HE HAD DONE all he could.
At least that was what Preston wanted to think as he stared blankly out the window from the backseat of the town car their hotel had provided. In minutes the bustling metropolis built on a river gave way to sweeping verdant landscapes speckled with white from countless sheep. Being in Ireland felt like he was in an old world trapped in time, where every conceivable shade of green could be found.
After four days in Paris, they’d moved on to Cork, in the south of Ireland. Nathan had decided he needed to catch up on his sleep, Preston’s mother having kept him up late with party-planning stuff, instead of sightseeing immediately. Not that Preston minded, since he was too caught up in replaying the tryouts in his head. The reality was he could have done better. The lack of an e-mail from Coach Bennett proved it.
He sighed into his palm as he rested his chin on the heel of his hand.
Nathan gave him a sidelong glance, his thumbs pausing for a moment above the screen of his tablet. “What’s wrong?”
Preston ran his fingers through his hair, gaze falling. “Do you think I’ll get in?”
Suddenly confused, Nathan asked back, “In where?”
“The Bennett Club.”
Nathan reached out and squeezed Preston’s hand. Their eyes met.
“I honestly think you have the chops to make it onto that team,” he said. “Coach Bennett would be a fool not to accept you. Based on the huge banners in his facility, he likes to win. And if he wants to win, he’ll need you to do it.”
“But there are so many—”
“Where is this insecurity coming from?” Nathan interrupted, his brow creasing with concern. “This is not the Preston I know. You are a champion. You are a record breaker.”
“It’s just…”
Nathan tsked, then fiddled with the screen of his tablet for a few seconds. Then he showed Preston the video he’d cued up. It was of Michael Phelps winning his seventh gold medal.
“This is you in a few years,” Nathan said with conviction. “I know you’re even better than he is.”
“You really do believe that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” Nathan nodded matter-of-factly. “I know what you’re capable of. And anyone who says otherwise will have to deal with me.”
“Thanks.” Preston grinned. “So are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”
“Cork is such a pretty place,” Nathan replied, switching to his phone, thumbs moving lightning fast once again.
“And yet you’re not looking at said pretty place.” Preston’s eyebrows came together when Nathan didn’t respond. “Plus, when I think of Ireland I think of Dublin.”
“I’ll have you know Cork is the second-largest city in the region. There’s so much to do here. Don’t you want to kiss the stone?”
What the hell was Nathan going on about? Preston tilted his head to the side and gave his friend a look. “Stone?”
“The Blarney Stone, silly.”
Silly? The last time Nathan had used that endearment, they were children and Preston had been determined he would hold his breath underwater for five minutes. He had almost drowned, having started swimming lessons only a couple of months before.
“Okay, you’re officially freaking me out. What’s really going on?”
“N-nothing,” Nathan stuttered, still not looking up from his phone.
Crossing his arms, Preston studied him. It wasn’t like his friend to stutter. Confidence came naturally to him. In fact, Preston had always suspected Nathan was born confident. Then the thought hit him.
“Is it the luncheon?”
“What?” Nathan looked up again. His eyes narrowed.
“The luncheon. I get that it’s a big deal—”
“Of course it is.” Finally a stillness came over him that Preston was more comfortable with. “Where are you going with this?”
“Well, you’re here when you should be in Dodge Cove, planning it.”
“I told your mother I could do both.” Nathan lifted his chin in defiance. “And I’m actually doing both. The venue has already been booked, and I’ve been coordinating constantly with the florist, the caterer, and your mother. Everything is coming along nicely.”
Preston snorted.
“Why are you doubting my ability to travel with you and plan the luncheon?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“If it quacks like a duck…”
Preston shrugged. “Let’s just go back. It will be better for everyone. And I promise I won’t obsess. You can even take my phone away.”
There was a pause as Nathan watched him closely.
Despite the comfortable temperature in the car, a light sweat coated Preston’s forehead. He locked his knees and shoulders to keep from squirming beneath the strange sense of tension coming from across the backseat.
Then, just as the silence between them started to feel too heavy, Nathan’s eyes widened and he wagged a finger at Preston. “Oh no, you don’t! I see what’s going on here.”
“What?” Preston said defensively. “I was just making a suggestion.”
“You can’t fool me.” The lines that bracketed Nathan’s lips deepened. “You’re using the luncheon as a reason to cut this trip short. Well, think again. I have everything under control. Thank you very much.”
“I’m not saying—”
“Oh, but you are. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to fall for the false concern you’re showing me right now? I’m finishing this trip with you and planning that party at the same time, even if it kills me.”
False concern? Well, damn it all to hell then. “Fine. Fuck if I care.”
“Look…,” Nathan huffed, spinning his phone in his hands. “I don’t want to fight. We’re supposed to be enjoying this trip.”
“I wasn’t the one who wanted this, but I’m here. But you also have to admit that something’s been off since Paris. If it’s not the luncheon … Are you still on me about Jackson? I thought we were over that.”
“This is not about him!”
“Then what’s with you?” Preston gestured toward his friend, who, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words. “You’re never like … whatever the hell this is.”
Nathan’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water. It would have been funny if Preston had been in a better mood, but right now it was just weird. Nathan always had an answer and a plan.
A succession of pings broke the heavy silence. Nathan practically jumped out of his skin, almost dropping his phone, as something that sounded a lot like a sigh of relief came from him. But then again, it could as easily be annoyance, based on the knot that formed on his brow.
“What is it?” Preston asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
“Your mother.”
“Normally that would be enough, but you’re going to need to give me a little more info.”
Another sigh accompanied by a forehead rub. “She says she’s toured the venue.”
“That’s the Rose Room, right?” In his head, much shoulder slapping and congratulations ensued for succeeding at listening.
Nathan nodded, not taking his eyes off his phone as he typed. “She wants to add curtains to ‘fix’—her word—the lighting issue.”
“Isn’t the Rose Room full of stained glass?”
“Exactly!” Nathan slapped his thigh in exasperation. “I’m letting her know that we can’t change the existing structure. That was one of the conditions stated in the agreement to use the venue.”
Preston did his best to smother a chuckle with a fist, but failed miserably.
“It’s not funny! A thousand miles away and your mother still manages to drive me nuts.”
The chuckle quickly turned into laughter. Preston’s mood lifted significantly. Suddenly, being in Europe didn’t seem so bad. Getting to see Nathan implode while Eleanor Grant drove him crazy was certainly a plus. Maybe his parents and Nathan had been right. Obsessing over the results wouldn’t do him any good. And being in Dodge Cove certainly wouldn’t help. What would he lose if he allowed himself to enjoy the experience?
But it didn’t take long for the green hills to get boring. There were only so many sheep he could count. And with Nathan busy putting out another fire, Preston found himself with nothing to do. So he slid his own phone out of his pocket and opened his in-box.