ROOTED TO THE spot where Preston had left him, Nathan had stared at the closed suite door for such a long time that a prickling had begun along his legs. He would have loved to stand longer, because his brain refused to give the command to stay put, and dropping to the floor seemed overly dramatic. Even for him. So, muscles like rubber, he hobbled his way to the couch.
“Preston, you idiot,” he mumbled.
The moment his butt hit the cushion, he let out a long sigh. When he’d thought of taking Preston’s phone, it was with the best of intentions. He had wanted to tease the gloomy swimmer into smiling. Maybe even coax out a laugh or two. The e-mail wouldn’t come this early anyway. Pres was just too blind to see it. The invite clearly stated end of September. He doubted Coach Bennett would make hasty decisions based on a person’s swimming talent alone.
Not in a million years had he thought Preston would blow up in his face like that. The guy had a temper, sure, but at least he usually had a long fuse. Nathan had been called many things growing up. And he’d been in fights far worse with Preston. But never had he been called a hypocrite. That hurt more than any expletive. He had to work throughout the trip. It was a condition for taking Preston away in the first place. He had had a feeling Preston would be pissed, but he’d never expected that taking the phone—or attempting to take it—would turn nasty. It was a huge slap in the face.
And that threat at the end? What the hell was that about? Was Preston in that much stress that he would end this trip just for a phone? Insane.
Mind reeling, Nathan’s hand ran up his thigh until his palm grazed the lock in his pocket. He had intended to convince Preston to take a walk to the Pont des Arts, which was a couple of blocks away from their hotel.
Doubt clouded the once-magical moment Nathan had carefully constructed in his mind on the plane ride over. Was he doing the right thing? Would things get worse? Would Preston think Nathan was making fun of him? That this was all a big joke?
Cold sweat dotted his brow despite the temperature control in the room. He scrambled for his phone and dialed the number of the one person who could give him much-needed perspective. Not even twenty-four hours in and already things were falling apart.
The phone rang and rang. And rang. He had engaged video call, so instead of having the receiver against his ear, he stared directly into the phone’s screen. When the call ended without being picked up, he checked the time. It was early evening in DoCo, so it would be impossible for Tash to be asleep.
He tried again. His knee bobbed like a bouncing ball.
Again the call ended. Could Tash be busy? It wasn’t like his sister to ignore his calls. Even if it was the middle of the night, she would pick up.
Anxiety over the fight turned into worry for his sister. He tried one more time. If it didn’t go through, he’d call their mother. Hopefully it wouldn’t get to that point, because she was a worrier. Maybe Tash had her phone on vibrate or something.
On the fifth ring of his third try, Tash finally answered, but she had disabled the video call. Surprised, Nathan quickly brought the receiver to his ear.
“Tash?” he whispered around the knot in his throat.
“Nate,” came the absentminded reply.
He sat up straight. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Why’d you call?”
His free hand balled into a tight fist. “Have you been reading the gossip sites again?”
After a brief pause, she said, “Stupid clickbait. I wasn’t really seeking him out or anything—”
“But you know what happens when you go down that rabbit hole.” He imagined her sitting alone in front of her computer, just staring at the screen.
“Hey! I’m not bawling my eyes out right now, am I?”
“Then why didn’t you answer my call right away?”
“For all you know I could have been in the shower.”
Nathan waited, unwilling to swallow the lie she was clearly feeding him. Clickbait or not, once she started down that road, it took her time to veer off.
“No one is supposed to meet their soul mate at five years old,” she finally said after what seemed like an eternity. “We’d been together for so long I guess I just don’t know anything else. We never even officially broke up.”
Okay, that he wasn’t expecting. But it certainly sounded like the truth. “Say again?”
“We grew up together. We experienced all our firsts together. He told me he loved me.” She sighed. “He told me that he would always be there for me. That he would always be my forever. That he would go to the ends of the earth for me. And then he left.”
This was an old story, told over and over again so that it almost sounded like a cautionary tale mothers told young children during the age of fairy tales and magic and dragons.
The princess fell in love with the prince. They were to live happily ever after. At least that was what the entire kingdom thought. Then the prince decided to leave, telling no one of his plans. The princess had no answers for what could have driven him away. Until one day news started spreading about the prince gaining popularity. That he traveled the world making music, and he had a different woman on his arm almost every night. The princess was inconsolable. And the world burned in her wake. The end.
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked.
Like a wicked witch casting a spell, Natasha said, “Be careful. Love is like acid in the veins. It eats you from the inside out until there is nothing left.”
