Page 2

Her expression shifts, and she stares at me for a moment before speaking again. “No one’s called me Gabby in a long time.”

I don’t understand what she means, but something in the way she says it tugs at me. I shrug. “I don’t have to?—”

“No, actually,” she cuts me off, her smile turning more real this time, and it knocks the breath out of me. Because, hell, it’s like the girl I knew in high school is back. “It’s okay. And actually…” She picks up the hem of her dress, then drops it. “I don’t care if you rip it.”

I don’t know much about fashion, but looking at the way the light catches the jewels on her dress, I can tell it’s expensive.

But right now, it’s not about the dress, it's about her emotions, raw and tangled up inside her. I’m sure that by morning, she and her new husband will have worked through whatever’s going on, but tonight, she’s here, with me.

“How about this?” I offer, trying to keep it light. “You stay here, and I’ll call a friend I trust to get you some clothes.” She blinks, weighing it over in her mind for a moment. “No one will know anything,” I add, to reassure her.

She nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay, thank you.”

I pull my phone from my pocket and text none other than Rip.

He’s a lot of things, but when it comes to discretion and getting things done without asking questions, he’s a guy I can count on.

He responds right away, asking what I need.

I tell him, no hesitation, and then he surprises me by asking her size without blinking.

I glance at Gabby, lowering the phone to cover the screen. “Size six?”

She nods, but there’s a small furrow in her brow that wasn’t there a moment ago.

Did I say something wrong? I think back to high school.

She had that same pretty smile, but she’s lost weight since then.

Still, she was every bit as stunning then as she is now.

Yet tonight, she doesn’t look like the woman I remember.

She looks… tired. Worn down. And something about that stirs a quiet ache in my chest.

I send Rip the size, telling him to hurry, then slip my phone back in my pocket. “Clothes will be here in a few minutes.”

Her eyes are glassy, but she forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach them. “Thank you so much, Roman. This... it really means a lot.”

I can’t help it. I reach out, my fist lightly tapping her chin, a small, playful gesture. “You would have done the same for an old friend.”

She grins, but the look is soft, bittersweet.

We weren’t close friends back in high school.

We were, in fact, casual acquaintances who sometimes ran in the same group.

She was the artsy, thoughtful type, and I was the jock, always on the move.

I want to ask if she ever went to design school like she’d always dreamed about, but then I stop myself. No questions.

That’s when I notice. She has nothing with her, just her phone. No purse. No key card. It hits me. She’s alone. And maybe, just maybe, she needs more than clothes.

“I’m not trying to pry,” I say, voice a little softer now. “But do you need anything else? I can go to your room if?—”

She shakes her head quickly, cutting me off. “No. You’ve helped enough.” She swallows hard, looking down at her hands before she speaks again. “Do you think the concierge will pick up my things for me?”

Rip’s grandfather owns this hotel, and I can already feel another favor coming on. “I’ll make it happen, Gabby.”

She finally seems to relax, a small weightlifting off her shoulders. “Just have them bring it to the front desk. I don’t want…” She trails off, her eyes avoiding mine for a moment before she adds, “I just don’t want anyone knowing where I’m staying tonight.”

I nod, understanding more than she realizes. “What room were you in?”

Her eyes flash with what looks like embarrassment before she pushes the words out. “The Eden Suite.”

Honeymoon suite.

I nod again, keeping my voice steady, as if it’s no big deal. “Okay, got it.”

And just like that, something between us shifts. A fragile understanding, a quiet bond. She may not have asked for my help tonight, but I’m not going anywhere. Not until I know she’s okay.

The pool door clicks open, and without thinking, I step between Rip and Gabby as it does. “Hey, Romeo, everything okay, man?” he asks, but he doesn’t try to peer past my shoulders, and for that, I’m grateful.

“Yeah.” I can tell he’s not entirely convinced, but I push on. “Any chance you can get into the Eden Suite and grab the purse, maybe anything else that looks like it belongs to a woman?”

He scratches his chin, a flicker of real concern crossing his face. “Yeah, man, I can probably swing that. You sure?—”

“Everything will be okay,” I cut him off, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Rip.”

He gives a quick nod, his tone soft but resolute. “I’m on it, buddy. And if you need anything else…”

“I appreciate it.” I ask him to leave her stuff at the front desk, and once he’s gone, I turn to Gabby, handing her the dress. Her expression is a mix of relief and fear.

“Do you think he saw me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I gently touch her arm, my gaze steady. “No. But even if he did, you can trust him.”

She laughs softly, but there’s a bitter edge to it. “Trust Ripley? Do you remember his nickname in high school, Romeo?”

I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. “Stripley.”

She chuckles, the sound easing the tension in the air. “No one ever needed to be thatnaked… all the time.”

“You’re probably right.” I gesture toward the changing room. “But Rip’s got it covered. Why don’t you get out of that dress so we can get out of here?”

