Page 15 of My Best Friend’s Billionaire Brother (Billionaire Brothers #4)

Josie

I toss a t-shirt into my suitcase with a little more force than I’d intended, sending it skirting over the side and flying off my bed. I sit down with a sigh.

Chloe’s wedding is in two days. Two days. Chloe’s wedding. Her destination wedding in Cabo. Preparations, travel, nerves. That’s why Will hasn’t texted me , I tell myself. Or called. Or done anything at all since we had the best sex of my life two weeks ago.

Twice.

He hasn’t reached out because he’s busy .

But I’m not na?ve. Maybe I would have been back in college. And maybe I still am today. But I’m old enough to recognize when it’s happening.

And I’m being na?ve.

We’d parted on seemingly good terms. We both had work to get to, so he kissed me—sweetly, deeply, passionately—before heading out the door. And I’d waited for a text. Or a call. Or even a visit.

And … nothing.

Sure, I could have reached out too, but as the days went by, it just felt weirder and weirder. And now? Two weeks later?

Besides, I’m about to see him in literally an hour when the entire wedding party climbs aboard the Summers family private jet to fly us all to Cabo. My stomach is in knots just thinking about it.

Thankfully, I haven’t heard from Owen since Will chased him out of my apartment that night. It’s honestly the only reason I’m not furious with Will’s behavior right now. Well, maybe I am a little furious. But mostly confused. And hurt.

And dreading the upcoming weekend.

Taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves, I hurriedly finish up packing, grab my purse, bid Roberta farewell with kiss atop her head—I have a pet sitter coming to check on her—and head out the door.

My nerves tangle violently in my stomach as I approach the airport where the Summers’ family jet is. It’s a small airport on the outskirts of Boston, and I park in the covered garage before seeing Chloe and making my way over to the jetway.

The rest of the bridesmaids are also getting out of their cars, and together, with all our luggage, we trundle onto the plane.

I’ve been on this jet once before—when I went on a family vacation with Chloe back in high school—but I forgot how insanely nice it is. There are couches— couches —along the sides, with coffee tables in the middle laden with coffees and snacks set up and waiting for us.

“Ooooh, caramel!” Chloe exclaims, reaching down to grab a chocolate from the table.

Immediately, I clock Will and the rest of the guys scattered on couches at the back of the plane. Our eyes meet momentarily, and a shiver of adrenaline courses through me. As usual, his expression is unreadable—completely blank. It stirs something deep inside me. Anger? Frustration?

Images of what he’d done to me, the parts of my body he’d seen, how I’d moaned his name, all coming flooding back to me in a hot flush of humiliation.

But just as quickly as our gazes meet, he pulls his away, back to whatever conversation the guys are having.

I take a seat next to Maureen, trying to ignore the terrible icky feeling building in my chest. Not now. I can deal with whatever this situation is later. But not over Chloe’s wedding weekend. I just have to keep it together. Just a few days.

“God, I can’t get over how gorgeous your ring is,” Maureen says, leaning forward in her seat to get a better view of Chloe’s finger.

Chloe obliges with a smile, holding out her hand. “Isn’t it? Designed by Ezra Bishop himself—you know, the famous New England jeweler?”

“How’d you manage that?” Maureen asks.

Chloe shrugs a shoulder, pulling her hand back and staring lovingly down at the ring on her finger. “Ezra is a cousin of the King brothers—you know, Asher? He and Turner went to school together. Connections, connections,” she chuckles.

I spend the flight trying to not glance back at Will and trying to suppress my horrible range of emotions.

A few hours later, we touch down in Cabo, and we step out to warm, balmy weather and palm trees.

My nerves are momentarily overrun during the gorgeous car ride past glistening ocean waves to our resort—a practical mansion set high on a cliff overlooking the sea.

We gape in awe upon entering. One side of the villa hosts the rooms for the wedding party, while the other side will host rooms for family. Out back is a huge pool overlooking the ocean, surrounded by chairs, tables, and lounge cushions.

Next door is a lavish villa where the ceremony and reception will take place with even more stunning views.

I meet Chloe’s gaze and laugh. Of course her parents would shell out this type of money on her destination wedding .

As everyone wanders off to claim rooms, I try to glance around and catch Will’s eye.

Maybe we could have a private moment to chat.

If not to iron out what exactly happened between us, then to at least clear the air before the wedding.

