I come out of my office after a series of phone calls that, if they all pan out, will lead to a shitload of transactions. Good news/bad news. The money is something I’ll never turn down, but the timing sucks hard. Still, I can’t exactly say no or they’ll just go to the broker down the street. But that’s the reason I didn’t know my angel had left the office.
“Where is Britta?” I ask Rob, gesturing to her desk. She drove us in this morning, and I don’t see her car in the lot now.
He shrugs. “She didn’t say. Just grabbed her purse and left. Said to tell you she’d be back soon.”
I frown. What, exactly, does that mean? She never said a word this morning about going anywhere over her lunch break today.
One thing I did notice? She didn’t slip on Makaio’s ring again.
I shrug and tell myself I’m overreacting. Maybe she wanted to grab a quick mani or is looking at something wedding related “for Keeley.” It could be anything. Hell, maybe it’s a surprise for Jamie. Or even for me. My mistake the last time Britta and I were a couple was my certainty that she was going to fuck me over, and it was just a matter of when.
I have to be careful not to fall prey to paranoia again.
Maxon and I grab a quick sandwich and bring it back to our desks.
“Keeley is taking Harlow around the island with her today. They’re heading over to the bridal shop this morning to arrange for the tailoring of Britta’s dress,” my brother says as he unwraps his tuna salad.
“Our sister is now in on this plan?” I say as I take my first bite of a club.
“Did you really think we could keep her out of it?” My brother raises a brow.
Good point. I shake my head. “Thank your bride for me. I appreciate everything she’s doing.”
“I will. She’s planning a lot of our stuff at the same time, so it all works out. But she told me to tell you that you don’t get to see Britta’s dress until the big day.”
“I just get to pay for it.” I laugh. “Of course.”
“Naturally. She and Harlow are also meeting a deejay who’s done a few of the community events at Keeley’s last apartment complex. Apparently, he was pretty decent. She asked me to double-check that you have the appointment with the caterer and bakery this week.”
“Took care of that this morning. She can check them both off.”
“I think Keeley and Harlow would do better with the photographer and videographer.”
Because what do I know about that shit? “Agreed.”
“Good. Britta is meeting the florist on ‘our behalf’ later this week.” My brother winks.
Flowers have always been important to my angel, and I want her to have whatever she wants for the perfect wedding. “Excellent.”
“Keeley asked if you’ve got a guest list. Or know who you want in your wedding party. You’ll have to make all the choices since you’re surprising Britta.”
“Um…” I’m drawing a blank, but I have to figure it out. “All right. I’ll get on that. I’m thinking small. You’ll be my best man?”
Maxon smiles and sticks out his hand. “Absolutely. Um, you’re mine, too.”
“Done. Glad that was easy.” We fist-bump, then laugh.
“You inviting Mom and Dad to your big day?”
I wince. “I’d rather not.”
Maxon sighs sadly. “Hell would freeze over before I’d invite Dad. I’m ambivalent about Mom…but I know you’re not.”
“This isn’t about me.” I shrug. “It’s your wedding.”
But if he invites her, I’ll stand up with him at the ceremony and give the toast, but I’ll avoid her at all costs. I don’t know what the hell I’ll do about family pictures. Because if I see her, I’m not sure how much fury I’ll spew. Right now, it’s packed down so tightly it could produce diamonds. But if it explodes…it won’t be pretty.
“What did she do to you?”
My brother’s question disarms me. I probably should have anticipated it. In some ways, I’d love to tell him. Hell, I want to unburden this shit. But it’s terrible. Humiliating. It makes me ashamed. It’s not my place to ruin Maxon’s image of Mom, especially now that he and I are close again. Besides, if he’s never had trouble with her, I’m not sure he’d believe my story.
“Ancient history. Invite her if you want to. I’ll back you up, regardless.”
Maxon frowns at the finality of the closed subject, then consults the list in front of him. “All right. Officiant for your ceremony?”
I whip out my phone. “I need to add that to my growing list. Maybe we should hire someone to handle all the details.”
“Like a wedding planner? It’s not a terrible idea. Know a good one?”
I stare at him like he’s just announced he’s from Mars. “Why would I?”
“Yeah. Me, either.”
So that becomes another possible item I add to my list of things to do. Fuck, it’s getting long. And time is running short.
“Wedding bands?”
I bought Britta’s when I picked out the engagement ring. I’ll have to choose my own.
“I got that.” I tap a reminder into my phone.
Maxon jots some notes himself, presumably to pass on to Keeley. “Bridesmaids’ dresses? Invitations? Honeymoon?”
