Page 20

Right. “The shirt isn’t gold, Ric. It’s more of a muted soft yellow. Goes great with your skin tone.” I move closer to study the stitching. It’s a pearly stone color, flowers woven down the sides of the front like an Italian Mediterranean mosaic.

“Looks gold to me.”

“This coming from the guy who only wears black or white tees from a Target five-pack. Or the occasional Jurassic Park hoodie.”

“Don’t hate on classics or reliables.” Ricky’s eyes glimmer.

When Ricky’s parents moved next door, the first time I met him, Ma had brought me over for a playdate and he was watching Jurassic Park .

I was five, and I so clearly remember the scene when the T-Rex had broken free of the electrified fence and was terrorizing the two kids in the overturned jeep—pure nightmare fuel.

I was terrified, but six-year-old Ricky grabbed my hand and said, “It’s okay, it’s not real, just cool.

” And even though I struggled to believe him in that moment, nothing bad happened to me.

I quickly learned that that was who Ricky was—practical, grounded, caring.

I also quickly learned just how obsessed he was with the entire Jurassic Park / World franchise.

In another life without woodworking, he might be studying in college to become a paleontologist. Ricky was always so methodical and steady, and appreciated the world around him and how it was constructed, from fossils to trees to the materials he could uncover and use to make something beautiful.

“Nothing wrong with simplicity,” Ricky says. “This is just—”

“Not you ,” I finish his thought. “You look . . .” I exhale, pause, unsure what I’m allowed to say.

I know what I want to say, but that feels too intimate, too unearned.

At least right now. My voice shakes. “You don’t like to stand out.

” My fingers trace the neckline. “But you look— wow .” The word comes out as a whisper.

He laughs and shifts from leg to leg.

“Sorry.” Not sure what I’m apologizing for, but it feels like the right move.

Then he says my name like a prayer, a confession, or a fellowship, a bridge forward. He opens his mouth to speak, but—

“Fielder, bro!” Topher’s voice roars.

“I should go. Best man duties.”

Ricky stands still. Stoic. Wood waiting to be carved.

Every part of me wants to stay with him, but I don’t.

When I find Topher, he immediately commends me on handling Cam.

“I don’t need any praise,” I assure him. “Only peace. For you. ”

“Good. Look, I know we haven’t talked much about best man responsibilities, because there really aren’t any besides you and Matty standing next to me, but there is one thing. First, I wanted to be sure you’re cool with Ricky.”

“We’re cool.” So cool I just saw him in his birthday suit, in fact! “Why?”

Topher leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “Sienna told me that Cam made a comment about you being cold to him this morning. Obviously this was before we left the villa, so maybe something happened?”

“Cold? Screw that guy. I look out for him and this is the thanks I get? Just because I don’t hug the guy and say ‘you won!’ suddenly I’m cold?” Heat rises in my chest.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, bro.”

My teeth grind. “No shooting. I’m Peacemaker Fielder, right?” Deep breath.

“Right,” Topher continues. “Cam told Sienna you’re using the wedding and ‘people’ here to gain followers on Clock. I don’t know what he meant by that.”

“What?” I hiss. “You of all people know my entire life is on Clock.” What is Cam playing at? “Sorry, I’m just”—deep breath—“sad.”

“I know.” Topher uncrosses his arms and motions for me to settle down.

“I know. Believe me, Field, I get it. And so does Sienna. We obviously don’t care if you’re creating content in the villa.

Go for it, bro. I just wanted you to know this is what’s being said.

But I have your back. Especially after what you just did for Cam. And it’s okay to be sad.”

I take another long, deep breath. “Thank you.”

I don’t want to bring Topher down, but there’s so much wrapped around that word—“sad.” I’m sad I can’t hold Ricky, kiss him, talk to him about us, and ask him a thousand why s.

I’m sad that we’re in this place. But it’s so much more than sad.

It’s devastation and confusion and disassociation because when I think about Ricky too much, it’s like my soul separates from my body and I can’t process anything or feel the ground beneath my feet.

So I’ve hidden my heart away from any boy who’s tried to get close to me, and buried my head in Clock content and pretending I’m perfectly well adjusted when I’m actually falling apart.

I’m realizing now how hard it’s been. Was Ricky right?

Were we too intertwined—too connected to each other from such a young age that we didn’t have time to figure ourselves out separately?

My mouth goes dry as I replay the last year in my head—all the random guys, the endless food review videos.

I’ve been going, going, going, all to prove something to Ricky but without ever stopping to take a breath for myself .

Who is Fielder Lemon?

Topher instinctively pulls me into a strong hug, and I sink into him, barely hugging him back, which makes him squeeze harder. “You’re doing a great job.”

Of what?

Add that to the list of questions I can’t answer.

“Speaking of, after the rehearsal dinner Friday, I planned a surprise for Sienna. Chartered a moonlit boat ride to Capri afterward. Ricky will get her to the docks after dinner, but I need you to help me get the boat ready. Logistics and such. That means you and Ricky will have to work together. Or at least communicate.”

No time to dwell on me— thank god . My back straightens and I’m back to daydreaming: Me and Ricky working alone on a romantic surprise late at night? Sneaking in moments together? I couldn’t have asked for a better best man task.

Topher’s wedding and happiness needs to be the most important factor in my actions. He deserves as much.

“You can count on me,” I say resolutely.