But he’s practically glued to Turner’s side, helping him carry in the luggage.

I spend the rest of the night hoping to find some time to speak with him, but he keeps his distance.

The next day is much the same. Although I’m also occupied as I end up helping Chloe and the rest of the bridesmaids steam dresses and get everything ready for both the rehearsal dinner tonight and the ceremony tomorrow.

Just as the sun begins sinking toward the horizon, we don our rehearsal dinner outfits and prepare for the night. As the caterers are setting up the dinner in the main hall, the wedding party gathers at the villa next door to rehearse.

Chloe and Turner are as giddy as you would expect, stealing glances at each other and giggling .

As I walk down the aisle, pretending to hold a bouquet and imagine a crowd watching me, I try my hardest to make eye contact with Will. He glances at me for just a second before looking away, out at the ocean.

I stand at the front, glaring at the ground in frustration as the rest of the bridesmaids glide down the aisle, followed by Chloe. We finish the rehearsal to cheers from everyone, and I try to push away my sour mood—for Chloe’s sake.

Whatever Will’s problem is, it’s not something that can be solved this weekend.

And you know what? Maybe it’s time I finally face it.

That William Summers is just a jerk. A grumpy, asshole jerk who just uses women and throws them away.

I was dumb enough to fall for it, and I’m paying the consequences.

Deal with it, Josie , I chide myself, pushing down the lump in my throat.

I make it through the rehearsal dinner by sitting as far away from Will as humanly possible, glad my view of him is obstructed as well. I focus on chatting with Chloe, trying to enjoy the delicious food and gorgeous view of the sunset over the water.

Relatives stand and give their good wishes to Chloe and Turner, raising their glasses and toasting.

The drinks are flowing, and after a few, I’m feeling less and less upset by the whole ordeal.

After all, heartbreak happens, frustration happens.

Why should I let Will’s lack of good manners upset me?

As the night wears on and people begin drifting off to their rooms, Chloe and the rest of us girls pile onto a few of the lounge chairs, staring up at the stars and sipping on champagne.

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” Chloe says with a wistful smile.

I reach out to squeeze her arm. She turns her head toward me, smiling.

As the moon climbs higher into the sky, we finally decide it’s time for bed. “After all, you need your beauty sleep before the big day,” Evie reminds Chloe with a laugh .

We head back to our rooms, Chloe reminding us to meet up in the morning to begin preparations, and then we’re off to our own separate rooms.

I shut the door behind me, step out of my heels, and sigh.

Yawning, I head to the bathroom, freeing myself of jewelry and unclipping my hair from its updo.

I reach behind me to unclasp the back of my dress but struggle to find the zipper.

I try reaching over my head, but that doesn’t work either.

With a sigh, I turn around, glancing over my shoulder to see the back of my dress in the mirror.

I tug delicately on the zipper that I can barely reach. Ugh. Is it stuck? I tug harder, but to no avail.

I roll my eyes. Maybe one of the girls can help me.

I stride toward the door, my hand still behind my back, trying to get at the zipper. I throw the door open and step into the hallway.

Only to come face-to-face with Will.

I gasp in shock, taking a quick step back .

Will looks just as shocked as I am. His eyes widen. “Oh, sorry. I was, uh, just on my way back to my room.” He inclines his head to the door right next to mine. I don’t remember taking the room right next to his, although I guess he wasn’t around when I’d picked this room.

Surprised and at a loss for words, I don’t say anything.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing my lack of footwear and my arm wrenched awkwardly around my back.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I stutter. “I just, uh … I need one of the girls’ help getting out of my dress.”

“Oh,” he says. But he doesn’t move out of the way.

I brush past him to the room across the hall. I knock lightly on the door. “Chloe?” I call. There’s no response. I knock again. “Chloe?”

“I, uh … think she’s with Turner,” Will says from behind me .

About to knock for a third time, I let my hand fall to my side. “Oh.” I turn around. I glance up and down the hall. I don’t quite remember which rooms the girls had taken and which are occupied by the other groomsmen.

“I can help you with it,” Will says.

I look up. There are those inscrutable blue eyes again. I swallow. My head is telling me no, no, no , but what else am I supposed to do? Sleep in the dress and beg Chloe for help in the morning?

Honestly, that’s not so bad of an idea.

At my long silence, Will sighs, inclining his head toward my room. “Come on, I’ll help you.” He walks inside, leaving me with no choice but to follow.