I blow out a long breath. “There’s so much stuff to do.”
“Yeah, and the first few people Keeley called for you on Saturday actually laughed when she gave them your wedding date, so…the sooner the better, bro.”
If this wedding weren’t so important to Britta, I would have scrapped the whole plan by now because I simply want to marry her. I don’t care about the pomp and circumstance. But I refuse to take anything away from her fairy-tale dream.
“Keeley knows someone who will do hair and makeup the day of the ceremony. Tuxes?”
After an hour and a half of this crap, I feel as if I’m drowning in details. But I’m determined the ceremony and reception will be perfect.
And none of it matters if I can’t persuade Britta to say yes.
Speaking of which, she’s not back yet. I send her a quick text to ask if she’s all right. A good five minutes pass, and I’m growing worried because she always answers promptly. I’m about to call her when she replies that she’s driving.
With a deep breath, I sit back in my chair and relax.
“How’s it going with her?” Maxon asks.
“We’re making progress.”
He slaps me on the shoulder. “Good luck. I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thanks, man.”
I still can’t believe that we didn’t speak a word to each other for three years. Now everything feels normal, natural. Easy. I’m never going to let my stupidity, temper, or petulance come between us again. I definitely won’t let them part me from Britta a second time.
When she finally pushes the office door open, she’s wearing big sunglasses. Her head is down. She’s shaking.
I cross the office and take her shoulders in hand. “You all right, angel?”
“Fine.”
That’s a lie and I can hear it in her soft voice.
“Talk to me.”
“Can we not do this here?” she whispers, casting a glance in Rob’s direction.
Maxon’s marketing guy is watching with great interest. So is my brother, for that matter.
I bite back a curse and usher her toward the door.
Britta digs in her heels. “No, not out in the parking lot, either. I just need some time to decompress.”
I’m beginning to understand that’s Britta-speak for keeping all her problems to herself. That’s a no-go for me. It contributed to our demise in the past. Oh, I did all the heavy lifting by leaving abruptly and refusing to consider I might be wrong. But my angel also never told me when she was confused, when I hurt her feelings, when she needed more out of me. And I was too stupid to know.
“Not until you tell me what’s upset you. I don’t care whether we do this outside or in my office, but you don’t have to carry this load alone.”
She sighs and tears her shades off, shoving them in her purse, then looks at me as if she’d like to rip my liver out with her teeth. Instantly, I see that her eyes are red. She’s been crying—and not just a little. Now that I look, her nose is powdery. She tried to cover the redness with her compact. Her lips are trembling. “Thank you but…can’t you just leave it?”
I drag her to my office and shut the door. “Who or what upset you?”
She hesitates so long I’m not sure she’s going to answer. “I had lunch with Makaio.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. First, because she saw him without telling me where she was going. Second, because he made her cry.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“He called this morning and said he wanted to share the details of our wedding with me.”
So after last night, she’s not even hesitating about going through with it? I probably shouldn’t be stunned, but I am. I’m completely shocked. “What we have together doesn’t mean anything?”
“I didn’t say that…” She shakes her head. “Griff, I’m supposed to be choosing between now and mid-April.”
“You agreed to spend this time with me so you’d know what life would be like if you and I were married. I guarantee you that if you were my wife, you wouldn’t fucking be having lunch with your ex-lover to—”
She pokes a finger in my chest. “You’re the one who told me that if I wanted to see him, to have lunch. I was taking you at your word.”
I did say that. I meant it flippantly. Shit. Of course Britta listened and followed rules. She’s a good girl at heart. I probably have no right to be pissed off—but I am, especially since she’s been sobbing.
I grind my teeth together. “So what did Makaio say or do to upset you?”
“Nothing, except that he asked me a lot of pointed questions about you and I didn’t know how to answer because I feel goddamn guilty about how deep my feelings for you are. He left angry, and I’m giving him some space, which I’m sure makes you happy as a clam. I don’t want to talk about him with you. And I don’t need you squeezing me for answers.”
“But—”
“You have to back off and stop being an asshole.”
Britta whirls on her coral-colored stilettos and, ass swishing in the off-white dress that hugs her every curve lovingly, she stomps her way out of my office.
That may be the most direct and assertive Britta has ever been with me. It’s a good sign that she’s freely telling me how she feels. But I can’t stand her slamming the door in my face. I definitely won’t tolerate that prick screwing with her emotions.
Come hell or high water, I’m going shut this shit down with Makaio for good.