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Twenty-Two

J ulia wrapped herself in the blanket she and Alex snuggled under as kids. Her big sister rubbed a soothing circle on her back, and Julia dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“Anything I can do?” Bo asked from the archway.

“Snacks,” Alex said. “Savory. Then leave us in this time of sisterly need.”

“On it.” He pivoted toward the kitchen.

“Okay,” her sister said. “Why did I have to speed to the resort to pick you up?”

“I slept with Carson.”

“Obviously. What else?”

Julia chose to ignore the obviously . “I like and maybe love him, but he’s been lying to me this whole time, and he has another woman in his room, and I’ve been a goddamn fool.”

Alex slid off the couch. “This calls for a drink or five.”

After ice clinked into glassware, followed by glugging liquid sounds, she returned from the kitchen with a charcuterie board and two pink drinks.

“I sent Bo to bed.” She placed a glass in Julia’s hand. “Here.”

She sniffed at it. “What’s this?”

“Cranbarrel. Cranberry juice and One Barrel Rum.” Alex clinked her glass to Julia’s. “Good for heartbreak and fighting UTIs.”

She gulped the potent cocktail.

“Who’s the other woman?” Alex asked.

“I don’t know. He said Paramore .”

Alex pinched her lip. “I’m not following.”

“It’s a code-word thing my friends and I did in college to avoid awkward situations with overnight guests.

I thought it’d be prudent.” Julia’s breath shuddered.

“Being around Carson twenty-four seven was…doing things to me. So I thought I’d scratch an itch with someone safe, like Roberto. But then Carson used it.”

Paramore. Carson’s pained expression as he said it burned in her brain.

Like it stung his lips.

“Well, he’s a dick.” Alex collected her empty glass and disappeared to mix more.

A minute later, after shoving another Cranbarrel into Julia’s hands, Alex plopped onto the couch. “Who did Carson have in the room?”

“I don’t know.” She lifted a shoulder. “It might’ve been the hotel’s event coordinator. They talked at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Alex nudged her knee with her toes. “Call her.”

“It’s ten p.m.”

“The night before an event. She’ll pick up.” More toe nudges, like when they were kids. If she didn’t comply, Alex would literally keep poking her until Julia pounced in frustration.

Also just like then, she’d lose any wrestling match with Alex.

Julia flipped over her phone. She’d missed calls and texts from Carson. She’d read those later. Right now she was Detective Stone.

With a wobbly finger, she poked Holly’s number.

After half a ring, she answered, “Julia! I was checking the weather reports. We’ll have clear skies during the ceremony. Sorry about the background noise. I’m at my friend’s show.”

Relief flooded her.

“Oh, good. I was calling to…uh…um…” She glanced at their drinks. “Can you make sure we have cranberry juice at the reception tomorrow? My sister’s getting a UTI.”

Alex flipped her palms to the ceiling and mouthed What the fuck?

“Absolutely,” Holly said.

“Thanks. Have a good night.” She tossed her phone onto the couch. “Not her.”

“I gathered,” Alex drawled. “Are you sure someone was in there?”

“I told you, he wouldn’t let me in.” She scrubbed her hands through her hair.

“There’s still the gigantic problem of him lying to me this whole time.

At Mom and Jim’s engagement party I asked him point blank if he knew Mom was our mom, and he said no.

Tonight his smarmy cousin said he’d known for months. ”

Alex pulled her knee to her chest. “That’s not great. But he seems protective of Jim.”

“He is.” Julia twisted the glass against her palm.

“So if he came clean to his dad, and then Jim told Mom—both big ifs—then what? Mom might’ve dumped Jim, which Carson wouldn’t have wanted. He might’ve been hoping you were over it and it wouldn’t be an issue.”

It would be very Carson to try to smooth things over, but Alex was wrong. He hadn’t hoped she was over it. Grudgingly, she gave him credit for approaching her at the party and sincerely acknowledging and apologizing for what he’d done.

Except he’d been lying to her this whole time, so did that apology even count?

Fresh anger sizzled through her.

“Are you defending him?” she asked.

“Nope. I’m Team Julia. This sucks mega-bananas, but there’s a silver lining.” She threw her arms around Julia. “Finding this out today is better than three years from now when he runs away with all your money.”

A giggle escaped Julia as she swiped away another tear. If Alex could poke fun at that emotionally tender spot from her own romantic past, maybe Julia could, too.

Someday.

“Let’s stop talking about me. I’m sick of me. What about you?” Julia shut off her phone. The only people who might call her tonight were her mother, Carson, and wedding vendors. Mom could call Alex, and the vendors had Carson’s number.

Let him handle any wedding emergencies, the jerk.

“What about me?” Alex asked.

“Tell me the love story between you and Bo. The details, not just the highlights.”

“That could be a novel,” she said.

“Good.” Julia settled against her sister’s shoulder. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

* * *

Carson thumbed the Caribbean-blue shirt’s last button through the buttonhole. Uncle Bill and Danny would wear matching outfits—untucked Oxford, khaki pants, and leather flip-flops.

Ideal for a beach wedding, not so much for running errands.

Especially when he hadn’t slept. He’d tried texting and calling Julia until Alex texted to say Julia was staying there but to please leave Julia alone so she could rest.