“Okay.”

I’m about to ask if she needs help with the zipper, but I freeze when I see that it’s already undone halfway. As she hurries off, I pull out my phone, scanning for anything about the Hart Hotel—any kind of scandal or gossip—but I don’t find a thing.

When she comes back, the wedding dress in hand and looking far more at ease, I can’t help but smile. “Ready?”

She nods, and I take the dress from her, holding it with care. But then she hesitates, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“Do you think… I could wear your ball cap?” she asks, almost shy about it.

Without thinking, I take it off and slip it onto her head. As soon as I do, a strange feeling tugs in my chest. Seeing her in my hat does something to me, something I can’t quite explain. It’s a stupid thing, but damn, it feels... personal.

I open the door, glancing around. “All clear.”

She moves closer to me, tucking in against my side. I pull her to me instinctively, feeling the weight of her presence next to me. I always protected my younger brother growing up, and now for some reason, it feels right protecting her too.

Head low, I hurry her through the throngs of people bustling about, shielding her as we step onto the elevator. Once inside, I turn toward her, my back to the other guests. The last thing I want is to be recognized, and for it to draw unwanted attention to Gabby.

Gabby.

Suddenly, her nickname rings through my head, like a ghost of someone she once was. She’s lost weight, sure, but does she no longer go by that name because she’s changed so much since high school? Perhaps she doesn’t want to be known as the sweet, artsy girl who always cheered on our team.

I can’t ask. I promised—no questions.

The elevator dings and we step onto my floor. I don’t slow my pace, hurrying her to my room, where I quickly swipe the keycard and push open my door. The moment we’re inside, she lets loose a long and shaky breath.

“You’ve been holding it long?” I tease, trying to lighten the tension weighing down her shoulders. I know people think I’m a clown, a joker, but I’ve never wanted to make anyone smile more than I do now.

“The whole way here,” she admits, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

I toss her dress onto the chair, pretending not to notice the way her arms fold around her body, like it’s the only way she can hold herself together.

Crossing the room, I open the small mini fridge and scan the tiny bottles.

“Here’s what we have,” I tell her as I line them up on the counter.

“I could order something else if you prefer.”

Her lips curve again, and again the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I guess I look like I need a drink, huh?”

I want to tell her she looks like she needs a lot of things—sleep, a friend, someone to remind her she’s not alone—but I don’t. Instead, I say, “I know I could.”

“I’ll have what you’re having.” She smooths her hand over her long, dark curls as she moves slowly through the suite.

Her gaze takes in everything, from the oversized bed in the adjoining room, to the plush sofa in the living space.

I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s already making peace with crashing on the sofa.

But there’s no way in hell I’m letting that happen.

I pour us each a drink and add a splash of soda. “Cheers.” I hold my glass up as I hold hers out.

She turns to me, taking her glass, her fingers brushing mine, and lingering for a second—like she needs the contact.

“What are we drinking to?” she asks, tilting her head.

I tilt mine to match hers. “What do you want to drink to, Gabby?”

She hesitates, her throat making a sound as she swallows hard, and it’s easy to tell she’s fighting back tears. “To catching my fiancé in bed with my best friend before we were to walk down the aisle.”

Fuck.

A sharp pain grips my chest. I knew it was bad.

But hearing the words on her lips, seeing the raw ache in her eyes, well, that hits differently.

Jesus, she didn’t just lose a fiancé, she lost a best friend.

That kind of betrayal wrecks a person. But there’s one thing I’m well aware of and it’s that what goes on behind closed doors is much different than what one sees in public.

I’m just sorry she had to learn that firsthand too.

Although, with these new facts, I can’t help but think her relationship with her ex-fiancé was very different when they weren’t in the public eye.

Isn’t everyone’s, dude?

Yeah.

“Okay,” I murmur because what else is there to say.

We clink glasses and she takes a small sip.

I practically finish what’s in my cup and the burn in my throat is nothing compared to the hurt I’m feeling for her.

I set it down and glance at the hotel phone.

“If you’re hungry, order whatever you want, and the bed is yours, Gabby.

I’m going to get out of your way, okay?”

She swallows, her blue eyes locking with mine, something fragile and unsure flickering there. “Roman…” Her gaze drifts toward the door, and then back to me. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What?” I try to tease, throwing my arms up. “Gambling in Vegas?”

“You don’t need to go.”

Her voice is quiet, but there’s something else beneath it, something desperate and unguarded. Like the thought of being alone is too much, like it terrifies her in a way she doesn’t want to admit.

For a moment, neither of us moves. The air in the room shifts, and my throat tightens as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against mine, the lightest touch—nothing, really—but it feels like a plea.

I swallow, steadying myself. “What do you need, Gabby?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper and I swear, as she looks at me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat, I can’t help but wonder how far I’d go to save her.