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A minute later, while Claire’s in the kitchen cooking, a text comes in from Shane.

"Still on to go to Hawaii with us in a couple weeks?"

Shit, I had forgotten all about that. I’ve been so caught up in everything with Claire that the vacation had somehow entirely slipped my mind. But considering Shane’s one of my higher-ups at work, taking off for a week won’t be a problem. And hell, I could sure use a break from real life right about now.

"Absolutely. Do I need to get plane tickets or anything?" I’m sure he’s already handled it, but I still feel the need to ask.

"Nope. Renting our own jet for the trip. Are you planning on bringing Claire?"

Fuck. I can hear his laughter in my mind and the words "I told you so." I had assured him before that there was no way I’d be bringing her, but now…

"Hey, Claire?" I call out from the living room.

She peeks her head around the corner, her blonde hair now fashioned up into a messy ponytail. "Yeah?"

"Shane and Dani invited us to go on a trip with them to Hawaii in a couple weeks. They need to go to figure out some wedding details and wanted some company. Would you like to go?"

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

I nod, unable to keep my smile at bay.

"I’d love to go. What dates are we leaving and coming back?"

I tell her, and she beams. "Yay, that’s perfect! I’ll be on spring break, so I won’t even have to take absences from my classes."

"That’s great," I agree before she pops back into the kitchen.

I unlock my phone again to text Shane back. "She said she’ll come. Convenient how the dates just so happen to align with her spring break perfectly…" It’s not like I’m sure he planned it that way—after all, he had asked me about going before he even met Claire at the New Year’s party—but I also wouldn’t put it past him to meddle in shit he shouldn’t be. Especially now that he has Dani, who is annoyingly perfect for him and no doubt encourages his shenanigans.

"Wow, that IS convenient…" He adds a smiley face to the end of the text, which only solidifies my suspicions. Asshole. Another text comes through a second later that says, "We’ll swing by and get you guys that Saturday morning. I’ll give you a specific time when it’s closer."

I send back a thumbs up and fall back into the plush seat of the couch, knowing that I’m royally fucked.

I’m going on vacation with the girl I’m desperately tryingto ignore my attraction to, and my mischievous best friend and his soon-to-be-wife will be plotting and conniving to make me fall in love or some bullshit. If they hope that I’m going to suddenly change my entire life outlook and be the next to get married, they’re out of their minds, but I wouldn’t put it past them to try to make it happen anyway.

Regardless of what happens, though, I know I’m going to need to steel myself for whatever they’re about to throw my way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CLAIRE

The four of us make our way onto the small jet, and my heart is already about to beat out of my chest. I haven’t traveled more than a few hours at a time in a car, let alone on a plane, and I could hardly sleep last night with my anxiety about this whole endeavor.

How in the world do these things even fly? It still makes no sense to me, even though Mark kindly explained the mechanisms yesterday when I voiced my concern about flying.

Thousands of people do it every day, he had told me.If I was worried it was unsafe, even for a second, I would never let you step foot onto the plane.

Somehow, that last statement had made me feel better than any of the technical explanations or statistics about plane safety.

But now, standing at the base of the steps leading into the jet, that comfort feels distant. My stomach churns, and myknees are weak as I follow Dani up the small set of steps. Mark’s large hand presses gently on the small of my back, not to push me along but to remind me of his presence.

"You’ve got this," he murmurs, his voice reassuring.

I glance over my shoulder at him and give him a weak smile. It’s all I can manage.

The interior of the jet is sleek and surprisingly spacious, but I barely register the luxurious leather seats or the calm, pleasant demeanor of the flight attendant. All I can focus on is the sudden awareness of being in a metal tube that’s supposed to defy gravity.

Dani plops down on the couch stretching alongside the long end of the plane, chatting with Shane about something I can’t quite catch over the roaring in my ears. She’s practically bouncing with excitement while I’m over here wondering if I’ll make it through takeoff without throwing up. I take a seat and buckle my seatbelt, attempting to breathe evenly. We haven’t even moved yet and I’m already starting to freak out.