Nathan grimaced, hating that his twin seemed to possess the ability to read his mind despite being in a crazy emotional state. “Cynical much? I think Caleb is rubbing off on you.”
She laughed. “Not anymore. Our boy is happy.”
“Please tell me you didn’t give him the same ‘Love Is Like Acid’ speech.”
“Of course not. It’s too late for him. You, on the other hand…”
“Not every guy is like Jackson, you know,” he said carefully, steering the conversation away from himself.
A loaded silence passed between them. At one point, he had to look at the screen just to make sure the call hadn’t been cut.
Afraid that he had said the wrong thing, he qualified with, “What he did … The least he could have done was tell us. I honestly thought our friendship meant more than just abandoning us for a chance to travel the world as a DJ. We didn’t even know he was into that sort of stuff.”
“He was the one, you know,” she said in such a small voice that all Nathan wanted to do was reach through the phone and hug her. Alas, the limitations of technology.
“Europe is looking pretty far right now. I’m sorry I can’t be there.”
“Nah.”
Nathan had a feeling she was shaking her head. He really wished she hadn’t disabled the video call.
“I’m being stupid.”
“You’re being normal.”
“Ha.”
He bit his lower lip before he said, “Please tell me you’re staying home tonight.”
“I’m good. Don’t worry.”
Would Preston pull the same stunt? Just up and leave? Just like he had threatened a few minutes ago? And when he’d become popular, which he would because he was delicious, would he flit from one person to the next until he eventually found someone who would steal him away forever?
* * *
The indoor pool was empty. Preston thanked his lucky stars. He couldn’t deal with people. Not so soon after a blowup with Nathan.
So, lap after lap he swam. His arms sliced through the water like a warm knife through butter. Being in the water centered him enough to realize he had been harsh. Most likely, Nathan had reasons for wanting to take his phone. Of course, at the time, the panic caused by losing the potential link to his future had blinded him.
After he reached a hundred he pulled off his goggles and cap and thumped his forehead against the cool tile. He had been a monumental jerk, judging from the hurt and shock he had seen on Nathan’s face. The last time he had lost his shit that bad had been during his physical therapy days. The pain of regaining movement in his shoulder coupled with Nathan being overly enthusiastic about his recovery had made him snap on more than one occasion.
“Ah, fuck,” he muttered into the water before heaving himself out of the pool.
After showering and getting dressed, he padded back to their suite feeling more like the man his mother had raised. Being on a plane for hours had knotted him up badly. With his shoulders loose, he could apologize.
He slipped the keycard into the slot and pushed the door open the second the light went from red to green. Once he was inside, Nathan’s voice reached him right away. It seemed he was talking to someone.
A grin pulled at the corners of Preston’s lips. From the stress clinging to his friend’s voice, he knew who Nathan was talking to. He entered the living room and found Nathan pacing the length of the balcony, which overlooked the Eiffel Tower in the distance. The sky was clear. The sun was out. They had arrived just before lunch. Shame to waste all that cooped up in their hotel room.
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall. Nathan rubbed his forehead with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand. He spoke rapidly into the phone. Then he paused, in both speaking and pacing. This must be Preston’s mother grilling him about the plans for her party. Not twenty-four hours out of Dodge Cove and already Nathan’s shoulders drooped. Would he survive?
Preston banished the question as soon as he thought of it. If there was anyone who could survive his mother and come out intact on the other side, it was Nathan. Preston had faith in his friend. Party planning was to Nathan as swimming was to him. He should have seen that earlier—during the phone-taking incident.
“All right,” Nathan said, pulling Preston away from his brooding. “You can gloat.”
It took him a second to realize the call had ended and that he was the one being spoken to. He blinked. “About what?”
Nathan wagged the phone in his hand.
“Ah.” His own phone was tucked safely inside his pocket. Still no e-mail.
“Well … let me have it.”
“Tempting.” Preston pushed off the wall. “Considering you were just talking to my mom, I think I’ll let you off the hook.”
“She was wondering if she could change the tiles in the Rose Room. The tiles! Which have been there for over a hundred years.” Nathan wilted into one of the wrought-iron chairs on the balcony. “No offense, but your mother … she’s in a league of her own.”
Preston threw his head back and laughed, a genuine sound that came from his belly. He’d been so tense about the godforsaken trip that he’d almost forgotten how to be amused.
“I’m so glad you’re in a better mood,” Nathan said in response.
“I have an idea.” Preston fished out his phone and placed it on the coffee table between the two couches. “Let’s leave these here and find a place to eat. I’m starving.”
Like sunlight piercing through storm clouds, Nathan’s face lit up. “That’s the best offer I’ve gotten all day. Let’s go.”