Once he knew she was safe, he laid down to sleep.

Never actually conked out, though. He was too busy berating himself. When would he learn he couldn’t control reality by controlling information? Honesty might not get him everything—or the one person—he wanted, but at least he’d have integrity.

Instead, all night he’d felt like a childish ass.

Before the sun split the horizon, he’d been up, distracting himself with wedding prep.

On the beach, he’d checked the wedding arch placement and chairs tied with turquoise bows.

There, he’d also run into Xio, who’d artfully arranged bright green palm fronds weighted with coral conch shells next to each row.

As he helped her unload the table decorations, bouquets, and boutonnieres from her truck, she’d asked about his wedding date.

“Julia’s my plus-one,” he’d said.

Bold claim, since she hadn’t responded to his messages or the task he’d added to the project for her to call him.

“Oh really?” Xio raised an eyebrow as they loaded the flowers into the resort restaurant’s walk-in refrigerator.

“Yes,” he said. “Why?”

“Roberto. She has a weakness for him. I figured he’d be her plus-one.”

Carson raised a shoulder. “I’m not worried about him.”

He was, however, worried that he’d screwed up so royally last night that Julia wouldn’t talk to him since she still hadn’t returned his calls. Now here he was, knocking on his father’s door to meet up with the groomsmen.

The women had a separate prep room nearer to the beach. He could go there, take Julia aside to clear the air, and apologize for the subterfuge. Before he could turn on his flip-flop, though, the door opened.

Dad pulled him in for a hug. “There’s the man of the hour.”

“Isn’t that you?”

“We’ll share the honor. We wouldn’t be having a wedding if you hadn’t talked me off a ledge last night.” He gestured toward the boutonnieres. “Do you know how to attach these?”

“I do, actually.” He pinned the bright orange flowers to the lapel of Dad’s tan suit. After finishing, he gestured to Danny. “You’re up next.”

“Cool.” He set his Belikin down and approached. “Dude, I can’t believe Julia Stone’s your sister now.”

“Stepsister.” He lifted the blue shirt away from Danny’s undershirt. He didn’t like her name in Danny’s mouth. “And she isn’t yet.”

“She will be, though, which is crazy .”

Carson worked the straight pin through a pinch of Danny’s shirt, then poked it through the boutonniere’s taped stem. Last thing to do was to poke it through to the shirt’s other side.

“She was upset when I told her about our bet.”

The pin slipped and lightly stabbed Danny in the chest.

“Fuck, that hurt.” He rubbed the injury.

“Uh, I’ll do my own.” Uncle Bill headed toward the bathroom.

“Here.” Carson yanked a tissue from the box. “Don’t get blood on your shirt. What bet?”

Danny slipped the tissue under his shirt. “How about ‘Sorry I stuck you with a pin’?”

“It slipped. What bet?” Vague, dread-inducing memories tried to present themselves, but nothing took shape.

“Come on. Ms. Goody Two Shoes’ll let Carson rail her on the first date. That bet.”

Carson wobbled on his feet. “We had no such bet.”

“How can you not remember this? We were at Jeannie Sinclair’s party, the J?ger was flowing, and I asked you who you thought was hot. You said Julia Stone, and after I stopped laughing, you bet me a hundy you could get her into bed on the first date.”

Hazy memories came back to him. He didn’t remember making that bet, but it sounded like something he’d do back then. If he made the mistake of letting something personal slip and a buddy pounced on it, he’d backpedal or double down.

The bet would’ve been a classic backpedal for admitting he’d thought Julia was hot.

Fuck his past self sideways, seriously.

“What’s the big deal?” Danny asked. “I let you out of the bet when you said it was too sad and pathetic to go through with it. I thought you were a good guy for that.”

“I wasn’t a good guy.” Carson ran his thumb and index finger along his eyebrows. “I was an asshole. And I really liked her.”

Between this and her thinking he’d fucked around last night, he didn’t blame her for shunning him. He checked his phone. He’d texted Julia updates throughout the morning about the setups and the flowers but gotten nothing back.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’ve gotta go.” He pivoted away from Danny and toward the sliding glass door.

Text me back or I’m coming to the bridal room.

Three dots. Don’t you dare.

Those three dots represented hope.

Jules, I need to talk to you.

She thumbs-downed his text, then wrote, You don’t get to call me Jules.

Because Jules was reserved for family.

Nothing else in the chat. No dots. He’d take an emoji or a salty string of curse words, but the nothing was killing him.

“Everything okay, son? You’re attached to your phone.”

“Julia’s…” He stopped himself. Dad shouldn’t worry about cleaning up his son’s mess on his wedding day. He slapped on his event-CEO smile. “I screwed something up, so she’s upset with me. I want to go apologize, but she wants me to keep my distance.”

Dad placed his hands on Carson’s shoulders, the way he did every time he was about to drop wisdom on him.

“Everyone makes mistakes, but you can’t force forgiveness. Give her space, and you’ll be fine.” Dad let go of his shoulders, then winked. “Unless you screwed up dinner. Then you’re on my shit list, too.”

Carson fake chuckled.

Dad didn’t know the whole story, but his advice might’ve been right anyway. He’d give Julia the space she requested, and they’d get through today. Once she knew the truth, all of it, she might forgive him.

He ruffled his hair.

She had to.