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“He charters yachts.”

“—and you’re my cousin. We used to watch South Park and make fun of the preppy snobs and talk about how much better life would be when we didn’t have to deal with those people.”

“We’re having fun,” I insist, although my heart beats faster. “I’m not marrying him.”

Even if he intended to go there again with a woman, it would probably take the rest of her life just to read the prenup.

Callie nods after a moment. “Speaking of weddings...I’m still surprised you didn’t open up to Kian back then.”

My fingers tighten, and I drop my donut. “Motherfucker.”

“Sorry.”

I pick it up and toss it in a nearby trash can. “Kian wouldn’t have wanted me to tell him what happened. He’d only feel like shit about it.”

The past dredges up feelings of weakness, of powerlessness, and the people who never noticed.

“Maybe he should feel like shit about it.” I shake my head. “I know I was giving you a hard time about Harrison, because I can’t see you with a guy like that. But if you don’t let anyone in, you forget how. It’s a different kind of pain. A slow one, a subtle one.”

I squint into the sun. “You know what’ll be a slow, subtle pain? Watching Kian deliver a romantic speech at the wedding.”

Callie’s laugh almost makes me forget her words.

Harrison: Need your take on some new equipment.

His text is imperious, but since I agreed to play opening night in exchange for an exorbitant fee, it makes sense I’d do it.

So, it’s before noon the next day when I head to Burbank.

Despite the dozen trucks in the lot, when I head in the side doors, only a handful of tradespeople are working. There’s no sign of Harrison or Leni—until a roar goes up from the office, the door half open. I head that way and see nearly twenty people gathered around a television screen.

“Wrong time of year for an Oscar party,” I comment.

Harrison crosses to me, doing a slow, thorough sweep of my figure. “It’s Ash’s first match of the year. They refused to keep working once I put it on, and I don’t have the heart to kick them out. You’re out of bed before noon. Are you unwell?”

His firm mouth tips up at the corner, and I shake my head at his mocking expression.

“I’m fine.”

It’s not entirely true. Since talking with Callie about the wedding, I’ve been spinning over the idea of confronting my past there and what she said about letting people in.

A roar goes up again, and I snap my gaze to the screen. “Who scored?”

“No one,” Leni comments. “It was close though.”

“That’s the noise you make when someone almost scores?”

Harrison chuckles, and Leni offers a wry smile. Though I’m not a sports fan, I can tell Ash is really fucking good. He moves the ball easily up the field, passing effortlessly.

“Where’s this equipment?”

Harrison brushes a thumb down my cheek before I can stop him. “I’ll show you tonight over dinner.”

I look around the room. “I thought you wanted me to come look at gear on-site.”

“The equipment will be custom order, Raegan,” he says as if I’m being deliberately slow. “You inferred I meant here.”

“You say jump and I say how high?” I return his stare because, dammit, he could’ve sent me a link rather than waiting for me to drag my ass down here.