Page 107 of Rush

She lets out a delighted gasp.

“I cannot believe you’re getting dicked-down by a six-foot-something rugged hunk of man meat. How are you not walking sideways?”

I collapse into laughter. “The sex, Riley.Fuuuuck. It’s amazing. I have never been hornier in my life.”

“Okay, horny, we better get ready. I have morning breath, andyouhave dick breath.”

I cackle, flinging the pillow at her again as I stare up at the ceiling, cheeks sore from smiling. While we had broken a rule, I had to admit it felt good now that Riley knows. If there was anyone I could trust with this, it’s her.

Riley and I head downstairs,arms linked. She’s scooped her hair into a ponytail that barely contains the wild strands framing her face. She’s wearing a boho dress with bangles stacked along her arms. I settle on an outfit Rio picked for me—a two-piece mint set with a crop top and high-waisted skirt. Simple, yet stylish. My hair falls in loose waves down my back, and the extra-high wedges give me height and confidence.

Down the hall, past the entrance, I see him. Salt-and-pepper hair. A flannel shirt that looks out of place among the sea of designer outfits.

“Dad!” I call, and Jack turns, a roller bag beside him, Yasmin—the wedding coordinator—positioned at his side as the rest of the weekend’s guests spill into the halls of Ravenswood.

I skip over, and he scoops me into a hug. One of the staff grabs his suitcase, taking it down the hall.

“Kiddo—streuth, look at you,” he says in his thick Australian accent, before letting me go.

“Riley,” he adds, pulling her into a hug.

“Nice to see you, Jack,” Riley says warmly.

“How was the flight?” I ask, though one look at his face tells me it was rough. I know that feeling all too well.

“Bloody nightmare. Got delayed twice. But I made it—for Philippa.”

And I know just how much that means. Jack has never left Australia—ever. But he cares enough about Philippa to make the journey, to step out of his comfort zone—for her. I can’t help but draw the comparison. My father couldn’t even bring himself to take a flight to see me when my mother died, he would have chartered himself a jet or even been in first class. But I wasn’t worth the effort.

“Good morning, Elena.”

My stomach sinks at the sound ofhisvoice. Think of the devil and he shall appear.

Jack and Mortimer. In the same room. For the first time. I’d never thought I’d see the day.

I turn. Carole, in a powder-blue tweed number, is linked arm-in-arm with my father, dressed in a charcoal casual suit. Mortimer eyes Jack up and down, the look on his face says he’s less than impressed.

Judgmental asshole.

“Father. Carole.” I force a polite smile. “This is my dad—Jack.”

Mortimer cringes at the worddad.That’s right, he’s more of a father to me that you’ll ever be.

“Mortimer,” Jack says, extending his hand.

Mortimer regards it a moment, looking down from his high horse, before finally extending his own. “Jack,” he says softly, though there’s an edge beneath it.

“You must be starving, Jack. Let’s get you something to eat,” Riley cuts in, she must feel the tension too. “I could murder a stack of waffles.”

“Oh, that sounds delicious,” Carole says sweetly. She turns to me. “That’s a beautiful outfit, Elena, the color really suits you.”

“Thank you. I could say the same for you.”

She beams, her eyes sparkling with…joy?

As we make our way toward the banquet hall, Jack nudges me. “Good on ya, kiddo.”

And I know exactly what he means.